Victim's, Inc.

by A. R. Licht

  surface. Suddenly, Phil was coming back up the stairs, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Go back! Go back!”

  She was slow to react because it didn’t make sense, he wanted to leave, why would they

  backtrack? Then she realized he must have seen someone coming. She stumbled backwards, Phil helping her up the last two steps.

  “They’re coming inside!”

  “We need to hide,” she whispered, looking around. But, where? There was no where to go,

  nothing to duck behind.

  All they could do was hope that the guards were seeking shelter inside the building, not entering

  because she’d been careless with the light and had given them away. She hoped that either way, they wouldn’t come upstairs because if they do, Kate and Phil are done for.

  Phil stands at the top of the stairs, watching the spiral for signs of movement. Kate is panicky,

  scanning the room for somewhere to hide. They could crawl out the window, they might make it.

  They might break a leg or arm too, but if it meant they could get away, would it matter?

  Phil goes rigid, he backs away, motions to Kate to join him against the wall. She rushes to him, he holds her hand in his, squeezing it as if to say he won’t let go, ever. She tries not to

  hyperventilate as several excruciating seconds tick by. Seconds that feel like millenniums in

  which she has been born, lived a full life, died, decomposed, and faded from existence as dust.

  Then, she sees the lights bobbing and swaying up the stairs. She and Phil slide down the wall

  until they are in a squat, her eyes burning as though the lids were made of sandpaper and grit.

  A head appears, then another. Only two of them, rising like a beast from the water depths, to the

  top of the stairwell. The first man heads straight to the window where the sections are gone and looks out. The other remains at the top of the stairs, his flashlight gliding along the floor to the end of the room.

  “It really happened here? Cuz it don’t look like it.”

  “Yeah, it happened. They said it happened.”

  “Can we hurry up please, they’re on the way and we aren’t supposed to be in here.”

  Neither one of them noticed Kate and Phil. They hadn’t suspected anyone to be in the building, so they weren’t looking. Kate tried to hold her breath, even though she was certain the guards

  couldn’t hear her, as they were yelling over the wind.

  “Calm down, Dumbo, no one is going to give us a hard time. Its too dangerous to be out there.”

  “Its Gordo, you douche.”

  “I just can’t believe they made us wait this long. They should have destroyed it already.”

  “Well, it’ll go with the storm,” Gordo said with air quotes around the word storm.

  “God, I just want to get out of here.”

  Gordo edged closer to the other one and Kate saw an opportunity. Their backs were to them, they could run.

  Phil nodded when she gestured to the stairs. They stood, her legs burning from being in a squat

  position for longer than thirty seconds, and moved to the top of the stairs. Where is the third

  guard?

  Phil went down first, Kate right on his heels. It wasn’t until they reached the bottom that they saw the third guard in the far corner, urinating.

  They made a run for it. The front door was left open, Kate and Phil slipping through it, running

  out into the parking lot no longer caring if they were noticed.

  The wind is bad, shoving her forward faster than she wanted, almost forcing her to fall on her

  face and lay flattened on the ground. It howls and moans, ripping at her clothes, yanking breathing from her mouth.

  Headlights from the road, rounding the curve. A truck pulling a flatbed trailer with a bulldozer strapped on top. It’s too late, Kate and Phil are out in the open and they’ve been spotted.

  Kate screams, tugs Phil’s arm, and they run for the trees.

  Chapter 28

  Hospital in North Carolina - April 21st

  There are more flashlights now, bouncing along the ground toward them, some on the trees where Kate is heading. She looks back over her shoulder, Phil is not far behind her trying to keep up. All of those morning runs paying off for her now as she hears the familiar crack of gunfire. A carbine, she thinks. Rifle. Possibly bolt action. Just like the one the sniper had used on the helicopter.

  She makes a noise that sounds like a wild animal and escapes behind the trees. Phil is winded, his nostrils flaring.

  “They are shooting at us, keep running!”

  She is up again, this time allowing Phil to lead the way. Headlights flash over the trees to their left, she realizes that a second vehicle behind the first they’d seen rounding the curve has now taken to the grass and someone is driving it to the edge of the forest.

  At least this provides Kate and Phil with enough light to see where they are going, and with the wind at their backs, they really fly.

  Another shot rings out, Kate sees something hit a tree to the right and flecks of bark splinter.

  The wind is a constant, but the gusts come and go, their strength increasing with each passing minute. Kate had seen windstorms before but nothing compared to this. The sheer velocity and inescapable force frightened her deeply. Trees bend and creak and groan all around them, twigs on the ground rise like spirits, pelting them from behind.

  It is cold and fierce, primal in a way that Kate had not known before. Now it isn’t just about the men chasing them, but also about the wind that nips at their heels, threatening to bring them down first.

  They run hard, zig zagging between tree trunks and brush, the branches scratching and scraping. Kate has trouble keeping her eyes open long enough to see where she is going, where Phil is, where the guys in the car are.

  She realizes that at some point the car stopped, and now the guys are on foot, pursuing them through the woods. She can hear their shouts but the words are indecipherable.

  The ground is slippery, the gusts bringing slick rains in strange currents. One moment the air is dry, the next there is a gush of rain, then nothing, then rain, the small droplets chilling her further.

  The wind is making a strange screeching sound, eery, deadly. Kate looks up and instantly regrets it. The tops of the trees once thirty feet above now lowered to twenty or less as an invisible force bends them over like tall blades of grass. The sky above it all is grey with tar-colored patches.

  Lightening flashes and the entire world seems to rumble within seconds, the vibration

  reverberating through the ground and up her bones. She quivers, wishing she could just drop to the ground and cover her head, wait for the storm to pass over.

  She slows, maneuvering through a strand of reeds, the mud thick and sucking at her shoes.

  Then they are up on the other side, facing an embankment that Phil struggles over, then reaches down for her. She feels his strong arms pulling her up, then they run on.

  Shoes bogged down with mud, she slides in the grass and brush, trying her best to stay upright even as the wind shoves her forcibly forward.

  She tries to look back, has to put her hand over her eyes and look out through the cracks in her fingers to see that the men have gained on them.

  Her hair is now plastered against her head, her clothes tight against her body, coat flapping. They need to find shelter, somewhere to ride this thing out, but they don’t dare stop because if they do they are as good as dead.

  More shouts from behind, the sound carried on the wind and then gone just as quickly. She doesn’t know what was said but the tone was one of excitement.

  Phil slows suddenly, Kate tries but the wind slams her into him. Her weight pushes him over and she goes down with him. They roll, trying to right themselves. His elbow has hit her hard in the cheek, nearly knocking her unconscious. She grunts, struggles for air, then Phil is up first
, pulling, half-dragging her along until she is able to find her balance and stands again.

  The canopy of branches dance dangerously above them, sticks and branches gouging at them as though filled with hatred.

  The bloated clouds continue to unleash their vengeance, the wind howls like a freight train.

  Someone shoves Kate from behind. She is knocked down, Phil losing his grip on her. She screams, the sound ripped from her throat. Then there is blinding pain as something enters her left thigh. She looks down in time to see she has landed on a stick that broke off as she is pushed forward by the wind.

  A man is fighting with Phil, has him in his grasp. His hand gripping Phil’s hair and shoving Phil’s head back before snaking his arm around Phil’s neck.

  Kate gasps from the pain, trying to stand to help Phil.

  But Phil is strong, yanking the man over his body. The man lands on his back, sprawled out on the ground. Phil is on him, his fists flying, the man’s face bloody as he tries to fend off the blows.

  Kate removes her coat, tries to hang onto it as she slides the arms over her leg, a makeshift tourniquet. But a violent unseen hand tears it from her grasp, her coat smacking into a tree, careening off a branch, it leaves her behind as though it were fleeing the scene.

  Crying, she crawls to a tree trunk, her shirt sliding up her back. She manages to stand, hobbles over to Phil. The man is unconscious now, Phil nursing his hands. He see’s Kate, sees the stick protruding from her leg. He puts his arm around her, she slides her arm around his neck, she is able to hobble on.

  Kate focuses on breathing and taking the next step, watching the ground for impediments. At first she doesn’t see the road, or the grouping of flashlights off to the left. Someone has her coat in their hand, holding it up in the light, the wind tugging at it.

  Then they see Kate and Phil. Shouts, flashlights bobbing, coming toward them.

  They didn’t hear it before it fell, an enormous oak tree upending, the rending squeal of the death of an ancient being filling her senses until it stuck earth. Then the thunder came, peeling across the land in strange echoes, altered by the wind.

  The fallen tree had severed the link between the predators and their quarry, blocking the road from any traffic.

  Kate pointed at a mailbox across the way, having seen it once before. The truck is just a half mile up the road.

  It takes everything she has to make it back to Phil’s truck, which is still sitting in the pullout where they’d left it. Phil opens the door for her, helping her to climb in, buckling her seat belt for her.

  He moves around the truck and climbs in with difficulty, the door not wanting to stay open.

  They take a moment to catch their breath, the truck rocking as though a riot were raging outside attempting to flip their vehicle.

  Kate pulls her shirt back down, realizing that it had been riding up the whole way back. She touches the stick in her thigh gingerly, sending immediate shockwaves through her leg. She needs to get to the hospital.

  Phil takes his shirt off, tears the bottom portion of it and throws the larger part into the extended truck cab's back seat. He ties the strip around her leg, the pain nearly unbearable. Her leg is on fire, the intensity growing with each second.

  They drink water from a bottle, sharing it between them, drinking deep. Phil starts the engine, gets the heater roaring, pulls the truck to the edge of the black top road. He signals out of habit, and pulls into the westbound lane.

  He is finally getting his wish, they are going home.

  Chapter 29

  Back Roads of North Carolina - April 21st

  The sky is a soot-stained dome someone dropped over the world. The truck is hit with a constant barrage of debris and rain mixed with sharp as tacks ice-chips. Kate could not be more appreciative of being inside the truck, out of the elements.

  She reaches into her back pocket where she’d stored her cell phone, careful not to harm her throbbing leg. Her phone is damp but the screen lights up.

  “Maybe you can call an ambulance to meet us somewhere,” Phil said, turning the windshield wipers on the highest setting.

  Kate didn’t want to make anyone else come out in this storm on her behalf. She would be alright so long as they took it easy and were cautious until they drove to the nearest hospital themselves.

  She tries to call her mom, her sister, Waylon, but the call would not go through. No signal. She sends a text to Abby just in case it might get out when a call could not, that said, “Phil and I are okay, got caught in the hurricane. We will be home soon. I love you.”

  She sent a similar one to her parents, then gave up.

  “Did you call?” Phil said.

  “I can’t get a call out. I think the cell towers are down.”

  Phil got his phone out, hit recent contacts and tried to call someone. “Nope. Me either.”

  Rhythmically, the windshield wipers flip side to side in fast-forward, doing little to dispense the storm’s sheet of rain.

  Phil said, “Were they shooting at us back there?”

  “Yeah, I saw something hit the tree in front of me and I freaked. It wasn’t five feet from my head.”

  “They could have killed us,” Phil said, “I don’t know why they didn’t. That guy stopped putting up a fight after I got on top of him.”

  Kate saw his neck already had the start of a bruise to it, “He sure tried to kill you.”

  “For a brief second I thought he was going to but he relaxed his grip. It was the only reason I could flip him on his back. I don’t know. He had a knife and a gun, he didn’t use either one.”

  “All I know is that they chased us down like we were foxes and we got lucky,” Kate said, the weariness in her voice even apparent to her.

  The darkness outside had only just begun, it would be hours until the sun would rise again. The east coast wasn’t likely to see it until the hurricane blew itself out. Kate felt helpless

  knowing there was no end in sight to this, at least not yet, and it could get worse.

  Phil turned on the radio, changing stations every few seconds when nothing but static came in. He flipped over to the a.m. stations and managed to find a news channel.

  The broadcaster droned on, Kate’s vision fuzzy at the edges. “Hurricane Denise has upgraded to a category four storm, the initial reports are wrong. Wind gusts of up to one-hundred-and-forty- three miles per hour have been reported. Please evacuate the area if you can. I repeat, evacuate the area if you can. If you are stuck somewhere, find the smallest room of the building you are in and stay put. Be aware of falling trees, roofs, downed power lines, and broken gas lines. Stay away from the windows and stay low to the ground.”

  Parked a little off the main road, a dark sedan faces the main road. As soon as they pass it, the car springs to life, quickly turning onto the road behind them.

  It speeds up, slowing only when it is so close that its’ headlights are hidden by the bed of the truck, the two bumpers riding close enough as if they’d been joined together in holy matrimony.

  Kate watches this through the back window; Phil through the mirrors. Neither one of them say a word, both afraid to give voice to the fact that this car had been lying in wait for them.

  It isn’t over. It isn’t over. Kate is full of disappointment. How did they know?

  Any sane person from Alkin would be in their homes or designated places of safety, no one would be out here on the roads unless forced to.

  As Kate watched, the car backed off slightly. Then it rammed them, the push from behind jarring them. The pain in her leg a white hot poker. The truck is squirrelly, the tires singing as Phil rights their trajectory, managing to keep them from flying into the ditch.

  The car rams again, this time throwing Kate into the passenger side window, cracking her head

  on it. She moans, a trickle of blood running down her cheek.

  “Are you okay?” Phil yelled.

  She raises her hand to touch the welt that formed. She b
races for the car to strike again but this time it backs off slightly, keeping pace with them.

  The road dips down a long hill, then back up. Phil swerves around branches in the road, a section of a picket fence, a stalled-out car, a cow lost in the storm. The car behind matches every move, seemingly better built to hug the curves than the truck is.

  Phil tries to shake the car by speeding up, then abruptly slowing down. He turns right on a side road, then left. But, the car takes it in stride, never tiring of the chase.

  Kate feels very tired, her vision fading, the only thing keeping her awake is the jarring motion of the truck as Phil manages to miss what looks like the corner of a roof from someone’s house.