by Mark Allen
“If we make it out of this alive,” she replied, “I’m going to ask you not to.”
“My father, all those other people … all dead, all because of him. I should just let him get away with it?” Two more strokes of the knife and the branch was tapered to a sharp point. “I don’t think I can do that.”
Holly didn’t respond. Maybe she knew that nothing she could say would change his mind.
He held the branch up, inspecting the spear. The freshly carved wood almost seemed to glow bone-white in the darkness.
“You have a problem killing one of those things?” he asked.
Holly shook her head. “I think we’re a little past the whole ‘turn the other cheek’ thing.”
“Good.” Kevin pointed to the decaying log. “Get in.”
He hid the spear beneath some leaves as she crawled inside the log, then joined her. The darkness was as black as the devil’s soul, the only light coming from the moon cutting through a knothole the size of a half-dollar. Kevin quickly sketched out his plan and then they waited in silence.
It wasn’t long before they heard twigs snapping and leaves crackling as something heavy stomped through the woods with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. At the other end of the log, Holly waited. Kevin wondered if she was holding her breath like he was, not wanting to betray their position. For his plan to work, timing was everything.
He heard footsteps right outside the log and then saw something long, slimy, and worm-like dangling in front of the knothole—a loop of Mongus’ intestinal tract. It looked like someone—Bill, most likely—had hastily sewn up the shotgun wound in Mongus’ abdomen, but some of the stitches had ruptured, allowing the intestine to slither free. The mutant seemed to be ignoring the greasy, flopping tendril as he clutched his double-bladed axe and peered into the darkness, searching for his prey.
Mongus took another step forward, putting him just past the knothole.
Now or never, Kevin thought.
He tapped Holly’s ankle. She instantly let out a loud cry and bolted from the log like a scared rabbit flushed from cover. Kevin could almost hear her thoughts. Come on, you ugly bastard, take the bait.
Mongus roared and lunged at her with his axe raised.
Kevin powered to his feet, the rotten wood exploding around him as he burst from the log like an avenging angel being born. Mongus reacted swiftly to the sudden threat, swinging his axe backward without even turning around. Kevin ducked under the blade in the nick of time and felt a few hairs shaved off his head.
Running on fear and adrenalin, he rammed his hunting knife high into Mongus’ ribs, just below the armpit. The blade scraped on bone but still punched through and Kevin pushed it in up to the hilt, digging for the bastard’s black heart. Blood gushed out all over his hand as he twisted the knife. Mongus howled and dropped the axe.
Holly snatched the spear from where it was hidden beneath the leaves. Gripping it firmly, she whirled around. Mongus’ mouth was a gaping hole of pain. Holly ran forward and plunged the spear right into the screaming maw, putting enough force behind the thrust that the spear popped out the back of Mongus’ head, the sharpened point dripping with gore.
Mongus staggered backwards, clutching at the wooden pole skewering his skull. His ankle caught on a root and he toppled to the ground. He twitched for what seemed like forever but was probably just a minute or two, then finally laid still.
Kevin looked down at the giant corpse, taking in the gut wound, the knife hole, and the punctured cranium. He shook his head in amazement. “Talk about one hard to kill son of a bitch.”
Holly came over and stood beside him. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
Kevin picked up Mongus’ axe and chopped his head off.
“We are now,” he said.
He leaned over to yank his knife from Mongus’ ribcage.
The headless body suddenly sat up, clutching at Kevin. Strong fingers gripped his shirt and started pulling him down as blood jetted from the neck-stump, spraying him with a red fountain. Kevin recoiled from the blast of hot, wet gore and threw himself backward. There was a harsh ripping sound as his shirt tore, leaving behind a scrap of cloth in Mongus’ clutching hand.
In something close to a hysterical frenzy, Kevin swung the axe again and again and again, hacking and slicing and chopping at the body. Die! he thought every time sharp steel thudded into moist flesh. Die! Die! Die! He didn’t stop until the axe had severed every limb from the torso and then reduced that torso to a quivering pile of meat.
When he was sure that Mongus would not rise again, Kevin stopped chopping. He dropped the axe, sleeved blood and sweat from his face, fished his knife out of the pile of blood and guts, and retrieved the shotgun from the log.
He looked at Holly. “Now that son of a bitch is dead.”
“I’m not going to ask if you’re sure,” she said.
He glanced back the way they had come. “There’s still two of them left, so we have to keep moving. If we can make it back to the Jeep, we can get the hell outta here.”
They hustled through the woods, not running, not walking, but a pace somewhere in between, which was about as fast the terrain would allow. They had gone several hundred yards when Holly suddenly asked, “Do you have the keys to the Jeep?”
“Don’t need them.”
“Then how do you plan on starting it?”
Kevin paused for a moment to catch his breath. Well, more to let Holly catch hers. He leaned against a tree and gave her a smile. “Learned a few tricks in juvie. How to use toothpaste to cut through steel bars. How to make a shank out of toilet paper. How to make sure you never drop the soap in the shower. Oh, and how to hotwire a car. All we have to do is make it to the Jeep in one piece.”
“Little late for that,” Holly said wryly, looking pointedly at where her left arm used to be.
Kevin wanted to slap himself. God, I’m such a stupid idiot sometimes. Aloud he said, “Holly, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
She waved away his apology. “It’s okay, Kevin, I’m just messing with you.” She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Really, it’s all right.”
Their eyes met and lingered for a moment. Kevin was struck by the fact that, beneath all the grime caking her face, she was a very attractive woman.
He abruptly looked away. There was no time for those kind of thoughts. Maybe later, but first they had to get out alive.
******
A quarter mile behind them, Boss stumbled upon Mongus’ chopped-to-chunks remains. They were kind of hard to miss since they were so messily strewn across the trail. Boss gripped his chainsaw in one massive hand and canted it over his shoulder as he stared down at his brother—or rather, what was left of his brother—for a few moments. His face was expressionless and had anyone been watching, they would not have seen even a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Finally, he reached down and picked up Mongus’ double-bladed axe. No point in letting a good weapon go to waste.
He stepped around the butchered carcass and studied the ground beyond. He was an expert tracker and it was clear which way the boy and the bitch had fled; the scuffed dirt and overturned leaves were practically neon signs glowing in the night.
With an axe in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, Boss continued his hunt, heading toward the Wainwright cabin.
******
Holly was definitely out of shape, but Kevin couldn’t hold that against her. Kind of hard to maintain a good exercise regimen when you’re locked up in a dog cage. When she started lagging again, he took her hand and practically dragged her behind him.
“Just leave me,” she said more than once.
And every time she said it, his reply was, “Not a chance in hell.”
The forest was not their friend. Thorns reached out to snag their clothes and slow them down. Roots rose up to cause them to trip and stumble. Limbs whipped their faces and blinded them with watering eyes. But no matter what happened, Kevin never let go of Holly’s hand.
/> Until he banged his head against a hanging log and then tripped over Vicky Parker’s severed leg.
He twisted as he fell so he landed on his back, his arms reaching out to cushion’s Holly’s fall. She landed on top of him so they were chest to chest, their faces just inches apart. It might have turned into a tender moment if they both hadn’t spotted Vicky’s crushed head laying just a few feet away from theirs.
Holly gasped and rolled away. Kevin jumped to his feet and pulled her up. Maybe it was his imagination, but he would have sworn her hand stayed in his for a moment longer than was necessary.
He examined the scene for a moment, then handed Holly the shotgun. “Hold this.”
She took the weapon from him. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Kevin removed the leg from the bear trap and tossed it into the brush. He then picked up the trap, slinging it over his shoulder by the chain. He winced as the metal clanked and had no doubt their pursuers could hear it loud and clear, the sound carrying easily through the cold night air.
“Care to explain your idea?” Holly asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin replied. “Let’s go find a teeter-totter.”
******
Kevin figured he could have reached the teeter-totter in about thirty minutes, but Holly couldn’t move as fast as him, so it took the better part of an hour. Sixty long, tense, gut-wrenching minutes not knowing if or when their tormentors would pounce out of the shadows. Dawn was at least an hour away and darkness still blanketed the woods.
They risked stopping only once, at the Wainwright hunting lodge. Kevin ran inside and grabbed a box of shells for the shotgun. He swallowed a lump in his throat when he saw all his dad’s hunting gear still strewn about the place. Hard to believe that just twenty-four hours earlier they had been climbing out of bed, ready for a day of deer-hunting. So many deaths since then … and none of them had been deer.
His ammo supply replenished, Kevin exited the lodge and him and Holly finished making their way to the giant teeter-totter without incident. He was surprised to see the crushed remains of the salamander still smeared into the ground. He would have thought some scavenger—raccoon, coyote, fox—would have scarfed up the carrion as a meal.
He left the crushed creature where it lay as he quickly set up his ambush. Winded and one-armed, Holly couldn’t really help much, but Kevin found solace in her presence. He had been through hell, lost so much, and there was comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone in this fight.
With the site prepped, he made sure the teeter-totter log was positioned so that one end was angled above the trail, then he and Holly hid in the thicket that concealed the other end. If Boss or Bill stepped under the log, Kevin could quickly slam it down on their heads and hopefully put an end to this nightmare.
If they didn’t step under the log … well, then he would go to plan B.
They were silent while they waited. Neither of them wanted to take the chance of their hunters hearing them.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Holly’s reached out and grabbed Kevin’s arm tightly when Boss appeared, his hulking frame cutting through the patches of moonlight. The giant mutant paused in one of the patches and raised his nose, sniffing the air like a wolf seeking the scent of blood on the breeze. He carried the chainsaw and axe as easily Kevin would carry a Frisbee.
Come on, Kevin mouthed silently. Keep coming, you bastard.
He hoped the humanoid predator wouldn’t hear the sound of his heart banging in his chest.
Boss moved further up the trail, then stopped just short of the teeter-totter. Kevin saw him tilt his head down to gaze at the crushed salamander, then tilt his head up to look at the log jutting overhead. Then he snorted in derision and growled, “Ain’t gonna be that easy, kids.”
He stepped off the trail around the teeter-totter’s point of impact, shaking his head as if unable to believe they had actually thought he would put himself in such obvious danger.
His right foot stepped directly into the carefully camouflaged bear trap. Kevin had anticipated that the mutant would sidestep around the teeter-totter rather than walk under it and had placed the trap accordingly.
The metal teeth snapped shut, shearing through flesh and biting into bone. Blood pulsed onto the cold ground. Boss snarled in pain and his eyes burned with rage. The hunter was not used to being outfoxed by his prey.
Kevin and Holly emerged from the thicket. Despite the emotional trauma he had suffered, despite all the grief and exhaustion and thorn-scrapes and hammered mouth, Kevin couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph as he approached Boss. The mutant stopped struggling and fell silent, glaring at them as they walked toward him. His ugly face expressed hatred, but not fear. But Kevin didn’t care about that. He didn’t want the son of a bitch afraid.
He just wanted him dead.
“Hey, asshole,” Kevin rasped. “I’ve got something for you.”
He shoved the barrel point-blank into Boss’ face and pulled the trigger.
The pre-dawn darkness lit up momentarily as fire and smoke engulfed Boss’ head. A hole the size of a quarter appeared above his left eye as the slug ripped through his skull. The exit wound in the back of his head was closer to the size of a fist. Bloody sludge flecked with bone bits sprayed across the leaves.
The impact of the shotgun blast to the brain knocked Boss backward and he toppled to the ground clumsily, leg still caught in the jaws of the bear trap. The chainsaw and axe fell from his hands as his leg twisted apart. The steel teeth finished sawing through the limb, snapping the tibia bone and completely severing the appendage. Boss sprawled lifelessly in the dirt as blood jetted from the torn stump in hot gushes.
Kevin and Holly stood side by side, shoulders touching, and watched silently as the gushes turned to spurts and then the spurts finally slowed to a trickle.
Holly stared down at the subhuman beast that had tormented her for so many years. Kevin wondered if she was reliving her abuse or simply relishing the destruction of the abuser. In a quiet voice she asked, “Are you sure he’s dead?”
Kevin walked over to Boss and kicked him in the shoulder. He thought about stomping the mutant’s head to mush, but Bill was still out there somewhere and he didn’t want to waste the time. “He’s dead,” he said. “Let’s go. Just a little further and we’ll be home free.”
They headed down the path toward the parking area at a fast march. Above them, the black sky started the cyclic process of turning to gray as dawn began to force its will upon the night.
By the time they emerged from the woods at the trailhead and walked out into the parking area, the moon still hung full and bloated above them, but the stars had faded and the heavens were the color of cold ash. Daylight was not far off.
We did it, Kevin thought. We survived the night.
But the row of vehicles parked nearby gave mute testament to those who had not. His father’s Wrangler. Wayne and Vicky Parker’s Blazer. The Rickson’s F-150. A Jeep, a Chevy, and a Ford, all bound together by one common trait—dead owners.
Kevin closed his eyes to fight back tears. He missed his father more than he could have ever imagined and he would weep uncontrollably when the right time came. But not now, not yet.
As if sensing he needed a moment alone, Holly walked away, heading for the Wrangler. “You said the Jeep is yours, right?” she called over her shoulder.
Kevin nodded. “Yeah.” Get a grip, Kevin. Now’s not the time for tears.
Holly tried to open the passenger door, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked,” she said.
Kevin took a deep breath to compose his emotions, then walked over to the driver’s side of the Jeep, flipped the shotgun around in his hands, and used the butt to bust out the window. He then reached in through the shattered glass and hit the unlock button.
He grinned at her as he pulled his own door open. “Try again.”
She climbed into the Jeep and rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously? You learned ho
w to hotwire a car but not how to pick a lock?”
He shrugged. “The guy who knew how to jimmy locks didn’t like me much.”
“Why not?”
“Because I broke his damn jaw.” Kevin ducked under the steering column and used his knife to pry off the cover. He then yanked out a spaghetti-like mess of wires, found the ones he needed, and started stripping them.
Holly asked, “Did you at least have a good reason?”
Kevin sat up and smiled wryly. “Let’s just say I like to shower alone.” He twisted the wires together and the engine rumbled to life. He pumped the gas, relishing the roar of the motor. “Now that sounds like sweet, sweet music,” he said as he reached over and hit the headlights.
Holly screamed.
Boss stood in front of the Jeep, bathed in the bright glow of the headlamps that harshly scoured his rage- and pain-twisted features. His left leg was half gone and the hole in his head oozed black muck, but somehow he was still alive.
And he still had the chainsaw.
Holly screamed again as Boss raised the weapon above his head and hit the throttle. Exhaust smoke billowed into the night as the injured mutant hopped awkwardly but determinedly toward the Jeep.
“Oh, you have got to be shitting me.” Kevin dropped the transmission into Drive and stomped on the gas. As the Jeep shot forward, he screamed, “Motherfucker, why won’t you just DIE!”
The Jeep rammed into Boss, folding him over the hood. He still clung to the chainsaw and the metal teeth dug divots out of the hood in a shower of sparks. Kevin pinned the gas pedal to the floor as he drove the Jeep right through the sign-in station. He heard the mutant howl in pain and anger as the tiny shack practically exploded, wood shards twisting into the pre-dawn murk like flesh-tearing shrapnel. The Jeep powered through the station and slammed into a massive oak, pinning Boss between the grill and the tree trunk. Kevin couldn’t actually hear it, but he imagined the sickening crunch of the mutant’s pelvis being crushed. In his mind, it sounded like ice cubes being hit by a hammer.
Boss flopped on the hood, unmoving, and the chainsaw slipped from his grasp. It skittered across the hood and tumbled off the edge, landing on the ground with the throttle stuck wide open.