by Hunt, Jack
Max came up alongside her.
“I can go and get help from one of the neighbors.”
“No. I can’t let you do that.”
“Mom.”
She shook her head.
“I can do it,” he said. “For once trust me.”
“I do,” she said, turning towards him and looking him in the eye. She looked out again and saw the guy was gone. “Okay, listen to me. As soon as you get down, hurry over to the Millers’. Don’t stop for a second. No matter what you hear.”
He nodded and slipped into a warm winter jacket, gripping the bat tightly.
Sara could hear the intruders making their way around the rooms on the floor below. Carefully, Sara shifted up the window and stuck her head out to get a better look. The roof was covered in snow. She grimaced. “I can do it,” Max said, reassuring her. Seventeen and yet he had all the courage of an adult. Max stuck a leg out the window, bent at the waist and crawled out. As soon as he was out, she watched him slide down at a crouch to the edge of the roof then drop over onto the next roof. Before she could make sure he’d landed safely, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, getting closer.
25
It was a low crunching sound — too heavy for a cougar or wolf and yet not loud enough to be a bear. Beth stopped what she was doing and cocked her head. It was hard to mistake the presence of another with the silence of the mountain. In years gone by a few hikers had stumbled across their property nestled in the forest, high up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It wasn’t common as the cabin was off the beaten path and most stuck to the trails, however, it did occur. Her father had been quick to make it clear they were trespassing and that was all that needed to be said. Hikers weren’t out to cause trouble, most continued on their way unless they were lost but that had only occurred twice. Still, with the way the weather had been over the past few days, it didn’t make sense that anyone would be nearby.
The crunching stopped.
Beth turned to reach for a tool under the workbench when voices followed.
She couldn’t make out what they were saying but they were close, far too close to be hikers walking nearby. Beth bolted over to the door and peered through the slatted wood.
Four.
Four flashlight beams brushed the ground, cutting into the darkness and playing off the tree trunks and underbrush as strangers made their way through the last patch of woodland that hedged in the property. Her mind went blank. Had Dr. Banks gone for help? He’d tried to convince her to go with him and that he would return at a later date with further help to get Landon down the mountain. She thanked him but declined. He said it wasn’t safe to stay with Landon and that after learning about Rhett, she was in no state to be caring for anyone. She almost agreed. But what would her father have done? And could Landon get better treatment in town where the power was out? It seemed like a waste of resources and manpower, she thought. Instead, she told the doctor that she would monitor him. Once he was strong enough to walk, she would bring him to town.
Again, she wasn’t sure what her hesitation was with returning to town, perhaps an unwillingness to leave the cabin, the only anchor to her father, to her past, to who she was. Home meant everything.
With her bow in hand, Beth ambled out of the old shed and made her way to the front of the cabin just as four adults emerged from the tree line. Noting three of them were armed, she knew going for the handgun on her hip wouldn’t be a smart move. Common sense trumped speed. She would have been dead before she’d even pulled it. Instead, she waited to see what they wanted.
Her eyes scanned them: a Chinese guy, a bald dude scowling, the next one she’d seen driving around town, average looking, shifty eyes, out of place with a goatee. The fourth guy was taller and looked like military with light tactical pants, a form-fitting parka and a dark beanie that framed his heavily bearded face.
“Well, hello there,” the bearded guy said, raising a hand and stopping twenty yards away. He casually thumbed over his shoulder. “The plane that crashed. We were told you have the survivor. That right?”
Beth didn’t answer.
The man looked at one of the others then back at her. When he did, he smiled and motioned to the rifles. “Oh, the guns? That’s just for protection. We ran into a cougar on the way up. Listen, Dr. Banks told us he was here. We figured we could bring him to town where he can get real medical treatment. Okay?”
One of the guys stepped forward heading for the cabin and in an instant, she had an arrow on that bow and ready to fire. Guns were raised but the bearded guy told them to lower their weapons. Shifty Eyes stopped in his tracks and stared at her. He might have had a rifle in hand but there was fear in his eyes.
The bearded fella took a few steps forward with his hand out trying to control the situation. “Whoa. It’s okay. We’re not here to harm you.”
“He’s staying,” Beth replied confidently. “Now leave.”
There was a long pause. The man seemed to be amused or taken aback by her courage. “Well… I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, there was something on that plane that belongs to me. Now we checked and it’s not there. So I was hoping that maybe you found it? Or perhaps the man you’re looking after knows where it is. So how about you put that bow down before you get injured,” he said, strongly emphasizing it would be her not them on the receiving end of pain.
Beth began taking small steps back towards the door. If she could get inside, she could increase the odds of survival. She wanted to live but after losing her parents she was in a dark place, and more than willing to die on that mountain if need be.
“Just give us the bag, kid, and we’ll be on our way.”
She said nothing but kept moving.
“You’re getting the bag… right?” he asked, nodding as if that would somehow persuade her. Was he stupid? The contents meant nothing to her. She had no qualms about handing it over if it meant they could live but she wasn’t foolish. Beth knew anyone associated with that bag was as good as dead.
“Oh fuck this!” the bald-headed one said. He raised his gun and Beth had no choice but to fire the arrow, it flew through the air and embedded in the top of his thigh sending him down. Before they had a chance to react, the back of her boot struck the door and she quickly reached for the handle and backed inside.
26
Max’s bedroom was closing in on Sara. She clamped her hand tightly around the knife and crouched in the darkness, afraid to move out of fear of being heard. Outside, in the hallway, she could hear one of them tearing a room apart searching for her.
If it was food they wanted, why not just take it and leave? Or was this payback?
She heard boots on the hardwood floor in the room next door and knew that if she didn’t make a break for it now, Max’s room was next. If she could reach the stairs, she could collect the rifle and flee through the kitchen. Sara opened the bedroom door and took a quick glance. No movement. They were in Ellie’s room. Sara darted out into the bathroom across from her. She tucked herself behind the door in a way so she could see through the thin crack of the door and frame.
A figure loomed into view, hammer in hand.
Her heartbeat raced as she tried not to breathe.
It was the woman. She entered Max’s room and disappeared into the darkness. Some part of her wanted to stay still, avoid detection. Self-preservation had kicked into high gear and fear made her feet feel like lead. Go. Go now! A stronger voice told her.
She waited for activity in her son’s room before budging; anything that would mask her movement. Sara slipped out and took a few steps. Her eyes darted to his room. Every step was slow and controlled, not wanting to attract attention. Had the house not been so old she might have made it to the staircase.
Creak.
The floorboard groaned beneath her.
A wave of anxiety. Sara looked back and saw the woman dart out.
Both of them made a beeline for the stairs. She took the first five almost in one leap, slammi
ng her shoulder into the wall before the woman threw the hammer.
Five inches
That was all it missed by.
Sara took off down the next steps with the woman hot on her trail.
It was freezing outside. Max had waited on the lower roof until he was sure he couldn’t hear anyone before plunging into a snowdrift that had formed against the house. His stomach caught in his throat as fear got the better of him. His limbs cramped as he struggled to get up. He’d played all manner of violent and scary video games but nothing came close to this. Baseball bat in one hand, he swatted snow out of his eyes as he crawled out of the ice tomb.
There were three homes nearby, one to the north that required cutting through a grove of trees, and the other two were across the street. The challenge was reaching them. The inn’s grounds were vast, and with so much snow on the ground he had to work that much harder to wade through it.
Still, determined, Max clenched his jaw and moved out.
All the while he kept looking over his shoulder, worried more for his mother than himself. I should have stayed, he told himself. But his mother was stubborn. A huge gust of wind kicked up ice needles in his face nearly taking his breath away. A wall of snow before him blinded his view of the Millers’ property. It was a modest home just off Woodside Way. They were close friends of the family. Tom Miller was in his late sixties, a carpenter by trade. His wife, Julie, had owned an antique store in town. Both retired early and now spent most of their days working in the yard. Julie was a bit of a horticulturist and loved to be out there at the crack of dawn working in the flower bed while Tom was often found in his garage creating cedar chairs that he would sell out the front of their home. In the summers, when they were younger, Max and his sister would often take over baked goods that their mother had made.
As soon as he arrived on the Millers’ property, he called out to them but got no answer. He hurried to the back of their home and tried the door but it was locked. All the while he looked over his shoulder expecting someone to attack at any second. Max dashed around to the front to find the door open.
“Tom. Julie? It’s Max.”
He used the tip of the baseball bat to push it wide. Snow footprints led in and out. Had they left and forgot to lock the door? No. Tom was OCD and would have checked it three times. Max called out to them again and ventured in if only to check that they were okay. It was a simple layout. A living room in the rear, a kitchen and dining area to the right, and stairs that went up to a second floor with two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Max made it into the living room. He squinted into the dark trying to reach the curtains which were drawn. He opened them partially to let some of the moon’s light filter in. That’s when he saw a pair of feet sticking out from behind the couch. He backed up only to trip over something and land hard, his hand sinking into wetness. Gasping in the grip of fear, he smelled the scent of iron and saw Julie lying in a puddle of blood. Max scrambled to his feet, rushing back to the hallway to leave only to find his exit blocked by a large figure holding a steel baseball bat.
Max raised his bat, shaking it in front of him in a threatening way. “Stay back. Stay back.” The hooded figure ambled through the open doorway without any hesitation. “I’m warning you.”
Then, it happened.
The figure charged forward; the bat extended out like a battering ram. Max swung his and steel connected with steel, clattering loudly, once, twice, three times as they swung the bats at each other. Max ducked, coming dangerously close to having his head taken off. He burst forward, slamming into the stranger, knocking him over the couch and landing on top of Tom’s lifeless body.
In a band of moonlight he could see his attacker’s face.
He didn’t recognize him, it was just a guy, late twenties.
In a fight for his life, Max rolled off him and tried to flee. He didn’t make it.
The guy grabbed his ankle and he crashed into a table breaking it in two. The guy was on him so fast he didn’t have time to catch his breath. The guy pulled his baseball bat over Max’s head and dug it deep into his throat. An arm of steel forced against his neck; a knee jammed into the small of his back. Max managed to slip his fingers around the bat but the guy was strong. He knew if he didn’t change position, and fast, he’d pass out. Fingers raked at the bat, his attacker said nothing. He could hear him grunting as he wrenched on the bat trying to end Max’s life.
He reached one hand back and dug his fingers into his pocket trying to pull out a set of keys to the house. Gasping for breath he could feel his throat closing in on him. Suddenly, his hands clasped the keys and he pushed one between his fingers and yanked them out. Using the key like a knife, and holding it tight in his hand, he used every ounce of strength to twist over onto his back. The madman above him just saw that as an opportunity to press the bat down on his neck. He must have thought Max was making it easier for him. He wasn’t.
As soon as he saw the opening, Max reached up and stuck the end of the key into the side of the guy’s throat, not once, or even twice but multiple times in a frenzied attack.
His attacker slumped on top of him bleeding out and covering him in blood.
Pale from shock, Max forced him off and didn’t stick around to fish through his pocket to see who he was. It didn’t matter. Not now. He bolted out of the door and was about to head to the home of the next neighbor when he heard glass smash at the inn, followed by a scream.
“Mom!”
27
Beth thought fast. She’d opened a Pandora’s box and there was no going back now. What little hope was gone. “Beth? Who’s out there?” Landon asked her as she hurried over to the rifle and scooped it up but not before taking the handgun from her holster and handing it to him. Grizzly bounded around her, stopping occasionally to growl and bark at the door.
“Death,” she replied.
“What?” He glanced at the handgun. “Beth, what is going on?”
Beth gathered up the brick of cocaine she’d thrown at Landon and stuffed it back in the bag then lugged it over to the door. She peeked outside and saw them dragging the guy she’d shot in the leg back to the tree line.
“Men,” she bellowed. “Four of them. The same ones you probably work for. They want this,” she said pointing to the bag.
“So give it to them.”
“It’s too late,” she said making sure there was a round chambered in the rifle. She brought it up and stood at an angle near the window to get a better lay of the land. With darkness upon them but the moon lighting up the clearing, she was able to distinguish where they were.
“Beth. Listen to me.”
“I shot one in the leg.”
Landon shook his head in disbelief. “You did what?”
“He was about to kill me,” she said in defense before squinting out at the forest. Landon flung his cover off and tried to get up but it was impossible. Both legs were splinted and cast. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“You need to stay put,” she said. “I’ll handle this.”
“Handle this? You’re a child.”
“Seventeen nearly eighteen. Hardly a child.”
“No. No, Beth, I’ll talk with them. I’m older than you, they’ll...”
“Understand?” She cut him off, then chuckled shaking her head. She knew, although he was older than her, that she was the one with experience, with knowledge of these woods. If her father had taught her anything about living off the grid, it was that at the basic primal level, all of wildlife knew that in order to survive you had to be willing to kill. It wasn’t personal, it was survival. “These men don’t understand. Do you think they understood my mother?” She glanced at him. “No, they’ll kill both of us. They only way out of here now is to kill them first.”
“Kill? What!” Landon took a deep breath. “Okay, Beth. Put the gun down and…”
“Grizzly, come here, boy.” She ignored him and got down and whispered into the dog’s ear. When she got up the dog scampered
off into the adjoining room and returned a moment later with her bag. She slipped it onto her back and gave the dog instructions to stay and protect Landon. From there she crossed into the dining area and shifted the table back across the wooden floor, then flipped back a large area rug to reveal a round iron handle. Beth looked at Landon. “They come through that door. Shoot. Don’t hesitate. Shoot. Grizzly will protect you but don’t rely on him. I’ll do what I can,” she said lifting the floor door.
“Beth. Wait,” Landon said but she didn’t. She dropped down into darkness and closed the door above her. Her father hadn’t built the cabin with survival in mind, so to speak, but practicality. The area beneath the cabin was meant to be used like a pantry, a cold storage room for additional supplies like grain, dried and canned goods, but it also offered a second way out. She could have dragged Landon into it but she figured he’d stand a better chance holding them back from inside the cabin while she ducked into the woods and circled around to take them out.
In her mind this was no different than hunting feral boars.
It was dangerous but necessary. The damn things wreaked havoc on the land and were a hugely destructive species.
Beneath the cabin there was about four feet of space, she had to crouch and shuffle along to the rear where she pulled back a section of wood that took her into an exposed area beneath the cabin. Beyond that a trellis and wire meshing went around the opening to prevent animals from getting in. She could hear one of the men cursing, and another in agony. Thank you, she said under her breath, grateful for them giving away their location. She’d never killed anyone but after all she’d been through, what she’d witnessed her mother go through and under the circumstances she was ready to cross that line.
Beth pulled back the wire meshing, then kicked out the trellis until she was able to crawl out and slide down a steep embankment at the rear. Her clothes were drenched but her mind pushed out the feelings of cold.