by JA Huss
He is a killer.
But then he dresses me in a white t-shirt that smells like him, and a pair of boxers that are way too big, and tucks me into his bed.
His arms wrap around me. His body heat gets tangled up in my own. He kisses me on the lips and says goodnight.
He is a killer.
But he is this man too.
“How?” I ask, when we are settled into bed. “How can life be so complicated and easy at the same time?”
“It’s a joke, Sydney. And the joke’s on us. Sanity, morals, right and wrong. They are all illusions. And sometimes we can see them clearly, and sometimes we can’t. But you always know when you’re OK. You always get that feeling that nothing can touch you. And tonight nothing can touch you. So close your eyes and let it go.”
I stare up at the ceiling after his breathing evens out and wonder if I’d be doing the world a favor by grabbing a gun out of his nightstand and shooting him in the head.
Probably. That’s the conclusion I come to. I have no idea what all that means. I have no idea if I believe him or not. I have no idea if he’s wondering right now if he should just pull a gun out of his nightstand and do the world a favor by killing me too.
I’m just glad he doesn’t. I’m OK with this. Because even though he is that killer, he is this man too. The one who feeds me and fucks me softly. The one who knows who I am and what I do. And he, of all the people who have floated in and out of my life, is the one who’s here.
You can say many things about Merric Case, but you can’t call him a hypocrite or a liar. Because he was one hundred percent honest with me tonight. He basically stood up on a mountain top and screamed, Here I am, take it or leave it.
I decide I don’t want to leave it.
He’s morally questionable. He’s violent and possibly even sick. But I am all those things too.
My eyes grow heavy and finally close. And I drift off knowing that I was right about him for all these years.
He is the man who shows up when no others will. He is the man who looks death in the eye and laughs. He is the man who will pull that trigger when the whole world stands there in shock, unable to move.
He is the only man who can save me from myself.
Chapter Thirty-Three - Sydney
“When your whole world is made up of lies it’s OK to be irrational. But when the time comes, you must be prepared to let it go.” – Sydney
I wake up first and go downstairs. I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows and wonder how two fucked-up people can be immersed in such beauty. The mountains, the snow, the frozen river running through this perfect valley.
And I come to the conclusion we are wild. And that’s why we belong here.
He comes down a few minutes later with the first-aid kit in his hand. The smell of coffee brewing permeates the house and calls out like a morning wake-up.
“Morning,” he says, reaching for a cup in the cupboard. He pours a cup, takes it black—the way a man like him should—and kisses me absently on the head as he walks by.
I almost drop my own coffee cup.
“We can eat later or now.”
“Are we in a hurry?” I ask, composing myself before he takes a seat at the bar and gives me his full attention.
“I don’t think so. You’ve been here for weeks and no one came looking.”
God, that stings.
“But I gotta get on the trail and I need you to come.”
“OK,” I say, finishing my coffee and walking over to the sink.
“Come sit so I can take a look at your hand before we go.”
I do as he asks, letting him unwrap the bandages and look the blisters over. He dabs the ointment on the blisters that have popped, and then wraps it back up. “You need some pain pills for this?”
“No, thank you. The last thing I need is more drugs.”
He gives me a strained smile and then another absent-minded kiss on the head, his hand lingering in my hair just long enough to make me feel… loved.
And how crazy is that? How, after one perfect day, can things have turned so completely around?
Because you’re needy, Syd. You want affection, and even the affection of this killer who did all those terrible things to you is better than none.
Stockholm syndrome comes to mind again. How did I get here? The music, the soft fuck, caring for my hand… I add it all up in my head.
Things look so different in the light of day. I guess that’s why I prefer the dark.
We dress in our snow gear and then I follow him out to the garage. He backs the snow machine out and points to the seat in front of him as I watch. “Let’s go.”
He’s businesslike today. Like he’s on a job and not like he wants to make love to me. But that would be normal, right?
He’s gonna take you out into the wood and kill you, Syd.
He could do that. But why? I’m here. No one lives anywhere near this house. He could kill me in the driveway and leave my body there until spring. Let the wolves eat me. No one would come looking. No one would ever know.
I get on and his chest presses up against my back. We ride along for a while. The recent snow has covered up all tracks from the last time we were out here. It’s just a blanket of white so blinding I wish I had his sunglasses.
When we finally stop, I’m ready to panic. He’s been silent the whole time. And I realize that a snow machine and conversation do not go together, but some sort of communication would make me feel a whole lot better about letting him get me into such a vulnerable spot. How appropriate would it be for him to talk me up with all that shit last night, only to dump me into the wilderness to be hunted by wolves? Or freeze to death?
He cuts the engine and we sit in the silence for a moment. “Ready?”
I have to swallow hard. “Should I be?”
He swings his leg over and then reaches for me, pulling me off the seat. “Depends, Syd.”
That’s all I get out of him. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I feel like a prisoner being led to the firing squad. We trudge through the deep snow that has drifted up between the trees and finally come to a halt about a hundred feet from the frozen Yellowstone River.
“What are we doing, Merc?”
He does not miss the fact that I called him by his trade name, and he shoots me a look. “We’re gonna check a trap.”
My heart starts to beat wildly and my feet are frozen in the snowdrift I’m standing in. “I don’t want to check traps.”
“I know,” he says in that voice that tells me he’s all business. “But you’re gonna anyway.”
He walks a little further on, almost dragging me now, and then we both slide down an embankment—sending a small avalanche ahead of us.
“Are you gonna cut a hole in the ice and drop me in?” I laugh a little, but the frown he sends over his shoulder makes me shut up.
“Don’t get crazy on me yet.” He reaches out and pulls a long pine branch, making the snow fall off as he gets it free.
My heart skips when I see what’s inside. “What are you—”
“Shhh,” he says. “Don’t freak out on me now. OK?” I look him in the eyes for that, because this is most definitely the killer voice.
The rabbit inside the cage is paralyzed with fear.
I know the feeling.
Merc picks up the cage and shakes it a little to get it free from the twigs that he used for camouflage. The rabbit goes berserk inside, bouncing off the wire walls. “Follow me, Syd.”
He walks a little further down the embankment right to the edge of the river. The Yellowstone freezes, but it’s not always safe to walk on. “I don’t like the ice!” I call out, several yards behind him now. My feet feel heavy. My body is reacting to what we might be out here doing. If he makes me kill this rabbit—
He sets the cage down on the bank, squatting down with it. He’s wearing white camo winter gear, like me. We match and we blend. This thought gives me the courage to follow.
What is
he doing?
He looks up at me, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, and then smiles. “What did you tell me yesterday about the rabbit? Have I ever heard a rabbit scream?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Uh—yes.” He gives me a stern look, his amber eyes catching the sunlight out of the east.
“I don’t think I did,” I reply, already out of breath from that one brief mention. “I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud before.”
“I drugged you, Sydney. Remember? You were hysterical, going on and on about a rabbit. That show triggered a memory. You talked about it a little. You told me—”
“No!” I scream it so loud the rabbit begins to squeak, and I swear to God, if it screams—
“Sydney, sit down. Now. Right here,” he says, patting the ground in front of the trap.
“I don’t want to,” I whisper. “I really, really don’t want to be near the rabbit.”
“Do you realize it’s irrational to refuse?”
I nod. I do realize that.
“Do you understand that this will help you get past it?”
“No. It won’t. It will just make everything worse. This is why you want me out here! This is why you’ve been so nice. You wanted to trick me into telling you things!”
“Do you have things to tell me, Syd?” He asks that question so calmly. His reaction is such a stark difference between us.
“I don’t want to talk about the rabbit. I don’t want to talk about the rabbit!”
“Sit,” he commands.
I close my eyes. I know this is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. But when he gets up and takes my hand, I feel helpless again. Just like all those years I spent with Garrett. I follow him over to the cage where the white snowshoe hare is in shock with fright.
I know that feeling.
“Open the cage, Sydney.”
Dear God, please, please don’t make me kill this rabbit.
“Open it.”
I get up and walk to the cage, and then bend down and unhook the latch on the door. I look over my shoulder at Merc and he nods, so I lift up the wire and fling it back. It clangs against the top, but the rabbit is too frightened to move.
“Now step back here with me.”
I walk back and squat down next to him, unsure of what’s happening. “Now what?” I whisper.
“Now,” he says, turning to me with a smile, “we wait.”
“For what?”
“For the shock to wear off and for the rabbit to leave.” I frown at him. “We’re setting it free, Syd. We’re setting you free too.”
Chapter Thirty-Four - Merc
“All I can do is open the door. I can’t make you walk out.” – Case
She has the most confused look on her face. How can it be so hard for this girl to get it? “He brainwashed you, Sydney. It took years and years and years to do that. Do you understand? I was a PSYOPS in the army. With Garrett. We did it together, like a team.”
She sits her butt on the ground. Not to get comfortable, I don’t think, but because she doesn’t have the strength to squat anymore.
She’s in shock. Just like that rabbit.
“We were in charge of people. Company people, Syd. Do you understand what I mean by that?”
She nods. “People like me.”
“Yes, unfortunately. People just like you. Mothers and daughters. You know what it means to be born a Company kid. You know they own you if you’re a girl. You know that they ask the parents when a girl is born if they agree to the mother-daughter promise or not. And what happens to the mothers when they don’t agree?”
“They kill them.” She says it like a robot. She’s caught up in her memories.
“That’s right. They kill them. So if a Company girl grows up with a mother, even if that mother dies when she is small, what does that mean, Sydney?”
She looks me in the face for this and I know, of all the terrible things I’ve done for the wrong reasons, this terrible thing is for the right one. “The mothers agreed to sell those daughters and allow them to be… used.”
“That’s right. Your mother agreed. At least at first. I don’t know what happened with your mother. Or your father. I only know that part is true. She did this to you. They both did this to you.”
“Was I your assignment? In the army?”
“No. I saw you for the first time out there at that cabin. But I had other assignments. Garrett and I had them together. I didn’t understand what the Company was back then. I didn’t understand that they were a shadow government that exists right here in the US, right alongside real people and regular governments. But I got an order once—Garrett and I got an order once. Probably the same kind of order that the Company man who killed your mother got.”
She licks her lips and the cold wind dries them immediately. Her face is flushed and I know that if I were to check her heart rate right now, it would be off the charts. But she’s holding it together, so I continue.
“And we were ordered to take care of this Company mother-daughter pair.”
“Did you do it?” She has hope in her eyes that I didn’t, and it kills me to admit that I did.
“Yes. I did it. I did it because Garrett had already raped the mother and he was going for the little girl next. She was twelve. The same age Sasha was when they tried to take her. Her mother never gave her up. They killed her before Sasha ever left the hospital when she was born. But her father did things that were against the rules. It was a father-daughter kill that night I was sent to save you. And I chose to save her instead.”
“You left me there.”
“I know.”
“Because I wasn’t worth saving?” She’s crying now. Silent frozen tears.
I lean in and grab her face, holding it in both my hands as I look her in the eyes. “That’s not why,” I whisper. “I just figured you would be OK. You were sixteen. Sasha was only twelve. I made a choice and I’d like to say I regret it, but I don’t. I love Sasha very much. She is the only good thing that has ever happened to me.”
“But I wasn’t OK.”
“I know that now. But I really thought you would be. I really thought you would be, Syd.”
A noise off to our left drags our attention away from each other and back to the cage. The rabbit hops forward once, then twice. It sits there at the edge of freedom and hesitates.
“Be the rabbit, Sydney.”
“The rabbit gets eaten by dogs.”
“No, watch.”
She does watch. She strains so hard she might be giving herself a headache. But the look on her face when that rabbit finally figures out it can run—it’s amazing.
She gasps as the small animal zigzags across the frozen river and disappears in the thick woods of the opposite bank.
“Be the rabbit, Sydney. Get away from him. Garrett filled your mind with lies. He filled you up with instructions and triggers. He’s been using you to do his dirty work. And even though I never saw him again after he disappeared, I know he was taking you. Wasn’t he?”
If she knows, she holds it in. And I let her.
Because I just set her free. And now we’re ready for the final step.
Chapter Thirty-Five - Sydney
“You can hope for truth, but always be prepared for betrayal.” – Sydney
We check the rest of the trap line and if there’s a rabbit in there, I set it free. It’s amazing how something so simple can mean so much. My mind clears as the morning moves on. Memories come back and others recede. I’m feeling pretty good, and when we get back to the cabin, Case—or is he really Merc?—starts making something for us to eat as I watch from the barstool, nursing a beer.
His phone rings and he looks at the caller ID and smiles. “Sash,” he says. “Sash?” He looks at the phone and then I can just barely make out the three hang-up beeps from the speaker.
My head begins to pound.
“Huh,” he says. “She called me yesterday with news o
f a boyfriend.” He shoots me a smile. “I do background checks on them. And she had a date and needed one pronto. But I had things to do.” He smiles at me. “You needed me more yesterday.” And then he chuckles as he dials again. When there’s no answer, he shrugs. “Probably in a remote area and lost signal.”
I close my eyes as my mind starts to swirl.
“You OK?” Case asks.
I open my eyes again and shake my head. “I feel funny.” He looks worried. “Dizzy, almost.” And confused, I don’t add. “All that rabbit stuff, maybe.”
“Maybe you’re just hungry?” He pushes a plate of salmon and a glass of water in front of me.
I drink the water and push the plate away. “I’m really not feeling well.”
“You want to go lie down?”
“Not really,” I say, squinting my eyes from the sudden headache. “But I probably should.”
“It was too much, maybe?” He picks me up and carries me towards the stairs, climbing them easily. He takes me into the bedroom and sets me down on the bed. “I’ll stay with you if you want.”
I nod and close my eyes as soon as my head rests on the soft pillow. “I feel a little better already.”
He pulls his thermal shirt over his head and throws it on the floor, then kicks off his boots and goes to work on mine. They drop with a thud. I study him as he stands at the end of the bed. He’s hard to ignore. Perfect, really. His muscles are cut into his body like a statue’s, hard as stone.
Which is how I’d have described his personality as well, a few days ago. But now I’m not sure what to make of that mind of his. The killer part of him I can accept. And this tender part, the part that wants to fuck me softly—I’d like to accept that too.
But right now something feels wrong.
He crawls up the bed, his hands and knees on either side of me. And for a moment, when I look into those blazing amber eyes, I see him as the predator he is. My whole body trembles.