Last One Alive

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Last One Alive Page 3

by Kristopher Rufty


  It was like existing inside a photograph, nothing moved; nothing seemed real, only fabricated and enhanced by the photographer’s lens.

  Everything kicked back to normal when he whipped his head around and looked directly at Megan. She jumped back as if she’d been shoved. He tilted his head to one side, then raised it up straight. Leaning over, his grimy fingers curled around the machete’s hilt, and he tugged it from the ground.

  Oh God…

  He took a step toward her.

  6

  Megan quickly zipped the flap shut. It would do nothing to keep him out, but it might slow him down, not by much, but possibly some.

  She hated herself for many things during this moment. One of them was allowing her friend to die while she’d powerlessly watched.

  What could I do, really?

  There was nothing she could have done, and that was another reason why she hated herself. She had no weapon, unless you counted her fists. But, with only her hands going against a monster that could twist a person’s head around like they were twisting the cap off a bottle, there was no way she could have been a threat.

  Still…she wasn’t just going to lie back and let him do his worse to her. She was going to fight to live. But how she intended on doing that, she had no clue.

  Megan scooted to the middle of the tent. She looked around, trying to find something she could use for a weapon. She remembered Brian had a hunter’s knife, but assumed it was in the other tent with what remained of him. Again, she hated herself for not bringing anything of her own.

  The man’s frame blocked the sun, a heavy darkness encroached the tent. Megan jerked her head towards the front. He was right outside. Before she could absorb the fact that he was within a couple of feet of her, the machete ripped through the front of the tent.

  Screaming, she crab-crawled to the back.

  The blade pierced down from the ceiling, missing her by a few inches. She hadn’t even noticed he’d torn it out from the front side. He could easily just rip the tent open with his hands, or the simpler way, unzip the front and crawl in, but he did neither. He was going after her this way, Megan figured, as a way to play with her some before the actual killing, like a cat having fun with a mouse before the fatal bite.

  Rolling onto her stomach, Megan kept as low as she could. The blade plunged even farther down, stopping right in front of her face. She looked at the blade, and could smell the tarnished metal as it twisted and was yanked back out.

  Megan sat up. She looked every which way.

  I’m trapped.

  Everything around her was chaotic. Looking up front, she saw his outline circling back around to the main flap. He reached through the slit made by his machete, using his hands to tear it wider.

  An idea sparked. Megan looked at the slit in the rear of the tent. If he was trying to tear his way through the front…then she would do the same in the back. On all fours, she crawled to the back wall. Her knees pummeled the ground. By the time she reached the other slit, her knees had almost stopped working.

  With both hands, she began tugging at the slash. It spread easily enough. She stole a glance over her shoulder and saw the hole she’d left behind was wide enough that he raised a muck-covered boot into the gap, and stepped down—ripping the tent all the way to the ground.

  Megan screamed. He was a lot closer to getting in than she was to getting out.

  No longer caring how big the hole was, she decided to make a go for it. Her head and shoulders sprung through, but her shapely breasts clogged her. Pushing harder, she forced them through, but her hips snagged her next. She squelched a whimper.

  Wriggling, she shimmied her hips in hopes of dislodging them. The tent was starting to give. She pawed at the ground, gripping handfuls of grass, and thrusting with all she had. Her hips nudged through a little more. She was nearly free. One more heave should do it.

  Then she felt a warm, calloused hand grip her ankle.

  Felt herself being pulled back in without any effort. She struggled against him, and to her surprise broke free. Before he could grab her again, she kicked at him. Nothing connected.

  Another grip on her ankle. “Let go of me!” she shrilled.

  He did not release her, but he also wasn’t trying to pull her back in. As she began to question why, a stinging sensation lit up her calf in a straight line.

  He’s cutting me!

  She squirmed, kicking her feet up and down as if throwing a tantrum. Finally she tore away from his grasp, pulled her feet out, and crashed on the ground. As much as it hurt, she didn’t allow it to deter her escape. She rolled away from the tent, and gave her calf a quick glance, dabbing up the trickling blood with a finger. The incision was too thin and small to have been made by his machete. She remembered the knife sheathed to his leg. One that size could cause a wound like this.

  Wincing, Megan rose to her feet. She did a quick look around, trying to determine the best way to go.

  The machete ripped through the top of the tent, followed by hands tearing the material. Screaming once again, she just ran, no particular direction, only caring that it was away from him.

  As the man ripped his way out of the tent, survival was all that concerned her now.

  7

  Amanda Carpenter used a pencil to poke around a small carelessly discarded bag of trash on the dirt road. Judging the contents inside, she doubted it had belonged to those she was looking for.

  She dropped the pencil in the bag with the rest of the litter. She wasn’t going to use the pencil again knowing it had been prodding around someone’s trash. Then she stood up, brushing off her hands on the seat of her shorts. Dusty fingerprints were now speckled across the khaki-colored fabric.

  She was glad she’d worn shorts today. It was barely ten, and already hot as hell. Because she was alone out here, she’d left her uniform shirt unbuttoned. What breeze there was felt wonderful against the square of chest not covered by the white tank-top underneath her Elk Grove Forest Ranger’s shirt. The tops of her breasts were slick with sweat, and the hollow of her throat poured even more perspiration down the valley between their slopes. If she was to come across any hikers she’d be sure to button up, but for now she was just going to leave it open to the air. She might even shed the tan-colored heat trapper altogether.

  Amanda had left her Jeep parked in a turnoff several feet back. With the bag of trash in tote, she made her way back to her ride. Her boots crunched gravel as she walked the short stride to the Jeep.

  Stopping by the taillight, she turned away, facing the way she’d come from. She gazed upon the dense forestry ahead of her, beside her, and behind her.

  Where are you, you bastards?

  The peaceful serenity of Mother Nature hung all around her. Countless species of birds cheeped from every direction. A mild breeze drifted over, carrying with it the sweet smell of pine and wood. It was lovely, but also very deceiving. Such a gorgeous shell that once it was cracked open unveiled horrors hidden inside: shiners, poachers, dangerously wild animals, and more, so much more.

  “Amanda?”

  Amanda yelped when a distorted voice slashed through the stillness.

  “Amanda? Come in.”

  Her heart rattled against her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at the Jeep, its windows down.

  Paul…

  Trying not to smile, she moseyed around the front and crawled into the driver seat. Her CB radio was mounted under the dash.

  Paul called for her again, this time playfully. “Amaaaandaaaa?”

  Laughing, she reached under the instrument panel and snatched the receiver off the unit. She thumbed down the switch.

  “Yesssss, Paul.”

  “There you are. I was getting worried.”

  “Bullshit, Paul.”

  His laughter was even cute coming from such a crummy speaker.

  “You don’t think I worry about you?” he asked.

  “I think you know you don’t have to worry.”

&n
bsp; “Oh…that’s right. I forget that you’re not some ordinary woman and all. A complete badass not to be messed with.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How could I have forgotten such a thing?”

  “I don’t know. I thought you would have learned by now.”

  “I’m a slow learner.”

  “I believe it.”

  As she smiled, Paul laughed softly.

  He said, “I hate that you’re not up in the tower with me today.”

  She leaned back, propping her foot in the gap between the opened door and windshield. “Aw. Sounds like someone misses me.”

  “Someone definitely does. And it’s me!”

  Amanda laughed. “Well…I suppose…I miss you, too.”

  “Holy shit! How hard was that?”

  “How hard was what?”

  “Admitting your weakness. I bet that tore you apart on the inside.”

  “My weakness? What are you talking about?”

  “Wow and you gave it up. Just like that.” He clucked his tongue. “That was easy.”

  “I didn’t admit anything!”

  “You admitted plenty.”

  “I can always retract the statement.”

  “No, no. I like the statement. It’s nice to know that no matter how tough, independent, and sexy you are that I am what weakens you…in a good way.”

  She could hear his smile through the hand piece. “I never said any of that!”

  “You said it without words.”

  “All right, fine. I’ll admit it. You rock my socks.”

  “YES!”

  Laughter tore out of her, bringing tears to her eyes. “Are you dancing in the tower?”

  “You better believe it.”

  Amanda pictured him moonwalking back and forth in front of his tiny desk, a triangle-shaped smile wide on his face. Now she saw him still dancing but without the ranger uniform. His muscular legs tanned and smooth, his arms a perfect, tawny match. He was a bicyclist, so his body was always hairless and shiny, except for his head which had probably been gelled into spikes.

  Then she remembered their boss’s office was right behind the radio table.

  “Is George in there with you?” she asked.

  “If he was I’d make him join me in dancing!”

  Amanda was relieved. “Thank God…”

  “I know. I’m not in any hurry to see him dance.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Delivering some deer feed to the petting zoos.”

  There were two of them, spread a great distance apart through the mountains. She figured George would probably be tied up for most of the day just driving. Now she really wished she was in the tower with Paul. If she was, she might have been able to make that naked dance a reality.

  She might have joined him.

  Might have?

  She’d have definitely joined him.

  Paul continued. “He won’t be back until late this afternoon.”

  “I was wondering why you were being so sweet to me.”

  “Hey—I would be sweet to you even if George was here. It’s you who wants to keep us a secret, remember?”

  Amanda felt an ache in her chest. He’d brought that up again. “For now.” Her throat tightened. “Let’s not get into that now.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Might turn into an argument.”

  There was no ‘might’ to it.

  “I’m guessing you rang me for a reason other than to flirt with me.”

  “I did?” he asked.

  He had her smiling, again. He was so good at that, better than anyone ever has been.

  “Oh, right,” he said. “You hadn’t updated the booth with your location. You know the rules, young lady.”

  “Your rules or the state’s?”

  “The state, of course. I for one understand that you’re a tough, independent woman.”

  She shook her head. “You’re talking some major shit to me while being several miles away in the tower, aren’t you?”

  “You can’t get me in here.”

  Amanda laughed, but tried to keep her tone more serious than what she actually felt. “I can be there real soon. Don’t egg it on.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll stop.”

  “I didn’t say you had to stop. I like it.”

  It was Paul’s turn to laugh. “Are you going to tell me where you are or not?”

  “You know, if they would just install damn GPS in our vehicles, they would always know.”

  “But, if they did that, it might put some of us out of a job.”

  That was always Paul’s argument to the GPS units. She sighed. “I’m about eight miles past Miller’s Quarry. Marker six, Zone four.” She paused for him to freak out.

  And he did. “All the way out there!? What the hell for?”

  “I found an abandoned campsite, then tracked it to some discarded trash. Nothing that shows it was our farmers, though.”

  “We both know they’re out there somewhere.” His voice sounded more annoyed than concerned. “But, you can’t spend all your time searching for them. You’re treading on some scarcely-traveled territory out there. I wouldn’t even be able to get through it without a damn good map and compass. Do you have either with you?”

  “Yep,” she lied. “Both.” Actually she thought there might a map in the glove compartment.

  “You still shouldn’t be that far out. George will shit if he finds out.”

  “I’ve been saying for months they’re probably camped out near the gorge somewhere. That’s about the only place with a thick enough blanket of trees to conceal them from the choppers. And we still haven’t checked.”

  “They’re probably spread out all over the damn mountains. There’s a lot of ground out there that none of us have even seen yet.”

  “I know. And that’s why I’m planning on seeing it.”

  Paul sighed. “This obsession of yours is not healthy.”

  “It’s not an obsession.”

  That was a lie. She was obsessed, and had been since Hillary Dent wandered into the ranger’s station on Pine Ridge last year. Nineteen years old, she’d been lost in the woods for eleven days. They were nearing the point of calling off the search party. The volunteers had gone home, and the only ones allowed to search at that point were Amanda and Paul and even they were beginning to think the search was pointless.

  But, what the searchers—Amanda included—hadn’t realized was the poor girl had not just gone camping with her family and somehow wandered away from them. She’d been abducted while swimming in a small basin while her parents and brother searched for a level place to set up the tents.

  Hillary Dent had described her abductors as hillbilly mountain people, two guys and a girl. She’d believed they were all siblings. They’d taken her to an area where they were camping while gathering crop from their marijuana plants. Nicole had stated there were ‘bags of the stuff’ everywhere. When she was asked if she was certain it was marijuana, she’d answered matter-of-factly: ‘Of course. Everyone knows what weed looks like.”

  “If it’s not an obsession,” Paul started, “then what is it?”

  “Are you trying to say I’m wasting my time?”

  “Hey—I never said that.”

  But Amanda had been speculating the same as Paul that perhaps the farmers had moved on and they just weren’t out there to find anymore. Whenever she searched for them, she turned up nothing for her efforts. It was like they didn’t even exist. A lot of folks wondered if Hillary was being completely honest with them.

  The rape tests had come back positive. There was no denying someone had violated her, and held her captive for a couple days before she’d escaped.

  Others hadn’t been so lucky…

  Amanda said, “And what about the missing person reports for the last three years? Tons of people—females—that went into the mountains and never came back out. I’ve been doing my research, buddy.”

  “You’re right. Ther
e are a lot of people that have vanished without a trace, but not all of those are in our jurisdictions.”

  “They’re close enough. Too close to be coincidental.”

  “All right. I’ll give you that. But, that’s some very dense wilderness, and they might be anywhere. They could even have little harvests all over the forest. If someone happened to stumble across one while they were picking crop…”

  “Yep. And if that someone happened to be female…”

  “Then our farmers would look at that as a bonus.”

  “Exactly. And it’s not that they’re just pot farmers, they’re monsters. This deep in the hills, they think regular law doesn’t apply to them. They need to be reminded that it does.”

  Paul groaned. “I love it when you talk sexy.”

  Amanda held back laughing, but not by much. “Stop. You’re going to put me in a good mood.”

  “And that’s wrong?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Listen. Since you’re halfway up the damn mountain anyway, would you drive by the General Campground?”

  “And check on the campers that I signed in yesterday?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Amanda checked her watch. It would take her half an hour to get there. “Okay. Just because I’m sweet on you, I will ride out of my way to do that. In this rough terrain, on tires that need to be changed…”

  “Now you’re sweet on me? Wow…you really do miss me, huh?”

  He sounded sincerely surprised. Maybe she should stop pretending as if his companionship wasn’t treasured. It was what she looked forward to the most on a daily basis.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll check back in a few.”

  “Bye, my love!”

  Smiling, she slapped the receiver back on the clip of the radio box, then leaned back in her seat. Staring through the windshield, she sighed. She really didn’t want to take the time to drive by the campground. It would put her in a different section of the mountain and she wanted to get to the gorge by early afternoon. With George being gone most of the day, she could make some serious distance without his knowledge.

  But, she’d told Paul she would do it, so that was what she would do.

 

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