Endurance

by Jack Kilborn

  The old woman recovered quickly, grabbing Maria’s chain, yanking her to a stop. The shotgun was almost within reach. Maria strained for it, kicking out her foot, knocking it onto the floor.

  But then she was being yanked back to the railing. Eleanor reeled in the chain, hand over hand, like a longshoreman pulling in a net. Maria stood up, pulling back, putting her whole body into it. But there was no way she’d win this tug of war. Eleanor was too strong. Too heavy.

  Inch by inch, Maria lost ground. She tried to shake the chains, but it had no effect. She changed positions, draping the chains over her shoulder, leaning in the opposite direction. But inch by terrible inch, Eleanor brought Maria back to the banister.

  “I have royal blood!” Eleanor grunted, grabbing Maria by the wrists. “You can’t defy me!”

  And then she shoved Maria off the edge

  # # #

  Kelly dropped down off the ledge of the cliff, landing on the ledge a few feet below.

  She didn’t look down. She had no need to.

  I trust the ground is solid. I trust my feet. I’m not going to fall.

  She hugged the cliff face, knees slightly bent, and waited for Cam.

  “Kelly?” she heard him say, giggling. “You did not just jump down there.”

  A moment later, she saw Cam’s face peer over the edge.

  “Whoa. We’re pretty high.”

  Then Kelly started screaming. She screamed loud and long. Over and over.

  “Shut up!”

  Cam slapped his hands to his ears. Kelly screamed even louder.

  “Why did you kill me, Cam! Why didn’t you let me go! I’m your best friend!”

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  Cam got on his knees, scalpel in hand, obviously desperate to silence her.

  Kelly jumped up, snatching Cam’s hair, holding on while trusting her feet would find the ledge again.

  Momentum took him off the edge of the cliff and right over her head. Kelly’s feet landed solidly.

  Kelly didn’t bother watching him smash into the rocks below. But she heard it. A long, fading wail, ending in a sound like a belly-flop.

  I did it.

  I’m alive.

  I’m alive!

  Then Kelly chinned-up to level ground and then ran into the woods, anxious to find Mom.

  # # #

  Felix climbed out of the truck. Driving through the front door of the Inn had done quite a bit of damage to both the vehicle, and the building. He also could add whiplash to his shopping list of injuries.

  He looked around the room, and felt his heart skip a beat.

  This place is a slaughterhouse.

  The dead were strewn about everywhere, and a large cloud of flies buzzed about, hopping from one bloody treat to the next.

  Is Maria one of them? What happened here?

  Most of them looked deformed. Felix wondered if he should start searching corpses. Then he had something more pressing to deal with.

  Harry.

  The harelipped man jogged down the stairs, running right at him. Felix backpedalled, but Harry was too fast. His huge hands wrapped around Felix’s throat, completely encircling it. Harry giggled, spit and snot dripping through the split in his face, and then began to squeeze.

  Felix instantly saw stars. He swatted ineffectively at Harry’s face, then made a half-hearted attempt to scratch at the giant’s eyes. Harry began to shake him, and Felix felt the edges of his vision begin to dim.

  Weapon. Need a weapon.

  But he had no weapons. The only thing he had on him was his cell phone. The phone he’d carried with him every day since Maria disappeared. The phone with her last text message to him on it, that he’d read over a thousand times.

  The phone.

  Felix fumbled for his ripped pocket, digging out the phone with his thumb and pinky.

  Choke on it, asshole.

  Then he shoved it right down the massive hole in Harry’s face. Felix pushed past his squirming tongue, fitting his whole hand inside the split palate, jamming the phone into Harry’s throat.

  Harry’s reaction was instant. He dropped Felix and clawed at his own face, digging his fingers into his mouth. But his fingers were too large, and the phone was down too deep.

  Felix picked himself up off the floor than stared up at Harry as his face turned red enough to match his eyes.

  And then Felix saw something else. Something above Harry. A woman, hanging from the railing up on the third floor, her feet dangling down.

  Maria?

  Maria!

  Felix ran around Harry as the giant keeled over, ignoring all of the pain in his body, bounding up the stairs with energy driven by love, flying up the first flight, the second flight, desperate to reach her before she fell.

  Save her. Got to save her. Got to—

  “Sorry, lover boy. Y’all don’t get to be the hero.”

  Felix stared at Eleanor. Stared at the shotgun in her hands.

  The sound was thunderous.

  The shot slammed Felix into the wall.

  For a moment, he felt a stabbing, white-hot pain.

  Then he didn’t feel anything at all.

  # # #

  Millard dropped his overalls to his ankles, revealing a pair of filthy tighty-whities. His head was leaking blood like a sieve, but it didn’t stop him from smiling. He tugged a packet out of his breast pocket and dusted powder all over his face, making him look like a ghost.

  Letti’s broken arm hurt like crazy, but she wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about Kelly. And Mom.

  I’ll get him for you, Mom. Maybe not today. Maybe not next month. But I will kill this son of a bitch.

  Millard spat out pink clumps of styptic.

  “You like eatin’ dirt before, whore? Maybe I give you a bit more to snack on.”

  Millard bent down, reaching for the earth, and then he doubled over in a blur of blood and fur.

  JD!

  The German Shepherd locked his jaws right between Millard’s legs, shaking his muzzle back and forth, trying to rip his manhood free.

  Two tugs later, the dog did.

  Millard rolled around on the ground, holding his crotch with both hands, swearing and moaning. JD went for his throat, but Letti called him back.

  “JD, sit! I got this one.”

  It took Letti a minute to find a suitable rock. Big enough to do the job, but not so big she couldn’t lift it one-handed. Once she made her selection, she stood over Millard, whose red eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

  “Eat dirt?” Letti asked. “Eat this.”

  She smashed the rock down onto Millard’s screaming face. Over and over and over.

  After the tenth or eleventh blow, his head split like a cleaved watermelon.

  Letti dropped the bloody rock and spat on his corpse.

  JD limped over to her. She could see a gash in his leg. It looked pretty ugly, but Letti vowed right there to get him the best vet in the country.

  “Good dog,” Letti said, patting his head. “You are one really good dog.

  He wagged his tail and licked her face. Then his ears pricked up, and he bounded off into the woods.

  “JD!” she yelled.

  “Mom!”

  Kelly!

  Letti hurried after the dog, and found him running circles around her daughter. Kelly hurried over to Letti, embracing her, and Letti hugged her back despite her broken arm. Love was the best pain reliever in the world.

  “I followed your footsteps, Mom! That’s how I found you!”

  “I love you, Kelly. I love you so, so much.”

  Kelly buried her face in Letti’s neck. “I love you too, Mom. Where’s Grandma?”

  Letti gripped her daughter tighter. “Grandma didn’t make it, honey.”

  Kelly pulled away. She looked older. Much older. And Letti saw a glimpse of what her mother told her. Of the amazing woman Kelly would grow up to become.

  “She saved me, Mom,” Kelly said. “Gran
dma saved my life.”

  Letti blinked back the tears. Tears of pain. Tears of loss. But mostly, tears of pride. Pride in her daughter, and pride in her mother.

  “She saved us all, baby. Your Grandma saved us all.”

  # # #

  Hanging from the banister, Maria heard the shotgun blast. And she knew whom Eleanor had shot.

  Felix. My Felix.

  He came for me.

  And she killed him.

  The anger in Maria took over, like a monster invaded her body. It worked into every pore, every cell, filling her with such all-encompassing rage that Maria felt like she could put her fist through a brick wall.

  Maria hooked a leg up on the bottom of the railing, pulling herself onto the third floor. Eleanor swung the gun around, but Maria was already running at her, the chain wrapped tight around her fist.

  She punched Eleanor in the nose again, doing even more damage this time. Eleanor moaned, and Maria tore the double barrel shotgun from the old woman’s hands. She aimed at the bitch’s diseased head and pulled both triggers.

  Nothing happened. The gun was empty.

  Changing her grip, Maria brought the gun back like a baseball bat, swinging with everything she had, cracking Eleanor across the head so hard it could be heard in neighboring states. Eleanor collapsed, but Maria’s attention was already on Felix, the blood spreading across his chest.

  Maria tore at the buckles on her wrist cuffs, using her teeth, pulled her hands free. She patted down Eleanor’s body and found a packet of QuikClot. Hurrying to Felix, she lifted up his blood-soaked shirt, dumping the powder on him, pressing it into the jagged buckshot wounds on his chest and shoulder.

  “Please,” she said. “I’ve waited so long for you. Please don’t leave me, Felix.”

  She put her fingers on his neck, trying to find a pulse, but her hands were shaking too badly.

  “You can’t die, honey. You can’t. Not now. Not after all of this.”

  She put her ear to his chest, couldn’t hear a damn thing. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing his cheek to hers, rocking him back and forth.

  “I love you, Felix. I love you so much.”

  This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. After all of this, it’s supposed to end happily.

  A whole year I dreamed, prayed, for this moment.

  This can’t be the end.

  And then Felix mumbled something.

  “Felix? Oh my god, Felix? What did you say?

  “I love you too, babe,” he said. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

  “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too. You think you can get me an aspirin?”

  Maria began to laugh so hard she wept.

  # # #

  Deb splayed out her arms, trying to palm the sheer face of the rock, but she kept sliding. The metal spikes of her prosthetics skipped across the surface of the shelf, not any better at traction than the climbing shoes she wore years ago when she was in this very same situation.

  Above her, the cougar watched her slow descent with narrow, evil eyes, swishing his broken tail back and forth.

  It’s happening again. I’m reliving my worst nightmare.

  And Deb knew, from past experience, that she only had six seconds left. Then she’d be over the edge, and even Mal with all of his good intentions wouldn’t be able to catch her when she fell.

  Strangely, mixed in with the terror was a bit of melancholy.

  Is this what I was meant to do in life? Make the same mistakes?

  “Use your leg!” Mal yelled up at her.

  I can’t use my leg, you moron. They keep slipping. What I need is longer arms to grab onto that outcropping just out of my reach.

  Oh, son of a bitch!

  Suddenly understanding Mal’s advice, Deb reached down and hit the button on her right stump cup. The air hissed out, breaking the suction, and she tugged off her leg.

  Only a few seconds left! I only have one shot!

  She stretched, using her leg like a climbing pick, holding onto the cup and swinging the foot upward at the outcropping.

  It caught!

  Deb stopped sliding. She hung there, gripping her prosthetic, the metal barbs in the toe hooked around the protruding rock.

  Okay. Now I just need to get to it.

  There were no other handholds or footholds, so Deb had to slowly chin herself up. Her prosthetic wasn’t secure enough to hang from, but it was enough to hold her on this incline. She raised herself gradually, bit by bit, until she was able to get her fingers on the outcropping.

  From there, it was only a few inches to the seam. Once she had a solid grip, she put her leg back on, pressing the button for suction.

  This route was trickier than the other one. Steeper. Fewer decent holds. But this route didn’t have a cougar waiting for her, so Deb followed the seam, keeping away from the shelf where the creature perched.

  After five minutes, she found her rhythm. Hand hold. Toe hold. Hand hold. Toe hold.

  After ten minutes, the lookout station was in sight. Deb kept her emotions in check, but she was secretly astonished that she was actually going to make it.

  “Deb!” Mal yelled.

  Deb looked down. The cougar was a few feet below her, legs splayed out, clinging to the rock face. It thrust its entire body upward, its massive claws batting her artificial leg.

  Of course it can climb. That’s why they’re called mountain lions.

  Deb stuck her hand deep in a crevice, gripping the stone inside, waiting for the next lunge.

  The lion jumped again, coming up another two feet, its fierce jaws locking around Deb’s stump cup.

  Deb quickly reached down, hitting the release. Her leg came off.

  The cougar, losing its balance, fell from the rock face. It landed a few feet below, on the angled, sheer face where Deb had slid off all those years ago.

  Like Deb, the cougar couldn’t get a grip on the sheer rock. It spread out all four legs, claws scraping against stone, but couldn’t stop its inevitable slide.

  “How do you like it?” Deb shouted at the lion.

  It roared once—an angry, futile roar—and then the monster that had haunted Deb’s dreams for so long slipped right off the edge of the mountain, falling thirty long feet, smashing to the unforgiving ground below in a brilliant explosion of blood.

  And it felt pretty goddamn good.

  “You okay!” Mal called to her.

  “Yeah! Are you!”

  “I am! But it’s raining cats and dogs down here!”

  Deb smiled.

  Next time I have a chance, I’m going to kiss that guy.

  The rest of the climb, even with only one leg, was uneventful. Maria made it to the shelf, and crawled to the lookout post. It was unoccupied, but the rangers were kind enough to leave a door open for her, and a fully charged radio.

  “Hello, hello? This is Deb Novachek. I’m with Mal Deiter. We called earlier, and there’s a helicopter looking for us. Can anyone hear me?”

  “This is ranger base three. We read you, Deb. Over.”

  Deb practically wept.

  “I’m at a lookout station. The number on the radio is six-four-eight-seven-two.”

  “Roger that. We’ll send the chopper your way.”

  Deb found a stash of water bottles next to the radio. She twisted the top off one, drank the whole thing in a few gulps, and let out the biggest sigh of her life.

  Then she closed her eyes and waited to be rescued.

  # # #

  Eleanor Roosevelt’s head hurt. She felt someone patting her cheek, and she opened her eyes, ready to tell whichever son it was to leave her alone.

  But it wasn’t one of her sons.

  “I’m thinking of a number from one to ten,” Maria said, staring at her. “Guess what it is?”

  Eleanor looked at her wrists. The strappado cuffs were on her.

  No. Not this.

  I’m royalty. I have presidential blood
in my veins.

  They can’t do this to me.

  “The answer,” Maria said, “Is fuck you.”

  Then the man, Felix, kicked Eleanor in the face.

  Eleanor fell backwards, through the gate, off the edge.

  The next thing she knew, her head was hurting again.

  She looked around, saw she was on the first floor.

  Those fools. They must not have put the chains on correctly.

  My head still hurts. But other than that, I’m perfectly fine.

  Eleanor reached up a hand to rub her temple.

  It didn’t work, for some reason.

  She tried with the other hand, and that didn’t work either.

  Then she felt something drip onto her face.

  Looking up, Eleanor saw Maria and Felix, staring down at her. She also saw the two lengths of chain.

  Each chain had an arm attached to it. Each arm trailed veins and arteries and tendons and torn muscles that stretched down and were still tenuously attached to the torn sockets of Eleanor’s shoulders.

  Oh, lordy. Those are my arms.

  Then there was pain. There was amazing, excruciating, unbearable pain.

  Eleanor screamed through the pain for the entire four and a half minutes it took her to bleed to death. But to her it felt a lot longer.

  # # #

  Felix pulled his eyes away from Eleanor’s death throes and turned to look at Maria, but she was gone. Before he had a chance to panic, she walked out of one of the bedrooms, a baby in her arms.

  “Her parents are dead,” Maria said. For someone who had been through hell, she looked positively radiant. “I want to keep her.”

  The baby was adorable. And Maria was beaming.

  But this isn’t right.

  Felix shook his head sadly. “Don’t you think we need to do something else first?”

  Maria’s smile vanished. “What do you mean?”

  Felix took her hand, which hurt like hell for him. Using his thumb and pinky, he placed Maria’s pear-shaped engagement ring on her finger, the one he took off of Eleanor when he was cuffing her wrists.