“Welcome to West Virginia, girls,” the sheriff smiled. The other men began clapping.
“Now, Miss Gallagher,” Eddie explained in a horribly pleasant voice, “we’re gonna save ya fer last and let ya watch Andrea get her big welcome first; ready boys?”
“Ready E,” they all said in unison, as Tim and Big Al went to stand directly behind Andrea.
I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t let it happen. As Andrea faced me, screaming her last screams, I tried to think of a last ditch effort to stop it. I could feel my body tingling, my arms were going numb, and I was getting cold. I was going into shock.
“Sheriff, please! Please, don’t do this! I won’t tell anyone, ever, I promise, please don’t do this!” I cried, relinquishing every bit of pride I had—pride that didn’t matter anymore.
“Sorry, detective, but ya had yer chances, One, two, three!” the Sheriff yelled, and Tim and Allen shoved Andrea over the side of the well into the pit of angry, hungry rats.
I screamed again, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover Andrea’s bloodcurdling death screams. I watched as she hit the side of the well first, before falling right into the center of the pile of rats, and in less than a second, they were all over her. The grease and the honey did the job, no doubt, as I watched them bite and gnaw their way into the poor girl, who struggled and screamed for what seemed like forever until the screams lessened to whimpers, and then nothing.
One of the rats must’ve chewed into the jugular vein on her neck, because the sides of the well were splashed with blood. The pile of rats that were on her face moved to the side, and I could see that her eyes were gone. That was all I could take, I could feel myself starting to fade, and leaning backward, until Eddie slapped me again.
“Now it’s yer turn, girlie,” the Sheriff chuckled. “How ’bout some music, boys!”
Big Al went over to the table and turned the radio on full blast before returning to take his place behind me. I was going to die to the sounds of “Cracklin’ Rose”—something I never would have imagined. Of course, I’d never imagined that I would be eaten by rats, either. The men started dancing around, opening more beer, and laughing, making me suffer by waiting.
I looked up into the beautiful blue morning sky, tears rolling down my face, and prayed that my death would be quick. I prayed that Selina and Isabelle would have a good life and never forget me. I prayed that Eric would forgive me, even in death, and I prayed that these men would never get away with this. When people talk about having flashes before death, they are right.
Flashes of my children, Eric, and my parents came across my mind as if I was watching a movie. I knew I was completely in shock then, nevertheless, the images put me at ease. I couldn’t feel any part of my body, and I hoped I would stay that way when I hit the bottom of the well. This is what it must feel like to be in a plane when you know it’s going to crash, I thought. Plane crash, cancer, suicide, eaten by rats—it’s all the same when you know death is seconds away.
The longer they made me wait, the further into insanity I went. All the minutes and hours I’d spent in my life worrying about death, and fearing it, were useless. I couldn’t have imagined, not in the darkest part of my mind that it would ever be like this.
When the men were done dancing around, the sheriff walked to the opposite side of the pit where Andrea had been, and faced me.
“Now, I’m gonna give ya somethin’ that I didn’t give the big mouth a chance to do,” he announced. “If ya’d like, I’ll let ya say any last words, or prayers, ya might have.”
“All I ask is you let them find my body, I-I have children, pl-please don’t let them spend their lives wondering what happened to me,” I pleaded.
“Kin’t do it, sorry,” the Sheriff answered. “See that backhoe behind ya? Once yer done gone, we got us a pile of dirt were gonna fill the well in with. Ain’t nobody ever gonna find ya, but maybe, maybe, I’ll drop ’em a postcard from Brazil telling ’em where to look ten years from now.”
Not only is my death occurring in this hellish pit, but it’s going to be my final resting place; me, Andrea, and a hundred rats.
“Sheriff, I have one more thing to say,” I requested.
“What is it, girlie? The rats are hungry!” He laughed, bringing on laughter by all the men who were half-drunk by that time.
“My only request is, when all of you faggots are done bending each other over, and driving it home, I hope you all burn in hell,” I said, calmly.
The sheriff had a look come over his face that, even though I knew I had only seconds to live, scared me. My request stopped the other men’s laughter, and Tim and Big Al again took their places behind me.
“Let’s do this, fellas,” the sheriff began as I closed my eyes and braced myself. “One, two, three!”
I heard the shot ring out and felt the shove, throwing me forward into my final resting place in hell.
Chapter Fifteen
Falling forward, bracing myself to be eaten alive, I felt my face slam against the side of the well wall. Then I stopped, feeling something heavy leaning against my lower back and legs, preventing me from going the rest of the way down.
Eric, Coop, Kincaid, and Michael had made their way to the clearing just in time to see Big Al walk behind me, ready to push. At the precise moment he was ready to push me into the well, Eric shot him in the back, causing him to fall on my legs as well as push me forward.
I heard several more shots and felt whatever was on my legs begin to move slightly. A couple more inches and the anchor would be off, and I would fall. That was only one of my problems at that particular moment. My long hair, which was hanging down, since I was upside down, was long enough and covered in enough grease to tempt the rats to jump up towards my head.
Two managed to grab hold of my hair and started wriggling around in it. I was screaming, and I continued to feel the anchor on my legs move. The rats that were tangled in my hair were scratching my face and biting my ears, even though I shook my head back and forth rapidly.
Still screaming, I was suddenly jerked upward and out of the well, falling on my back on the ground just below the wall. The rats were still in my hair and my hands were still tied. I continued screaming and flailing myself around until I felt two hands pull one out and Kincaid’s voice cry out urgently, “CeeCee! Stay still! I need to get the other one out!”
I barely heard her, and continued screaming and tossing myself around until she managed to pull the other rat out, a clump of my hair with it. She then turned me over and untied my hands and feet, before being thrown backwards, taking a shot in the right shoulder.
My defenses and sanity coming back, I grabbed Kincaid’s gun out of her hand, and looked for where the shot had come from. Big Al Davis, who was almost dead already, had managed to pull a small handgun out of his waistband while he lay dying on the edge of the well. Seeing him raise the weapon a second time, I fired a shot directly into his head, knocking him over the side of the well. Still hearing shots, I crawled over to Kincaid to see if she was okay. Holding her shoulder, she muttered a yes, and I pulled her over against the well wall for protection, using it for cover myself.
I peered over the edge of the wall and saw Eric beating Tim Carr into oblivion by the edge of the woods. Tim didn’t appear to be moving, but Eric continued bashing him. Coop was behind the red Mustang, engaged in a shoot-out with Stuey and VanScoy, who were behind Eddie’s Blazer. Michael made his way behind them, squeezing off a shot and hitting Stuey in the chest. VanScoy turned and began shooting at Michael, who dove behind a large pine tree for cover.
There was no sign of the sheriff or of Eddie Lewis as I made my way to the Blazer, essentially crawling since I was beat all to hell, but I was determined to take care of VanScoy myself. Coop was crouched down beside the Mustang, reloading, and didn’t see me sneak by and crawl underneath the Blazer.
I waited a few moments, listening to the familiar sounds of a handgun being reloaded, before crawling out the other side
and quietly walking around the front to where Captain John VanScoy sat, putting bullets into his magazine. It was too late by the time he saw me, my gun was already to his head.
“Well now, sir; it looks like you and I have a little unfinished business,” I said, still shaking and trying to catch my breath.
Even then, VanScoy showed no fear. He began to laugh, putting down his gun and magazine, and putting his hands up in the air.
“Go ahead and take me to jail, girlie. That’s all ya kin do, ain’t it? I ain’t armed and the fed is watchin’. But remember one thing,” he began to whisper, “ya lucked out this time, but don’t worry, we’ll gitcha when ...” I pulled the trigger, blowing brain matter, bone, and clumps of hair all over the side of the Blazer.
Watching him slump over, I smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Captain. I got you now, didn’t I? Always a pleasure.”
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Eric, Michael and Coop standing there, looking stunned, either from having just watched me kill an unarmed man, or from seeing that I looked the way I did. Eric ran over to me first.
“Oh, my God, CeeCee!” he cried, grabbing a hold of me and causing me to cry out in pain.
It hadn’t dawned on me before now how Eric, Coop, and Kincaid were here, in West Virginia, or how they’d got here so quickly, and why. Regardless, seeing Eric just then and feeling his hands touch me brought on a long overdue breakdown. With the knowledge that I was still alive raining down on me, I fell to the ground, sobbing. I grabbed every part of him that I could. Eric held me tight, covering himself in hardened grease and honey in doing so.
“Eric,” I whimpered, “I’m so sorry. You were right! I shouldn’t have come here. I thought I would never see you again!”
“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here, and you’re alive,” he whispered, stroking my hair.
“Kincaid! She was shot!” I remembered, sitting bolt upright.
“I know. Coop just went over to her now. I think she’ll be all right.”
I looked over and saw Michael, who had remained quiet, standing by the side of the Blazer with tears in his eyes. I’d never wanted anyone to get hurt in this whole mess, but I’d turned it into just that. After several minutes spent in Eric’s embrace, I turned to him with tears in my own eyes, and put his face in my bloody hands.
“Eric, I need to talk to Michael for a few minutes, alone; I know you understand why.”
Eric understood. I knew by the way he looked at me, and at Michael. He took both of my hands and kissed them.
“Okay. I’ll be over checking on Kincaid and Coop. I love you, CeeCee,” he said as he stood up and walked away.
“Come here, Michael,” I called out, holding out my hand to him.
Michael walked over and knelt down in front of me, taking my hand while he began to sob.
“CeeCee, I was so scared! I thought you were dead …”
“Michael, I thought you were dead, too. I was devastated! When I heard them talking about you being alive, I couldn’t believe it!”
“I thought I would never again get to tell you that I love you, CeeCee: I love you! I know I can never have you, but I need to tell you that.”
“Oh, Michael! A part of me loves you, too. If things were different, but they aren’t! I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone! Now isn’t our time. Maybe the future holds something different, but for now, I have to stay with Eric. I love him, and I’m sorry, Michael!” I sobbed.
“CeeCee, I understand,” he said as put his hand on my battered cheek, “but knowing that you know how I feel helps. I didn’t think I could take it if something happened to you, but you’re okay, and if that means I wait for you for twenty years, or however long it takes, so be it. Just promise me something. If you ever find yourself single, make sure I’m number one on the list.”
I smiled at Michael as best I could with my battered face, took his hand from my cheek, and gave it a squeeze. Before I could give him an answer, a thought came to me that made my blood run cold.
“Where’s the sheriff and Eddie?” I shouted, looking around in a panic.
“Two people ran into the woods when we started shooting,” Michael told me, “but we couldn’t run after them, and who is Eddie?”
“Michael! Eddie from the motel is E, the guy that started this whole thing. He’s a major at the sheriff’s department!”
“Holy shit, that explains a lot.” He stood up. “I don’t think they have the balls to come back here right now. Plus, they’ve been made and they’re screwed. C’mon, CeeCee, we need to get you to a hospital.”
I tried to stand up, but as much pain as I was in, I wasn’t able to completely, so I held onto Michael for support. We walked, or hobbled, over to Coop and Eric, who were tending to Kincaid by the well.
Eric, seeing me, ran over and took my arm. “I’ve got her, Michael. Thanks.” He led me over to the tree stump the sheriff had been sitting on, sat me on it, and told me, “The ambulance is on the way. We told them we needed two, but we’ll see.”
“Let Kincaid take the first one,” I told him. “I’ve been okay this long and she doesn’t look so good.” I’d noticed how pale she was.
“CeeCee, do you want to tell me what happened here?” he asked quietly. “What is all over you?”
“I don’t want to get into details right now, Eric, but I’m covered in hamburger grease and honey so they could throw me into a well full of rats.” I nodded towards the well. “If you go look, you should still see some remains of Andrea Dean and Allen Davis down there.”
Eric turned three shades of green, and as if my word wasn’t enough, he walked over to the well and looked down inside. “Oh, dear God,” he cried. “What the fuck kind of people are these?”
I looked over at the well, where Coop and Michael were now looking down, and felt a shudder go through my body. I had to block out what had happened, if only for a little while, or I would have gone crazy right there on that stump. Sensing my thoughts, Eric asked Coop to walk down to their car, which was parked in the woods outside the clearing, and grab a shirt out of his bag. He also said it might be a good idea to check on Laurie, who had been waiting in the car.
I forgot I was still in my bra and underwear. I didn’t care by that point, either, but throwing one of Eric’s shirts on was something I welcomed. It was the second part of his request that confused me. “Eric, who is Laurie?”
“Laurie Kaylor, she’s ...”
“Allen Davis’s girlfriend, I know. Why is she in your car?”
“CeeCee, if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t be here right now. Not that she had much choice in the matter, but she showed us how to get here. She was apparently at Davis’s house when you were taken and saw the whole thing.”
So Laurie Kaylor was my saving grace, but Eric said she didn’t have much choice, which told me that they’d basically threatened to rip her eyes out if she didn’t show them where I was, which was fine by me.
I could hear the far sounding wail of a siren making its way up the mountain to the clearing where we waited. I was in so much pain it was hard for me not to scream out in agony and beg to be taken to the hospital, but I only heard one siren just then, and Kincaid would take the first ambulance. She’d saved my life.
Tim Carr was still on the ground where Eric had left him, bleeding and unconscious with both legs and arms broken, but he could lay there forever as far as I was concerned. I had half a notion to pick him up and throw him down the well before anyone else got here.
As if reading my mind, when Coop walked back to the clearing with Eric’s shirt, he was also carrying a gas can. Handing the shirt to Eric, Coop walked over to the well and began pouring gasoline down the center, splashing it over as many of the rats as he could.
“Sure you want to do that, Coop?” Michael ventured. “I mean, there is bodies down there that need recovered.”
“They’ll never get to the bodies, or what’s left of the bodies, through the rats. The ones that don’t b
urn can die of the smoke, and it’ll probably be the top ones that burn, anyway. The remains of the bodies are underneath all of them.” Coop looked down the well. “Jesus! How long do you think it took them to round up that many rats and put them down there? I mean, how exactly do you do that?”
No one had an answer for Coop because no one knew. I didn’t want to even try to answer because that would have required me to think about the rats, which I couldn’t do just then. After I’d put on Eric’s shirt, Coop walked over to me holding a matchbook.
“CeeCee, I think you should do this,” he said quietly, handing me the matches.
He was right—burning all the rats might make me feel a little better. At least if they’re burned, I thought, in the almost remote chance I get thrown back down the well, it won’t matter. I walked to the same side of the well where I was forced to kneel, looked down, and thought that I could be down there now, dead and eaten. I didn’t want to jinx my second chance, and standing there made me nervous, so I lit the matches and closed my eyes, stepping back as I threw the flame into the pit below.
The screeches and squeals from the rats were immediate, and so loud that I put my hands over my ears and began to cry. I’ll hear this sound in my dreams for years to come, I thought, I’m sure of it. Eric picked me up, carried me away from the well to the edge of the clearing, and lay me on a small patch of grass. The first ambulance was just pulling in, and the others were gathering up Kincaid.
I could barely move, but since there was something important I needed to take care of, I forced myself. I hobbled over to the ambulance as they were loading Kincaid in. The ambulance personnel looked at me in shock and demanded to take my vitals and so on. I declined and told them that I would be fine until the other ambulance arrived.
“Naomi, I wanted to say thank you for what you’ve done,” I said, grabbing her hand, tears welling up in my eyes. “You saved my life. I’ll never forget that.”
Murder Mountain Page 24