by Amy Cross
“Boss?” he stammers plaintively.
I open my mouth to reply, before realizing that I recognize that voice.
“It's me,” he continues, sounding a little scared. “It's Hinch.”
“Hinch?”
I lower my gun, and the figure stays on the ground, with his hands still behind his head.
“You scared me half to death,” he says with a sigh. “What are you doing out here?”
“What am I doing out here?” I ask, feeling a little breathless after the shock. “What the hell are you doing out here? I told you I'd come and take a look!”
“Sure,” he replies, “but a few minutes after that, somebody from the hospital called, asking after you. I didn't know what was going on, but it seemed weird and when I tried to call you, you didn't pick up.”
“That's because...”
Sighing, I realize he was just trying to do his job, even if he ended up fussing too much. I guess he was bound to show some initiative eventually.
“Get up,” I mutter.
“Are you sure?”
“Hinch, get up!”
Standing, he grabs his flashlight from the ground and swings it up, revealing his face.
“Have you been up there already?” I ask, trying to hide the fact that I'm slightly annoyed.
“Where?”
“To the cabin, Hinch. Have you been to the cabin?”
“Not yet. I was heading there right now.”
Turning, I start leading him through the forest.
“Turn that light off,” I mutter. “Do you want to completely advertise our arrival?”
“But how will we see where -”
“Your eyes'll get used to the dark,” I continue. “Turn it off.”
He does as he's told, and a moment later I hear a thud and a faint cry as he walks straight into one of the trees. I swear to God...
“You're not from around here, are you?” I mutter, realizing that maybe he's not quite so good at navigating his way through the forest. I guess, growing up here and living in Deal all my life, I've kind of developed a sixth sense when it comes to getting about without smacking nose-first into a bunch of pines. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
“I'm fine,” he mutters, although I hear him stumbling slightly as he comes closer. He's holding his nose, too, although at least it doesn't look broken. “Sorry. A tree came out of nowhere.”
“Sure it did,” I reply, setting off again up the hill, heading toward the field ahead. “Just stick close to me and hold your hands out in front of you.”
“So what were you at the hospital for?” he asks. “When that doctor called, it seemed kinda urgent.”
I walk on for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say. “Routine check-up,” I say finally.
“At close to midnight?”
“They fit these things in when they can.”
“What were they checking up?”
“Nothing important.”
“That seems odd. If it wasn't important, why were they calling about ?”
“Never mind. But if they call you again, don't put them through to me. Tell them to go away.”
“Why would -”
“Just leave it, okay?” I mutter, already wishing that I'd been more forceful when I told him not to come out here. Although I've wished plenty of times that he'd show a little more initiative, on this occasion I'd have preferred it if he'd just gone home to bed and left me alone. “And take a tip from me, okay? Next time you're checking out a cabin late at night, try to keep your flashlight usage to a minimum. That way, you won't light up your path as if it's a goddamn runway.”
“But then how will I see where I'm going?”
Just as I'm about to tell him, we reach the edge of the field and I see the dark cabin a little way further up the hill. There's no sign of light, which isn't exactly a surprise, and no sign that the place has been disturbed. Even the tire tracks are no longer visible, which I guess means either that the vehicle didn't come this far, or that it took a turning and headed across the field. Still, I stop for a moment and watch the cabin, just in case there's anything to suggest that we might have company.
“Is that it?” Hinch whispers.
“That's it.”
“It's not very big.”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don't know, but -”
Suddenly there's a loud bumping sound from the cabin, as if something or someone is inside. I wait, and a moment later there's another bump.
“Did you hear that?” Hinch whispers. “I think -”
“Stay close,” I reply, with my gun still in my right hand as I step past him and start making my way along the tree-line, edging toward the cabin.
“What do you think it was?” Hinch asks, hurrying to keep up with me.
“Just stay quiet,” I tell him, “and be ready in case someone comes out. And let me do the talking.”
Fortunately, Hinch keeps his mouth shut as we make our way through the darkness, and finally we get to the cabin just as there's another faint thumping sound from the other side of the door. The lights are still off, but I'm starting to think that there might be a struggle going on inside. As my gut flicks another burst of pain up into my chest, I force myself to stay focused, and after a moment I figure that there's really nothing else to do other than make our presence known. Maybe my hunch about this place was right after all.
“This is Deal County Sheriff's Department!” I yell. “We have the cabin surrounded! You need to come out right now with your hands in the air!”
I wait, but there's no reply. A moment later, I hear another bump.
“Maybe he didn't hear us,” Hinch whispers.
“This is Deal Country Sheriff's Department!” I shout again, with my gun aimed at the door as I edge closer. “I need you to come out immediately with your hands in the air! You're surrounded and there's no other way out, so do the smart thing!”
Again, I wait.
Again, nobody replies.
“Get backup out here,” I whisper to Hinch. “I want all available units and -”
Before I can get another word out, the thuds continue in the cabin, and it sounds for all the world as if somebody is slamming something repeatedly against the walls. If I had to put money on what's happening, I'd swear there's definitely some kind of struggle, so I step closer to the door and reach out, ready to pull it open. Whoever's on the other side, they sound absolutely frantic, but suddenly I notice that the door seems slightly crooked, and the wood around the latch is split. I grab the handle and count to three in my head, and then I pull the door open and aim into the darkness.
“Freeze!” I yell. “Don't -”
Suddenly a dog lunges at me, slamming into my chest and sending me clattering down to the ground. As I land, my finger accidentally squeezes the trigger and I fire off a shot, hitting the cabin's roof.
“I've got him!” Hinch shouts, grabbing the dog's collar as I stumble to my feet. “Are you okay?”
“That's Tom Lanston's dog!” I hiss, wincing with pain. Reaching out, I lean against the side of the cabin for a moment, but I can already see that there's nobody else in the gloomy interior. “His name's Keanu. The damn thing's been missing for days now.”
“He must've gotten himself trapped inside the cabin!”
“No kidding,” I mutter, wincing again as I step forward. I fumble for the light-switch, finally finding it and bringing the bulb to life above us. Sure enough, the cabin is empty, save for a couple of overturned tables and an old radio unit that looks to have been smashed against the floor. It's hard to believe that the power is still on in this place, but I'm glad of the light.
“Anything?” Hinch asks.
I step across the room and look around. The place looks like it's been smashed up, a moment later I spot a dark smear on the floor. Heading over, I crouch down and take a closer look.
Blood.
Dry, but not too old. A day or two. Three at most.
/>
“So this was a false alarm?” Hinch continues. “Boss? Well, apart from finding Keanu, I mean. I bet Tom'll be mighty pleased when we take his dog home for him.”
“There's blood here,” I whisper, looking over at the doorway and seeing more blood on the frame. “Quite a lot of blood.”
“From the dog?”
“Is he hurt?” I ask.
Getting to my feet, I make my way over toward the second patch of blood, before glancing at the window and seeing that the glass is broken. I step closer and press a finger against the damaged section, which looks to have been hit hard.
From inside.
This wasn't somebody trying to break into the cabin. Somebody was trying to break out.
“The dog seems fine,” Hinch says. “If there's blood, who do you think it belongs to?”
I stare at the broken window for a moment longer, before spotting a bloodied shard of glass on the ground. Turning, I look at the two patches of blood, and then I turn to see Hinch and the dog both staring at me with blank, gormless expressions.
“There might not be anybody here right now,” I say finally, “but someone was here. Recently, too. Within the past few days. And whoever they were, I think they were fighting for their life.”
Fifteen
Leanne Halperin
“No!” I scream, kicking him so hard in the chest that he falls back and slams into the wall.
I scramble to my feet and try to run to the door, but suddenly he grabs my legs and forces them together, sending me thudding down. I kick again, breaking free, and then he lunges past me and throws his weight against the door, pushing it shut and letting out a pained grunt.
Spinning around, I grab the radio from the table and raise it up high, and then I smash it against the window. The glass fractures but doesn't break properly, so I hit it again, and this time I at least manage to dislodge a large shard that drops to the floor.
Hearing the man coming up behind me, I turn and slam the radio against his face. He lets out another grunt as he tries to turn away, and then he grabs the radio and throws it to the floor.
Reaching down, I grab the shard of glass and lash out, trying to cut him. He takes the opportunity to punch me hard in the gut, causing me to fall back against the wall and drop the shard. As he steps toward me again, I throw myself into his chest and force him back, punching him several times in the crotch and belly, and then we both fall, clattering hard against the wooden floor.
I stumble and try to get up, but a moment later I let out a pained cry as I feel something slice against my ankle. Turning and falling, I see that the man is holding the glass shard, and he quickly tries to hit me again. Instinctively, I kick hard, slamming my heel against his face with enough force to make him fall back. He grunts, and I kick him a couple more times, trying desperately to knock him out.
I get to my feet and rush to the door, and this time I manage to pull it open and run out into the night air. Not even daring to look back, I race toward the forest and hurry past the truck, before making my way between the trees. I'm running faster than I ever thought possible, but I quickly slam into a tree, then another, and then finally a third before tripping and crashing down against the ground.
Feeling a flash of pain in my left ankle, I reach down and find that there's a thick slice in the skin. There's a lot of blood, too, but I don't have time to stop and patch it up now. Hearing a rustling sound nearby, I glance over my shoulder and see the cabin's door swinging open again, and a moment later the man steps into view. He looks around for a few seconds, and then he starts lumbering toward me.
Getting to my feet, I turn and hurry through the dark forest.
***
The pain in my chest is immense, finally too much for me to push through. Stumbling and then dropping to my knees, I lean forward and rest my weight on my hands for a moment as I try desperately to get my breath back. I don't know how long I've been running, but I feel as if my heart is about to burst.
“Help me,” I splutter, as the pain in my left ankle gets worse and worse. “Please, I don't want to die out here. Please, you have to help me...”
I don't even know who I think is going to help me.
Tears are streaming down my face, and for a moment I don't have the strength to get up. As my frantic breaths become a little quieter, however, I realize I can hear a distant rushing sound. I look around, terrified that the man might be right behind me, but then I spot a set of lights far away, flickering beyond the trees. It takes a few seconds longer before I realize that I must have finally found the highway.
If I can get to the highway, I'll be saved.
Hauling myself up, I limp forward, barely managing to stay on my feet as I make my way between the trees. And then, just as I think I'm about to collapse, the forest gives way to a narrow stretch of tarmac. Somehow, I've managed to find a road. The highway is still a few miles in the distance, but for now I'm on what looks like some kind of back-road. I've finally found civilization again.
“Hello?” I stammer, even though there's no sign of a car. “Anyone?”
I limp out into the middle of the road and look both ways, but there's still no-one around. At least the moonlight makes it easier for me to see the tarmac, and after a moment I realize that the road dips downhill a little in one direction, which means I know which way to go if I want to get away from Pellow's Peak. Turning, I start limping along, pushing through the pain in my ankle and trying desperately to keep from sobbing like a scared little girl.
For the next few minutes, I keep walking, making agonizingly slow progress as the road turns around a bend. At this speed, it's going to take me hours to get anywhere near the highway, but at least I managed to escape from the asshole and his stupid truck. Now I just have to hope I can get help in time for Ramsey to be okay, because for all I know she might still be unconscious down in that sinkhole. I keep telling myself that she'll be fine, that Ramsey is a million times tougher than anyone I've ever met before, but I've got this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that says maybe she's in real trouble.
Suddenly I hear the distant roar of a vehicle coming this way. Turning, I see headlights flashing behind the trees, and I realize somebody is about to come down from Pellow's Peak. A momentary flash of hope quickly turns to fear, however, as I figure that there's only one person who I know was up at Pellow's Peak tonight, and the headlights seem to be moving slowly, almost as if the vehicle's occupant is looking out the window and searching for someone.
Panicking, I limp off to the side of the road and duck down behind a bush, and then I wait as a truck rolls into view.
It's him.
I hold my breath as the truck drives slowly past. It's barely going much faster than walking pace, and I can just about make out the silhouetted figure peering out at the forest.
And then the truck grinds to a halt, only ten or fifteen feet away from where I'm crouching in the mud.
I wait, but at least the driver doesn't get out. I can't really see what he's doing, but so far he seems to be just sitting there with the engine ticking over. A moment later there's a flicker of light from the driver's cab, and suddenly a handheld flashlight casts a beam out into the forest.
I duck down as the beam flashes past, but at least it's not pointed directly at me.
Part of me wants to turn and run, even though I know he'd definitely see where I'm going. At least I'd have a head-start, and at least I'd have a chance out there in the forest, but my ankle hurts and I'm not sure I can run very fast. I decide to wait, but I tell myself that I'll bolt if the guy opens the door and starts getting out of his truck. If he starts comes this way, I won't have a choice.
The flashlight's beam continues to flicker through the forest for a moment longer, and then suddenly it cuts out.
I wait, terrified in case the truck's door swings open.
And then, instead, I hear the truck shift gear and start off along the road again. I wait a few more seconds, just to be sure that it's
far enough away, and then I dare look around the side of the bush, just in time to see the truck disappearing around the next corner.
He's gone.
He's really gone.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize that, even if he suspected I might be nearby, he gave up and drove on. He's still looking for me, but he clearly has no idea which way I've gone, which means I can stop worrying that he's secretly tracking me through the dark forest. I watch as his truck's lights disappear, and then I get to my feet.
I guess he's not as smart as he thinks.
Limping back onto the road, I start walking again. If he comes back this way, I can duck out of view and hide, just like the first time. Easy. He's not some supernatural creature with amazing tracking abilities, and he clearly doesn't have night-vision goggles or any of that garbage. He's just a guy who got a little lucky earlier, but now I've slipped away from him and I'm not going to let him find me again. He's some dumb, hillbilly moron, some kind of brain-damaged low-life sub-human piece of human trash.
“Screw you,” I whisper under my breath, even as I feel another flash of pain in my ankle. “You're not gonna get away with this. I'm gonna bring every cop in the county back with me, motherfucker.”
And it's true.
That's exactly what I'm going to do.
I'm going to have cops swarming all over that farm. I'm going to have that bastard hauled away in chains. I'm going to testify against him in court, and I'm going to enjoy every moment. He'll rot in jail before his trial, and he'll probably end up as the little bitch for a bunch of tough guys. I might even go and watch when he's executed. In fact, hell yeah, I'm gonna be in the front row when they pull the switch and fry the bastard. Or maybe they'll give him a lethal injection. Either way, I want to watch every last moment. And most importantly, I'm going to be there at the sinkhole when they pull Ramsey out and find that she's fine.
Thinking about all the horrible things that are going to happen the bastard with the truck, I keep walking for what feels like forever. The road is so lonely and desolate, but at least I can see the lights of the distant highway, and I know I'll get there eventually. I haven't given up hope, and I'm starting to feel stronger.