RETRIBUTION RIDGE: a dark, gripping and intense suspense thriller

by Anna Willett

  “Please, Judith. It really hurts.” Milly hated the demanding tone in her voice, but couldn’t understand why her sister seemed unwilling to keep still. Almost from the moment Milly had opened her eyes, Judith had been rushing around looking for things to do.

  “Yes. Sorry. Let me help you.” Judith came over and dropped to her knees next to Milly. “Sorry, Mil. I just want to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.” Milly ignored the reproach in her sister’s voice and focused on what Judith had called her. Mil.

  Growing up, she’d called Judith Jude and in return, her sister called her Mil. They’d both made no secret of how much they hated their old-fashioned names. But their mother, a writer of historical romances, would hear none of it.

  “Millicent and Judith are elegant, timeless names. You’ll thank me when you’re older.” Milly could almost hear her mother’s voice.

  Memories of her mum were all she had now, and even those seemed like a dream swallowed by the endless march of time. Memories were meaningless unless shared with a fellow time traveller.

  “Do you remember what Mum used to say about our names?”

  Judith continued to work on the watch strap with gentle fingers. “How can I forget?” She gave a soft laugh and glanced up at her sister. The dying light made it difficult to see her face, but Milly thought she was smiling.

  “You’ll thank me when you’re older,” both women said in unison.

  They laughed. Milly shrieked and touched the back of her head which only made Judith laugh harder. Maybe there is a future for us, Milly thought even as her head throbbed.

  A piecing howl tore through the dusk. An unmistakable sound of pain mixed with terror. Above the cliff the wind moaned. In the nearby trees a flock of birds took flight, their panicked cries blocking out all other sound.

  “Holy fuck.” Judith gripped her sister’s wrist, her pupils dilated into huge black discs. Milly let out a cry of pain. “Sorry.” Judith’s words came out in a breathless whisper. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.” Milly whispered back, her right hand clamped to her injured back. “Get the fire going. I don’t want to be sitting here in the dark.”

  Another howl pierced the air, this one closer. It echoed overhead, a scream rising as if it would go on forever and then abruptly cut off.

  Chapter Seven

  Harper’s hiking boots thumped across the rocks. Her chest heaved as panicky gasps replaced regular breathing. She could hear him behind her, footfalls thundering through the dirt. Her eyes darted in every direction, searching for an avenue of escape. She didn’t dare waste precious seconds looking back.

  The craggy stretch of rocks ended with a metre or so drop. She made the split-second decision to leap forward and hope she could land on her feet and keep going. There was still enough light by which to make out the approaching drop, but it was dying fast. If she hesitated, he’d be on top of her.

  The rocks disappeared as she leaped forward, arms circling outwards to increase her momentum, ponytail flying over her head. For an instant, she hung in the air and then her boots struck the ground with enough force to jar her knees and send her careening forward at breakneck speed. Her right leg buckled and she spilled over, arms outstretched.

  Her hands hit the tightly-packed dirt and she heard a brittle snap, loud and sickening in the twilight’s silence. A shaft of agony tore up her right arm. Her head snapped back and a howl, heavy with pain and fear, escaped her lips.

  Behind her, his boots smacked over the rocks. She had no choice but to keep moving. Harper choked out a sob and staggered to her feet. The agony in her arm apparent, but swallowed by adrenalin. If she could make it to the trees, she might be able to hide.

  Instinctively, she clutched her injured arm to her body. The trees were less than a few metres away, draped in shadows. The temperature dipped, chilling the sweat on Harper’s terrified face. She sprinted forward, her shirt ballooning out behind her like a cape. His hand closed over the fabric and he jerked her backwards.

  “No!” It came out as strangled gasp.

  Harper lowered her head and bent her knees, tipping her body forward she ploughed away from him with strength she didn’t know she possessed. The sound of fabric tearing, followed by a grunt, reminded her of a bull blowing air out of its nostrils. She broke free, stumbled to the right and then darted left.

  The change of direction gave her the precious seconds she needed to make it to the trees. Behind her came panting and the crackle of branches snapping. It sounded like a wild animal breaking through the trees. She snatched another backward glance and saw a glint of dying light reflect off the blade of his knife. I won’t die like this. Not hunted like an animal. She willed herself to find the strength and speed to outrun him.

  Harper cut to the right and rounded a peppermint tree. Then came what might be her only chance. A startled yelp and snapping branches. She looked back and he was on the ground, his face hidden by the growing darkness. His fall would give her a few seconds to lose him. If she could find a place to hide, maybe a weapon, she might have a chance.

  Please, God – she mouthed a silent prayer and plunged deeper into the bush ignoring the needle-like leaves that tore at her arms. A fallen tree swathed in dead branches and dry leaves offered a possible hiding place. Harper scampered over the trunk. Her right foot slid out from under her. She came down on her injured arm. She heard a stomach-turning rip, like the sound of a threadbare sheet being torn apart. Her back arched and a primal scream erupted from her bloodless lips.

  She slapped her left hand over her mouth in an effort to silence herself. Tears and mucus covered her face. She listened and held back the hiccupping breaths building in her chest. Where is he? What’s he waiting for?

  Hide or keep going? She had maybe two seconds to make the choice that would see her live or die. She pushed on.

  Ten metres farther, Harper veered left and spotted a mass of grass trees. There were at least four in a cluster. One had died or been knocked over by an animal, its usually black stump looked grey in the near darkness. If she could make her way in between the short, squat trees, the fallen stump might act as a barrier and block her from view. Around her, the bush sat in silence save the singing of insects. She fell to her knees and half-crawled, half-dragged herself behind the grass trees.

  She held her injured arm against her belly and cupped her left hand over her mouth to silence her laboured breathing. Inside the copse of trees, she sat in almost total darkness. A crackle of leaves from the left – it had to be him. She could almost smell his musky odour. A rustle, as if a branch had been carefully moved. She could hear the blood beating in her ears. My beautiful Judith, she thought and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  “What should we do?” Judith flicked her lighter, but the flame refused to catch.

  “Get that fire going then toss me my pack. I’ve got a torch.” Milly looked around, her eyes darting in all directions.

  Darkness fell, enveloping everything around them. They’d soon be blanketed by night. The shadows between the trees spread and stretched until it became impossible to discern where the branches ended and the night began. The only sound, the clicking of Judith’s lighter and the constant buzz of insects.

  “Got it.”

  The fire took hold. Milly watched Judith lean forward, tossing handfuls of dry leaves into the flames, then bundling sticks on top of the incipient fire. As she worked, she kept glancing up at Milly as if checking her sister hadn’t vanished. The glow of the fire threw a shimmering shadow upon the rock face, reflecting back and casting an arc of reassuring light.

  Milly turned her head and scanned the darkness. She wondered if someone might be watching them from the shadows. If so, it would be impossible to tell. Using her hand to push off the ground, Milly struggled to her feet. The world shifted and she staggered to the left.

  “What are you doing?” Judith rushed to her side. “You should have waited for me.”

  “I’m
fine.” She touched her hand to her head just to reassure herself that it wasn’t spinning off her shoulders. “We should sit with our backs against the rock, that way we can see if …” She let her words trail off.

  With Judith’s hand on her back, Milly made her way around the fire and lowered herself against the rock face. She lifted her hand into her lap and frowned. Something hovered on the edge of her thoughts, but flew out of her mind before she could latch onto it.

  Judith picked up the blue nylon pack and dropped it near the fire. She folded herself into a sitting position and began rummaging through the contents.

  “It’s in the front compartment,” Milly offered, anxious to stop her sister searching her pack.

  Judith opened the zip and fished out the small metal torch. She held it, but didn’t turn it on. Milly could see her sister’s body tremble. She wondered if it was caused by the plummeting temperature or fear.

  “Who do you think made those noises?” Judith asked, turning to look at her sister. The firelight reflected in her eyes, lighting her face up with a yellowish glow. The question had been at the forefront of Milly’s mind.

  “I don’t know.” Milly gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe another hiker, stuck out here like us?” Even as she said it, she knew it sounded lame.

  Judith pulled the pack over and sat next to her. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think to be honest.” Milly touched the back of her head. “I’m having trouble keeping everything straight.”

  Judith nodded and unclipped Milly’s sleeping bag from the bottom of the pack. “Here, we can put this over us. It’ll help with the cold.”

  Milly used her right hand to pull the sleeping bag up to her chin. “They should be back at the carpark by now, surely their phones work there?”

  Judith nodded but made no comment. Nothing about the situation seemed right. Milly tried to convince herself her thinking was still muddled, but she couldn’t help feeling she might be missing something.

  “Where’s my watch?” She remembered asking Judith to help her take it off before the screaming started.

  “I don’t know.” Judith kept her gaze on the fire. “I must have dropped it when we heard the scream. It was definitely a woman. The screaming … It sounded like a woman, don’t you think?”

  Her change of direction threw Milly for a second. “I … Yes, I think so.” She bit her bottom lip then winced as the cut there stung and opened up again. “What are you thinking?” She knew the answer even as she asked.

  Judith dragged her eyes away from the fire. “Do you think it was Harper?” Her voice cracked, and Milly could see her sister’s cheeks were wet.

  Milly reached for her hand under the sleeping bag. It felt icy. “Anything could be happening. We don’t know it was Harper screaming.” There was so much she wanted to say. So many things she needed to tell her, but now wasn’t the time.

  “What’s that?” Judith jumped and squeezed her hand tight enough to cut off the circulation. “In the trees, I… I thought I heard something.”

  Milly followed her sister’s gaze. Three metres beyond the fire lay only blackness. It was impossible to see anything, human or animal. Suddenly Milly wondered if the fire was a good idea. If there was someone out there, the light would make the two women clearly visible to anyone watching. They’d be easy targets. Targets for what? Her mind raced in a dozen half-formed directions, all of them ominous. She shuddered and leaned against her sister.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Milly whispered. “Maybe it’s an animal. A kangaroo or something.”

  “Maybe,” Judith drew out the word and swivelled her head in all directions. “Have you got anything in your pack we could use as a weapon?”

  Milly hesitated, “I’m not …” She went over the inventory in her head. “Yes. There’s a penknife. It’s not very big. I bought it at the camping shop where I got the pack. It seemed like the sort of thing you need when you’re camping.” She gave a weak laugh.

  Judith pushed down the sleeping bag and began rummaging through the pack. She pulled out several packets of jerky and a few energy bars. “Good, we should eat something.” She tossed Milly a bar and kept searching. “What’s this?” She pulled out a small plastic bottle of pills. And held it up in front of the fire. “Sothem?”

  “That’s just something the doctor prescribed.”

  Judith turned the bottle over in her hand and then looked at Milly with raised eyebrows. The silence stretched. Milly felt the need to explain, but now wasn’t the time. “It’s nothing.” She tried to make her tone flippant, instead it came out harsh.

  Judith shrugged and stuffed the bottle back in the pack. “And this?” She asked, pulling out a hip flask.

  The thumping in the back of Milly’s head ratcheted up a notch. What are we doing? There was something terrifying going on in the dark but Judith seemed more concerned with quizzing her on the contents of her pack.

  “Jesus, Jude. Just find the knife and stop worrying about what I’ve got in my pack.” This time, she didn’t care if her tone sounded harsh; she wanted this whole thing to be over. She felt tears burning her eyes and bit her lip. “Shit,” she winced and reached for the flask.

  To her surprise, Judith softened. “Okay, Mil. Here.” She unscrewed the top off the flask and put it in Milly’s hand.

  She held the flask in front of her and noticed her hand shaking. There were dark stains on her fingers; blood from her head and lip. Milly wrinkled her nose and took a sip from the hip flask. The bitter taste of vodka burned her throat. She grimaced, put the flask to her swollen bottom lip and took another hit. The alcohol left a pleasant trail of heat in her chest. She sniffed and wiped her tears away on the back of her hand.

  “Found it,” Jude held up the penknife and pulled out the blade. The ten-centimetre shaft glinted in the firelight. “God, Mil, what did you think we’d be doing out here? Skinning rabbits?”

  A wave of drowsiness washed over her, Milly wondered briefly if drinking vodka with a head injury was a good idea. But before any concrete concerns were formed, her thoughts flittered away. The smell of damp leaves and burning wood invaded her nostrils. She blinked her eyes and tried to focus on the fire. Judith’s voice hummed in her ears. She knew her sister was speaking, but the buzzing blocked out her words. Staying awake seemed important, but she couldn’t remember why.

  She had the impression someone was calling her. The voice soft and familiar. Her limbs felt weighted as if anchored down. Part of her mind kept pulling her back to consciousness while painless sleep beckoned. The fire seemed to turn sideways then wink out.

  Chapter Nine

  12 November 2006

  Milly stumbled to the edge of the Reach and fell to her knees. The water, black and churning, looked distant and wild, streaked silver by the full moon. She scoured the surface for any sign of her sister. They were close to the mouth of the river and the wind, driven in from the Indian Ocean, welled up and whipped her hair around her face.

  “Jude. Jude!” The name turned into a scream as the seconds passed and her sister failed to surface.

  Below, the laughter faded and ended with a spate of claps. Seconds piled up and time stretched. Milly leaned forward, straining as far as gravity would allow. Ribbons of white water frothed against slabs of rock jutting in clusters to the left of the Reach. Did she hit water or rock? Milly’s frantic mind hurdled from one terrifying thought to the next.

  “Jude? Judith?” Milly’s voice broke.

  She pushed herself up and stepped to the edge. She couldn’t waste any more time. She had no choice but to jump. In the time it would take for her to climb down and get to the beach, Judith would drown. Far out to the left, she could see two figures wading into the water. They’d have to swim twenty metres out and then around the rocks in order to reach the patch of deep water directly below the cliff.

  “What are you doing?” Drew’s voice cut through her panic. “You’ll kill yours
elf.” He took hold of her arm.

  Milly’s mouth opened, she searched his face without really seeing him. Judith had been in the water at least a minute and a half. There was no time to argue.

  She looked back at the water. It seemed to be shrinking farther and farther away. The Reach growing higher by the second. Milly’s stomach lurched, an icy sensation gripped her legs. In the seconds between making the decision to jump and Drew stopping her, the fear of heights that plagued her all her life, reared up.

  “Drew,” she grabbed at his shoulder. “Do something. She’ll die.”

  They held on to each other, Milly shivering with panic, and Drew’s face devoid of colour. Indecision and fear in his wide, dark eyes.

  “Jump, Drew. For God’s sake, you have to do something.”

  His mouth opened as if he were about to say something. Then he was gone. He plummeted through the moonlight, his body twisting at a ninety-degree angle and his arms grabbing at air. He hit the water to the left of the Reach, not with a splash but a smacking sound that reminded Milly of a wet towel hitting concrete.

  She could feel a scream building in her throat, it stuck as if blocked by a solid mass. Drew’s body jerked sideways by the tide and then slipped from the rock he’d landed on and disappeared into the black churning waters of the Swan River.

  As the young man’s form slipped beneath the water, another shape broke the surface a few metres away. Judith’s head bobbed up and her hair whipped back, a trail of droplets flew like pearls in the moonlight.

  “Ha,” she yelped, her voice echoing off the walls of the Reach. “Not such a baby now, am I?”

  Milly plunged her hands into her hair and rocked back. Her legs seemed to collapse under her as her butt hit the rocks. Next to her, Judith’s dress fluttered and rolled across the rocky outcrop. She could hear screaming coming from below. Voices raised in panic. Milly tilted her head and looked up at the stars. The night sky over Fremantle was an endless blanket of blackness.