“I had almost forgotten about that,” David confessed. “What are we going to do now?”
“I was going to ask you that.” Parker grimaced. “I for one have no sympathy for that … scum.”
“Me neither, that doesn’t answer what we’re gonna do though. I say we drag his sorry ass out behind the barn and decide later. We can’t just leave him lying in the kitchen.” David shrugged.
“I’m good with that, David, and we should do that soon.” Parker looked over his shelves, not finding a tarp large enough to hold the cooling body. “I’m going to the barn for a tarp.” Before David could protest, he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful and keep something in sight at all times.” He slipped his jacket back on and pocketed the flashlight.
The wind had abated once again to the point the barn loomed like a large and dark behemoth, and Parker hurried to the small side door, not bothering with the snowshoes. Quickly finding the bin stuffed full of various tarps, he selected one and hurried back toward the house. Again the wind escalated, blinding him with shards of icy pellets.
“Come on, David, Thag is fine now and I doubt he will ever go near a door after that experience.” With the cat wrapped in a fresh, dry, and warm towel, and sleeping on the couch, they dealt with Chad.
“Why is there so little blood?” David questioned.
“The small caliber must have missed a main artery and left a small hole; the thick skull apparently prevented an exit wound,” he explained. “That does surprise me considering how close he was to the gun. He must have a really hard head!” They laid the tarp out and rolled Chad on to it, dragging him over to the door.
“Look, Parker, he’s got a gun! He might have killed us to get the cabin.” David pointed to the revolver tucked into the pants and under the big belly. “Do you think we should keep it?”
“No. It’s probably registered to him, and I’ve read enough murder mysteries to know it would look really bad if we had it in our possession!”
After putting their gear back on, they pulled on the edges of the tarp and made their way behind the now nearly invisible barn. After venturing another dozen feet into the woods, they stopped.
“Do we just leave him?” David yelled to be heard above the howling wind.
“For now, why not? And I think we should leave him on the tarp, that way when we figure out what to do, it will be easier to move him. Maybe by morning, we’ll think of something …” Parker let his anger toward Chad build to help bury all the emotions welling up inside him. He had never killed a living thing before, much less a person, and it was weighing very heavy on him.
Parker added more wood to the stove and even though it was now only four in the afternoon, he got two beers out of the refrigerator and sat on the couch with a sleeping Pythagoras between them.
“David,” he started, “I want you to know I’m having some massive guilt about killing Chad.” He took a long drink of the cold beer before his shaking hands could slosh it out of the can and looked between his feet. “It wasn’t what I had planned; it just … happened.”
“I know, Parker, I saw it all. I feel just as guilty for taking you to his shop in the first place. And for what it’s worth, the guy was delusional, even crazy. I really do think he would have killed both of us without a second thought.”
They sat in silence for a while, petting the cat.
“When Chad called you light in the loafers, what did he mean?” David finally asked.
Parker scowled. “It’s an outdated expression. He was accusing me of being gay.”
“Are you?”
“What? Gay? No, David, I’m quite straight. One of these days when we don’t have so much to deal with, I’ll show you some pictures of the really hot chicks I’ve dated,” he said, grinning.
Then Parker finished his beer and stood. He drew a bucket of water from the hand-pump and mopped what little blood ended up on the floor. After dumping the pink water down the drain and rinsing the bucket, he opened the freezer, trying to busy his still shaking hands.
“I think it’s a pizza night.”
“Parker, I think we should agree on a story, in the event someone else knew Chad was coming out here, you know, in case his body is still here in the morning,” David said.
“What do you mean, in case?”
“The woods are full of animals—carnivore-type animals.”
Parker paled.
“Maybe the best thing would be to say is that we never saw him. It would be easy to get lost in this storm. Keep it simple.”
“That’s a good idea. Let’s forget he was ever here.” David nodded, wondering if their guilt might betray them at some point.
During the darkest hours of the night, they heard several wolves calling to their pack members in ever-increasing closeness. The blood from the cuts on Chad’s slack face drew in the scavengers like a beacon, their hunger and bloodlust on high.
In the morning, the body was gone. The wind had wrapped the tarp around a tree and the two struggled to free it.
“What do you think happened to … Chad?” Parker asked.
“Wolves have to eat too,” David replied, then threw up his breakfast.
Chapter Nineteen
More than a week after the storm forced Cliff Tucker, his new girlfriend and the two members of his household staff to seek shelter by the fireplace in his small office, Cliff heard a pounding on the front door. He set the armload of wood he was carrying down on the floor and looked through the security hole in the massive front door.
Cliff opened the door a few inches to keep the precious heat inside. “Joseph, I thought everyone had left.”
“No, sir, Mr. Tucker, I got snowed in too,” the security guard explained. “May I come in for a few minutes?”
Cliff opened the door wider to let him in and quickly closed it again.
“Are you alone here?” Joseph asked cautiously.
“Goodness, no; my house staff is here as well as a friend,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just trying to keep track of how many people are still here for when help arrives,” Joseph said. “I’ve been going house to house checking on everyone, staying a night whenever possible and trying for at least one meal. It’s been a tough time for all of us.”
“I think we can spare a bowl of soup. Follow me.” Cliff picked up the armload of wood and led him through the frigid house to his office where Mary and Justine were huddled under blankets and wearing oversized sweatshirts. Justine was quick to stand when she recognized Joseph.
“Joseph! I thought you were off on vacation when this started,” she questioned.
“I was, but when Arnie didn’t show up for his shift, I was called in and kinda got stuck here.” He shrugged. “Where’s Sam?”
“Out in the garage getting more wood; have a seat, Joseph, you look half frozen,” Cliff said. “Justine, can you get him a bowl of soup from the kitchen?”
Once Justine left to get some soup for their unexpected guest, Cliff started asking questions.
“So where have you stayed these last two weeks? Are you getting enough to eat?”
“I stayed on duty in my guard shack for several days, sir. While the power was still on, I had the electric heater. It wasn’t very comfortable though; I could barely lie down to sleep,” Joseph said. “And we do keep a small refrigerator there, for our lunches and drinks, so I had a little food.”
“Where did you go first?” Cliff pushed.
“I started on the north end of the first cul-de-sac. The Johnsons took me in for two days, and then I had to move on: they didn’t have enough food to share. Then I stopped at the Carson’s but no one answered the door,” he lied. “I think many of those who were at home when this all started left to stay with other family. Maybe they didn’t want to get stranded way
out here. It is pretty remote.”
“Not all that remote,” Mary interjected. “It only takes twenty minutes to get to downtown Grosse Pointe.”
“That’s true, ma’am, if you can drive it. On foot in three feet of snow and not being able to see where you’re going, makes it remote,” Joseph responded. Justine interrupted the conversation with a tray containing a bowl of thin vegetable soup, a slice of bread, and a cup of hot coffee. “Thank you, Justine, that smells wonderful!”
Joseph accepted Cliff’s offer to stay for the night and slept on the couch while the others slept on mattresses nearer the fire. Sleep was a long time coming though; his mind kept running over the events of the last two weeks.
Yes, the Johnson’s had taken him in; however, on that second day, they insisted he leave when they caught him stealing food from their meager pantry. Jon and Jane Johnson, along with their teenage son Jeremy, were deeply rationing what little food they had and had been righteously indignant when Joseph was caught stuffing his face with the last box of crackers.
Joseph had made it two lots over, stopping at the Carson’s Tudor home when he noticed a heat signature coming from the elaborate stone chimney. He was cold and wet and still hungry.
Hunger will make a person do crazy and normally unacceptable things. When Avery Carson answered the knock at the door, Joseph pushed his way in and hit him hard enough to render him unconscious. Joseph picked up the nearest heavy object, a marble-based golf trophy, and bashed in Avery’s skull. He silently made his way to the kitchen where he surprised the young and pretty Helen Carson. He hit her hard and tied her to a low wooden chair with her own red flowery apron. The red helped disguise the blood dripping from her nose.
He sat at the ornate dinette set and ate half of the pot-roast Helen had been fixing for dinner. With his food hunger satisfied, his crazed eyes found Helen staring at him in terror. He untied her enough to get off the chair and raped her. The next three days followed a pattern: Helen would be untied long enough only so she could prepare food, and then Joseph, drunk on the power he had over these snooty rich folk, would take his anger and lust out on her.
On the fourth day, all the food was gone. Joseph strangled Helen as he raped her one last time; having seen that in a movie once, he’d always wanted to try it.
Joseph smiled over the memories and allowed himself to drift off to warm and peaceful sleep. There was no way he could overpower four people, so the Tucker household was safe.
For now.
Chapter Twenty
Jenna Jones smiled at the small group of teenage girls in front of her. Her training partner, Mariah Moses, sat off to the side and nodded with an excited grin. Jenna taught wilderness survival during her time off from the State Police as a Search and Rescue Tracker; Mariah was leader of the local scout troop; they worked together frequently and had become fast friends with many similar interests. The three teenagers seated before them, Mindy Stokes and twins Lily and Helen Crystal, had been carefully selected for the rugged week-long course that would start that afternoon, as a prerequisite for them becoming troop leaders themselves.
“Well, ladies, today is the day!” Jenna said. “You were given a list of supplies needed for this week that includes only two days of food, and all of those supplies must be carried in your pack. Everything carried in must be carried out; we will forage or hunt for additional food. This is going to be a tough week, but Mariah and I believe you three are up for it. Any questions?”
“What if one of us gets hurt or sick?” Mindy asked.
“Don’t get hurt, don’t get sick,” Mariah replied seriously.
Jenna chuckled. “We are prepared for emergencies, but Mariah is right: don’t get hurt, don’t get sick. Remember, you have control over that: if you question a food source, don’t eat it: it’s better to go hungry than get sick; if you’re in a potentially dangerous situation, think your way out. That’s what this is all about, girls; it’s a test to see what you’ve learned and how well you’ve learned it.” She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her platinum-streaked, short red hair.
Jenna and Mariah both carried a compass plus a GPS as a backup, while the girls needed to rely on their compasses and the sky; Jenna also carried an emergency 800 MHz radio and her service pistol; she didn’t like taking unnecessary chances with those placed in her trust. She’d been at this for several years, doing sessions in all seasons and in all kind of weather, and never once did anyone ever know she was armed and never once was an exercise called off because of the weather. “Let’s load up your packs. The driver is anxious to drop us off.”
Jonathon, Jenna’s partner on the force, helped the girls toss their backpacks, sleeping bags, and tents in the back of his extended cab pickup. His job was to deliver the small group to a remote spot. He had every confidence in Jenna to get them back to her vehicle, which was parked at the Three-Shoes diner. If Jenna was alone, it would take her three days; with the young girls, it would take a week, perhaps a day or two longer. She was the most competent person he knew.
He followed the main graveled road south for several miles, and then turned west onto a logging trail. Each logging trail he found went deeper and deeper into the woods in a seemingly unending random pattern. He knew where he was going, though he was sure the young girls were completely confused. Finally, he stopped; the road barely visible beneath his over-sized tires.
“Looks like we have arrived,” Mariah announced. The teens piled out of the big truck and began removing their packs, making three small piles. The two instructors did the same, quickly lacing their sub-zero sleeping bags and small wind-breaking tents to their knapsacks. Jenna slipped the emergency radio into the side of Mariah’s pack. Her digging into Mariah’s pack would be quicker and easier than taking her own pack off if time was of the essence. The girls took turns checking over each other’s pack and helping to get it balanced properly on their backs.
“See you in a week,” Jenna said to Jonathon, and led the girls even further west and out of sight of the truck. Once he couldn’t see or hear them any longer, Jonathon drove a short distance further to a wide spot and turned around, heading back the way he came. He was back to Three-Shoes forty-five minutes later. The drop-off site was not far, but the route Jenna would take back covered a lot of varying and challenging terrain.
“Slow down, Mindy, this isn’t a race. A slow and steady pace is best,” Mariah admonished the older girl. “You don’t want to get tired out in the first few hours.”
“We are only going for another hour and then we’ll set camp,” Jenna announced. “This will be our standard: up at daybreak, set camp before nightfall. And why do we do that, Helen?”
“We want to see what we’re doing! And if we need to hunt or forage for dinner, it helps to see it!”
They all laughed.
“While that sounds amusing, it’s true. We’ve been on a few overnight camping trips, and I know you three understand how dark the woods get and how quickly you can become disoriented,” Mariah reminded them. “Don’t ever take unnecessary chances. When it gets dark you stop. Period.”
Their first campsite went up quickly and well before dark, and the girls had collected enough firewood to last several hours. They had hiked a total of five hours, taking short breaks along the way. The rugged and circuitous route Jenna led them on was guaranteed to provide a good night of deep and undisturbed sleep. Tomorrow would be a longer and more grueling hike.
“Where to next?” Mariah spoke in hushed tones to not disturb the sleeping teens.
“I think over to the ravine so they can practice filtering water from that creek over there,” Jenna replied. Mariah nodded silently, the movement barely visible in the fire light. They put the fire out and crawled into their individual tents.
Morning bro
ke with a definite chill in the air that faded with the rising sun.
For three days, they followed a standard routine: breaking camp and cleaning up the site, followed by a random selection of who would lead next and another random selection of the compass heading.
On the fourth morning, they woke to a dusting of snow.
“A bit early in the season for snow, but it will help us track some dinner. Keep an eye out for any disturbed trails,” Jenna said. The girls were anxious for some hot food; they had all run out of energy bars and jerky the day before and were getting hungry.
Mindy was the first to spot the distinctive prints of a hare, which led them to the sheltered nest that covered the warren. That night, they dined on roasted rabbit, grilled over an open fire, after they each took a turn at dressing out their catch.
Jenna and Mariah were up first, and let the girls sleep a bit longer while they discussed the unusual shift in weather conditions over campfire perked coffee.
“Six inches of snow this early? What do you think?” Mariah asked nervously.
“Six inches is nothing, Mar, you know that. It could melt by noon.” Jenna shrugged it off. “That being said, we should wake the girls and get them involved. That’s what we’re all here for, right?”
The powdery white snow fell gently on the thin tents and was easily shaken off as they broke camp.
They stepped through mounds of snow and crunched the dry leaves and fallen branches that lay hidden underneath. Waterproof boots shed the water of the puddles they tromped through as the five wandered the forest.
On the fifth day of their training adventure, Jenna stopped them at another stream to replenish their canteens and water bottles; the water ran clear and icy cold. She brushed a fresh foot of snow off a log and sat.
“We’re taking the lead now and heading us back,” she stated. “You girls have done great.” With Jenna in the lead, followed by the twins, then Mindy and Mariah bringing up the rear, they headed out again. It was mid-afternoon and the air was filled large fluffy snowflakes as they walked along the top edge of a low snow-crusted ridge.
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