by Hunt, Jack
“Of course it is. It’s Christmas. And besides, after what we’ve been through over the past few days, I think celebrating with a drink, and having a laugh over a nice meal is exactly what we all need.”
With you? No thanks, she thought.
“Nope. I insist. Grab your stuff and I’ll run you over. Rita will be over the moon.”
Hardly. Was that poor woman blind? Sara could already see how the night would play out. Hank would get her liquored up and then when Rita stepped out and Max was busy with some gift, he’d make his move.
Max dashed out of the room and up the stairs as quick as a flash. Sara used the opportunity to get out of the situation before Max returned. “Look, I really would love to spend Christmas with you both but…” She didn’t need to pretend, the pain was still fresh. “My mother is dead.”
It was the quickest way to put the brakes on.
“What?” he asked.
She quickly explained and told him not to say anything to Max. As hard-headed as Hank could be, even he knew it was best to back off. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sara. Um. Look, if you change your mind. You know where we are.”
“Thank you,” she said, walking over to the door to lead him out.
Hank stopped and looked at her for a second as if he was about to say something then he opted to just continue on out. As Hank fired up his vehicle and pulled out, Max came dashing down the stairs, wide-eyed and ready to leave. “Where’s Hank?”
“He’s heading home. We’re not going.”
“But I thought—”
“Something came up. He had to leave.”
“Or you drove him away.”
“No. I…”
“It’s meant to be Christmas. It’s freezing in this house and he…”
“I know what he offered, Max,” she said before sighing. “It’s just not a good time.”
“When is it ever?” he said storming out of the room.
“Max, c’mon. Max!”
He didn’t answer.
Now she felt bad. Okay, Hank had gone about it the wrong way but he was trying to do something nice. They could have gone over and enjoyed a meal, but she wanted to be here when Landon returned, and of course she’d already invited Jake to join them for supper. Sara went over to the bottle of wine and poured another glass. This was going to be a long Christmas.
23
The door of the cabin burst open. Grizzly bounded in shaking off a coat of snow. Beth followed, shrugging off a large duffel bag and sliding it across the floor towards him. “You want to tell me about this?” she said before dropping his satchel on a chair nearby. He stared at it for a second and then shook his head.
“What is it?”
She raised a hand. “You tell me.”
“Beth, you’ve lost me,” he said grimacing and motioning for his satchel. She glanced at it and then looked back at him. “My bag. Can you…?”
“Once you answer the question,” she said.
He frowned, confused. “It’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Bullshit!” she yelled.
His eyes got big. “I’ve never seen it,” he repeated.
“Never seen it? Really. Because it was under the seat across from where you sat on the plane.” Nothing was registering so she continued. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.” She got up and unzipped the bag and then tossed one of the bricks over. Landon caught it, his eyes darting from the one brick to the bag.
“This was on the plane?”
She shook her head. “Don’t act surprised. You know it was.”
“Beth. I didn’t know about this. I mean…” he trailed off and looked as if he knew something but wasn’t letting on.
“You were about to say?”
He looked at a loss for words. “The pilot said he did drop-offs. This must have been what he was referring to.” He groaned. “Ugh. It makes sense.”
She inhaled deeply and leaned forward with her arms folded. “So I’m supposed to believe you knew nothing about that?”
“Yes. Hell, I didn’t even know the pilot. My boss arranged the ride. He…” Again he stopped, this time bringing a hand up to his mouth.
“You were about to say?”
“My boss had a drug habit. I…”
“What are you not telling me?”
He puffed out his cheeks and screwed his eyes shut. “I can’t believe it. That bastard! I knew I should have parted ways with him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is I knew nothing about that.”
She went over and turned the duffel bag over letting every brick bounce against the hardwood floor of the cabin. “You got on a plane with your daughter and you didn’t know about this?”
“That’s what I just said,” he shot back looking a little annoyed.
She gritted her teeth and shook her head then turned and headed for the door.
“Beth. Beth! Even if I knew, why does it matter to you?”
She spun around, her face a picture of anger. “You asked me how my mother died.” She jabbed her finger at the bag. “That’s how!”
Beth flung the door open.
“Where are you going?”
The door slammed shut leaving him alone with her dog. She heard Grizzly scratching at the door and whining. It was rare for him to see her angry but in that moment she was furious. She didn’t know what to believe. Was it likely that someone who was involved in drug running would admit to it? Was it possible he’d got on the flight and not been told about the bag?
Angry and unsure of what to say, she looked over at Ellie’s body and decided to take her into the shed nearby and lift the body onto a large wooden workbench. It wasn’t ideal but it was out of the gale and it would give her a chance to ask Landon if he wanted to see her before she was buried. Morbid? Yes. But not any more than if he’d witnessed her body out there in the piles of snow.
24
Christmas at the Grays’ home that year was depressing. From the kitchen, Sara glanced into the living room at the untouched Christmas presents under the tree. Max refused to open his until Ellie returned. There had been no word from Landon besides that single voice message. And with her mom gone, and no shoulder to cry on, it only made it that much harder. Sara was at her wits’ end. She didn’t think anything could be worse than having the country on the brink of disaster. But this tragedy had overshadowed it all. She felt powerless and out of control.
The only thing she was grateful for was that damn generator — and that wouldn’t last long, of that she was sure but for now it would provide enough power to switch on multiple appliances. She stirred a pot of pasta and called up to Max to come down as she’d be serving soon. Sara had held off preparing the food, thinking Jake would show but he didn’t. It was now closing in on seven and was dark outside. Sara drained off the hot water. Steam billowed up around her face before she emptied the contents into a bowl and added tuna. Outside the motion sensor must have detected an animal as it flashed on lighting up the grounds that led down to Battle Avenue. Sara glanced out the window. It wasn’t uncommon to have a rabbit or racoon scuttle across the property and cause the sensors to kick in. She looked down again as the light went out. With a long wooden spoon she stirred the mush around, grimacing. On any other day it would have been fine but now it just looked like wallpaper paste and smelled like cat food. Sara groaned and banged the spoon on the edge of the pot.
Leaving it on the counter to cool she crossed to the phone and picked it up. Still no dial tone. Of course this was reality for everyone in the country barring the few who had the old-style ones not powered by AC, but hers should have been working, at least for longer than a few days. Outside the generator chugged steadily then spluttered a little.
While waiting for Max, she slipped into her dark jacket and lined winter boots and flung a brown scarf around her face preparing to go out and check that it had enough gas for the next few hours. Hank said he’d left
some additional gasoline in the shed. A wall of cold hit her, piercing her body as she braved the snow and made her way over to the generator. She shut it off and unscrewed the top before collecting the canister of gasoline and refilling it. As it splashed into the generator she glanced out of the shed down the driveway. The sensor had kicked on again and illuminated the yard. She squinted. Were her eyes deceiving her? Was that Hank’s vehicle with the headlights on? She’d seen him leave and drive away. What did he want now? She groaned. That man couldn’t take no for an answer.
Sara stopped pouring, screwed the lid back on the generator and made her way out. She cupped a hand over her eyes to block the large snowflakes. “Hank?”
She called out but got no answer. Trudging through the deep snow she made her way down to the truck, grumbling under her breath. She wouldn’t have put it past him to go and check on her mother and see if she was telling the truth; that would have been just like him. But even if he had, he wouldn’t have got inside, so why was he back?
The engine purred; the headlights were facing the house. She squinted again and could just make out his silhouette inside the vehicle.
“Hank. You know Rita is probably worried sick about you. You really should—”
Momentarily blinded by the glare of the lights she reached out for the door handle, thinking his tires were stuck in the snow. As she pulled the door open, his body slumped out, falling on top of her, taking her down to the ground. Her eyes widened in terror at the sight of blood. His throat had been slit. She screamed and scrambled out from beneath him, backing away; her eyes scanning the terrain. A cold shot of fear ran through her. She slipped as she tried to get to her feet and hurry back to the house. She wasn’t five yards from the doorway when the lights of the vehicle went out. She didn’t dare look back. Sara burst into the house, slamming the door and locking it behind her. Her thoughts shot past her like vehicles on a busy highway.
The inn had entrances at the front, the side and the rear. She bolted through house. “Max! Get down here now!” Her voice carried the urgency she felt. Making it to the front, she was grateful to see the door was locked. She almost slipped on a runner rug as she sprinted through the maze of halls to the rear. At the rear, where guests would often retreat to a heavily windowed lounge that overlooked a hilly forested landscape, she noticed the doors were slightly ajar. Crossing to the fireplace she grabbed an iron poker and gripped it with both hands preparing to fight for her life if need be. She scanned the dark room that was only lit by moonlight and hurried to close the doors.
Sara backed away from the closed doors. There was no one outside that she could see but someone had killed Hank. Who? And why? Castine was a sleepy town that catered to tourists; they rarely had to call county police. The police! Sara turned and raced toward the kitchen when she slammed into — Max?
She gripped his arms. “You okay?”
“I’m okay, what’s the matter with you?”
She rushed past him telling him to stay close.
“Mom, what’s the matter?”
“I need you to stay away from the windows. Don’t go near the doors.”
“Why? Mom, you’re freaking me out.”
She wasn’t paying attention to him. Sara was working off instincts. She snatched up the phone and cried out upon remembering it was dead. Her mind wasn’t working right. She should have remembered that but she was juggling multiple thoughts. “Shit!” she said dropping the phone. “The rifle.”
Max looked thoroughly disturbed as Sara rushed down the hallway, darted into an office that belonged to Landon and proceeded to unlock the door on the gun cabinet. She pulled out a rifle, snatched up a box of bullets and then dropped them. They scattered across the floor. “Damn it!”
Max darted in to help her. “Mom, would you please just tell me what is going on?”
“Just go up to your room, get in the closet and stay quiet.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Max!”
He stared back at her. She was never one to raise her voice so it must have caught him off guard. He backed out of the room while she loaded the rifle. She’d never fired one before but she’d seen Landon load and shoot at targets in the yard multiple times. When he wasn’t flying planes he enjoyed going to a local firing range. He said he wanted to do it so he could tag along with a friend of his, who was big into hunting, but she always thought that was just a joke. He hated the wilderness. Too many bugs. One time they’d gone camping in a tent and that ended with them leaving in the middle of the night because he was sure there was an insect biting his leg. It made her laugh. He was a strong man who often flew crappy old planes long distances and didn’t bat an eye but throw him into the wilderness and he was like a fish out of water. Then again, so was she.
Sara fumbled with the bullets as she loaded them into the magazine. It could hold up to five rounds. What was it he said? Landon had tried to explain how to use the Thompson Center Compass .270 Winchester. “That’s it. That’s it,” she mumbled. “Open the bolt, keep your finger on the outside of the trigger and inspect the bore for obstructions.” She went through it in her head while continuing to look up and listen for anyone in the house besides her and Max. Nothing. It was silent barring the ticking of a clock.
“Mom, who are those people outside?”
“What?” she replied.
She came bounding out thinking he was upstairs only to find him in the kitchen staring out the window. “What did I tell you?” she said.
“But…” He pointed.
Sara looked out. The sensor had kicked in again. In front of the truck were three people. She squinted. They looked familiar. Then it dawned on her. They were the same ones that had attempted to break into Jake’s Scout. One of them was holding a baseball bat, another a large knife, and the third what appeared to be a hammer. “Max. Listen to me very carefully.” She scooped up a large kitchen knife and handed it to him. “Take this, and go upstairs. No matter what you hear. You don’t come down. You understand?”
“I’m not leaving you down here.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No.”
She lifted a hand. “Max!”
Reluctantly he nodded and bolted up the stairs.
Sara took a deep breath, steadied herself and approached the side door. She stepped out, snow falling on her face as she raised the rifle. “This is private property. You are trespassing. I’ve already called the cops…” She wasn’t sure why she said it. Maybe in some grand hope that they were ignorant of what was or wasn’t working under the circumstances. Before she could say any more, they immediately fanned out disappearing out of view. The lights went out. A blanket of darkness swallowed everything in sight. She backed off heading into the house when suddenly the generator turned off. She spun around, rifle aimed towards the shed. There was movement. She squeezed the trigger then felt the kickback. Panic rising in her chest, she backed into the house, now there were no lights on at all. She shut the door and backed off into the darkness, scanning the windows as her eyes adjusted to her new world of terror.
From the back of the house, she heard a door rattle as if someone was trying to get in. Moving quickly she hurried to the rear only to find the common room empty.
Then, the sound of glass shattering came from the kitchen.
Her heart was pounding in her chest as she raced to the front of the house to find the window above the lock on the door was broken and the door was now ajar. She backed up only to bump into the kitchen table. Startled, she squeezed the trigger and a round fired into the ceiling. Now in full panic mode she headed for the staircase only to be cut off by a female wearing a hood over her head. She tossed the hammer from hand to hand, her head slightly low, her features indistinguishable.
As Sara lifted the rifle just as the woman darted into a different room.
“Why are you doing this?” she bellowed but got no answer.
Moving fast, she crossed the short space between where she was and t
he staircase. She only made it four steps up when she felt a hard strike to her back. Sara screamed in agony and collapsed, the rifle dropped and slid down to the foot of the staircase where the woman picked up her hammer again. Sara glanced at the rifle, as did the woman. Why didn’t she grab it? If she wanted to kill her, a bullet would be quicker. But maybe they didn’t want them to die quick. Groaning in pain, Sara gripped her back and ascended while the woman watched her. She didn’t chase her. It was as if she was enjoying the fear.
Sara blasted into Max’s room and closed the door.
There was no lock. Nothing to protect them. She could have told him to hide in one of the bathrooms but only a few had windows, and those were tiny, certainly not enough to offer a way out. Besides, locking themselves in one place with no way out seemed like a dumb idea. There were fourteen guest rooms, and three additional rooms for her family, spread out over three floors.
“Mom,” Max said rushing over from across the room. He wasn’t even in his closet. She couldn’t believe it. He was wielding a baseball bat like an axe in one hand and had the knife in the other. She took the knife and told him to get back into the closet while she went over to the window. “Who are they?”
“I don’t know.” She stumbled over her words. “I saw them outside the grocery store. They were trying to break into Jake’s truck.”
Max looked confused.
“Hank is dead.”
“What?”
“I found him in his vehicle at the end of the driveway. Listen, there is no time to discuss this now, we need to get out of here. I thought I could keep them out but—”
Before she could finish, they heard the sound of someone whistling in a creepy fashion followed by something sharp being dragged over a hard surface. At the window, Sara looked out and saw one of them looking around. Shit. Think. Think. She paced for a moment trying to make a decision. If they stayed where they were, they’d eventually be found, then again, she couldn’t go out, not with one of them outside.