Last to Die: A gripping psychological thriller not for the faint hearted

by Arlene Hunt

She was exhausted, too weak to carry on, too frightened not to do so. Exposed here, with the wind picking up, she could not help but wonder if this was it, if this was her day to die. She had vowed not to look down, but now allowed herself a glimpse to the western horizon. Sunset was approaching, and with it her efforts and crazy ambitious hope seemed utterly laughable.

  She rested her forehead against the rock face and tried to muster her reserves for the final climb. Her limbs were stiff and heavy and she no longer trusted her sight. She leaned out and looked up. Twenty feet. She tried not to think further than that.

  A strong gust unsettled her and forced her to think about moving. She licked her lips and opened and closed her hands to loosen them. The slope here was not as steep, but that did not mean it was any less tricky to negotiate. There was very little to grab hold of if she slipped, and if she slipped it was a long way down to the rocks below.

  She straightened, leaning into the wind again. Her muscles refused to engage for a moment and her initial grappling scared her senseless. Finally, her fingers dug deep into the soil and she hoisted herself up another foot towards the summit.

  At ten feet from the top, she had to stop and rest. She looked over her shoulder and now the entire valley was visible to her. In the distance, she could make out the headlights of vehicles cruising down a road, a cruel reminder of the macabre pantomime of life. Her death would be nothing more than a footnote in history. Out there, people were heading home from work, thinking about food and what show to watch on television. They were talking to each other about trivial things, or vital things, or maybe not talking at all. They knew nothing about her.

  But he knew. He was back there somewhere, in the dark, searching for her.

  He knew.

  Jessie swung her feet out behind her and dug her toes deep into the scree, ignoring the pain in her fingers, pressing on. She could see a small line of scrub bushes now, jutting prickled branches from the thin soil. Her lungs burned, her back ached, her bloody hands were in agony, but still she pulled and reached, driving her body closer and closer to the summit.

  She managed to crawl over the final ledge. She was so exhausted she could not pull herself any further and lay there prone, with her feet dangling over the edge. She pressed her cheek into the dirt, feeling her heart knocking against her ribs. The wind dried the sweat on her body to salt. She knew she had to keep moving, she knew she was not yet safe. But knowing all these things as she did, it was almost unbearable when she hauled her legs under her and pushed herself up.

  The sun was almost set behind the mountains and the sky was streaked with bands of purple and indigo; they seemed so close she could reach up and touch them. She turned her head, facing across the deeply shadowed trees. She thought she heard water somewhere. Far below, she saw in the valley the twinkling lights of a house – more than one. She tried to guess the distance; eight, maybe nine miles? Vast tracts of deep forest lay between her and them. She would be travelling in pitch dark for the most part. She clenched her bloody hands into fists. First she needed to get down from this damned mountain without breaking a leg, and then she could worry about her next move.

  She took a step forward and as she did something punched her hard in the shoulder. She fell onto her knees. She felt pain and heat. She looked down and was shocked to see the tip of an arrowhead jutting through her clavicle, glistening red in the fading light.

  Dazed and shocked, Jessie tried to crawl away from the ledge, but her arms would not support her weight. She managed to get her feet under her somehow, but on rising stumbled and pitched into nothing; free falling now, hitting rock and shrubs, gaining speed, flailing. She was launched into mid-air and then came another crushing bone-shattering collision.

  Jessie lay still, with one leg bent double beneath her. It took a while before she could breathe again. She tried to move, but could manage only to turn one leg out. She rolled her eyes so that she could watch the horizon line far above her. She waited.

  Nothing.

  She managed to move her head slowly. The arrow was still protruded through her skin and now her left arm lay twisted at an angle at which it ought not to be. She guessed it was broken, though, strangely, she felt no pain.

  Wasn’t that funny?

  She managed to roll over a little and lifted her arm the right way around. She tried to sit up, but could not. She wondered if her back was broken.

  Water. She heard water running somewhere, loud and fast.

  She used her heel to shove her way backwards along the dirt and discovered she had fallen onto a shelf of soil and rock. Below where she rested a river rushed hard down the mountain, white foam still visible in the fading light. She turned her head and looked back up to the ridge from which she had fallen.

  It took a while, but she made out the shape of a man silhouetted against the skyline. She felt his gaze pass over her as he scanned the area, then return to where she lay, broken in the dirt.

  Jessie knew her race was run. Even now the blood pooled beneath her and what was left of her vision became speckled and black around the edges. She took a number of shallow breaths and tried to focus on him, trying to pinpoint where he was, but she could not stay fully conscious.

  Far above her a plane went by. She watched twin lines of soft fluffy white trailing behind it in the pale purple sky. She breathed out and breathed in again. She touched the arrowhead with the fingers of her working hand. Sharp. She understood that: sharp, but only a word, nothing more.

  For the first time since he had taken her, Jessie felt a sense of calm. She searched the sky above, locating one faint star and then another. It was so beautiful, she thought, majestic in its simplicity. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, rolled down her cheek and entered her bloodied ear. She heard him land with a thump somewhere nearby.

  She felt no fear.

  ‘I am sorry if I offended thee. I am in your hands,’ she said, softly as a second tear joined the first. ‘I am in your hands now.’

  With tremendous effort of will she dug her heel into the ground and pushed her body closer to the ledge. She rested there and thought about Mike. She thought about his smile, about the way the skin crinkled around the corners of his eyes when he laughed. She wished more than anything she had kissed him goodbye that last morning. She wished so badly their last words together had not been wasteful ones.

  Twigs snapped nearby. She concentrated on her breathing. She felt the heat in the soil beneath her and tried not to tremble.

  She felt his presence before she saw him. He was there when she rolled her eyes left, standing in the shadows, watching her.

  Be strong now, she thought, be strong. Don’t beg.

  Carefully, he approached, his step light. When he drew closer she saw that he had a bow in his hands, with an arrow nocked, ready to fly. He lowered it when he saw how mangled she was.

  ‘You sure worked me good.’

  Jessie did not respond. What was there to say to this thing? What special pleading would he enjoy?

  ‘Never had a one like you before, you better believe it.’

  Jessie spoke softly, her words barely audible even to her.

  He walked to her, bent down on one knee and placed his bow on the ground. He looked at her crooked foot, then raised his hand and pressed his fingers against the arrowhead as Jessie had done moments before, twisting it a little to gauge her reactions.

  ‘You don’t feel it, huh? Most likely you’re in shock.’

  Jessie’s lips kept moving.

  ‘You praying?’

  He leaned his head closer to hers.

  ‘What’re you saying? Hands? What hands?’

  Jessie grabbed the front of his jacket with her good hand, swung her good leg up up and hooked it around the small of his back. Before Caleb could stop her, she threw all her weight to one side and pitched both of their bodies over the edge.

  Locked together, they fell into darkness, into nothing.

  71

  Everett Wilson was
glad of the Thermos his wife had given him for his previous birthday. His coffee was almost as hot now as when he had left camp shortly before dawn. At the time, he had figured Lizzie had been a little unimaginative in her choice of gift, not that he had said so. But now, well, he could see the logic of her ways. Not that he would say so. The woman already held the deeds to being right.

  He sipped the black liquid and leaned back against the rocks, savouring the morning light as it filtered through the branches and made the creek sparkle and shimmer. He turned his head slightly to watch his son. EJ was standing waist deep near the opposite bank with his broad back to his father. Everett liked to watch his son fish; hell, he liked any time he had with the boy these days. Boy, he shook his head. No, not any more; EJ was twenty-five years old. He was no boy. Where did the time go?

  ‘How you doin’, son?’

  ‘I know he’s in there.’ EJ leaned back and cast his line under the trees overhanging the bank. There was a trout in the shadows as big as his arm and by god EJ was planning to nab that sucker before the day was out.

  Everett grinned at his determination. There would be no real shortage of good fish if they were patient. These waters were rich with fish, the woods teeming with wildlife. It was rare indeed to find too many folk around these valleys. It took time to get to the main campsites by road, another day to hike all the way up through the woods to the last official camp, and the best part of the morning to reach the site where Everett and his son had bivouacked the night before.

  Still, it was worth the trek, Everett thought, feeling the contented glow of a man at peace with his surroundings. He had four days stretching before him with his son – four days of peace and quiet, of tranquil fishing and hiking. It almost made up for the rest of the year he was stuck behind the counter at the second-hand electrical store he ran with his wife, Lizzie.

  Almost.

  EJ drew back his line and cast again.

  ‘He still not biting?’

  ‘Nope,’ EJ said, glancing back over his shoulder, ‘he’s pretty stubborn.’

  ‘He’s plenty full is all.’

  ‘Think I ought to change the lure?’

  Everett shook his head. ‘Nope, he’ll come up for it, you wait and see.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Everett was pleased his son still sought advice from him. He finished his coffee and threw the dregs onto the grass. He packed the Thermos into the rucksack he carried and retied that to the branches nearest where they fished. ‘I got to take a leak. Be back in a second.’

  EJ grunted, keeping his gaze on the shadows where he figured the big trout was resting.

  Everett crossed the pebbly bank and stepped through the trees. Though still early, the heat was cloying and he could feel the sweat trickle down his spine to the light cotton pants he wore beneath his waders. Gnats buzzed and zinged about his head, but they did not bite. Lizzie had provided him with an excellent repellent, better than the stuff he had used the year before and that was for darned sure. Another thing he would be keeping to himself.

  He unhooked the straps and lowered the waders to below his knees. He peed onto a patch of poison ivy and sighed with relief.

  He was shaking the last drops off when he caught a glimpse of something in the undergrowth. He leaned forward and squinted, not entirely trusting his eyes. He pulled up his straps and forced his way through the thicket. He stopped and squatted, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing, for before him was a body, small, covered in dirt and leaves and bits of grass.

  ‘EJ!’ he called. ‘Come here quick!’ He knelt down and carefully removed some of the debris. He heard his son come crashing through the undergrowth.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Over here, I found a body. I think it’s a woman.’

  EJ slammed to a halt next to him. ‘What?’

  ‘A woman’s body, look.’

  ‘What’s she doing out here?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  EJ reached for her, but Everett caught his hand.

  ‘Maybe we ought not to touch her.’

  ‘Is she dead?’

  Everett’s head snapped back. He hadn’t even checked. He gingerly laid his hands on the woman and rolled her over onto her back.

  ‘She’s been shot with an arrow,’ Everett said, shocked despite himself. He’d seen many a hunting accident over the years, but nothing like this.

  ‘She’s not stiff,’ EJ said.

  ‘She’s been in the water I reckon, rigor might have worn off.’

  ‘If she was in the water how’d she come to be up here on the bank?’

  ‘Well I don’t know.’

  Everett moved her arm, pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and used it to clean some of the dirt and mulch from the woman’s face. He bent his face and listened. After a moment he jerked upright. ‘I think she’s still alive.’

  Everett took the woman’s hand in his and searched for a pulse. Her skin felt cold and clammy. Unbelievably, he felt it; it was faint and unsteady, but a pulse nonetheless. ‘She’s got a pulse. She’s alive.’

  EJ got up and ran back to their bags. He returned moments later carrying the towel they used to dry their equipment and his cell phone.

  ‘I thought you wasn’t going to bring that thing fishing?’ Everett said, before he could stop himself.

  EJ took no notice of his disappointed expression. ‘Hello? Emergency Services?’

  Everett turned his attention back to the woman and folded his fingers over her wrist. ‘Hold on honey, you’re safe now.’

  72

  Mike and Ace waited at the cabin all night, taking turns sleeping, but Caleb Switch made no appearance. The following morning when Ace opened his eyes, he saw Mike seated at the workbench, crestfallen.

  ‘He’s not coming back.’

  ‘No,’ Ace said, stretching, ‘it ain’t looking likely.’

  ‘We’ve wasted so much time here.’

  ‘We did what we had to.’

  ‘At least we can let the cops know about this place now.’ Mike stood and walked to the busted-out window. He stood for a moment, looking out over the yard. ‘How many bodies do you reckon are out there?’

  ‘Hard to say. More than fifteen though.’

  ‘Think their people wonder about them still?’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘I don’t understand why anyone would do something like this. Why her? Why Jessie?’

  Ace moved an unlit cigarette around his mouth. His tattoos glowed blue in the light of the rising sun. ‘You won’t ever understand the kind of person, Mike, and you ought to be glad about that.’

  Mike turned to look as his brother. He looked scared and angry and tormented. ‘You saying you understand him?’

  ‘Him? No. But I’ve known men like him; men who can kill and maim as easy as breathe, men who don’t hold with mercy. They don’t even understand the concept.’

  ‘Did you learn this when you were inside?’

  Ace shrugged. ‘Inside, outside – there’s no wall that can hold evil.’

  ‘There’s got to be some reason.’

  ‘There probably is, but not one we’re gonna know. These people ain’t like us, his own sister said the same and she—’

  Captain raised his head and cocked it.

  Ace stopped talking and pressed his finger to his lips.

  Captain stood and tilted his head this way and that. His tail started to twitch. After a moment, he threw back his head and released a long, mournful howl. Mike stared at him, feeling the hairs rising on his arms at the sound.

  ‘What the hell is he doing?’

  Ace stood and walked to the broken window, he looked out and cocked his own head.

  ‘Sirens,’ he said.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Sirens.’

  ‘I don’t hear nothing.

  ‘Me neither, but got to be, that’s what sets him off.’

  Mike’s shoulder slumped. ‘Let’s go, we need to find the n
earest town and put in a report on this place.’

  ‘You sure you want to do that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Once the cops are involved that’s it, this place will be done. This link to him will be cut.’

  ‘Don’t you get it, Ace?’ Mike asked, his voice steeped in misery.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s already done. She’s gone.’

  Mike climbed out through the window and walked around back to where they had hidden the truck from view.

  Ace looked around the silent room, with Captain awaiting his instructions. He gathered his weapon and one or two items that did not belong to him and followed after his younger brother.

  They drove back down the mountain in silence. The nearest town was Rhee, so Ace aimed the truck in that direction, his foot to the floor most of the way.

  Outside the police station, Ace sat in the truck with the engine running, watching the comings and going through the door.

  ‘Well, might as well be done what needs to be done.’

  ‘Them other people he buried. They got family somewhere, people wondering where they are and what happened to them. They deserve an answer. They deserve peace of mind.’

  Ace nodded and turned his head to watch the street.

  ‘You coming in?’

  ‘No, I never did like this kind of place.’

  Mike climbed out. He hitched his jeans up on his waist and climbed the steps to the station like the condemned climbing the steps of the gallows.

  Ace turned on the radio and listened to a local station playing some god-awful crap. He did not change the station; for some reason the music seemed fitting. He drank a lukewarm coke and let his arm dangle from the window thinking of Jessie and the man he now had to try to find. If Mike was right and Jessie was gone, Ace swore a silent pledge that he would do everything in his power to make that wrong right again.

  He drained the last of his coke as Mike came flying through the door, his face wild. He ran towards the truck so fast he slammed against it with his hip. Ace jerked upright.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There was a woman found earlier this morning, up in the woods! They took her to the county hospital.’