“Before what, Sweetie?”
“Before I kill you.”
Erica glanced around at what was left of her family and laughed. But not her usual arrogant laugh. This time, there was a hint of uncertainty. “And just when were you thinking of carrying out your threat?”
“Soon. And another thing.”
“What?”
“Stop calling me sweetie.”
Erica straightened her face. “Threatening the court will not be tolerated. I find you in contempt. Billy, get my whip. Summer, strip her.”
Billy ran out in the direction of the generator hut while Summer stepped up and ripped open the buttons on Lisa’s shirt. She stared at Lisa’s breasts for a moment before unbuttoning her shorts.
Then, to Lisa’s horror, Summer grinned as she plunged her hand down the front of Lisa’s underwear and between her legs.
Lisa gasped and grabbed her arm, and it took all of her strength to pull Summer’s hand away. But as she stepped back, the knife dislodged from the back of her waistband and clattered to the floor.
Summer lunged for it, but Lisa grabbed the back of the girl’s hair and smashed her head into the floorboards, knocking her out, or at least dazing her, because Summer fell face down and didn’t move.
It was now or never. The fight for her life was on, because she had no intention of enduring those sentences. She grabbed the knife just as Luke reached her, and with a quick upward thrust, drove it into his stomach. He clutched her hand and punched her in the face, sending her crashing to the floor. Without the knife.
Luke staggered back, the blade still buried in his stomach and blood pouring from the wound. He made his way to the kitchen and pushed a towel into his middle.
Lisa scrambled to her feet, unarmed, and now facing the woman she never wanted to have as an enemy. Erica strode over and towered above her by a good five or six inches. She was also heavier and no doubt stronger, too.
Lisa had surprised herself at how she had managed to kill or incapacitate five members of this cruel family. But as she stared unarmed at her next opponent, she wondered if her valiant efforts had all been in vain. Was she about to die at the hands of this woman?
If she was, she would make a fight of it.
She heaved in the deepest breath she could, and with a guttural scream and her arms outstretched, she charged forward and rammed both palms into the middle of Erica’s chest, knocking her clean off her feet.
But her success was short-lived.
Erica jumped up and charged, and a second later Lisa was flat on her back, pinned down with the woman straddled across her body. Then Erica wrapped both hands around Lisa’s throat and squeezed.
As a vice-like grip restricted Lisa’s breathing for the second time that day, she remembered how Larry had saved her from certain death only hours before.
But Larry was dead, and so was Mike. So now there was no one left to save her. She was alone, and that’s how she was going to die.
Alone.
For a moment, she stopped struggling and accepted her fate. The old Lisa was back. Exhausted, heartbroken, and without hope. She opened her eyes for what she thought would be the last time, but as she gazed up into Erica’s twisted face, something changed. An anger welled up from deep within, and a sudden will to live engulfed her whole being. It was like a gallon of liquid rage had been pumped into her veins. She grabbed Erica’s wrists and pulled, and to her utter surprise and relief, managed to pry them away from her throat.
As the woman stared down at her in disbelief, Lisa took advantage of her hesitation to reach up and grab Erica by her hair. With strength she never knew she had, she pulled Erica down and rolled over on top of her, flipping their roles and giving Lisa the advantage. Then she drove her right fist hard into Erica’s face, bouncing the woman’s head off the floorboards.
Lisa jumped up, grabbed the chair, and raised it up high where she held it, poised, ready to strike, and ready to carry out her threat from a few moments before. “You laughed when I told you I was going to kill you. You’re not laughing now, are you?”
Erica scowled up at her. “We should have killed you like the others, only slower.”
“You should have.” Lisa swung the chair down onto Erica’s head with every bit of strength she possessed, which, due to the adrenalin coursing through her veins, was considerably more than her slim frame would normally be capable of.
Wood and bone splintered simultaneously. Lisa froze, ready to strike again. But although Erica’s eyes were wide open, there was no sign of life behind her glazed, dilated pupils.
She dropped the chair.
The witch was dead.
Lisa scanned the room and found Luke slumped on the floor, sitting in a pool of blood with his back up against the kitchen cupboards. He had watched the battle with his mother. And he had seen her die.
Lisa walked over, dragging the chain behind her, then kneeled down and pulled the towel away. The knife was still buried in his stomach. “You are going to die, Luke. You have lost too much blood. Can I have the key?”
He looked up and sniggered.
“What’s funny?” Lisa asked.
“You may have won the battle, but you haven’t won the war. I’m going to die all right, but so are you.” His eyes glanced down at the chain around her ankle.
There was a noise behind her. She looked back over her shoulder to see Billy standing in the doorway, holding a bullwhip in his right hand.
She sighed, stood up, and faced him. The burst of strength that had allowed her to deal with Summer, Luke, and then a woman twice her size had dissipated. She doubted she had the energy left to fight with Billy, even though he was the weakest of the family, and probably even weaker than Summer.
Billy seemed transfixed by the scene before him. Then he stared at Lisa. “Did you do all this?”
Lisa saw an opportunity to use the fear in his eyes against him. She bent down and pulled the knife out from Luke’s stomach, then faced Billy again with blood dripping from the blade. “I did, and if you don’t want to end up the same way, I suggest you take off now. You are not one of them, Billy.” She pointed to Erica’s body. “You were brainwashed by that woman.”
There was a groan from the floor, and Summer rolled over and pushed herself up into a seated position, then glanced around. She gasped as she looked down at her mother laying next to her. Then her gaze seemed to follow the trail of blood over to Luke and she drew another quick breath. As Summer turned to look at Billy in the doorway, blood trickled down her face from a gash on her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and slowly got to her feet.
Luke coughed up blood but looked over to Summer and Billy and managed a few words. “Stay away from this bitch. She’s crazy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. Before Lisa could grab it, he slid it along the floor to Billy. “Take this with you. Go to Larry’s place for a few days. But before you go, disconnect the water supply to the kitchen on the veranda, and do the same around the back. Then pull out the drain plug on the outside of the bathroom wall to empty the water tank. Without water she won’t last a week, so when you come back she’ll be dead.”
As the words left his lips, his head slumped forward, and he exhaled his last breath.
Summer and Billy just stared at Luke’s lifeless body for a moment, then walked outside.
Billy strolled along to the window that was in front of the kitchen faucet, bent down, and from the metallic sound that followed, he must have dislodged the water supply pipe like Luke had instructed. He stood back up, walked out of view, and a few seconds later, the sound of running water filtered through from the bathroom. Clearly, Billy had just carried out the second part of Luke’s instruction, and the water from the overhead tank was now draining into the dirt at the back of the house.
While Billy was busy eradicating the water supplies, Summer stood in the doorway and smirked at Lisa. “As you are going to die chained up in this house, I think it’s time I told you th
e truth.”
“What about?”
“Your poor departed husband.”
Lisa waited.
“Nothing was as it appeared. I lied to you about Mike showing me his you-know-what.” She pointed down to her groin. “And that day you caught me and Mike kissing was a setup. I heard you approaching, so I kissed him. He pushed me away, but I kissed him again just as you arrived at the open door.”
“That was so cruel.”
Summer laughed. “The time you saw me running away from the cabin with my dress undone was a setup, too. Billy kept watch, and when he shouted, I pulled the blankets off Mike’s bed, closed the door behind me, and pulled open my dress. He never touched me. The fact is, Mike was always a gentleman with me. I know I’m not exactly an expert in love, but I could tell from his face when he spoke about you just how much he adored you.”
A hole opened up in Lisa’s heart. The girl had just confirmed what she had already suspected. Mike was innocent. At least regarding Summer, he was. She just stared at the girl for a moment, then had to ask, “Why?”
Summer shrugged. “It was Ma’s idea. She wanted to drive you and Mike apart and create trauma to make it easier to manipulate you. I think it worked, don’t you?” Summer’s eyes glinted as she spoke. She was enjoying herself. “It must be sad for you to know that he died thinking you didn’t believe him, and that he knew you were fucking Luke.”
“Your family was evil, Summer. They got what they deserved, and one day so will you.”
Summer smirked. “One more thing. There never was a problem with the truck. Pa told you that to keep you here long enough for Ma’s plan to work. We all knew, except Billy. Pa sent him into town to convince you.”
Lisa just shook her head and said nothing. Since speaking with Larry, she had guessed that they lied to her about the truck.
Billy rejoined Summer on the veranda, and through the open door, Lisa watched them walk away.
She shouted after them, “Billy, please, leave me the key… Billy… Billy…”
As they vanished into the forest, Lisa pulled at the chain in frustration. But without the key, it was staying put. Or was it?
She remembered those western movies again and how she’d seen the heroes escape from similar chains by using a hammer and chisel, or by shooting them off. There were no hammers in sight, but maybe there was another firearm in the house. Not the traffickers’ guns. They would have been left with their bodies at the staged scene, and not the hunting rifle that seemed to have jammed on Freddie. But Luke’s hunting rifle must be around somewhere.
She scanned the room until she found what she was looking for. Not a rifle, but a double-barreled shotgun propped up next to the fireplace, almost hidden behind a pile of logs. She rushed over, grabbed it, and pointed it at the padlock on the ankle cuff. But she paused. Too dangerous. She could blow her foot off. So she pointed the shotgun at the chain a couple of feet away from her ankle, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing.
Not even a click. She pushed the lever, broke open the weapon, and revealed two empty chambers.
She threw the gun down and began working her way around the room, searching cupboards and drawers for ammunition. She threw open Erica’s bedroom door and searched their room. But there were no shotgun cartridges anywhere and no sign of Luke’s hunting rifle. It must be on the upper floor beyond the reach of the chain.
She returned to the main room in despair and slumped onto a couch. Luke was right. She was going to die in this house, surrounded by the bodies of him and Erica, and only yards from the graves of Ed, Frankie, and Freddie.
She sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see to it that Larry got a decent funeral, and she wouldn’t be able to attend Mike’s funeral either. She wouldn’t see her parents again, or her friends and colleagues. She would never see her first baby born and grow up, or…
She shook her head and snapped out of her self pity. There was one last thing she had to do: leave a written record of what had occurred out here over the last few days and over the last few years. The families of the missing girls deserved to know the truth, and so did Carlos’s wife and mother. They deserved some form of closure. And the authorities should know about Harvey’s involvement and also that of Summer and Billy, because they cannot be allowed to get away with their crimes.
She strode over to the shelving with a purpose, grabbed a pen and the pad of paper that Erica had used for their evil game, and began writing down the whole sad story from the beginning. She left nothing out, including her own infidelity. After all, if she wanted to be believed and remembered as a woman of integrity, she would have to lay bare her soul, warts and all.
When finished, she folded the papers and pushed them inside her shorts to prevent Billy and Summer from finding them if they returned. And even if they buried her, someday her body may be discovered, and the truth revealed.
So even after her death, she could ensure Billy and Summer face justice.
50
LISA
Lisa laid down on the couch, safe in the knowledge there would be no uninvited visits from Ed or Luke. She closed her eyes and wondered how long death would take. She knew life could be sustained without food for several weeks, but without water, it was more like days.
But she was strangely relaxed about it and wasn’t afraid to die. Not any more. And she was proud of the damage she had inflicted on the family, even though she hadn’t been able to finish the job.
As the hours passed, the setting sun pulled shadows around the room, elongating them, shifting them eerily, and morphing them from shape to shape until, eventually, the house was engulfed in the gloom of dusk.
And quiet. So quiet, she could hear the beating of her own heart, her own breathing, and even her own thoughts or the sounds within them.
Then a new sound filtered through. A sound far away. But drawing closer. Louder. She concentrated. Trying to link it to a cause. It was familiar. But out of context. Wait. A low rumble. A truck. Or a car. Something with an engine. She detected the change in tone identical to the changing of gears. Shifting down. Slowing down. Bright lights streaked across the room. Headlight beams. Filling the room with light. Tires rolling on dry earth. Then silence. But not for long. A car door opened. Closed. Voices. Mens’ voices.
She jumped up and grabbed the shotgun. The empty shotgun. But her visitors wouldn’t know that. She waited.
The men left their beams on full, blinding her and making it hard to see who was approaching. Footsteps crossed the veranda. Two sets.
Then the same voices. Closer. Louder. Then one voice. “Police, anyone there?”
She tried to answer, but fear and tension had constricted her throat. She swallowed hard and croaked out a single word. “Yes.”
The footsteps shuffled on the veranda. Either side of the door. She couldn’t be sure, but thought she saw a man’s face peer around the door frame. Just for a moment. No doubt surveying the scene and assessing the risk or potential threat they may be facing.
But why were they there? What caused them to drive all the way out here at night? It couldn’t be a routine visit, so they must have a reason. And when they find the house in darkness, and a croaky voice answering them, they would be wary, and probably just as nervous as she was. And the TV news back home was full of nervous cops shooting people. Especially those holding firearms.
She glanced down at the shotgun in her hands, then threw it onto the nearest couch, raised her hands high above her head, cleared her throat, and spoke as calmly as she could under the circumstances. “Don’t shoot. I’m alone, and I’m not armed.”
A powerful voice bellowed back. “You’ve got a shotgun. I just saw it.”
Lisa took a deep breath. “I had a shotgun. I threw it down. It’s not even loaded.”
“Why were you holding it then?”
She sighed. “Are you kidding me? I’m out here on my own, having spent several days with a family of killers who murdered my h
usband and wanted to use me as a baby making factory. I’m chained to the wall, surrounded by dead bodies, thinking I’m going to die of thirst out here. And with two of them still out there somewhere, I hear a vehicle pull up. Now, do you still wonder why I was holding a shotgun?”
There was silence for a long moment. She waited while they digested her rambling statement and decided on their next move.
The same voice answered her. “Put down the weapon and raise your hands above your head.”
“I already did that.”
“We didn’t hear it drop.”
“I threw it on the couch. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll throw it over to you.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“Okay, but can you hurry, my arms are going numb.”
There was whispering from either side of the door. Then a human shape appeared, framed in the opening and silhouetted in the glow from the vehicle’s beam.
Lisa pushed her hands higher. “See, I’m not armed.”
A figure in black approached, a pump-action shotgun pointed at her chest. His partner followed him in. After surveying the scene, he grabbed the shotgun from the couch, cracked it open, and threw it over to his colleague. Then he turned back to her. “Okay, turn around and lower your hands behind your back.”
She complied, and two-seconds later found herself in steel handcuffs.
The first officer pointed to the two bodies laying in pools of blood close by. “What the hell happened here?”
“I can tell you, but it might be easier if you read it for yourself.” She shook her right ankle to show him the chain. “I thought I was going to die out here, so I wrote it all down.”
The officer nodded and glanced around. “Where is it?”
Lisa drew a breath as she remembered. “Oh, I put it down the front of my shorts.”
“What?”
“There are seven members of this sick family, but I only managed to kill five. Billy, an eighteen-year-old boy they unofficially adopted, and Summer, their nineteen-year-old daughter, are still out there somewhere. They may have gone over to Larry’s place. Wherever that is. I didn’t want them finding my statement if they came back after I was dead. So I hid it in my shorts.”
THE CRUEL SEVEN Page 25