Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale

by Christine Conder

Wronged? Who could she have wronged?

  He pulled the door shut behind Victor and turned the lock. An audible click. “Yup. But see, the person who hired me gave me a little background on my target.”

  “So what?” Sage gestured toward Liberty, still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What she’d do anyway? Not like I really care.”

  It stung, but Liberty had to admit it was a good ruse. Her daughter was intelligent. She would find her way out of this mess.

  Russ reached for Sage’s hand.

  She jerked away from him.

  “Calm down, I’m going to tell you.” He took Sage above the elbow and ushered her reluctant body to the workbench. He rifled through a few things on the bench, and then turned around. Letting go of Sage’s elbow, he put a hand on her chest, holding her up against the bench. “Stay here.”

  Sage complied.

  He walked to Liberty, hand slightly ahead of him and her eyes grew wide. A knife. Not just any knife, but a big one with a curved tip and serrated edge. A hunter’s knife. Like the one Nathaniel had. He bent over her, she pressed back as far as she could. He put the knife in his mouth, freeing up his hands.

  “What are you doing?” Sage asked from her spot near the bench.

  He put his hands over both of Liberty’s bound wrists, and jerked the entire chair back toward the bench. With every tug she grunted in pain. Russ smirked around the blade in his mouth. The motor from the garage sounded, and the four-wheeler started.

  “God, Russ.” For the first time, Sage’s voice raised higher in a growing panic. “Did you hear me? What are you doing?”

  He stopped a foot from the bench, removed the knife and turned to Sage. “Seems she’s rubbed somebody’s fur the wrong way back at the palace.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t know? She doesn’t look familiar to you?”

  “I don’t know this woman.”

  “Seems hard to believe. Seeing as how I have some info that says different.”

  Sage looked at him, face blank. She nearly had Liberty convinced. Why not Russ?

  “Tell me, Sage,” he said as he used the tip of the knife to flip the ends their hair, first Sage, then Liberty. “How many people do you know named Liberty, who have a daughter named Sage? Hmm?”

  “How should I know? My mother’s name was Jill.”

  “Sure it was.”

  “I think I should know. You don’t know me.”

  “No?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Obviously not if you think she and I are related.” Her eyes flashed and she raised her voice, smacking her hand on the workbench. “And I don’t appreciate you thinking you can accuse me, keep me here like I’m a damn prisoner.”

  “Hmm.” He hadn’t moved a muscle, held the knife at arm’s length toward Liberty. He studied Sage for a moment, finally spoke. “If that’s the case…” He turned the knife around and held it out to her. “Cut her.”

  “What?” Sage snapped her head back. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not cutting some woman. What kind of business are you running here?”

  He reached out and latched onto her wrist, eliciting a short cry.

  “Shut your mouth.” He jerked her to his chest. “Shut your lying trap and take this. Prove it to me and I’ll believe you.” He grunted as he tried to force the handle into her fist.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me.” Sage yanked her arm free. It flung back, hitting the metal light bar above them. The light started to swing and Liberty grunted behind the gag. Tried to draw attention to herself so Russ would leave Sage alone.

  Russ’ and Sage’s auras merged, his appearing to poison Sage’s, muddy brown and black daggers perforating her pearly overlay. Liberty grunted with more force, desperate to get him to stop.

  He reached out and backhanded Liberty, but she began to scream, curled her toes, rocked the chair.

  “Look,” Russ’ lip curled, “you’re upsetting her.”

  “Dammit, fine. Just knock it off. I didn’t even know these… things,” she flicked her wrist toward Liberty, “really existed until a few days ago, so whatever.” She grabbed at the knife. “Give it to me.”

  Russ straightened up his shoulders, ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good. Glad to hear it.” He released the knife.

  “And just so you know,” Sage said, her head cocked, “my mother, Jill, was a hippie. Duh. Lots of kids are named after plants.”

  “Right.” He motioned to Liberty. “Go on. Do it.”

  “Where?”

  Liberty tensed. She’d watched the exchange and searched for a clue that Sage was acting, but didn’t see any sign. Could she have developed some kind of amnesia and really didn’t remember her? She saw the silver amulet, Ellie’s band, peek out from Sage’s cuff and focused on it. Sage was good. She had to be.

  Russ shrugged, exasperated. “Client didn’t say she had to come back in one piece, so…” He gestured to Liberty’s legs, then face, arms. “Wherever.”

  Sage took a step forward, held the knife in both hands and brought it up over her head with the blade pointed down. She paused. Liberty pleaded with her eyes.

  Russ said, “What’re you waiting for?”

  Sage exhaled hard, brought her arms down slowly. “Can’t you cover up her face or something? She’s giving me the creeps staring at me like that.”

  “Victor said you were a tough chick, not weak like his mother.” Russ bent over to reach for the pillowcase on the floor. “See? This is why I don’t trust women. You’re wishy-washy.”

  Liberty whined, closed her eyes as Russ shoved the case over her head again. “There, you happy n—?”

  Sage screamed.

  Russ let out a holler. “What the hell?”

  Liberty heard a sickening pop. And felt the weight of Russ as he collapsed onto her. So much noise. And then wetness. On her lap. On her chest.

  Liberty couldn’t breathe. The weight of Russ on her, the hood, the gag. Her nostrils could only take in tiny fits of oxygen.

  Then the weight slid off and she could breathe.

  Sage removed the hood. “Mom? Oh my God, Mom? Are you okay?”

  Liberty blinked, unable to fully comprehend.

  Sage wiped both sides of the knife across the leg of her jeans and carefully worked the tip of the blade beneath the binding near Liberty’s ear until the fabric slipped off. Liberty shook her head and used her tongue to push the rag out of her mouth as Sage pulled.

  Liberty couldn’t speak. All she managed was a combination low-pitched cry and moan.

  “Shh.” Sage’s hands were on her cheeks, she kissed Liberty’s forehead, smoothed her hair. “Shh, Mama, we have to get out of here. Try to be quiet, okay? I’ll be quick.” Sage cut through the binds on Liberty’s chest, arms, legs.

  Russ slumped over onto her feet and Liberty kicked him as she scrambled out of the chair, He let out a soft moan. She pulled Sage a few steps away and fell into her arms. “I love you so much. I never gave up. I know what happened. I know why you left.”

  Sage embraced her, brief but heartfelt, then looked at Russ and pulled away. “We have to get out of here, come on.” She snatched Liberty’s hand and led her to the door Victor exited. “This way.”

  “Wait. What about your father? He was here, too.”

  “If he was still here, we’d know it.” Sage turned the lock, slowly opened the door to the garage and looked inside. “Okay, it’s clear.”

  Liberty’s heart thumped. She started to cough, her throat was so dry. “Gabriel. I can’t—”

  “Stop thinking,” Sage whispered. “Not now.” She flipped the light off to the workshop, leaving Russ’ body in the dark. “We’ll worry later.”

  Her daughter possessed strength Liberty didn’t. She’d grown so much since they’d last seen each other. Liberty nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Sage motioned for her to stay, and jogged to the wall by the garage doors. Grabbing a set of keys off the hook, she flipped the switch to extinguish th
e main lights in the garage.

  Two vehicles sat in the garage, a shiny yellow VW convertible and a beat-up burgundy Jaguar. Sage walked to the Jaguar, opened the rear passenger side door and motioned for Liberty to get inside.

  “I’d let you ride up front, but when we drive out,” Sage motioned at the incline to the garage doors, referring to the inevitable change Liberty would go through as they left the underground garage, “I don’t think you’ll be comfortable.” Sage pointed to the dimly lit semi-spacious back. “See? More room.”

  Liberty nodded and climbed in. Sage shut the door, the light went off, and she walked toward the front of the car. She’d reached the hood when she stopped and turned, wide eyed. “Oh, shit,” she yelled and scrambled around to the driver’s door. “Stay down, get down!”

  Panicked, Liberty peeked out every window. The door to the workshop was still shut, the big doors were shut. “What is it?” Liberty shouted.

  Sage yanked the door open and jumped in behind the wheel.

  Liberty heard a motor.

  “Shit, shit.” Sage slammed the door and fumbled with the keys. “Vic’s back.”

  Deja vu. Liberty’s mind flashed back in Becky’s truck, except somehow this was so much worse. Just her and her girl now. “What can I do?” she yelled.

  “Get down, be quiet.”

  Liberty flattened herself against the floor. She’d hardly registered the pain from the wounds the bindings had caused, but against the carpet, they burned. She heard the metallic clink of keys.

  “Thank God,” Sage mumbled.

  Something tapped on the back window. Liberty turned, screamed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Russ stood outside the car, one arm tight around his upper abdomen, the other pointing a black handgun back and forth between her and Sage. “Get out.”

  Neither of them budged.

  “Get the fuck out of the car, or I’ll shoot you both,” he rasped.

  “Kiss my ass, Russ,” Sage yelled and turned the car over. The engine stayed silent. She started to stomp the floor, kept turning the key. “Dammit!”

  The bullet fired through the window, deafened Liberty, almost physically hurt.

  She shot up off the floor. Sage opened up the door and rolled out. Russ fumbled with the door handle on her side and Liberty tried to hang onto the inside. They struggled back and forth.

  “Hey, Russ,” Sage called out.

  Liberty saw him pause, look over the top of the car, and a trash can lid come down on him. He staggered to the side. The gun went off, hitting the ceiling, before it clattered to the floor.

  The outside door flew open. Victor ran in. “Dad? Sage? What the hell?” He flipped on the overhead lights.

  “Your bitch girlfriend stabbed me, get her.”

  Victor’s face changed, grew dark. He stalked to Sage’s side of the car.

  “Leave her alone,” Liberty yelled as she swung open her door in a desperate attempt to help.

  Russ took the opportunity and lunged in after her.

  She kicked at him, scrambled between the front seats. Her foot banged against the steering wheel. The horn beeped, echoing in the garage. Boxes tumbled as Sage struggled with Victor. Liberty pushed herself up from her back and scooted toward the open door. Her head jerked back.

  Russ pulled her hair, and she grasped at the steering wheel, white knuckled, until her sweat betrayed her. He gave a hard tug and she lost some hair when she lost her grip, but managed to snag the keys as pulled her into the back seat.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, and climbed on top of her.

  She beat at him, punched him in the chest. He hollered out. His sour breath caused her to heave. As he ripped the shirt from her body, she turned her head toward the floor and vomited.

  “Christ, you are one sick bitch.” He grimaced, brought a fist down on her cheek, then closed his hands around her throat.

  Blood filled her mouth, and she started to paw at his hands. The forgotten keys dug into her palm. Swinging back, she connected high on his face.

  He released her, screamed and clutched at his eye. A stream of crimson gushed through his fingers. She gasped for breath and took the opportunity to kick and claw her way back into the front seat.

  “Bitch!”

  “Sage,” Liberty called out, and saw through the window her daughter’s face was bleeding, she was caught from behind in a choke hold. Liberty surged forward. “Leave her alone!”

  She made it halfway out the driver’s side door when she was yanked back in. Russ had her pinned, using the shirt she’d worn to try and strangle her. God, was he running on rabies? Why wouldn’t he die already?

  He held her tight as he attempted to push himself between the seats. She clawed at her neck, then tried to rip off the shifter, couldn’t, snagged the rear view mirror off and it fell. She stretched her arm to grab at it and two attempts later came up with the first solid thing her hand came into contact with.

  A snowbrush.

  She screamed as she swung it up over the seat. Her voice sounded primal, as though it came from the car itself, or maybe the ghosts of the animals that littered the garage. The blade connected with his neck.

  He let go of her hair, fell back. She let the snowbrush go with him, watching in horror as he clutched his neck, made a low, gurgling sound. His good eye stared at her in shock, the one she had stabbed drooped, appeared to watch the blood arcing up and over the front seats. The blood sprayed the dome light, turning the faint yellow into a twisted pink glow. Then, like someone had crimped a garden hose, the blood flow spurted a few more times, then stopped.

  He slumped back into the seat and as she scrambled out of the car, she watched the sliced skin on his neck droop down and uncover his Adam’s apple, which bobbed twice being going still.

  “Hey!”

  She flinched, jerked up to look out the rear window. Nathaniel and Becky ran through the garage door.

  Liberty stood up and pointed toward the commotion, “Help her, Nathaniel.”

  He froze for a second when he saw his wife, then reacted. Nathaniel pounced on a bleeding Victor, jerking him away from Sage. Becky took off her jacket, put it over Liberty’s shoulders.

  “Stay away from her,” Nathaniel grunted, shoving Victor to the cement. A sickening thud sounded as the boy landed face up, his back arched, impaled by one half of a twelve point rack that had been lying on the garage floor.

  “The hell?” His hands went to his chest, grasped antlers, as the question exited and then died on his lips. The stain on his clothing grew at an alarming rate, and began to pool beneath him. Three of the six antlers tented up the t-shirt near his ribcage, failing to pierce through the material like the others.

  Sage cried out, turned away.

  “Honey, it’s okay. Are you okay?” Liberty and Becky were at her side, spoke at the same time, looking her over for injuries.

  “Mom.” Sage sobbed and clung to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Liberty held and hushed her, smoothing a hand over her hair. She released a slow breath, observed Nathaniel as he stood over Victor’s body. Took in his appearance.

  Flannel. Boots. Jeans and a belt. Too much clothing for him to have thrown on if he’d transformed as he’d entered the garage. She tuned in. White.

  She closed her eyes. He’d taken Mitch’s amulet. He’d escaped capture when Gabriel hadn’t, knew Sage was in mortal danger. Got to the farmhouse when she’d already left for the Jenkins’ house. Becky must have told him everything.

  She opened her eyes when she felt him wrap his arms around her and Sage. Becky still at her side, she was entirely bathed in their lights.

  Nathaniel’s voice hitched. “Holy hell, Lib, I thought you were dead.”

  She tipped her head to look up at him. “You did? Why?”

  “I got away when Gabe and I got ambushed, but he didn’t make—”

  “I know.” She ran her hand through his hair as Sage squeezed them both tighter. “I can’t bel
ieve it, either.”

  “I hid in the field across the road and by the time I made it back, when you were caught…” His chest heaved and he choked back a sob. “I saw you lying there. You’d been shot—”

  “With a dart,” Liberty said. “They drugged me.”

  Becky stepped to the side, met Liberty’s eyes and nodded like she had believed it too. Then she pivoted to look at the garage doors, allowing them the faintest bit of privacy.

  “I thought you were dead. Your form wavered, and then went solid human.”

  Liberty’s eyes grew wide. “It did? I did? How?”

  He looked lost, clueless. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But… you can’t imagine how I felt when I thought I’d lost you.”

  She thought she could. She’d known that terror before, and hugged Sage tighter. “Shh, it’s okay. Maybe it was the tranquilizer. But, I’m okay. I’m okay and so’s our girl.”

  In the midst of everything, she’d forgotten. Remembering, she pulled away. “Sage, honey, I need to ask you something.”

  Sage, puffy eyed and wet cheeked, nodded, “Okay.”

  “Russ said he was hired to find me. Me, in particular. Do you know anything about that?”

  She nodded. “Just found out tonight. That’s why I wasn’t there for Mitch. I was supposed to be, you know? It was gonna be our reunion.” She looked at her father, then down to his wrist. “When Mitch passed, we were finally going to be reunited.”

  “I understand, honey, it’s okay. Who hired Russ?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know their real name.”

  Becky motioned to the other side of the car, toward the workroom that they’d been held in. “Come over here, no need to look at that,” and she tipped her head toward the floor.

  They moved and stood outside the shop door.

  “What do you mean, their real name?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Since Vic and I were together when I saw Adrian…did you know that? I saw him.” She started to cry again. “I didn’t act scared or anything, so Vic told his dad I was cool with it… They figured they could trust me. But they didn’t completely. They just called this guy Raven, nothing real. That’s his name on a website.”