Dark Mountains

by Amanda Meredith

  A large desert cobra, its’ cape open, darted its head as it looked at every person in the room. It was the same type of snake I’d seen right before the explosion in Iraq. Libby’s hand had been inches away from those snakes. A cold, uncensored anger began to rage through my blood.

  “That’s a god damn cobra!” Randy whispered, before pinning one of the slithering cottonmouths to the floor. “A god damn cobra!”

  “Just catch the damn thing before I fucking shoot it, Randy,” John Paul growled in disgust. Randy carefully hooked the snake and slid it into the bag. After checking the room again, Randy put all the burlap bags into a big Rubbermaid box, snapping the lid tightly.

  “We’re clear for you guys now.” Randy murmured, glancing at the box. “I’m going to have a couple animal control officers from the next county come out and help me check the house again. The crawlspace, pipes, dressers. Every nook and cranny.” I nodded, wrapping Libby in a blanket as we crawled out of the bed.

  “Do whatever it takes to make sure they’re all gone.” I told him.

  “I need to get a statement from you,” John Paul murmured.

  “Not here,” I answered, leading Libby out of the room. “We’re going to head to my parents. We can talk there.” John Paul nodded and followed us out.

  Chapter 22

  Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in my parent’s warm kitchen, drinking coffee. Dad had gotten us some clothes to wear while Momma wrapped Libby in at least four blankets. Randy was still at the house with the other animal control officers.

  “Hell of a way to end a honeymoon, eh son?” Dad muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Jackson hasn’t made a move in a while,” I answered. “I was expecting something sooner or later.”

  “Thank God neither of you were bit,” Momma whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. Libby was still shaking, despite the blankets and cup of hot tea she was sipping. An hour later, John Paul showed up with Randy and Mitch. They stomped the snow off their boots before coming in the kitchen.

  “Have some coffee, boys,” Momma ordered, handing them all steaming mugs. “You look half froze.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Andrews,” Randy managed between chattering teeth.

  “What’s the final count?” I asked when his shaking subsided.

  “Well,” He cleared his throat and set his coffee on the table. “Twenty different pit vipers including three different species of rattlesnakes and six water moccasins plus that damn cobra.” Momma gasped and Dad shook his head, muttering a curse. ‘I’m not sure what to do with all of them.”

  “What do you mean?” John Paul asked.

  “Well, snakes hibernate in the winter. If I let any loose right now, they’d freeze to death. Not to mention, there’s no way to tell if they’re wild or tame. If they’re domestic and I let them go, even in decent weather, they’d starve to death.”

  “I say let them die,” Mitch grumbled. John Paul ignored him and nodded for Randy to continue.

  “I’ll try and contact a few reptile refuges, see if they’re interested. That Cobra, man. It’s nowhere near native. I’m not even sure what species…”

  “It’s a desert cobra,” I answered. “I saw one up close in Iraq.”

  “Whoever put those snakes in your house had to have had a pretty elaborate set-up. I’ll get started on calling.” John Paul thanked him and Mitch for their help and walked them out. When he came back in he looked annoyed and angry.

  “You thinking it was Jackson?” He asked me after he accepted another cup of coffee from Momma.

  “It was Pa,” Libby whispered before I could answer. “He used to keep snakes in a shed out back.” I glanced at her, surprise filling my features. “I saw him with them once when I was about six but Momma caught me peeking and made me promise never to go out there again. I don’t know why I didn’t remember until now.” I walked up behind Libby and squeezed her shoulder.

  “It had to have been Jackson,” I murmured. “Who the hell else would put those damn things in our house?”

  “We found some footprints outside your deck. Men’s hiking boots, size eleven. We tracked them into the woods but they disappeared after about a quarter mile. Canine unit was trying to track farther but the dog was having trouble keeping the scent.” No wonder John Paul looked angry.

  Emma Lou and Momma had talked Libby into sitting in the living room near the fireplace and once she was out of earshot I told John Paul about the answering machine. I handed him the tape as my dad’s face paled.

  “Sick bastard,” Dad whispered.

  “Libby doesn’t know about this,” I explained. “I don’t want her any more upset than she already is. She thinks this is her fault.”

  “That’s bullshit,” John Paul growled.

  “I know. It’s the kind of thinking Jackson tried to beat into her. He made her think she was worthless and stupid. Every time he beat her he told her it was her fault.” Dad shook his head in disgust as John Paul’s face paled. “She’s been seeing a therapist in Middlesboro for a while now and she’s getting better. I don’t want this tape to set her back.” John Paul nodded slowly.

  “I don’t understand why Jackson would come back here when he knows every cop in the area is looking for him,” Dad questioned.

  “He’s crazy,” John Paul answered before I could say the same thing.

  “He won’t stop until we’re both dead,” I whispered.

  “Just like Carol Ann.” John Paul added, his voice barely audible. “Cole, I think you need to take Libby and get the hell out of here. Go into protective custody on the other side of the country.”

  “John Paul, it doesn’t matter where we go. He’ll find us and he’ll keep trying to kill us. We’re safer here, on familiar ground.”

  “I agree with the John Paul,” Dad told me, his face looking haggard. “You two should go. Hell, leave the country even.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” I repeated. “This is home.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” John Paul whispered, knowing that my mind was set. “We’ll have an officer outside the house at all times. I want you to keep your guns loaded. Brush Libby up on her shooting skills. We’ll set up an alarm system, motion sensor lights, the works.” I shook my head as John Paul spoke.

  “Take it easy, John Paul,” I told him, glancing into the living room. “We’ll do what needs to be done but I won’t have anyone going out of their way for this.” I stopped John Paul before he could interrupt. “I know this is a dangerous situation but I want to try and keep some semblance of normal for Libby. For her sake and the babies. She’s under enough stress as it is.” John Paul sighed but nodded.

  “You have to let us help, son,” My dad murmured, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Family takes care of their own and Libby is one of us.”

  “She knows that, Dad,” I answered, sighing deeply. “We’ll catch this bastard before he hurts anyone else.

  Libby was seven months pregnant when Emma Lou and Hank announced they were getting married. I had seen it coming, after seeing the way they had looked at each other for months now. Emma Lou had finally found the right guy, not for the lack of trying, that was for sure. I got an elbow in the ribs from Libby for saying it out loud too. Momma nearly had a heart attack when Emma Lou told her she only had a month to plan the wedding.

  “First Cole, now you,” She cried when Emma Lou had told her they wanted to be married in April. “I’ll never have time to plan a wedding!”

  “Hank’s parents are going to help Momma and Libby said she’d help too.” Emma Lou tried to comfort her.

  “Libby could be having her babies in another month or so, Emma Lou Andrews, she does not need to be helping with all of that! She’s supposed to be taking it easy.” I rolled my eyes. Libby didn’t know the definition of taking it easy. “I don’t even know where to start looking for receptions!” Momma complained.

  “You can have it here,” I offered. “Libby will want to help and if we
do the reception here I’ll have a better chance of getting her to rest more.”

  “Are you sure, Cole?” Momma asked, but clearly pleased by my offer.

  “Of course,” I assured her. “It’ll be warm enough to do most of it outdoors. Plus, it’s my baby sister.” Emma Lou rushed over to hug me, tears running down her face. “Took you long enough, sis.” I smiled hugging her back. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Cole,” She whispered through tears.

  “I didn’t raise my kids to rush into things but I know I raised them to go with their heart,” Momma murmured, coming over to hug us both. “I’m so proud of the two of you.”

  Chapter 23

  The spring rains had brought the bluebells out early this year. Emma Lou and Hank exchanged their vows on the shores of the lake. Momma had worried all week that it would rain but that morning the skies had cleared and the sun brought the temps to the high sixties.

  Libby was eight months pregnant now and her large belly stretched under the pale yellow of her dress. She looked so beautiful standing in the sunlight with the bluebells braided into her hair that I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, though I was supposed to be watching my sister and Hank exchange their vows. Hank had asked me to be his best man and reversing the role she had played in our own wedding the Christmas before; Emma Lou had asked Libby to be her maid of honor.

  I was forced to tear my eyes from Libby when the preacher asked for the rings. Reluctantly I looked away as I pulled the rings from my pocket and handed them to him. Emma Lou looked radiant in Momma’s wedding gown. The women in my family had passed down the dress for nearly 200 years. I had thought Emma Lou would want some new, fancy dress but she told me when she’d tried it on it had fit perfectly and she’d known it was meant to be.

  Hank couldn’t suppress his nerves as he repeated his vows, stumbling over some of the words. His hands shook a little as he slipped the wedding band on Emma Lou’s finger. His nerves seemed to disappear when the preacher announced them man and wife and he dipped Emma Lou in a passionate kiss.

  Soon after, the music and dancing started on the large deck off the back of the house. Champagne flowed steadily as friends and family filled our house once again. Libby had worried about every minor detail, frustrated that I wouldn’t let her oversee all of them.

  “Libby, we hired a caterer so you and Momma wouldn’t do anything,” I explained. “Just enjoy yourself, honey.”

  After making her rest for a half hour I finally gave in and let her walk around, snapping pictures of the bride and groom. She danced with Dad and Hank, though her belly seemed to be in the way most of the time. I laughed at the image of them trying to avoid her stomach before I caught up with her and danced with her myself. I loved the feel of her belly pressed into mine as we twirled on the dance floor. I could feel the babies kicking through the fabric of her dress.

  When the party winded down, we waved goodbye to Emma Lou and Hank as they drove off before joining my parents on the back deck. The caterers were cleaning up the mess so we sat back and watched the stars winking over the water of the lake. It wasn’t long before Momma was yawning and Dad talked her into calling it a night. Libby made an effort to get out of her chair to walk them out but Dad gently pushed her back down.

  “You stay right there, missy,” he ordered with mock seriousness. “Put your feet up and relax.” He smiled, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Cole will walk us out.”

  “That’s right,” Momma added, bending down to kiss her as well. “You’ve been on your feet too much today.” They walked into the house and I bent down to kiss Libby full on the lips. She tasted like the orange juice she’d been sipping.

  “You look so beautiful,” I murmured, kissing her again. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She smiled and leaned back into the chair.

  I jogged into the house to catch up. The catering service was packing up their vans so after signing a few papers, I joined my parents at their car. I hugged them both and watched their car disappear down the driveway. I took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden quiet before walking back into the house. I quickly surveyed the mess left over before grabbing a blanket and heading back out to the deck.

  “It’s getting pretty chilly, Libby,” my voice trailed off when I walked out the door and Libby wasn’t there.

  Her glass lay shattered at the edge of the porch. I scanned the deck and yard quickly. There were two sets of footprints leading to the edge of the woods. A few crushed bluebells lay at the edge of the tree line. I ran back into the house, forcing my training to over-ride my terror. I grabbed my cell off the counter, hitting the speed dial as I continued to run. As it was ringing, I grabbed my rifle off the mantle and began loading it as I moved. John Paul answered on the fourth ring.

  “He’s got Libby,” I told him as my mind focused on the details. “In the woods. You’ll need the four wheelers.” I ran up the stairs to the bedroom and grabbed my Beretta and an extra magazine out of the nightstand. I tucked it in the back of my waistband as I sprinted back down the stairs.

  “How’d he get her?” John Paul’s voice was tiny in my ear. I could hear my blood pounding, drowning out everything else.

  “Grabbed her off the porch when I walked my parents out,” I answered. My thoughts turned to Libby. “I’m going after them.”

  “Cole, wait for backup.” John Paul argued. I could hear him getting in his car, siren blaring.

  “There’s no time,” I cut him off. “Call the ambulance too. Libby might need it.” John Paul was shouting in the phone but I threw it to the couch as I ran past. I needed to focus. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I flew off the stairs of the porch, wincing as my leg protested.

  Thoughts of Libby and what could be happening to her crowded into my mind. It had been warm today but once the sun had set, the temperatures had quickly dropped to near freezing. Libby was only wearing the thin, silk dress from the wedding and was barefoot. Her shoes were lying beside the chair she’d been sitting in. I forced the thoughts out of my mind as I entered the woods. I needed to focus.

  Right now, I wasn’t her husband, her lover, her best friend. I wasn’t the father of the babies she carried. I was the soldier now, trained to kill, trained to hunt. I concentrated on my target as I willed my heart to slow. I was hunting Jackson Michaels and failure was not an option.

  Chapter 24

  I was following covert tracking procedures. Run three steps, stop, listen, observe. Step lightly. Stay silent. Blend into surroundings. Mentally catalog the trail. Crushed bluebells inside the tree line. Bent and broken branches fifty feet in. Soggy footprints, one booted, one bare in the mud, only a few minutes old. I was getting closer.

  He was dragging her. I could tell by the trail I was following. There would be two sets of footprints, running unevenly then an indention for a knee or hand. One set of footprints would get deeper with drag marks obscuring the prints. Then two footprints again. Jackson would drag her when she fell, not allowing her to get up. My stomach churned, the husband breaking through my focus. The pace he was forcing her into would be difficult for a normal person let alone a woman pregnant with twins.

  They weren’t far ahead of me now. Libby wouldn’t be able to move much faster and Jackson would be moving slower and tiring. The undergrowth was thick in this part of the woods, making it even harder to move. I was trying to move fast without making any noise. When I caught up with them, I didn’t want Jackson to know it. I took my rifle off my back, carrying it at ready.

  I heard branches snapping ahead of me with a few muffled moans coming from the other side of the hill. They were close. I moved slower now, careful to stay silent. I could hear Libby now, trying to yell. She must be gagged. I heard the sick sound of skin being slapped and her weak whimper. I crept over the hill, raising my rifle to look down the scope.

  Libby was kneeling, her breath coming out in shallow gasps of white steam. Her hands had been tied but the knot had come loose. One hand braced on the ground while the
other, the rope still on her wrist, clenched over her belly. A piece of her dress had been tied around her face, gagging her.

  There was a trail of blood from a gash over her eyebrow. Her bare arms were already bruising; marks, the shape of fingers, marred her skin from her wrist to her shoulder. The husband in me was warring with the soldier as I tried to maintain control. I forced myself to look away from her. The marine won out as I used the scope to scan the area.

  He was crouched behind a tree on the other side of Libby. His sallow face looked yellow in the darkness. He must’ve sensed that I was there because his lip suddenly curled up, showing his stained teeth. He held a jagged knife in his hand. I locked my sights between his eyes. He saw me before I could pull the trigger.

  Before my mind could register him moving, he had hurled the knife at me. It hit me in my left shoulder, knocking me back. But not before I managed to fire. As I went down, I could see the bullet rip through the outside of his thigh.

  I hit the ground and heard Libby screaming as she struggled to get to me. She yanked the gag out of her mouth as she stumbled to where I’d fallen. Grimacing in pain, I reached over and pulled the knife from my shoulder. I screamed as blood gushed from the wound. Libby slapped her hands over it as I tried to sit up. Jackson was not lying where I’d seen him go down. On the verge of blacking out, I fumbled for my Beretta.

  “Looking for this?” Jackson’s voice was dripping with hate. He held up my gun, just as my hand felt it wasn’t against my hip. He limped towards us, aiming the gun at my head.

  “Stupid bitch,” he growled, kicking Libby in the side. She rolled away from me and lay still. I lunged for Jackson but he slammed his boot into my bloodied shoulder, pinning me to the ground. I screamed as he dug his heel into the wound, stars exploding in my vision.