by Matt Hilton
‘Wait! Shhh!’ Leah bobbed up to peek between the blinds and window frame. The sound might alert the killer that they were barricading in, and force his hand sooner. He was nowhere to be seen.
Leah had never noticed it before, only after it fell silent and the sudden hush was magnified when she held her breath in expectancy. When she was inside the cabin, the constant hum of the generator had been background noise, it had gone unnoticed by her, but its sudden cessation was conspicuous.
‘He’s in the generator shed,’ she whispered.
‘What’s he doing?’ Becks wondered for them all.
‘It’ll still be light for hours,’ Hayley said, and the realisation that she was standing in full view at the centre of the room suddenly struck her. She ducked beneath the table she’d been intent on overturning a moment ago. ‘Rescuers will get here before it grows dark, right?’ she added hopefully. ‘Why’s he turning off the lights?’
‘I don’t think he’s only turning off the power,’ Leah said. She recalled the fuel cans she’d spotted in the small outshed, spare diesel for the generator. ‘Guys,’ she said, her tone ominous, ‘I think we might have to run.’
‘No…we should stay here,’ Hayley croaked in dismay.
‘He’s getting the diesel…’ Leah began.
‘Why?’ Harry asked, but his question wasn’t as stupid as it first sounded. ‘You think he’s going to try to burn us out? Diesel isn’t as combustible as petrol. It won’t burn easily…’
He was correct. You couldn’t ignite liquid diesel fuel with a match or cigarette lighter; it took a sustained heat source before it would combust into flame. It wasn’t as if he could splash diesel on the log cabin then set it ablaze. Perhaps, Leah hoped, she was wrong, and his motive for visiting the generator shed was for another less frightening reason than burning them out.
Her hopes were dashed a moment later when glass tinkled at the back of the cabin, and Leah pinpointed her bedroom window as his ingress. The bedding, the curtains, all were fuel to get a fire going, and the diesel added to it would become a conflagration.
‘Everybody out!’ Leah hollered, and charged to open the patio door.
35
The combustibility of diesel fuel was never a consideration of the killer; he only sought to throw dread into the minds of his prey, and to flush them out. Leah would never know it, but the jerry can he crashed through her bedroom window was empty, but its threat was enough to galvanise those inside the cabin to flee their only refuge on the island. He did set a flame to the curtains now draped outside the smashed window, so that the scent of smoke would make their panic greater, and he added to their terror by emitting another high-pitched screech he’d used to good effect when terrorising Leah before.
Feet drummed and the cabin shuddered under the mass charge for escape. Leah got to the patio door first, yanking it wide to allow the others to leave. The killer had made it clear he was saving her for last, so it was her place to put herself in the line of fire if he’d entered the cabin via the smashed window: of course, the opposite could be true if he’d smashed the window then returned to his original location outside, where she had put at risk any of the others to be shot. As the others piled en masse from the decking, even Effie moving with alacrity despite her broken collarbone when threatened with immolation, Leah paused to stare back through the cabin. The off-set short hallway denied her a view into her bedroom at the back left corner of the structure but she spotted the first plumes of smoke drawn inside by the through draft caused when opening the patio door. The maniac would stop at nothing, it seemed, but Leah realised the mistake they’d made instantly: he wanted to cause panic, to force them from hiding and into the open, disorganized and terrified. She checked on their progress and saw that the group had fractured into pairs, each of them scattering to different corners of the glade. Despite his promise to keep her to last, Leah was momentarily separated from the others…exactly where the killer wanted her.
OK, she thought, you want me alone, at least the others might get away. Not that she intended giving up, but she could draw his attention away from them, and pray that rescue came before he caught up with her. She took a lunging step and hurdled over the deck’s railing, and dropped to the grass below.
Harry and Shelley had naturally formed a pair, so too had Effie and Becks. With Ben still missing, Jenna latched onto Hayley. The latter pair ran for the trail back towards the beach, but the others headed for the safety of the forest. The shotgun boomed. Harry staggered, but didn’t fall, saved only from the shot by distance: he’d be peppered with lead but not fatally. The killer was attempting to cull those he saw as his main opposition, deeming the women the weaker sex. While his prey distracted him, Leah charged along the far side of the cabin, and sprinted behind him, emitting a curse. She didn’t halt to check she had his attention, kept running instead through a plume of billowing smoke and placed the outbuilding between them. She altered direction, rushing towards the nearest trees, all the while waiting to be brought down by a more lethal dose of lead shot than had struck Harry. Then she was under the trees and still alive. She hollered as if in victory, and was certain he’d follow her deeper into the island’s interior.
She ran, swerving around the thicker boles, hurdling fallen logs and mossy boulders, kicked through ferns as deep as her waist. Behind her came the sounds of pursuit: crackling twigs and the thumping of running feet – intermittently he howled and screeched in delight. She was younger and in better shape than her pursuer, and should easily out distance him. Do that though and he might turn his attention to hunting down and slaying the others. She slowed, only marginally, but periodically halted to check he wasn’t gaining too much. If she fell within range of his shotgun he didn’t need to be as fleet.
She fled through alternating bars of light and shade, stuttering along between the trees. She plunged into ankle deep mud in a natural hollow in the earth. Smashed through a wall of twigs and skirted some larger boulders. The terrain had a familiar feel to it. She was near where she’d found the bracelet, the bones, and where Rob Cooper was still strung up to a tree by his neck. Briefly she considered rushing to the dead man, to check if there were any weapons about his body, a knife, anything. But no: she’d seen enough of senseless death to last her an eternity. She angled away, kept running. Behind her the killer followed, still screeching his maniacal hunting call. He was relentless.
36
If she’d been searching for it, she probably wouldn’t have stumbled across the killer’s camp. Her plummet through the woods had taken her into a depression between two ridges, from which tall pines and a screen of ferns grew on both sides. Lower than the adjacent ground, a stream trickled at its centre, probably to hook up with other tributaries that drained the rainwater from the island at some low point in the seaside cliffs. The ground on each bank was boggy, and dotted with animal tracks, but hugging the northernmost bank was a narrow trail, beaten down to crumbly dirt over the centuries. Leah raced along it, conscious here and there of depressions in the earth that hadn’t been made by the indigenous wildlife. She spotted tread marks and heel scuffs, and knew that the killer had regularly used it as a shortcut across the island rather than follow the major trails.
In the lea of the ridge on her right, she spotted a tent, an old canvas one, and at its entrance the ground had been worn flat and bare, and beside it a fire pit and various camping accessories she neither had the time nor inclination to study further. It was apparent that her stalker had used this as some sort of base camp while stalking her, and probably he had done the same with other visitors to the island before. It was a wonder that his beastly nature hadn’t reared its head before now, and she could only guess that she’d been Shattered Rock’s first solo female to use the cabin. The camp was far enough off the tracks that few visitors would stumble across it, and if they did, well, they might assume that it was abandoned years ago, judging by the archaic and decrepit nature of the tent. She briefly considered entering th
e tent, to check if he’d left the parts of her radio or Rob Cooper’s sat-phone within it, but dreaded getting cornered inside if he caught up.
He was still behind her, stalking along leisurely as she exerted herself, perhaps hoping to run her to ground when she was too exhausted to fight back. She was of a mind to find a weapon and confront him, but all she’d spotted were small stones and rotted branches, and she didn’t trust any of them to halt him. She ran on, and came to a blind end. The stream there bubbled up as a natural spring, at the low point of a bowl where the two ridges converged. The walls towered ten feet tall on three sides. No wonder the maniac was taking his time: she’d run directly into a trap! From behind her she heard one of those maniacal screeches he was fond of emitting. His footfalls thudded as he picked up pace.
Leah span in place, seeking escape, but the walls were too sheer.
She charged back towards where she’d past the tent. Her only hope was to beat him there, where the ridges were scalable, except she was certain he was already too close. He howled like a wolf. Confidence fled her and she stumbled to halt as he strode out to block her path twenty feet away. He aimed the shotgun directly at her.
Holding out both hands, Leah tried placating him. ‘Please…think about what you’re doing. Things have gone too far, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop now.’
He shook his head. ‘I cannae stop. Don’t you see, Leah, this is all on you. I warned you to stay away from this side of the island, didn’t I? I told you it was dangerous to go poking around out here but you didnae listen. Fuck sake! What were the chances of you treading right over Mary Jayne’s bones, but you went and did it!’
His words explained why previous tenants of the cabin had gone unmolested: only she had stumbled upon the remains of Mary Jayne, and it was because she’d discovered the bracelet that he’d stepped up to protect his secret. It was almost as if she was suffering a bad case of karma for splitting with one over-bearing boyfriend and attracting one much worse.
‘I don’t know who you are,’ Leah bleated. ‘You could leave, and be far away before the police get here. What could I tell them about you? Until an hour ago I thought you were Jim McBride!’
‘Dunnae take me for a fool, Leah. You’ll tell the police everything. As soon as you describe me the locals at Tayinloan will ken exactly who I am and I’ll be the one hunted down like a dog. I told you already, if I’m captured I’m going to prison for the rest of my days. Well, like I said, there’s no fuckin’ way they’re locking me up before I make it worth my while.’
‘Please, you’ve got to—’
‘Weesht!’ he said, placing a finger to his lips. ‘Dunnae waste your breath any longer; you’re better conserving it. Go on. Away you go the now. But Leah,’ he crowed, while waving her to go, ‘there’s nowhere you can go, nowhere you can hide, where I willnae find you. You’ve probably guessed I’ve been coming here for years. I ken every inch of Shattered Rock; I ken all the hiding spots and shortcuts, and can take you any second I want.’
Panting, Leah stared at him.
‘You aren’t gonnae run?’ Frowning, he lowered the barrel of the gun. ‘Too easy, Leah; I prefer it when a girl plays hard to get.’
‘No, you sicko! That’s the thing you hate the most. It’s why you pushed Mary Jayne to her death.’
He shrugged. ‘Aye. I suppose you’re right.’
He snapped up the shotgun and Leah reacted by spinning away and charging back towards the natural bowl. When the gun didn’t instantly cut her down, she knew she’d made the best decision to run. He didn’t enjoy rejection at all, but he was enjoying the chase. He came after her, whistling, as if he’d all the time in the world. Leah pelted along, and this time didn’t allow the converging ridges to hem her in: she vaulted over the boggy ground surrounding the spring, and practically ran up the furthest bank. Her boots skidded on loose earth, tearing out chunks of moss, but her forward dash took her up and onto the lip of the bowl, her legs dangling. She kicked and squirmed, grabbing for handholds in the ferns, ripping them loose instead. Fingers wrapped around her flailing left ankle, and Leah cringed in terror, imagining that at any second she’d be yanked down into the canyon and be at his sick mercy. Crying out in denial she kicked at the hand with her other foot, digging her boot heel against his wrist for leverage. His grasp broke loose, and she almost catapulted over the rim. Gasping in relief she scrambled on hands and knees among the ferns.
‘Almost had you that time!’ he sang out.
She only came to her feet once she was back among the trees, and raced again, almost parallel with the small canyon, to get past him before he climbed the embankment after her. It was risky, but she had to try, because the alternative was to head back inland, and she didn’t want to lead him towards any of the others hiding there.
She swerved in and out between the tall fir trees, slowed occasionally when the straps on her rucksack got snagged and had to fight loose, or when swiping aside smaller twigs that threatened to gouge out her eyes. He loomed into view, stamping through the network of ferns towards her. Leah didn’t deviate, trusting he wouldn’t shoot her…not yet.
Lead shot blasted bark from a tree directly ahead. Leah dived for cover behind another trunk wide enough to conceal her, and heard his crazy laughter, as he again broke the stock to reload the gun. She tore off at a right angle, hurtling into the verdant gloom of the ancient forest. Maybe she’d misread his intention: perhaps he was prepared to shoot her, after all, just not fatally. He didn’t seem to have an aversion to blood, and it might not put him off having his wicked way with her before finishing her off.
At first she had paced herself so that she wouldn’t lose him, fully intending drawing him away from the others, but that was no longer necessary. He was herding her, crashing through the undergrowth, building up speed as he pushed her further south. Directly ahead was a massive bulwark of stone, and there wasn’t the faintest glimmer of light to show a way through them. Again she faced an insurmountable barrier, and this time he wouldn’t make do with tugging on her leg.
37
The boulders loomed high overhead, swollen bruises against the paler sky. The last time she climbed them she’d been fearful of slipping and breaking a leg. This time there was no such consideration. She went up the blood red boulders with haste fed by desperation. Her lead on her pursuer lessened with every upward lunge she took, and while on the rock face she presented an open target. She could hear him approaching below, but he was hidden from view by the nearest canopy of branches. Once at the base of the rocks he could swat her from the wall with a single shot, and she’d tumble at his feet. She slipped between two massive boulders, found a fracture in the terrain and wedged into it. Above her the fissure widened, and she could spot hand and toe holds in the stones. She scaled it, boots digging for support and fingers clutching at protrusions. Loose stone crumbled underfoot and fell clattering down the bigger boulders. Leah held her breath, heard a corresponding laugh that was as equally ominous as a gunshot. He knew exactly where she was. Footsteps chugged away, but she couldn’t believe he was giving up the chase. He was more familiar with the terrain and probably knew an easier route up. She scrambled upwards, careless of the pebbles and stones showering beneath her, and finally crawled out onto a huge anvil-shaped boulder.
She was surrounded on one side by the rolling grey expanse of the sea. To the north she could see all the way over the tree canopy, and pinpointed the cabin’s location by the plume of smoke rising from it. Further on, a second, darker pall was on the sky, from the burning wreck of Mr McBride’s boat. Spread out between her and the column of smoke were too many bodies to think about, and also the frantic survivors seeking concealment from the madman. He had promised to keep her for last; perhaps she’d forced a change to his plan. Hopefully, if he kept up his pursuit of her, the others would live long enough for rescuers to arrive. Except, wherever she scanned, there was no hint of boats or aircraft, so rescue wasn’t imminent, if at all for her.
She plucked up the laptop. It was the tool of her livelihood, and ordinarily it was also a lifeline. Travelling around so many bookshops and libraries, she’d spent her nights in a series of chain hotels, where their Internet access cost an arm and a leg. Leah, penny-pinching in her personal accountant’s opinion, had invested in a ‘dongle’ device, so she could access the web on the move: but she’d left the device at home, intending to cut herself off from the distractions of the Web while on Shattered Rock. Besides a quick shake of the laptop told her it was as sodden as her phone and useless as a conduit to the outside world. Nevertheless she clutched it against her chest.