by L. T. Vargus
She landed on hands and knees, body folding on impact. Compacted into a tight ball ready to spring for the door.
His feet pounded down the steps behind her. Faster than before.
The massive slab of dark wood was within arm’s reach.
Hand extending. Fingers clenching.
She jerked open the front door and raced into the night.
EIGHTY
Charlie slammed the door behind her. Wood cracked against wood. She heard its echo shiver off the siding of the house. The great clap rolling upward and outward.
She banked left onto the front walk. Picked up speed as she slalomed through the foliage, traversing that snaking path to the driveway.
Her feet felt light now, skimming over the concrete.
Decorative plant life snagged at the arms of her shirt. Raked at her skin. Cold and prickly.
The branches wagged back and forth upon releasing her. Snapping and shaking. Leaves swishing out sibilance where they fell against each other.
She barreled on. Listened for the door behind her. Sprinting past the largest of the shrubs. And there it was.
Frank’s Buick. So close now. A floodlight over the garage shimmered a yellow pool where it touched the glass of the windshield.
She ran for it. And a glow blossomed in her skull. A flare. A blaze. A lightness that drove out all the darkness.
Hope.
She could do this. Would do this. Was already doing it.
She stared straight ahead. Unblinking. And she saw only the car now. Nothing else was quite real.
It seemed to float ever closer like a mirage on the horizon. A gleaming, shimmering thing. Not quite tethered to the ground from her vantage point.
She arrived at the car, her forward momentum crashing her outstretched hands into the driver’s side door. Then the rest of her body hit, pinning her arms against the vehicle for a second before she pulled herself off. Got her body back under control.
And a jolt of fear came over her. A delayed reaction that sent cold electricity shooting through all her nerves. Her chest flitted. Sucked in a ragged breath.
Those couple seconds lost to clumsiness, to impatience. Would they matter?
Trembling, she reached for the handle. Panic thrusting pins and needles into her fingertips.
Some part of her was sure that something would stop her here. Just shy of opening the door. Just shy of touching that door handle.
But then it was there. The chrome in her hand, in her grip. Cold metal.
She opened the door. Swung it aside.
The big front door of the lodge ripped open behind her. The door making a sucking sound as it peeled away from the frame.
Brandon’s footsteps clattered toward her. Already growing louder.
And the driver’s seat lay open right before her. Ready. Waiting.
But something was wrong. She felt it before she understood why.
She glanced down and saw that both tires on this side of the car were flat.
EIGHTY-ONE
She took off again. Wheeling around the rear end of the car.
Her feet scuffed over the blacktop. Threatened to slide out from underneath her as she cut sharply at the bumper.
But then she was moving again. Darting forward. Accelerating.
She crossed the driveway. The hard asphalt underfoot quickly transitioned to the soft of the grass.
Brandon was closing on her. She could hear him.
He yelled something into the night. Three syllables. Voice sharp and raspy. Full of rage.
But she couldn’t make out his words. Adrenaline surged through her veins and blocked out everything else.
Run.
Run for the darkness.
She moved out of the perimeter of the exterior lights. Into the relative blackness beyond the side of the garage. Angled herself away from the house.
And she picked her knees up higher. Pushed off harder.
Her toes dug into the soft earth. Exploded upward from the ground with all the force they could muster. Propelled her onward.
She moved into the pines huddling on this side of the property. Darker still. Cover to be had among the boughs. If only temporarily.
Pine needles brushed at her. Scraped at her arms. Tousled her hair. Coarse bristles.
Faint swishing sounds accompanied her. Needles whispering to her with each step. Excited by the chase.
Something sizzled and crashed to her left. Startled her until realization arrived a second later.
Water. The waves of Lake Huron surging up onto the beach and rolling back.
She couldn’t see it through the foliage, but it must be close.
She veered away from the water’s edge. Wanted to get deeper into the cover of the woods, into the dark. The beach would be too open.
Soon the pines around her gave way to thicker oaks and maples. Fatter trunks. Higher limbs.
The spaces between the trees widened. Parts of the ground laid bare. Silvery moonlight spilling through the gaps to dapple the dirt and dead leaves underfoot.
She felt exposed without all the interlocked pine boughs wagging around her. Ferns. Prickers. Dense green covered the ground in tangles, reaching up waist-high in places.
She worked hard to keep going. Picking out the best path she could in this mess of greenery. Trudging through the snarls of foliage.
And she heard him crashing along behind her. Somewhere not so far back there. Knees and feet beating their way through the bush. Breath heaving through his teeth.
She swiveled her head. Glanced back.
Some disturbance ruffled the green. Stalks and stems thrashing. Leaves all aflutter.
But she couldn’t see him. Couldn’t pick out his shape among the moving bits. Even if he must be within twenty or so feet by now.
A louder crash erupted. His footsteps stopped.
He’d fallen, she realized. Hard from the sound of it.
Something between a smile and a grimace spread over Charlie’s face. She picked up her pace and focused on the path ahead again.
He yelled something into the night. One syllable. Probably a curse.
She veered harder right now. Partially circling back the way she’d come in a wide arc. She’d take a chance here. Try to outsmart him.
The fall would have rattled him. Frustrated him. Confused him. He’d focus on charging ahead. Try to make up lost time. He’d make too much noise to hear her coming back the other way.
She could hear him thrashing through the brush again. On the move in the wrong direction.
Charlie built speed as she pushed into the pines. There was less to think about here than in the thicket. Just run to the light. Stay between the branches.
The sound of his feet trailed away, just as she’d figured it would. Soon she couldn’t hear him at all.
Good. She’d bought herself some time.
Lights glinted through the thinning trees. Even partially obscured, she recognized the glow. Solar landscaping lights and the flood bulb shining down from the top of the garage.
She must be coming up on the end of the woods. That clearing of grass was just ahead.
A fresh plan started to formulate in her head.
The lodge emerged as she broke through the last row of pines. The towering structure forming from the darkness. The light slanting down on the sheets of cladding. Solid. Real. Close.
She rushed for it.
EIGHTY-TWO
Charlie darted back into the house. Her toe caught on the threshold and sent her spilling into the foyer in a stagger.
Choppy steps. Shoulders pitched forward. Not quite falling.
She righted herself. A strange fluttering flailed in her chest. An overwhelming brew of emotions whirring there.
Excitement. Hope. Anxiety. Terror.
White light speared her eyes. Illumination attacking from every angle. So bright after all that dark. But she didn’t slow.
She squinted her eyelids to slits and kept moving, kept pressing a
head.
Being back in the well lit space intensified her vulnerability to the point that her skin crawled. She dug the stun gun from her pocket. It might not be much good against Brandon’s gun, but she felt better with it in her hand.
She scanned every surface in the big entry room. Vases. Mirrors. Plants. Trophy fish.
No phone.
She veered right. Into the den.
Again her eyes flitted over the surfaces here. Lamps. Magazines. A cigar box.
There. A landline. On the desk.
She zipped toward the beige rectangle. Eyes going so wide they stung along the edges from all the brightness.
She didn’t fight it. The pain didn’t matter anymore. Only the phone.
She lifted the receiver. Punched those three digits with her index finger—911—and brought the phone to her ear.
Her whole body thrummed with anticipation. She rocked her weight from foot to foot. Fought back the panic.
And she stared down at her reflection on the glossy desktop—this version of her face stained dark like the wood. Noticed the wet beads of perspiration clinging to her top lip. Clear jewels that glittered where the light touched them.
She waited for the sound. Waited for it.
Closed her eyes. Gritted her teeth.
Nothing.
She sucked in a breath. The whole world seemed incredibly quiet. Incredibly still.
And then it hit.
The phone was dead.
The disbelief clobbered her in the center of her chest. Sent the breath whooshing out of her, a hissing sound as the air and hope leaked out as one. Another hole punched into her plans.
She hung up the phone and tried again. Finger stabbing the switch hook several times in rapid succession. Listened for the dial tone.
Nothing.
She panted. Felt the blood beating in her temple, an uneven throb that battered along at a speed-metal tempo.
He’d cut the line. Probably around the time he’d slashed her tires. He’d come here with a plan.
She couldn’t dwell here. Needed to keep moving.
She slammed the phone down. Turned just in time to see Brandon standing in the doorway to the room.
Her gaze jumped to the object at the end of his extended arm: his gun leveled at her head.
She froze. Eyes drifting to the barrel of the gun. That gaping black hole that seemed to grow as she looked into it.
A smile spread over the bottom half of his face.
But his eyes were dead.
EIGHTY-THREE
“Looks like playtime’s over,” Brandon said. “Drop your little toy there.”
Charlie could hear the note of amusement in his voice—the faintest lilt of delight—even if he was no longer grinning. She released her grip on the stun gun, watched it bounce once on the rug and go still.
Her chest deflated. A sickened feeling welled in her gut so hard it made her double over as if to retch.
He gestured with the gun, pointing her toward the other entrance to this room.
She obeyed. Walked slowly toward the second doorway between two bookcases as he fell in behind her.
She thought he’d say something. Gloat more. But he stayed quiet.
They passed a formal dining room with a massive table and a set of bulky chairs. Another exterior door loomed against the far wall. They must be heading back outside. Toward the lake.
He hadn’t killed her. Yet. There had to be a reason for that.
Perhaps he’d want to make it look like an accident. Just like Dutch. Just like Gloria. Keep all suspicion off of him, even if Marjory was still in the crosshairs of the police investigation.
She felt his shadow creep right up on her as he jabbed the barrel of the gun into the small of her back.
“Go on and pick up the pace, little rabbit,” he said. “No use stalling now. No use fighting. Just go on and get what you came for.”
He laughed at that last line before he went on, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
“That’s right. You came here for this, whether you knew it or not. As sure as fate.”
He flicked a switch as they neared the rear entrance. A harsh glow bloomed through the window panels cut into the back door.
Bright floodlights shone down on the massive backyard.
Brandon hustled up in front of her to open the door, still vaguely pointing the weapon in her direction even as he did.
“No funny shit, alright?” he said. “You try it, I promise you’ll regr—”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. Charlie got low and rushed him. Pushed his gun arm up over her head and gave him a shove, hoping he’d be thrown off-balance enough to give her a decent head start.
And then she was bolting through the open door, bounding down three concrete steps, and careening to the right. Plunging over a patio of fitted flagstone. Racing for the cover of the closest cluster of trees.
But he was on her right away. And with a simple nudge between her shoulder blades, Brandon sent her flying.
She sprawled in the air. She tried to will herself to land in the grass, but it was no good.
She hit elbows and knees first on the slab of stone. Scraping forward on the rough surface. Ripping a layer of skin off.
The pain intensified when she rolled over and the air assailed the wounds. An incredible sting. The hurt shuddered through her. Made her curl up like a crushed spider.
And then she was moving to get to her feet again. Trying to stand. Trying to run.
Arms snaked around her torso. Constricting. Getting her under his control.
He bashed her in the nose with the butt of the gun. Metal crunching against bone. The force of the blow sat her straight down on her butt.
She could feel the pain throughout her entire body. A splitting. A sundering.
Tears flooded her eyes. Made everything blurry.
Two breaths later, the blood came gushing from her nostrils. Red cascaded over her mouth and chin. She could taste the metal of it on her lips.
She tried to blink the tears away. Tried to wipe the blood away. Neither attempt was successful.
She stared down at the thick red smeared over her fingertips. Dark even under the bright lights. Still blinking, even if the tears just kept coming.
“See how that works?” he said. His dark silhouette towered over her, head wagging in a way she read as cocky. “Try running again, and I’ll bash it again. Believe me, the second time, with the nose already busted and that piece of cartilage wigglin’ around in there, hurts a whole lot worse.”
And she knew now that she wouldn’t run. Couldn’t run. She’d need to find another way.
EIGHTY-FOUR
Charlie staggered across the backyard, and the man with the gun followed closely behind her. Every so often she felt a soft puff of his breath twirl just above the collar of her shirt. It tickled in a way that made her want to cringe.
Defeat crept over her body. Her nose throbbed. Bright flashes of hurt radiating outward from the broken thing. The flesh of it felt hot too. Fevered. She could only imagine what kind of mangled pig snout occupied the center of her face just now.
And blood still wept down from her nostrils. Her back and shoulders ached. The dull pain of fatigue, of exhaustion.
Emptiness occupied her mind. Listlessness. A lethargic daze. That was the worst of it, she thought. The way all the fight had seeped out of her, leaking from a hole she couldn’t repair. Draining out along with the blood perhaps.
“Don’t even tell me you’re giving up now,” Allie hissed. “You don’t get to quit.”
Brandon jabbed the gun into the small of her back to keep her moving. The soles of her shoes scuffed the concrete as she dragged her heavy feet.
Allie continued, “If he wanted to use the gun, he would have done it already. You said it yourself. He’ll want it to look like an accident.”
They followed a long path, moving away from the house. The trail of pale cement reflected some illu
mination from the lights bearing down on them, made a splash of brightness over the dim ground. A glowing path that led to what? Death, she supposed.
Charlie knew that it led to the dock she’d seen earlier, even if she couldn’t see it just now. The lights didn’t reach that far.
Trees jutted up around them now and again. They looked eerie in the gloom. Blackened trunks protruding from the grass. Twisted limbs reaching outward like so many elongated arms.
The dark huddling around the branches looked smoky just now, Charlie thought. All of the shadows turned strangely oversized from the angle of the lights, like when a spider zips across the wall at night and the shadows of the skittering legs stretch out to about ten times the size of the arachnid itself.
Visible or not, Charlie knew the water was out there, the endless blue of Lake Huron some hundred or so yards beyond their current position. She could hear it slapping at the beach, waves surging up to touch the land over and over.
But she couldn’t see it yet. The glow of the lights only reached another fifteen feet in front of them.
Inky blackness lay past that point. An ebon wall that revealed nothing. It made her uneasy. Made her swallow hard, her throat sticky and dry.
The sound of the water lapping at the shore grew in volume as they neared it. The wet sounds made her shudder, even if she didn’t know why.
They trekked past the borderline where the lights gave way to the night. Moved into the full darkness at last.
At first, Charlie could only see the faint pale hue of the concrete path underfoot in the blackness. That once glowing path dimmed down to almost nothing like a dying ember.
She walked on it. Tried to focus on it. Tried not to gape into the nothingness that occupied all else just now.
But her eyes began to adjust. Form took shape in the void as it always did.
The moon came first. An orb of light above. No longer dulled and blocked by the harsh artificial light.
Then the stars faded in. Glowing pinpricks that occupied the sky from the horizon up.
Those sinister trees re-emerged. Blacker than the rest. Solid things, if twisted.
Soon even the texture of the grass began to show some, if distorted for the moment. Like a layer of peach fuzz lining the ground.