by LJ Ross
Her bare feet had been taped up with long strips of denim taken from the bottom of her jeans. It was the toughest material she could find in the sparse room and it would go some way towards protecting the soles of her feet in the absence of shoes. When she grew too cold, she jogged on the spot. There was not much energy to spare but what little she had left she decided to use to fuel the endorphins in her injured body.
She watched the approaching sunset with tears in her eyes, wondering whether it would be her last. She spoke aloud in the empty room and imagined Frank was there to listen.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you how much you mean to me,” she began. “The time we’ve spent together has been the happiest two years of my life. You’re my love, Frank, and you’re my best friend in this world.”
She paused to take a shaky breath, fighting back tears.
“I don’t know if I’m going to come through this or if we’ll see each other again. You and I were never ones for believing in an afterlife but, standing here now, looking out at that sunset, I have to wonder if we were wrong. Maybe I’m a hypocrite. I don’t know. A part of me hopes it’s all true because it means there’s a chance I’ll see you again, even if things go wrong tonight.”
She paused her monologue when her keen ears picked up the sound of a key turning in the front door downstairs and she knew she didn’t have much time left.
“If I die tonight, Frank, I want you to know that none of it was your fault. You did your best, you searched for me and fought for me, just like you always have. But in the end, this isn’t your fight.”
She heard Edwards’ footsteps coming quickly up the stairs.
“It’s mine,” she vowed.
* * *
Edwards hooked the strap of his binoculars on the butt of the hunting rifle propped beside the front door. He would move it before Ryan arrived but first he needed to retrieve his fatted calf and move her into position. He selected the long carving knife from the kitchen—the same one MacKenzie had stolen. He’d been sharpening it for most of the day until it was a gleaming blade worthy of a shogun.
His heart pounded in anticipation of the kill and he imagined the sweet warmth of her blood flowing onto his hands. He’d seen no sign of Ryan approaching the house, so he had a few minutes to spare before his guest of honour arrived. He was sure he could put on a fitting display to greet him when he walked through the door.
Whistling beneath his breath, he ran lightly up the stairs and clucked his tongue when he remembered he needed to move the chest of drawers blocking the door.
Silly me.
“Ruth! Daddy’s home!”
He smiled to himself and rolled his neck as he pushed the chest of drawers to one side and unlocked her bedroom door.
Edwards didn’t see it coming. He didn’t think she had any fight left in her but he was wrong.
As the door swung open on its hinges, he had no time to react before the heel of MacKenzie’s injured foot shot out to kick him full in the face, while she pivoted on her stronger foot to maintain balance.
He stumbled backward, blood spurting from a broken nose but he still gripped the knife and started swinging it, swearing wildly.
She followed up with another hard kick to his crotch but he was expecting it this time and caught her leg in full extension. Panic flitted across her face as she tried to tug it back, tottering on her pivot foot and he began to laugh maniacally. Then his arm swept downward and slashed her calf, slicing through muscle.
She screamed in pain but when he let her go she didn’t crumple to the floor. She clutched the edge of the bedroom door and rammed it against his approaching figure, twice in quick succession until he jerked backward. She took her opportunity and hurled herself desperately towards him, kicking both feet against his midriff so that he staggered back against the banister rail overhanging the stairs.
His spine bent backward against it and time froze for a second as his fingers clutched for support but then she heard the splintering crunch of the old wood buckling beneath his muscular frame. As the banister gave way, he fell backward, tumbling heavily with a series of hard thuds down the stairs.
MacKenzie hurried to the top of the stairs and saw him lying at the bottom, his body twisted awkwardly. Blood gushed from his nose and the knife had fallen from his right hand. There was no way to avoid walking around him.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, so loud that she couldn’t hear any other sound for a moment as she limped closer and closer to his bulky body blocking the bottom of the stairs.
She watched him for a second and saw that he was still breathing.
It could be another one of his games.
With a cry, she made a leap over his torso and landed painfully on her wounded leg, which was starting to bleed badly.
No time to think about that now. She had to get out.
As she grasped the front door handle and pulled it open, one of his hands shot out to grab her ankle in a vice-like grip while the other reached for the blade.
MacKenzie didn’t hesitate.
She used her other foot to kick against his wrist but he wasn’t budging. Frantically, she looked around for a weapon and grasped the rifle propped beside the door. There was no time to see if it was loaded, so she used the butt against his head. His neck snapped backward and he brought up his other hand to shield himself from another blow.
His fingers slackened against her ankle and she didn’t think, she just ran.
* * *
Still clutching the rifle, MacKenzie staggered outside into the twilight and was disorientated for a moment. She could feel the blood from her leg soaking the material of her jeans and she knew she needed to tie a tourniquet to stem the flow.
First, she needed to put some distance between them.
She hobbled around the side of the farmhouse and made directly for the track she had found the other day. She had almost reached the gate at the end of the field when she heard his voice calling out into the night.
“RUTH!”
She didn’t look back this time but increased her pace until she reached the old entrance with its rotten wooden gate hanging against the hedgerow, dragging the rifle with her.
“RUTH!”
She gritted her teeth against the throbbing pain in her leg, reaching down to clasp a handful of her jeans so that she could physically propel her damaged leg forward. She hurried through the gateway and saw a single-track road curving around into the valley, covered with thick grass from disuse.
But on a straight track, there was nowhere to hide.
To her right, there was a short wall whose stone had crumbled years ago and had never been replaced or repaired. Beyond it lay the thatch of forest she had spied before, offering concealment in the dense undergrowth beneath the trees.
She heard his footsteps pounding the earth towards her, crossing the distance from the farmhouse and MacKenzie threw herself over the gap in the wall, her blood staining the limestone. She ran as quickly as she could across the uneven ground, tripping against the tufts of earth.
Behind her, a stone dislodged and she glanced behind in reflex to see him vaulting over the low wall. For a moment, their eyes met across the fields and it was as if a lion had spotted his prey and was preparing to pounce.
Her hands gripped the rifle and cocked it, ready to discharge. The light was dimming but she raised it and took aim at the centre of his torso, tracking his tall body as he ran steadily towards her.
Her finger squeezed the trigger and the rifle jarred her right shoulder with its hard recoil but she maintained her shaking position.
He was still coming.
Dear God, he was still coming.
How had she missed? The calibration was off, it had to be. There was no way she could have missed that shot.
No time to worry about it now. He was covering ground, and fast.
MacKenzie sobbed out harsh, panting breaths as the sweat poured down her face and into her eyes, blurring her visi
on so she could barely see the opening into the trees.
Don’t look behind.
She reached the outskirts of the small forest and dragged herself beneath its dark canopy, adjusting her eyes to the sudden darkness for a moment as she made a split-second decision. Which direction?
Which direction!
The sun was almost setting in the west, so she continued northeast and followed the faint sound of a river somewhere nearby. If she found the river, it would eventually guide her to civilisation. She veered right, her feet stumbling against the sharp edges of fallen pine cones and drying leaves as she made her way blindly through the forest.
She heard his heavy footfall somewhere behind her, perhaps twenty metres away, as he burst into the forest. She froze and shrank back against the bark of a tall pine tree, listening intently as she gripped the rifle.
He was so good, she thought, his movements were almost silent.
But she had trained herself to listen for the past week, tuning herself into his unique frequency so that she would be prepared for this moment.
Crack.
She heard his foot snapping a small branch underfoot and estimated that he was about ten metres away.
Rustle.
The sound was further away that time, and she realised he had started to walk in the opposite direction. She held her breath, scanning through the trees for any obvious way out, when she spotted something dark and metallic in the undergrowth fifty metres further east.
Was that the wheel of a car?
So this was where he’d been hiding his vehicles.
There were no further sounds and she knew she could not stay there, waiting for him to find her. She had to strike out or die.
It was inevitable that she would make some noise alerting him to her location. Her only hope was that she could hot-wire the car or take another shot with the rifle. She dried her sweating brow with the sleeve of her jumper and focused her eyes and her mind on a fixed point. She visualised herself running for the car and using the butt of the rifle to break into the driver’s window. She could defend herself once she was inside.
Now.
Now!
She pushed away from the bark and bolted through the trees.
CHAPTER 29
Ryan approached the farmhouse at five minutes to eight. Its location was completely isolated, with only fields and trees to be seen in any direction. Even the track he had taken to reach it was overgrown with tall grass almost reaching his knees, although a way back there he’d seen the signs of a vehicle having turned off into one of the open fields leading to the forested area he’d passed on the way. Dusk lent everything a supernatural quality, as if the house had been dropped onto the earth by a higher power, to remain surrounded by flora and fauna for all time.
But there was life to be found. He knew that much.
A light burned in the ground floor window of the farmhouse and he looked at the open gateway ahead of him with caution.
Something wasn’t right here.
Rather than proceeding directly past the rotting gate, he circled around to the left until he found a gap in the hedgerow around the back of the farmhouse. He stepped inside the perimeter and scanned the area, half expecting Edwards to take a shot at him, or to lunge out at him as he had done once before.
Nothing moved on the air and Ryan experienced an increasing sense of disquiet as he approached. Some instinct told him there was no life here, no other warm bodies sharing the crisp night air that he breathed.
Reaching the farmhouse, he paused to take a quick peek inside the lit window and saw a dated living room with moth-eaten furniture and the signs of food and drink debris. A small fire was petering out in the grate. There was no door on this side of the house, so he skirted around to the other side, sticking close to the outer wall and moving with slow, quiet steps. As he rounded the corner, he saw a shaft of light emanating from the front door, which was thrown open to the wind. He was about to approach it when he heard the unmistakeable sound of a single gunshot, somewhere back in the direction he had just come.
“Denise!”
Ryan sprinted back around the side of the house towards the gate and looked ahead at the track he had just followed, finding it empty. Then, his eye caught something he had missed the first time: a slash of blood lying dark and wet against a low stone wall in the hedgerow, leading across the fields towards the forest.
He stopped only to tug off the headgear he was wearing, finding it cumbersome. He flung it to the ground and leaped over the wall to run full pelt across the fields, his long legs tearing up the ground.
* * *
Denise stumbled through the thicket and could barely feel her leg now as the blood loss numbed it of sensation. She dragged herself through the darkness, ignoring the thin, whip-sharp branches that slapped against her face and clawed at her like fingers. Her jumper snagged on wiry shoots, tugging her backward, and she tore herself free in her single-minded journey to reach the vehicle she’d seen hidden among the trees.
“Ruth,” he sang out, from somewhere nearby and to her left.
Her heart hammered against her chest so hard she thought it would break from her body. With something that sounded like a battle cry, she pushed her way through the remaining trees until she ran into something hard and metallic.
But it was not a car; it was a big, black motorcycle.
MacKenzie heard his footsteps approaching and cocked the rifle again, aiming first left, then right.
Where was he?
He had stopped dead still and was waiting.
She tried to quieten her own breathing but it was impossible. Her lungs laboured to keep the oxygen pumping through her body and she was already feeling light-headed from the blood loss in her leg. She didn’t think he’d hit an artery—if he had, she wouldn’t have made it this far.
Still no sound.
Night owls screeched in the distance and she heard the scuffling of a small forest animal but no other human.
She had to move.
MacKenzie spun around and felt for keys in the ignition but found none. She didn’t know how to hot-wire a motorcycle and her escape plans evaporated.
Through the trees, she heard the sound of keys jingling, followed by laughter.
“Looking for something, sweetheart?”
He laughed again and the darkness seemed to close in around her. She didn’t know how many rounds she had left in the six-shot rifle but she took a chance and fired one in the direction of his taunting voice to buy herself some precious time. She cocked the lever to expel the used shell and stepped back to fire again into the front wheel of the motorcycle. It would be harder for him to follow with a flat tyre.
Then she ran.
* * *
Ryan reached the edge of the forest just as another two gunshots sounded out into the quiet night, disturbing a flock of resting birds that fluttered from their branches in protest. He paused to consider the direction it had come from, his eyes adjusting to the changing light as he tried to make out any signs of life through the murky trees ahead.
There was no time to waste.
He dived into the forest, which was small but thickly populated with mature trees whose roots carpeted the undergrowth in a network of trip-hazards. The failing light outside cast barely a ray into the gloom and Ryan began to rely on his other senses.
There was no breeze beneath the forest canopy and the air felt damp and stuffy. His hands brushed against the damp fungus creeping its way up the bark as he wound his way through the trees like a blind obstacle course. He stopped frequently to listen for the sound of footfall and thought he heard running feet up ahead. Quickly, he scoured the floor with outstretched palms until he found a thick branch, heavy enough to serve as a weapon.
Then came the alien sound of a powerful engine bursting into life.
* * *
MacKenzie heard the motorcycle too, its fearsome engine crashing like thunder through the silent trees and she tripped and fell again
st the forest floor. Her knee cracked painfully and her hands reached out to break her fall, landing inside something cold and wet.
It was a dead animal, bloated and festering.
She let out a small cry of horror and snatched her hand away, pushing to her feet to continue running. She didn’t know where she was going; she had no idea of distance or direction beneath the shadowed trees.
She only knew she had to get away.
She had lost all feeling in her lower leg now but there was no time to stop. Her body was shivering, freezing cold but still sweating, so much that her hair matted against the side of her head.
Behind her, the motorcycle crashed through the low branches and as she glanced back she saw the glare of its headlight shining an eerie white light through the brush. She saw the outline of its driver revving the engine as he guided it through the packed trees, the flat tyre presenting no hindrance at all.
He was gaining on her all the time and she felt her legs slowing down. The ankle that had been sprained now felt like it was broken and the rifle dragged behind her, scuffing against the floor as she no longer had the strength to hold it up.
Suddenly the floor fell away as a sharp rift appeared in the valley, out of nowhere. MacKenzie pulled herself back just in time, falling to the floor and grasping at the roots of a tree to gain purchase. The motorcycle engine was a roar in her ears and she turned to look fully into the glare of the single headlight.
She swore she saw the whites of his eyes.
Edwards spotted her and started to brake but MacKenzie grasped the slippery surface of a log and wrenched it with all her might, throwing the weight of her shoulder behind it so that it crashed into his path. She threw herself backward again and watched as the front wheel of the bike connected with the log, braking too late to avoid the impact. The wheel buckled and the bike flipped over onto its side, crashing through the leaves and sending its driver skidding down the steep incline towards the river below.