No Rest For The Wicked

by James, Harper

  ‘What’s going on?’ Linda said.

  Gina paused a beat.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  It was the kindest answer. And it was true to a certain extent.

  ‘I heard a shot.’

  Linda’s hand flew to her mouth as the realization sank in. She started to get up. Gina grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

  ‘It’s not Emily.’

  ‘You said—’

  She tried to get up again but Gina kept a tight hold on her arm.

  ‘I don’t know . . . exactly.’ There was no easy way to say any more. ‘But it wouldn’t take two grown men to bring Emily back. It’s not her.’

  Linda relaxed in Gina’s grip, but the brief flash of relief on her face fell away as the other alternative dawned on her.

  ‘Scott.’

  It wasn’t even a whisper.

  Gina squeezed her hand.

  ‘My boyfriend’s out there too.’

  Linda squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheek.

  ‘That’s what he meant when he said one of us is in for a surprise.’

  On the other side of the room Todd stepped aside and held the door open as Mason backed into the room, his arms clamped around the chest of a man, while Loyd brought up the rear, one foot tucked under each arm.

  ***

  EVAN WATCHED AS TWO more guys he hadn’t seen before came out, picked Scott up and carried him back inside the lodge.

  It didn’t take much working out. So far, he’d seen three different guys—one of them desperate enough to chase a child with a gun, then shoot a man for no good reason before he had a chance to say a word.

  It kind of defined shoot first, ask questions later. It was the gang from the robbery the night before. It was too much of a coincidence otherwise.

  He didn’t have much time.

  Emily was somewhere on the loose outside. Scott was dead or injured. That left Gina and Scott’s wife plus whatever staff were on duty.

  They’d know he was out here by now—a quick look in the closet would establish Gina wasn’t travelling alone.

  He had no cell phone. The nearest town was a good fifteen to twenty miles away.

  They’d be coming after him soon.

  And Emily.

  First thing was to find her and get her somewhere safe. Woods flanked the lawn leading down to the lake. She’d disappeared into the trees on the other side to where he was. He glanced back up at the lodge. The back door was shut. Behind it, the excitement of bringing Scott’s body inside would keep them distracted for a few minutes. He made his way to the edge of the trees, checked the back of the lodge once more, then sprinted across the lawn, the heavy boots barely slowing him.

  Even if they saw him there’d be no time for them to do anything about it. He made it to the safety of the woods on the other side, then worked his way up through the trees, closer to the lodge. He stopped. Listened. Nothing. Emily was either hiding somewhere or she was already a long way off. He reckoned she’d be hiding, probably not far. On her own in the middle of the woods, in the cold, she’d be scared to death. She wouldn’t go far, regardless of what might be happening inside.

  All he had to do was find her.

  Chapter 8

  RELIEF FLOODED THROUGH GINA as Mason and Loyd dumped Scott’s body on the floor. It left her weaker than the fear had, paralyzing her. Thank God. Evan was still alive, out there somewhere. He’d have heard the shot, he’d know something was wrong. He’d find a way to get them out of this mess. Then, just as quickly, the relief was replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

  Beside her, Linda screamed and jumped to her feet. Gina didn’t try to stop her.

  Scott lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. The right upper chest and shoulder of his sweat top was stained a deep red. His face was deathly pale. He was unconscious but still breathing. Linda dropped to her knees beside him and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his hair.

  ‘Jeez, anybody’d think you were the one who got shot,’ Todd said. ‘He’s still breathing. I only winged him.’ He prodded Linda with his foot. ‘You’ll squeeze him to death if you keep that up.’

  Linda released her grip around Scott’s neck and sat back on her heels, the front of her nightie now stained with his blood. It was on her neck and in her hair, smeared on her cheek.

  ‘There’s so much blood. He’s going to die. We’ve got to get him to a hospital.’

  ‘He’s not going to die.’

  ‘I can’t feel a heartbeat.’

  ‘I said he’s not going to die. I can see his chest moving from here.’

  Gina got up slowly, her head still spinning. She braced herself on the counter.

  ‘You stay there,’ Todd shouted.

  Gina ignored him.

  ‘I’m going to help her. If you don’t want me to, then shoot me as well. Make yourself feel like a real tough guy.’

  The bullet wound scar on her calf throbbed again, a visceral memory of what happened last time she challenged a deranged man with a gun to shoot her.

  He brought his arm up as if he was going to backhand her. She held her cheek out towards him, daring him. His hand bunched into a fist, but then he dropped it.

  ‘Just don’t try anything else.’

  ‘There are napkins in the drawer over there,’ the chef told her, through the blood-stained fingers clutching his cheek.

  ‘Sonny, you get them,’ Todd called. ‘Who knows what else is in there.’

  Sonny pulled open the drawer and rooted around in it. He pulled out a pile of crisp white napkins and threw them to Gina. She knelt down next to Linda. Folding one into a thick wad, she placed it over the wound. Then she took Linda’s hand, put her palm on top of it.

  ‘Hold it like that. Keep up the pressure. If the blood soaks through, put another one on top. Don’t remove this one. Okay?’

  Linda nodded.

  ‘Are you sure? He’s going to keep on bleeding. You going to be okay with that?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be fine. Just so long as I’m doing something. It gives me something to concentrate on. Try to take my mind off Emily.’ She gave a short cough of a laugh. ‘Some chance.’

  Gina squeezed her arm.

  ‘It’ll be okay—’

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’

  Gina gave Todd a dirty look.

  ‘I’m telling her what to do. What do you think?’

  She turned back to Linda, not waiting for his reply. She dropped her voice lower still.

  ‘Evan’s out there. He’ll find her first, don’t worry.’

  The words stuck in her throat but she got them out somehow. She wished there was somebody to tell her not to worry. Even if they didn’t mean it either.

  Todd called out to Loyd. ‘Get out there and try to find the kid. She went into the trees to the right.’

  Loyd pointed at Gina.

  ‘What about her boyfriend?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘If I find him—do I shoot him? Bring him back here?’

  ‘Whatever it takes. Just so long as he’s not running around causing trouble.’

  Gina smiled grimly to herself as they talked. She knew, even if they didn’t, they’d have to shoot him a dozen times, or everything would be over for them.

  Loyd checked his gun and set off.

  Chapter 9

  EVAN HEARD A LOUD scream from inside the lodge. Scott’s wife must have been in the kitchen when they carried him in. That meant Gina was too. They’d have rounded everybody up.

  He didn’t have to wait long to find out what their next move was. The back door opened and one of the guys who’d carried Scott in came back out. He turned immediately right towards the woods on that side. He was coming for Emily, last seen disappearing into those very trees.

  The guy moved carefully, trying to be quiet. It wasn’t easy. Evan heard every footstep. So, it seemed, did Emily.

  There was a sudden explosion of noise thirty yards up the sl
ope as she launched herself out of a patch of dense undergrowth not more than twenty yards from the door and set off running, twisting and weaving through the trees, down the hill towards him.

  Perfect. Two birds with one stone.

  He bent quickly and untied his left boot, pulled out the thick lace. It looked like a miniature climbing rope and was almost as strong. He wound one end around each hand and tested it, yanking his hands apart. The multi-colored cord twanged taut, hardly even stretching. He did it again. It would do.

  Emily zipped in and out of the trees and tangled undergrowth like she’d lived her whole life in the woods. She was angling directly towards him, towards the edge of the trees. Too frightened to go the other way into the scary depths of the forest, it suited him just fine.

  The guy had heard her too. He jumped, startled she’d been so close the whole time. He lumbered after her, crashing through the undergrowth, bouncing off small trees, leaping over fallen logs. With his longer legs and more direct route he gained on her rapidly.

  She kept turning her head, looking behind her, slowing herself further. They weren’t going to get as far as the tree Evan hid behind. He couldn’t risk showing himself yet. All that would do is get him a bullet in the chest. They had to go past, then he’d step out and garrotte him from behind.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  The guy was right behind her, his arm outstretched to grab her collar or her hair, the gun in his other hand.

  Still she kept looking over her shoulder, twisting away from his outstretched hand, not looking where she was going. She caught her foot on a root hidden by the snow and went down, a ball of flying arms and legs, right at his feet. Too close to stop, he tripped over her and went his full length, flying through the air. He hit the ground with his shoulder, his head smacking hard and fast into the gnarled base of a tree.

  Evan stepped out from behind it, ready to jump him, but he was out cold. Ten feet away Emily scrambled to her feet and started back up the slope.

  ‘Emily. Stop. It’s okay.’

  She heard, Emily. Stop. I’m the bogey man. I’m going to eat you.

  In her panic she lost her footing again, scrabbling with her hands on the slick snow-covered ground. He reached her in a couple of easy strides before she got her feet under her and picked her up. She screamed and kicked. He pulled her into his body and cupped his hand over her mouth.

  ‘Shush. I’m Evan. I’m staying at the lodge. Evan.’

  The squirming subsided. He took his hand away from her mouth.

  ‘Evan?’

  ‘Yeah. And you’re Emily.’

  She stopped wriggling altogether. He put her down. Crouching low until he was at her level, he turned her to face him with his hands on her shoulders and smiled. Her eyes opened wide in terror.

  But it wasn’t him scaring her, not giving her that smile.

  He looked over his shoulder. The guy was coming around, getting to his feet. Evan pointed at a thick stand of trees and bushes off to the left.

  ‘Quick, hide in there. Don’t come out until I come for you.’

  She scampered off. He turned to face the guy, who was searching the ground at his feet, looking for his gun. They both saw it at the same time, half-buried in the snow. The guy dived for it, landing face down in the snow, a couple of feet short.

  Evan wrapped the free end of the boot lace around his other hand and launched himself through the air as the guy wriggled across the ground like he was on an assault course. He landed on his back like a house falling down. The guy bucked him halfway off and got his hand on the gun. Evan rolled on top of him again, whipped his arms up and over his head, snapped the heavy-duty cord tight around his throat.

  The guy grunted and gurgled, swung wildly with the gun trying to connect with Evan’s head. Evan crossed his wrists and jerked his arms hard apart choking the guy, cutting off his air supply, but still he thrashed and bucked under him, no sign of his strength letting up.

  ‘Drop the gun.’

  He didn’t. Instead, he brought his arm up and backwards in a smooth arc. In less than a second the barrel would be pointing straight at Evan’s eye.

  Evan let go of the makeshift garrotte and grabbed the gun with both hands. The barrel was pointing directly at his face, the guy’s finger tightening on the trigger. He threw himself off to the side, twisting the gun as he moved, the momentum of his whole body concentrated on one wrist joint.

  There was a sharp crack as the guy’s wrist snapped, immediately drowned out by his scream and the gun going off. The bullet pinged off into the trees in the exact direction Emily had gone. It was as if it were heat seeking, searching out the only warm living thing in the vast sea of frigid air.

  A smaller, piercing scream rent the still forest air. Evan didn’t hear it, he felt it, absorbed it into every fiber of his body, a visceral sound hard-wired into the DNA of every living creature.

  Then nothing.

  No endless wailing scream of a hysterical child.

  Just cold quiet silence.

  The sound froze him momentarily. Not so the other guy. He wrenched the gun from Evan’s grip, tried to hit him on the side of the head with it. Bad move with a broken wrist. He howled as the impact drove red-hot spikes of pain up his arm and down into his hand, pain a hundred times worse than the gentle tap on Evan’s hard head.

  It was the wake-up call Evan needed. Ignoring the urge to drop everything and run to the source of the scream, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted sharply. Something gave way, the guy’s finger caught in the trigger guard. He jerked the barrel again, ripped it out of the guy’s grip. But his hands were wet and numb from the snow. The gun dropped into the snow between them.

  They both stared at it like it was the last life saver on the Titanic. The guy got his left hand on it first. Evan grabbed the other one, the broken one, and bent it backwards, snatched the gun out of his hand before the yell was out of his mouth. He clubbed him hard on the back of the head with the butt, showed him the proper way to pistol whip somebody. The guy grunted, his head rolling crazily on his neck, his mouth hanging open. Evan gave him another one for good measure, good enough to make his eyes roll up into the back of his head. He collapsed face down into the snow and lay still.

  Evan looked around at where he’d last seen Emily. She was nowhere in sight. Wherever she was, she wasn’t making a sound either. He didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign.

  He had to find her.

  Breathing hard, he got up, stuffed the gun in his waistband. He hadn’t gone more than three feet when a sound made him freeze, made his gut clench.

  A low moan, something in pain.

  He stood stock-still, trying to identify where it came from. Then another moan, louder this time. But it was behind him, not in front. The guy was coming around already. He had to deal with him first, couldn’t risk him sneaking up and braining him with a rock while he looked for Emily.

  He ran back to the semi-comatose body, got his hands under his armpits and dragged him to a small tree. He sat him facing the tree, legs splayed either side of the trunk, arms stretched around it. He unbuckled the guy’s belt and pulled it through the loops of his jeans. Then he clamped his wrists together, wrapped the belt around them and buckled them together. The low moan turned into a semi-conscious hiss of pain as he cinched it up good and tight on the guy’s broken wrist. The guy would never get loose even if he didn’t have a broken wrist and finger.

  Evan straightened up and went around to the other side of the tree. He looked down at the guy as he shook his head from side to side, tried to focus. He thought about giving him another whack with the gun butt, a little taster of what he could look forward to if Evan’s worst fears about Emily were true.

  The guy looked up, his eyes bloodshot, a red raw weal around his neck from where Evan tried to garrotte him.

  ‘I wasn’t going to shoot her.’

  Just the sound of his voice had Evan’s hand twitching, heading towards the gun in
his waistband.

  ‘So what were you doing chasing her with a gun in your hand?’

  The guy’s mouth opened and closed a couple times.

  ‘I wasn’t going to shoot her,’ was all he could think to say. ‘And I didn’t mean for it to go off when you—’

  Evan kicked him on the ass.

  ‘That was my fault, was it?’

  He could see the guy wanted to say, yeah, actually it was, but seeing as he was the one tied to the tree, he thought better of it.

  Evan bent and grabbed hold of the hair at the back of his head and pulled his head back hard. A flash of pain went through the guy’s eyes as Evan yanked on his scalp where he’d been pistol whipped.

  ‘You better hope I didn’t make you shoot her, then. Because if she’s—’

  He almost came out with some cheesy movie-style threat before he caught himself. He didn’t need to anyway. Words weren’t necessary. His face told the guy everything he needed to know.

  He threw the guy’s head forward in disgust, mashing it into the rough bark of the trunk—it was an accident—and went to find Emily. He ran to where he’d heard her scream, the pressure building in his chest with every step.

  It didn’t take long before he came across what his mind had refused to process. Twenty yards into the trees, just beyond where he’d overpowered her pursuer, he stopped dead.

  His heart jumped into his mouth.

  He saw a child’s leg, the right one, poking out from a clump of bushes. It wasn’t moving. The small shoe had been pulled half off her foot as she fell. He forced himself forwards, wishing the cold that numbed his fingers and chilled his bones would do the same for his racing mind. Time slowed to an agonizing crawl as he covered the last few yards to where she lay, long strides pulling through snow as thick as molasses.

  Had the guy been right? Was this his fault?

  Chapter 10

  FOR THE SECOND TIME all heads turned at the sound of the gunshot outside.

  Linda screamed, convinced it was Emily. Sonny laughed and prodded her with his foot.