by Susan Gnucci
She desperately wanted to flee, but because she was out in the middle of nowhere, walking out of the woods was not an option. She had to get his car keys, but in order to do so, she would have to search his pockets. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes because she did not want to go anywhere near him. Uncertain what to do, she resorted to pacing back and forth, worrying her lower lip, weighing her options.
Too afraid to prod him with the tire iron in case he made a grab for it, she slipped the weapon back into her waistband behind her back. Knowing she would feel much safer if she could somehow tie his hands, even though that meant having to touch him, she tried to brainstorm for a way to accomplish such a task. She could go back to the car to search for the rope she had discarded, but that would mean having to leave him, and she was not prepared to let him out of her sight, not even for an instant. Instead, she quickly stripped off her shirt in order to use her bra, looking around sheepishly as she did so.
‘Like there’s anyone else here, Tess,’ she reprimanded herself.
Slipping back into her shirt, she chuckled nervously – going braless was the least of her worries tonight. Before she would allow herself to kneel down beside his body though, she kicked him. Nothing. She kicked him harder. Nothing. And then a terrible realization dawned on her. What if he was dead? ‘Oh, my God! I’ve killed him!’ she thought as she cupped her hands to her mouth, fighting the urge to throw up while backing slowly away from him.
‘Calm down, Tess. For God’s sake, calm down,’ her inner voice hissed.
After taking several deep breaths, she decided she needed to know for certain. Before she could lose her nerve, she approached the body and cautiously knelt down beside it. She could not bring herself to touch his neck, but instead, placed two fingers distastefully against one of his wrists. It sickened her to do even that. Somehow, she believed he wouldn’t even feel like a normal person. What did she expect? Scales? She shook her head in order to clear it and tried to concentrate on finding a pulse. When she did (albeit, a weak one), she dropped his wrist as though she had just touched a hot flame. She felt both relief and dread – relief at not being a murderess, and dread, that alive, he was still a threat.
Focusing on what she needed to do, she grabbed both of his hands and quickly placed them together on his stomach. As she did so, she noted a trickle of blood running down the side of his face, giving the impression he was crying blood. This image spooked her, and she scrambled backwards, kicking up debris from the forest floor as she went.
‘Come on, Tess. Focus!’ she chided herself, taking a deep, steading breath. In spite of her revulsion, she forced herself to crawl back to the body.
Using her bra, she tied his wrists as tightly as she could. All the while, she was terrified at the possibility he would regain consciousness. She knew she was likely cutting off his circulation, but too damned bad. ‘So he loses his hands. That’s a bad thing?’ she thought to herself. Satisfied for the moment, she cautiously placed her hand against one of his front jean pockets, praying the bulge she found there was his key ring. A nervous giggle bubbled up from inside her. She was amazed she could even think something so crass given her predicament. Mercifully, she felt the outline of a key ring, so she steeled herself and plunged her hand into his pocket. As she did so, she feared he would somehow make a grab for her hand even though his were bound.
‘Don’t be stupid. You’ve cracked his skull,’ she thought as she pulled out the car keys. Not wanting to kneel beside him for any longer than was absolutely necessary, she quickly stood up and backed away.
‘OK, Go! Go!’ a voice inside her head screamed. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Instead of fleeing, however, she held the distinctive metallic key chain in front of her face and watched the keys dance and jingle from the tremors in her hand. Reaching to still them with her other hand and sighing heavily, she knew what she had to do. She could not leave him there. It had nothing to do with leaving him injured. After what he’d done to her, she could really care less what happened to him, but she did not want to risk the very real possibility he would regain consciousness while she was gone. What if he got away? And what if he made good on his threat? She could not live with herself if anything happened to Leah. And she did not want to live the rest of her life always looking over her shoulder. Even with her new freedom this night, she was still tied to him. Exhausted, she started to cry softly, standing indecisively in the middle of nowhere, desperate to leave, but torn by the possible consequences of doing so.
In the end, she accepted the fact she had to bring him with her, but she knew it would be no easy task. She could hardly lug his dead weight around the forest all night. Assuming she couldn’t be that far from the car, she resigned herself to her grisly chore and hoped like hell he wouldn’t regain consciousness along the way. If it came down to her life or his, she’d strike him again.
Forcing herself to slip her arms under his shoulders despite her revulsion, she proceeded to drag him inch by inch across the forest floor. Her sore shoulder muscles screamed out in protest, but in her determination, she ignored the pain. Thank God he was not a large man, or she never would have been able to manage. She was well aware branches and rocks were clawing and cutting his back and legs, but she didn’t care. It seemed to take ages just to clear the treeline, but with a mighty heave, she broke out onto the shoulder of the road, at which point she paused, struggling to decide which way to go – left or right? She had a 50–50 chance of taking the right direction, but even with those odds, she agonized over the decision. She turned first one way and then the other, a scowl of indecision framing her face, making her look much younger than her years. All her instincts told her to go left, and yet, she called to mind Leah’s comment any time they took a road trip: “For God’s sake, Tess – you have a horrible sense of direction!”
And so she went right.
After only ten minutes, it wasn’t just her shoulders that were killing her, but her back as well; however, the pain gave her something to focus on. She had to stop often and gingerly stretch out the discomfort, but even then, she was always careful never to turn her back on her captor. After another half hour of agonizingly slow progress, her anxiety level reached a feverish pitch. She just couldn’t believe she hadn’t spotted the car. Surely she couldn’t be that far from it, could she? Had she gone in the wrong direction? Should she go back the other way along the road? Her throbbing muscles screamed out in protest at such a thought.
In her panic, Tess struggled to think clearly. A full moon was rising, and with it, she could just make out a curve in the road ahead. Despite the lack of much light, the blackness of the trees towering on either side of the road made it easier to discern the pale ribbon of gravel as it wound its way through the forest.
Looking back and forth between her captor and the road, Tess made up her mind. She would venture ahead to see if the car was around the next bend, but she would do so walking backwards, so at least, she would be able to keep an eye on her captor. Before doing so, she lugged him from the shoulder of the road to the very centre in order to keep him in view. It briefly crossed her mind he could easily be run over if a vehicle came along, and although such a thought was gruesome, she highly doubted the likelihood anyone would be out here at this time of night. Anyway, as far as she was concerned, he deserved far worse! And so, Tess backed away from the still form on the ground, treading carefully so as to make as little noise as possible. ‘Like he can hear you, Tess,’ she thought dryly to herself.
As she reached the curve in the road, she followed it as far as possible while still keeping her captor’s dark form in sight. Just when she dared go no further, she spotted the outline of a car a short distance ahead. Covering her mouth with her hands, she contained the whoop of joy that welled up inside her as an intense wave of relief washed over her.
“Come on, Tess. Don’t get cocky,” she muttered to herself. She knew it was always at this point in a movie that something invariably went
wrong…
Almost as though on cue, the stillness of the night was broken by the sound of a branch snapping. Her nerves already frayed, the noise spooked Tess, prompting her to jump and scan wildly about for its source. Peering into the shadows of the treeline with what little moonlight she had at her disposal, she couldn’t make anything out. Cocking her head and listening intently for several more seconds, she heard nothing further. Wasting no time, she made her way back to her captor with her heart in her throat, her feet barely feeling like they were touching the ground. She did not run, knowing of course that it would not be wise if there was indeed something out there. Instead, she walked as soundlessly as possible, trying all the while to convince herself there were any number of nocturnal creatures in the forest, the majority of which were not dangerous. What she’d most likely heard, logic told her, was a deer.
It seemed to take forever to make her way back to her captor who lay oblivious to any danger, although in reality, it was only a matter of minutes. Upon reaching his still form, Tess paused and peered at the wall of trees to her left, straining her ears again for any hint of movement. When she still detected none, she glanced at the man who had caused her so much agony, her mind in turmoil.
‘It’s not worth it, Tess. Leave him!’ her inner voice hissed. Shaking her head to quell her misgivings and ignoring her fear of what could be out there, she set her jaw, resolved to see her plan through. She’d gotten this far with him; she sure as hell wasn’t going to quit now.
Fueled by a fierce kick of adrenalin, she hoisted her captor up once again by the shoulders. Suddenly realizing the safest course of action would be to make plenty of noise, she broke into a boisterous rendition of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall – the only song she could think of. Dragging him along, she managed to round the bend in the road in less time than she anticipated. Her whole body ached by now, but at least the car was in sight, only a few dozen feet ahead. Straightening and sighing deeply with relief, she hastily dug the car keys out of her jean pocket.
When another branch snapped, this time more loudly, Tess froze. Her eyes darted to the prostrate form before her, but it lay unmoving at her feet. Groaning, she pivoted cautiously to glance behind her in time to see a shape emerge from the treeline. That was when she came to the horrible realization they were being stalked…
“You’ve got to be fucking joking!” The words tumbled out of her mouth of their own accord when she spied the glinting yellow eyes and heard the low, throaty growl. She had endured four days of imprisonment and a strangulation attempt at the hands of a deranged serial killer only to run into a cougar? She could not believe her luck.
She tried to remember what little she knew of this elusive predator from snippets of conversations with Emmy over the years and from news reports of cougar sightings and maulings on the island. There had even been several instances when an old cougar or a starving juvenile had wandered right into town, prompting public warnings to keep small pets and children indoors.
She knew they were powerful.
She knew if they ever got you by the throat, you were toast.
But what else? What else? She racked her brain.
Never break eye contact. Or was it – Never look them in the eye?
Walk away backwards very slowly. Or was it – Stand your ground and make yourself appear as large as possible?
Growl and bare your teeth. Or was it – don’t show any aggression?
Without even thinking, Tess moved to stand behind her captor, putting the unconscious man between her and the menacing predator who was sizing them both up. Would the cougar be satisfied with an easy meal, or would its instinct be to hunt for itself? She tried to gauge how long it would take her to reach the car. If she even made it that far, she had her doubts she could actually get inside in time, but it was her only option. And so she made up her mind right then and there to abandon her captor. Why risk her life for his? He deserved whatever he got. She had even turned around to make a break for the car only to discover her legs would not obey what her mind was commanding them to do. She quickly realized what the term ‘frozen with fear’ actually meant. She stood rooted to the spot, her legs refusing to move despite the urge for self-preservation that was screaming at her to flee.
Slowly, cautiously, the cougar emerged from the shadows, prompting Tess to suck in her breath. Despite her very real terror, a part of her was awed by the sheer magnificence of the animal. It was no juvenile. It’s sleekly muscled frame moved with an easy, lazy grace. Surely, this one weighed close to two hundred pounds! As it appraised them, its tail twitched hypnotically to and fro, and it continued to emit menacing growls. Tess was close enough to actually feel the vibrations, reminding her of the rumbling she’d experienced in her chest as a little girl when a marching band passed by on a parade route – how the bass drums had echoed inside her chest long after the band had moved on.
The big cat continued to assess them, circling cautiously as if wary at the intrusion of two such unexpected creatures in its nightly domain. Tess glanced down at her captor, wishing she could ‘will’ him to consciousness so he could be of help. It was in that moment, seeing him totally and utterly defenceless, she understood she could not, in good conscience, abandon another human being, even one such as him, to such a cruel fate. And so, not taking her eyes off the cougar, praying that it was only curious, she cautiously bent down and slid her arms underneath her captor’s shoulders, muttering up a blue streak as she did so. With a burst of seemingly inhuman strength, she almost lifted him off the ground, so desperate was she to get over to the car. She did not realize until it was too late that her own heroic actions actually sealed their fate. Undoubtedly, she looked smaller and less threatening hunched over as she was, and because of this, the cougar attacked.
It shot toward them, covering the distance between them in mere seconds with a speed that took Tess’ breath away. All she had time to take note of was a streak rushing toward them and an ear-splitting snarl. The next thing she knew, it had a hold of her captor’s legs, intent obviously on dragging him off. She’d like to say she made a conscious decision to fight back, but if truth be told, instinct simply took over. She hung onto to her captor’s shoulders and pulled with all her might so that it became a tug of war. The cougar would pull in short powerful jerks, so powerful she was afraid it would rip one of her captor’s legs off. The irony of her situation was not lost on her even in the heat of the moment – but she wasn’t fighting to save a serial killer, she was simply fighting to save another human being.
Only then did she finally remember the tire iron, and with this realization, she pulled it out of her waistband and scrambled over her captor’s torso towards the big cat. It could not lunge at her without relinquishing its grip, and once committed on a victim, a cougar rarely let go. She was unaware of this, of course, and such knowledge would have brought her cold comfort anyway. Raising the weapon high above her head, she brought it down with all the strength she could muster on the big cat’s powerful shoulders. Although it appeared momentarily stunned from the blow, it did not release its grip. She raised the tire iron again, this time aiming it directly at its eye. She struck it there in a powerful jabbing motion, and it reared back howling in agony, its eye gouged and bloodied. She did not waste her advantage, but beat at it mercilessly even as it recoiled. It quickly turned tail and skittered off, swallowed up in mere seconds by the forest. Tess sat on her haunches, bellowing after it in triumph, brandishing her bloodied weapon.
Struggling to stand up, her legs shook so violently, she had to grip the tire iron with both hands for fear of dropping it altogether. Her knees threatened to buckle as she waved her weapon menacingly a last time at the place where the big cat had disappeared.
Not wasting any time, she quickly abandoned all thought of trying to lift her captor up into the trunk of the car. Although he wasn’t a big man, she realized there was simply no way she could manage him by herself. That meant he would have to ride inside the car with
her. That is, if she could hoist him into the back seat. She prayed he would not regain consciousness inside the car, knowing she would simply have to take her chances. The fact of the matter was she had no strength or time to do anything else. Whatever the risk, she was determined to free herself from him this night and that meant bringing him with her.
Turning her attention to her captor, she noted the degree of injury to his legs. His jeans were shredded and bloodied, and she could make out several deep puncture wounds around one of his knees. She was not about to tend to him, however, with the injured cougar still lurking out there somewhere, so she concentrated instead on getting him over to the car. Afraid to put away the tire iron, she kept it in one hand as she looped her arms under her captor’s shoulders as before. Constantly scanning the treeline, her heart in her throat, she managed to get her burden over to the car. Thankfully, it was unlocked, so she quickly opened one of the rear passenger doors and pushed aside the duffel bag and a duvet onto the floorboard. Hoisting her captor again by the shoulders, she crawled backwards into the back seat, pulling him along after her. In doing so, she discovered that dragging him along level ground was one thing; it was quite another to actually get him up into the car. The term ‘dead weight’ took on new meaning as she yanked and tugged, working up a sweat in the process.
As she finally managed to load the body, she quickly reached over and slammed the rear passenger door shut. Only then did she slip the tire iron back into her waistband. Just as she did so, she heard a soft purring sound and felt a movement along her arm, causing her to jerk back so violently, she clunked her head on the interior roof of the car. Winifred meowed an indignant protest at the all the commotion, and then settled herself on her master’s chest, purring loudly and rubbing her face against his chin.