by Maddie Coe
Nowhere good, Mason thought.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love Sarah anymore; he certainly did. He’d never had feelings like this for any other woman and didn’t know what he’d do without her. The trouble was deeper than that. He’d told her earlier that she was starting to get on his nerves and that had been half true. The real problem wasn’t the way she’d been acting lately, but rather the way she hadn’t been. Things had kind of flattened out for Sarah, her escalating appetite for their desires having hit a speed bump and stopped. She’d taken things as far as she wanted them to go. Or at least that was the way Mason thought, at any rate. Maybe he was reading her wrong but lately he’d been noticing that look of fear in her eyes whenever he brought out the knife. He was losing her, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. She might not even realize it yet, but as he sat on the edge of their bed gazing down at the floor Mason was convinced that he was right.
That was what had made him stop what they’d been doing a few minutes ago. Those were the thoughts that had been running through his mind that had smothered his lust and wilted his penis. And the really fucked up thing about all this was that Mason wasn’t sitting feeling sorry for himself or for the love he felt slipping away from him. No, what he felt more than anything was boredom. And anger. He didn’t want to lose Sarah. He didn’t want to lose his playmate. In fact, he wanted to keep this train moving, to keep pushing their love further and further into the darkness. It was royally pissing him off that Sarah didn’t seem to feel the same way.
Flat out honesty: Mason wanted more than Sarah was giving him.
More sex, more games, more blood, more pain. Perhaps even a lot more. Lately he’d had some bad thoughts running through his mind; thoughts of taking these role-playing games of theirs to a whole new level. The ultimate level, even. Not just cutting and biting and abusing Sarah, but killing her and maybe fucking her while her life bled out onto the floor. He knew that it was a dangerous idea, a horrible idea, but that was what made it so appealing. So exciting. Death was the logical next step in their abnormal relationship and most days he truly believed that. Did that make Mason crazy? It was a question he’d been asking himself a lot lately. Maybe. Probably. Seriously unstable, at the very least. Had he brought Sarah out to these desolate woods, way out in the middle of nowhere for a reason? Was today the day to take that next step down the ladder? Mason still wasn’t sure.
He looked on the bed beside him and saw the knife lying on the blanket a couple of feet away. He saw that its six inch blade was painted red with their combined juices and couldn’t help but think that was the way things were supposed to be. Nothing said love like a blood-smeared knife, right? Just the sight of it started to make his cock hard again. He looked over at his girlfriend, still looking at him from over by the desk, and he couldn’t find that same erotic feeling from her. That same spark. Sarah was a sexy woman, naked and willing to satisfy his every need; practically every man’s dream come true, but Mason just wasn’t feeling it. The knife turned him on more than the girl. There it was; the moment of truth. When push came to shove, he’d chosen cold steel over hot flesh.
At peace with his decision, Mason knew exactly what he had to do.
***
“What’s wrong?” Sarah tried again for the third time. The first few queries hadn’t gotten any response at all. At least now her boyfriend was looking at her. Maybe that was a good sign. “Why aren’t you answering? You drag me all the way out here and now you’re ignoring me. What the hell have I done?”
“Nothin’,” Mason mumbled. “You haven’t done anything wrong, babe.”
“We were gonna get in touch with nature, you said. Run around naked up here in the woods where no one would bother us. You promised we’d be able to play some fun new games this weekend.”
“I know, and I meant it too.”
“Well, I’m not having a hell of a lot of fun yet. I’m about ready to go home, to be honest. What’s the matter with you?”
Mason looked at her long and hard, sighed, and then reached over to pick up the bloodstained knife. “Nothing’s the matter with me…and you’re not going anywhere!”
“The fuck I’m not. Who do you think you are anyway? You want to know something, Mason? You’ve really been messed up lately. Have you lost your bloody mind? I’ll go anywhere I damn well please, and if you don’t like it you can cram it up your ass!”
“Oh yeah? Fair enough. Better start walking then. Main road’s about a mile and a half east of here. Two miles, tops.” The roads into this part of the woods were really nothing more than narrow dirt trails, and at this time of the year they’d been useless. Earlier today they’d been forced to park Mason’s Ford F-150 pick-up just off the main road and hike the rest of the way in.
“Are you serious? You’d actually stay here and make me walk back to the truck alone? But I don’t know the way. I was just following you.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. You said you wanted to play games, right? Here’s a good one for you. It’s called Survivor! You make it to the pick-up before I can track you down and catch you, you win. You get to drive away and go home safe and sound.”
“And if I lose?” she said, but already had a sinking feeling in her gut where this was going. She needed to hear him say it though.
“You lose and I’m gonna slit that pretty little throat of yours from ear to ear then drag your dead corpse back here and fuck you all weekend. Sound like fun?”
For a moment she was terrified, but then she burst into nervous laughter. “Oh man…you had me going there for a moment. Jesus! Wow, you seriously need to see a therapist, mate!”
Mason walked over to his jacket that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. He pulled out his truck keys and tossed them to her. He was smiling, madness dancing in his eyes, way past the point of no return now. “You’re putting on a good show, but wanna know something I’ve figured out about you, babe? You revert to your Australian roots when you get scared. Know what I’m saying, mate? And that’s good. You should be scared because I’m not kidding. I’ll give you a five-minute head start. Starting now!”
The half-grin dropped from her face. She looked closely at Mason’s eyes, then down at his knife. Then back up at his eyes. He’s serious! She thought. This isn’t a game.
“Wait, Mason. Back up a minute. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so pissed off, but whatever it was I’m sure we can—”
“I said get moving,” Mason interrupted. “You’re wasting your time.”
“But this is crazy. I mean seriously. I just want to—”
“GET OUT!” Mason screamed, “Or I’ll kill you right where you stand!”
He advanced on her then, the sanity in his eyes completely gone now. He held his knife down low moving in for what Sarah could only presume was the kill. His mistake was in thinking that she was too scared to defend herself. He’d forgotten that in many ways, she was exactly like him. She was afraid, for sure, but part of this whole scenario was still turning her on as well. This was role-playing taken to the extreme, and as fucked up as that was, a small part of her liked it and relished whatever was about to happen.
She feigned total terror and acted like the proverbial helpless woman but as soon as Mason came into striking distance Sarah went into attack mode. She was a huge fan of the Mixed Martial Arts fighting that was all the rage on TV these days and had spent countless hours in the gym hitting the heavy bag and taking cardio-kickboxing classes. If her psycho boyfriend had ever wondered how a twenty-four-year-old woman had kept her body so lean and mean these past few years, he was about to find out. Sarah launched a savage front kick to Mason’s naked groin, connecting solidly with his exposed testicles with a loud “SLAP”. Mason screamed out in agony and toppled to the ground like a fallen tree. His bloodstained knife dropped to the hardwood floor beside him and he used both hands to gently cup his genitals. A thin line of fresh blood ran from the corner of Mason’s mouth and he coughed up a large wad o
f sticky bile and blood onto the floor. He was gasping for breath and on the verge of going unconscious but Sarah never spared a second’s thought for the pain she’d inflicted on him. Fuck him! She’d gladly kick him again if she had more time. Instead she quickly scooped up the dropped knife, made sure she still had the truck keys, and ran for the cabin door.
***
Mason could see nothing but stars for thirty-seconds, fireworks of agony igniting in his balls and exploding up into his brain. Most women knew how sensitive a man’s testicles were in a funny, joking kind of way but hardly any of them truly knew the pain and damage they could cause with a lot less force than Sarah had just kicked him. He was hurt, and he was hurt bad. It took another full minute for the blinding, searing pain to taper away to a point where Mason felt able to open his eyes and have a look around. Finding it hard to breathe, the room still spinning, he was sure Sarah would be standing above him with the knife ready and willing to finish him off, but the bedroom was empty. Sarah was gone, obviously making a run for the truck.
Mason fought his way into a kneeling position and then eventually up onto the bed. After another few minutes he felt reasonably able to stand up. The first thing he noticed was that his knife was missing. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who had taken it. Sarah was armed now, and quite obviously dangerous, but that wasn’t going to stop Mason from having his fun. No way. It just made the game all the more interesting. Hobbling on slightly rubbery legs, he walked out into the living room, only to find the front door to the cabin wide open. Rage started to build within him. Does she really think she’s going to get away that easy? After what she just did?
“I’m coming for you, Bitch!” Mason screamed as loud as he could, hoping Sarah was still close enough to hear him. “Better run little girl… ’cause ready or not, here I come. You should have taken me out while you had the chance.”
Jacked up and ready for the hunt, adrenaline pushing back the pain in his groin, Mason tore off his blood soaked t-shirt and went back into the bathroom to collect his discarded boot. The thought of running through the woods naked like some sort of wild savage appealed to him — turned him on, in fact — but it would be stupid to not at least wear his boots. Sarah would be moving as fast as she could with her bare feet, but she wouldn’t be able to move as fast over the pine needles and rocks as he could in his work boots. It was a key advantage that he was counting on to make up the distance between them. That and the fact he knew exactly where he’d parked the pickup and wouldn’t have to stumble around lost in the woods like she surely would.
Before he could take off after her, he needed to find a weapon of his own. Sarah had already proven she was more than capable of defending herself and Mason wasn’t about to underestimate her again. No, if she had the knife he needed to find something to even out the odds again; or better yet, put them firmly in his favor. Quickly looking around the living room and kitchen, his choices were limited. The hunting lodge had belonged to his father and no one had been here in years. It was basically abandoned and empty.
And then he spotted his father’s old Jim Bear signature series bow hanging on a hook over the ragged old couch. Beside the wooden end table, a quiver full of arrows. Bingo! Mason had come here half a dozen times every summer and fall with his dad and although he’d always loved the peace and solitude of the woods, he’d usually ended up hating most of those weekends. Hunting with his dad was the best part of the year but in some ways it was also the worse. Mason’s father was an avid hunter and was a marksman with a rifle, but his real passion has always been bow hunting. He wasn’t the kind of hunter who believed in just sitting still in an elevated blind all day either. No, not pops. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, silently stalking through territory the deer or wild turkeys felt safe in, armed only with a half dozen razor sharp arrows. It felt more natural to him that way.
More primal.
It wasn’t that Mason didn’t enjoy hunting. He liked it a lot, actually, and had desperately wanted to please his father but even though he was a decent enough shot with his Remington .22, or with any of his old man’s rifles for that matter, his skills with a bow and arrow were basically shit. Every time he fired the bowstring would graze his arm causing him to yelp in pain. He wasn’t a wuss or a quitter, and he’d sort of liked the way it stung, but every time it happened it raised a welt on his arm and made his shot go astray. He had killed dozens of trees, hundreds of shrubs and bushes, but never once had one of his arrows struck a deer or turkey. Much to his father’s dismay.
Maybe the problem was he’d always been hunting the wrong kind of animal.
Mason grabbed the bow off the wall and slung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “This one’s for you, pops,” he said, heading out the cabin door. “Game’s on bitch!”
***
Sarah watched as her boyfriend walked out onto the front porch of the dilapidated cabin. Other than his work boots he was as naked as she was, his eyes wild with rage and pumped full of adrenaline. In his hands, Mason was carrying some kind of old fashioned hunting bow and her heart skipped a beat as she watched him pull a long fiberglass arrow from a leather quiver draped across his back. The arrows looked newer than the bow, and the gleaming metal tips on the end of the shafts looked exactly like what they were: razor sharp and deadly. Sarah tried to imagine what it might be like to feel one of those arrowheads rip into and through her body, tearing its way through skin and tissue and deflecting off bone, but she shut those thoughts off immediately. That wasn’t the way this game was going to go down. She was stronger than that. Stronger than Mason realized. At the end of the day if only one of them was going to make it through this madness, Sarah had every intention of it being her.
She watched Mason dash off and disappear down one of the trails, and only then did she come out of her hiding place in the thick strand of trees beside the cabin. She knew her Neanderthal boyfriend enough to know he’d charge off blindly into the woods thinking she would be in panic mode, stumbling around lost trying to put as much distance as she could between her and the cabin. Fortunately she was smarter than that. She had no idea how to find her way back to Mason’s F-150 on her own, but if she played her cards right he’d lead her right to it. Even better, she’d constantly have him in sight and it would be her who would have the element of surprise if it came down to a confrontation. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, of course. He was far bigger and stronger than her and it would be foolish to take him on if she could avoid it. Sarah would kill Mason if need be, no worries there, but if all went as planned she’d follow him to the truck, wait him out until he wandered off to look somewhere else for her, then slip quietly into the pickup and be gone before he knew what was happening.
Then again, maybe slitting his throat and carving the words FUCK YOU in capital letters into his belly might not be the worst thing that could happen. The crazy bastard deserves worse than that after all the times he’s cut me. Maybe I should hack his bruised balls off and stuff them in his mouth as he dies? See how he likes the taste of them for a change?
Now there was a good idea!
Payback’s a bitch, right? And so am I…
With thoughts of blood and sweet revenge swirling around in her amped up mind, Sarah carefully headed off down the trail she’d seen Mason take thirty-seconds earlier. She held the bloodstained knife out in front of her, its cold steel blade confidently leading the way.
***
Three quarters of the way back to the pick-up and Mason still hadn’t seen hide or hair of Sarah. He’d been sure she’d get herself lost in these woods and would be making such a racket trying to fight her way through the bush that he’d have no trouble tracking her down. His plan was to end this quickly. His feverish mind was also occupied with images of the impending carnage but the thrill of the hunt aside, deep down Mason knew that he still loved Sarah. He wanted her to die — needed her to die — but he didn’t want her to suffer. Well…not too much, anyway. In a perfect world, he
’d hoped to catch up and then get out in front of her without being spotted. Set up in a spot where she’d be unknowingly walking right into his trap. Then it would be target practice time.
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly… he’d thought, chuckling to himself.
It hadn’t been that easy though — nothing ever was — and he forced himself to slow down and rethink things through. The woods were thick in this part of the state, and there were far too many hiding places for his liking. His bow was a deadlier weapon than her knife but if he was honest with himself he knew it wasn’t the ideal choice for any kind of in-close combat. Mason started to get nervous; a little bit anyway. He started seeing Sarah’s face or the flash of what might be a blade behind every second tree and hiding in every bush. He had to remind himself to settle down; that there was no way his dainty little girlfriend would have the guts to take him on one on one. For sure she’d be running away as fast as she could; only if that were the case where the hell was she? The woods around him were as quiet as a funeral home at midnight. If Sarah were flailing through the woods in a panic, he’d have heard her from miles away.
So where was she then?
Fuck!
The first cold fingers of fear began to grab Mason around the neck. Not that he was willing to admit that — even to himself — but he realized right then and there that this fantasy hunt might not be quite as easy as he’d thought. Back in the day the deer and the wild turkeys hadn’t had the intelligence or the ability to fight back. If he fucked this up, he was in for a world of hurt. The claustrophobic dirt trail he was on started giving Mason the creeps. It wasn’t just that he didn’t feel safe in this confined area, he actually wasn’t safe. There were too many places Sarah could be waiting for him and too many angles of attack he couldn’t defend for his liking. He decided his best course of action was to head all the way out to where they’d parked the truck and wait for her there. Unless she got herself really lost, she’d have to eventually show up there, right? When she did, at least he’d be in an open clearing and his longer-range weapon would have the advantage again. All he had to do was wait her out.