by Bradon Nave
I longed for a cup of steaming hot tea, a warm shower, and a thick comforter to curl up under while sitting in front of a fire. Small comforts seemed like fairytales at this point. There was nothing really comforting other than the fact that I was slightly less miserable than I was hours prior; that wasn’t saying much.
A gentle nudge once more and then I heard the beauty of a passing car in the distance—Clementine was prodding me to move in the direction of potential rescue.
“Good girl.” My whisper was soft against the still air. Nothing moved but the sounds beneath me.
It’s strange—loving something that much—this much. All else is merely chatter in my mind, and all my days are easily summed up in a few pathetic sentences. My life, my entire existence was a series of mishaps and misplacements. Letting go of it wasn’t frightening to me; the thought was nearly comforting at this point. The only thing driving one foot in front of the other was his face, plastered about the insides of my skull. I had to try. Once he surfaced he might smile again one day.
The engine sounds were closer with each passing minute. The scent of charred wood assaulted my nostrils. Not the smell of a warm fireplace, rather, the long aftermath of a fire’s ruin. My pace quickening, I exited the tree line almost unaware I was doing so. My gaze shifted from the ground to a sickening familiarity—the clearing and the shelter were before me. I’d walked in a circle.
Initially I felt the urge to turn from the scene and into the trees once more—then I remembered the contents within the shelter—the blanket and the water. If they were still there my mission would be only further aided.
Racing toward the shelter, my paled hands worked feverishly to open the door. Flinging it aside, I looked down upon my lifeline. The jug of water and the blanket were there, waiting on me to descend and take them.
Overcoming my nerves, I crept into the small opening and quickly to the corner where I’d been previously bound. My wrists still ached from my prior confinements. I was quick to grab the water and the blanket. Thoughts of the bastard Avery slamming the door over me had me racing from the corner and out of the shelter, back to my new friend.
The engine sounds I’d heard previously were no longer a trustable source of assistance; for all I knew it could be Avery or his elder minions searching the boggy backwoods.
Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I gulped the water in a ravenous furry. Catching Clementine’s gaze from the corner of my own, I quickly knelt to her, cupping my left hand as I poured with my right. The dog seemed less than interested with my attempt to hydrate her.
My efforts were halted by the sounds of yet another vehicle—this one was disastrously close.
Bolting behind the charred trees, Clementine and I turned to look upon a hideous sight—Avery and his atrocious truck.
Grumbling like a troll awakened from a dead sleep, the truck finally came to a stop. Exiting it was a hideous Avery and a dastardly Doyle. I truly hoped Clementine wouldn’t run to her owner, giving away our location.
Crouched and waiting, we sat silently as the two walked about the opened shelter.
“Damn you, Doyle! Damn you!” Avery’s fist sent the older man to the wet ground—scrambling backwards to escape him.
“I didn’t know, Aver—”
“She done been here! She’s probably at the damn station now! Done found herself a ride! You failed me, Doyle!” Avery’s foot went high above Doyle’s midsection. He brought it down with a massive force—repeatedly. Doyle’s agony sent Clementine racing from my side and to the aid of her fallen master. I watched in horror as Doyle’s mouth spewed blood.
The dog’s teeth were quickly sunk into the right arm of Avery, sending him retreating toward his truck.
I ducked lower into the brush around me. To my surprise, the troll of a truck started once more. Avery left Doyle and Clementine near the shelter!
As the noise of the truck left the scene, sputters left Doyle’s mouth and assaulted my ears. He’d clearly been injured horribly. Slowly making my way toward the wounded man—blood splatter on his glasses and face—I looked upon a man potentially fatally wounded.
The situation offered no shock factor as by now nothing seemed too bizarre.
Looking upon the man I found myself torn, part of me ached to raise my foot, as well—to cave his crushed chest even further. Part of me wanted to aid him to some extent; how was aiding this man even an option?
Clementine looked at me with worried eyes as she remained constant by her master.
Doyle’s left eye was completely pooled over in blood, his right was closed. He gasped as a steady stream of bright crimson flowed from his gaping and flaccid mouth. There was no stopping this. There is no loyalty among demons—this carnage was only proof of that.
Crouching to him, I felt my face grimace. Doyle’s breaths were strange sounds that lacked agony but it appeared as though he had already gone—as though he was simply taking his last breaths.
“Doyle. Doyle can you look at me?” My voice cracked considerably as I forced the words from my mouth.
Nothing.
Shaking his shoulder offered no additional movement. His breaths shallowed and were accompanied by a high-pitched squeaking sound. His shirt was quickly soaking blood from the back of his neckline. He was dying.
As desperate as his situation was, there was nothing I could do for him. In all reality, he would have killed me had I not escaped. Mustering sympathy for such a foe was difficult at best.
Still crouched next to him, my eye spotted the sheath of a large hunting knife buckled to the side of Doyle’s jeans. Without haste, my hands worked frantically to free the knife from his waistband.
Seconds later I’d gained a valuable tool—a large knife. Seconds after that, Doyle drew his last breath.
“Why! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone! This didn’t have to happen to you, you stupid bastard!” The reality of the situation had finally captured me. My emotions were momentarily in control.
My shrieks had a concerned Clementine eyeing me. The poor dog had to have been completely confused.
Blanket across my shoulders, water in hand and knife on my side, I walked solemnly to the cold trees once more.
I turned to see if Clementine would follow. Unsurprisingly she did not. She remained by her master’s side as a faithful companion. Following the tree line alongside the road, just out of sight might actually lead me in the direction of the shitty little trailer house that held my boyfriend captive.
The blanket was partially dragging behind my heels and it snagged on various twigs and other debris as I walked in the direction of where I thought Avery lived. I imagined my cold and crampy hand secured tightly around the handle of my new weapon as I plunged it into the gut of Avery. I wanted to watch his eyes as the life drifted from them. The thought was brief. I envisioned my pathetic attempt to end my grandfather.
I wouldn’t have the luxury of reflection or second-guessing my actions with Avery the way I did my grandfather when I offered the old bastard the reprieve. Keeping it real, Avery would take one look at me, lunging at him pathetically, and he’d laugh. He’d more than likely have the knife pried from my hands in a matter of seconds and sunk deep into my chest mere seconds later.
The calls of crows completed a ghostly and chilling scene as I continued my walk, cloaked in the blanket my capture had provided.
I imagined the water I was toting would eventually become too much to carry. My entire body was burdened by some ache or another. The loss of my temporary companion, Clementine, took a toll on my psyche, too. The dog brought about a sense of protection and comfort. I enjoyed her company.
Looking onward into the trees, I felt a small sense of excitement. I was now as prepared as could possibly be for this battle—considering where I’d come from. I would march to my loved one’s rescue, draped in a tattered and stained blanket, wielding only a hunting knife. I would give my all to attempt to free him.
CHAPTER
TW
ENTY-FOUR
So forceful were the winds that they felt as though they would knock me off balance on occasion. Drinking a few more gulps of water, I left the jug at my feet among the leaves and fallen branches and continued my journey.
A soft and light mist carried on the wind. It had my hair and face both cold and damp. I was certain if it were not for my blanket, I would be incapable of proceeding on my journey. I was completely unsure of my location.
Chattering, my teeth felt as though they could shatter against each other in my face. My nose was completely numb to the point that I couldn’t feel it on my face. My fingers were ice cold but the pulsating pain in my wrists was still present.
The bare branches above me were witch’s twisted fingers hanging from the gray sky, longing to scratch my eyes and face and snag my hair within their grasp at any given opportunity.
Masking nearly all the sounds around me, the wind all but concealed an encroaching vehicle traveling down the dirt road running parallel to where I was walking.
Squatting lowly, I eyed an older Crown Victoria driving exceptionally slow down the dirt road. I watched it intently through the tall dead grass and the branches—the witch’s fingers.
Initially I believed the driver to be looking for my whereabouts—then my gaze fell upon her atrocious face. Patty Sue sat solo in the driver’s seat, her face red with turmoil.
The vehicle crept down the road at a pathetic pace until it stopped within one hundred feet from me through the trees.
Cautiously, I rose slightly to gain a better view of what she was doing. Her forehead rested on the steering wheel; she appeared to be crying.
Even with her windows rolled up, I was capable of hearing her horrendous scream as Patty Sue flung the back of her head into the headrest and screamed hysterically at the ceiling of the car.
Shivering, snot-nosed, and well past any point of desperation, I found myself smiling at the situation. Her face appeared wounded from my assault.
I did feel some slight sense of sympathy for this woman, but the majority wanted to march to the car, fling the door open, and ask her if she’d like to soak her personals in turpentine.
Continuing to scream repeatedly, she began slapping the steering wheel. I imagined the woman was aware that Doyle was deceased—crushed to death beneath Avery’s steel-toed boot.
What other dastardly secrets had this odd and dangerous trio had hidden prior to this disruption? Surely I wasn’t the first victim of their bizarre and twisted alliance.
Then it hit me—she must be going to Avery’s. She was driving at a snail’s pace and I might be able to follow her there. She could possibly lead me right to him.
Screw that; this bitch was going to drive me. No more hiding in the shadows; the time to fight was now.
Racing in my chest, my heartrate instantly accelerated. Dropping the blanket from my shoulders, I made my way boldly through the branches—they could scratch and scrape all they wanted.
Reaching the ditch, I was pleased to find I was yet to capture her attention. She continued her gaze toward the ceiling of the car. I scurried up the damp grass and onto the road, racing around the tail end of the vehicle I reached the passenger door just in time to startle Patty. Thankfully the door was unlocked as I flung it open.
“Bitch!” My rage filled the cab of the vehicle as I jumped into the car—reaching for a handful of the hefty woman’s hair.
“No! Please—no!”
“Shut the hell up, Patty!”
“Okay! Okay!” Her gaze remained fixated out the windshield, seemingly incapable of making eye contact with me. She reminded me of an obese French bulldog being punished with a newspaper.
“You will take me to Avery’s and you will take me there right now.” My words were cold and monotone as I reached for her husband’s knife on my side. Presenting it to her, her mouth fell agape as her bottom lip quivered.
“Where…where did you get that? You took it from him! Young harlot! Where did you—”
Pressing it to her bulging belly, my face came within inches from hers. “You’re about to get it back if you don’t shut the hell up.”
“I…I have to…I have to get my husband from that man…he’s a damn lunatic.”
She didn’t know. She was unaware her psychotic soulmate had been abolished by their mutual friend.
“Is that so, Patty? You just now figuring that out? Ya know you and your knight in shining armor aren’t exactly the authority on stability or sanity you crazy ass bitch. Had I not escaped, you would have just handed me over to be slaughtered—”
“Like we had a choice? You have no idea! We may be the oddballs but we aren’t the ones headed straight for hell when this is all said and done!”
“You had a choice!”
“No we did not neither! You don’t understand what that bastard is capable of! You don’t know what all he’s done! He done threw a whole litter of Clementine’s two day old pups in the burn barrel all cuz…”
Starring at the woman in disbelief, I anticipated she would tell me something of Avery’s wife. “All because of what, Patty?”
“All to prove a point! It’d been years since he done what he done but he still don’t trust we’ll keep our mouths shut!”
“What? That makes no sense…he told me about it and he doesn’t even know me.”
“You stupid little girl. You really are dumb aren’t you? He was never planning on keeping you around if he told you that.”
“Clearly, you are in no position to be calling people stupid you ignorant hag. You obviously didn’t play your cards right if he didn’t trust you after all these years. And you should have gone to the police…that poor woman—”
“Don’t you talk about that girl! We loved that girl! What was we supposed to do? Who was we supposed to talk to about it? You don’t know what he’s capable of!”
“You should have just killed the sick bastard!”
“That’s easy to say from where you’re sittin’, Miss thang!”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to end him or die trying.”
“Oh, you’ll die for damn sure, Kacey.”
“I’ve killed once…I’ll kill again.”
“You stupid, snide little bitch. You didn’t kill your damn uncle you idiot. You sure as hell did a number on the bastard, but you didn’t kill his nasty ass.”
I could literally feel the sensation in my face draining like sand from an hour glass. Her lips and her words made no sense.
“Wha…what did you say?”
“Ya didn’t kill him. You ain’t the highfalutin’ murderess you think you are.”
“You’re lying…you…you’re lying.”
“Why the hell would I lie to you, little lamb? What would I gain from it now?”
“My uncle…he’s alive?”
“Well now, I didn’t say that none, either. I just said you didn’t kill him.”
“Dammit, Patty Sue! Tell me what the hell you know now before I put this knife in your throat!”
“Do it! You ignorant little harlot! No TV, no electricity, no internet…why do you think that was, idiot? To keep you just as stupid as possible. Didn’t take much, obviously.”
“What? Patty…please…he has my boyfriend…we’re not bad people. If we’re not wanted for murder…oh my god this could change everything.”
To my surprise, her scowl softened and her hand rested softly on my leg. “Listen to me, girl. You didn’t kill your uncle.”
“You know this for certain? How do you—”
“I do. I also know that the sick bastard that has let you believe for the past several days that you was a murderer has got my husband and I aim to get that man back.”
At this point my head felt a flood of emotion. I was sickened by Avery’s ability to deceive so effectively. I was becoming increasingly overjoyed at the idea of removing the word murderer from my credentials, and I was becoming more and more remorseful for Patty as she was unaware her cree
py husband was crushed and broken on the cold ground—mostly I was more horrified than ever for Jessie.
“We have to get to Avery’s, Patty. I have to get Jessie. He’s been drugging him—”
“If that’s what you wanna call it.” Patty’s chuckle had me contemplating adding murderer to my credentials once more—stupid bitch.
“What the hell is so funny? Why would you…this is real life, Patty! How could you think that this is funny? What did he give him?”
“Calm the hell down. T’was some sweet relaxant Doyle used to get his bovines to calm them before a showing at the fair.”
“What? Oh my god. He’s going to kill him. I have to save him! Drive.”
“We have to keep our heads on straight if—”
“Drive!”
“And what is it you think we should do once we get there? Just walk up and take our guys out of the living room? You understand that man thinks your little boyfriend is his new son…his gift from God, right?”
“I do. I also know he’s a complete sociopath and I don’t care what it takes or what I have to sacrifice…this ends today. Jessie will be freed today.”
Putting the car in drive, I felt my insides dancing at the thought of what would soon transpire. The idea that this was actually happening kept attempting to creep into my head—I had to shove it down repeatedly. I didn’t have time for psychological setbacks. If I survived this entire ordeal, I would most certainly be adding post-traumatic stress syndrome to my extensive list of mental afflictions.
Patty continued to drive cautiously slow—to the point that I wanted to take over the responsibility of driving. “Can we not speed up?”
“No. If that man sees us before we see him, we’re done for.”
“Then what the hell is the plan, Patty?”
“Well now, if I’m being completely honest. Right before some little harlot hopped into my vehicle making threats at knifepoint, I was praying I would find her so I could use her to make a trade.”
“A trade?”
“Avery showed up at our house after you left. Tore the place to bits. Threatened to set us both a blaze for letting you go. He took my Doyle. Now I gotta get him back.”