A quick stop to make sure they put out their fires and cleaned up their trash.
Should only take ten minutes once she got there.
No problem.
Amanda pulled her door shut, buckled her seatbelt, then fired the engine. She slowly pulled away from the verge of the dirt pathway, steering the Jeep higher into the mountain and deeper into the woodland.
8
Megan continued her never-ending dash. Felt like she’d been running for hours, but she guessed that realistically it had been no more than ten minutes. She was tired and growing more sluggish with each step as she ducked under overhanging tree limbs, leaped over exposed roots and depressions in the soil.
She went around a large oak tree with billowy branches that offered heavy shade and shelter for her to hide under and take a short break. Huffing, she leaned against the uncomfortable, jagged tree bark. Her chest ached all the way through to her back. She felt a horrible pinch in her side.
She needed to check her wound. Raising her leg, she studied her calf. The bleeding had stopped, but now her leg looked as if she was wearing a red knee-high.
Megan smirked at the thought, then lowered her foot back to the ground.
Veneered in sweat, her skin shimmered under the summer sun. She ran a hand through her damp, tangled hair. Fingers became entwined in the knots, and she needed to tug her hand out to free them. Strands of hair dangled from her fingertips. As she pulled them off, she took a moment to study her surroundings.
Where the hell am I?
That same finger snuck into her mouth and she quickly began to gnaw at it. Earlier, she’d caused it to bleed, but right now she couldn’t care less. She chewed on it as if it was a straw.
Megan looked around. Nothing but unending walls of trees was all she could see.
A subtle movement caught her eye. She looked around the tree, staring into the direction she’d come from.
Him.
His back was turned to her. And this gave her a small window of opportunity to flee. And she did. Quietly. Tiptoeing farther away, she hid behind another tree. She planted her back firmly against the rough bark, exhaled. Her vision was splotchy. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath this entire time.
Gnawing at her lip, she dared another look.
Now, the psychopath was investigating the tree she was at previously with his mask pressed against it, sniffing like a dog that has caught a scent.
She needed to move, but she couldn’t with the risk of being spotted so high. A few horrendous moments passed before he finally looked away. She repeated the same trek as before, finding another tree even farther away to duck behind. Megan slowly exhaled. This time she counted to sixty in her head before chancing another look.
Angling her body sideways, she leaned over, aiming her eyes where she’d just been hiding.
But her view was blocked by a powerfully built torso.
Before she could let go of a scream, his hand latched hold of her throat. She was jerked to him. His stench was inhuman. She’d never smelled anything like it before—like sewage eaten and regurgitated on top of rotten meat.
Megan fought back. His grip tightened. Now she couldn’t breathe at all. She began pounding on his chest with both fists. She struck him repeatedly with all she had. To her surprise his grip loosened. Air tried to push its way back into her lungs. It rushed in but still wasn’t fast enough for Megan. She hacked, coughed. The interior of her mouth was caked in dry spit.
His hand made for another grab. As the L-shape of his opened hand came at her, she caught it with her teeth. They sank into the spongy patch of flesh between the thumb and forefinger. He groaned, showing pain. This fueled her more. If she could hurt him, she could beat him. She clamped harder, not stopping until both rows of teeth touched. Then she vigorously shook her head from side to side. She could feel the flesh rip away from his hand. Now, he was not screaming, but howling from behind his facemask.
Megan turned her head and spat. A moist wad of bloody tissue thwacked the dirt with a wet slap.
The psychopath staggered back, holding his hand to his chest. Megan looked around for a weapon of some kind, quickly spotting something nearby: a broken limb, the girth of a parking pole. She grabbed it, using both hands to keep it steady as she hoisted the log-like branch over her shoulder. She swung like someone stepping up to the mound.
It was too late for him to attempt stopping her.
The club clobbered him in the back. He tensed up, dropping to his knees. She stepped around to the front of him, raised the club high above her head, and brought it down.
It cracked in half over the top of his skull.
His arms drooped limply by his side. Then he tumbled stagnantly forward, landing hard on his chest. The machete bounced away from him.
Megan dropped the broken portion of the limb. She looked at the machete lying on the ground just feet from her. A much better weapon. She ran to it, snagging the massive blade by its handle. She couldn’t lift it up. It felt like trying to lift a small car.
Since the machete was much too heavy for her to carry she pulled the hilt, dragging it across the ground in short, swift steps. Her new plan was that because she couldn’t carry it, she would simply pick it up, then drop it—blade first—on the maniac’s head.
The machete slipped through her sweaty fingers. It slapped the earth just a few inches shy of him. She was about to try again when his hand twisted around her ankle, squeezing so hard it popped. She painfully shrieked on her way down. When her rump slammed the ground, her teeth clacked together.
Her ankle hurt, so did her jaw and teeth. “Let go!”
He tugged.
Her buttocks skidded across the ground. Bumpy objects poked her. “Let go of me, dammit!”
She used her other foot to kick. It was a wild defense, blindly executed, and she hadn’t expected to actually connect with anything. But, to her surprise her foot landed perfectly on the nose of his mask. She heard a crack. Felt something crumble under her shoe. He stopped what he was doing, the shock slowly sinking in. His eyes narrowed into a scowl.
“Oh…shit…”
She should be gratified. Not only had she hurt him once, but twice. However, her pride was heavily cowed thanks to the rising fear from knowing she’d pissed him off.
He yanked her with such velocity that she dropped onto her back and zipped across the ground. Her shirt hiked up on her back. The grass scored her skin, leaving it burning and itchy.
Megan spastically kicked with her free leg, catching him on the jaw. He tottered a bit, but didn’t fall or let go. She attempted three more times, and on the third conjunction (her foot his face) he released her. She scooted back, getting out of grabbing range, and stood up. She took only a moment to regain her bearings before turning and launching herself even deeper into the woods.
Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she saw the maniac was on his knees. He looked to be observing his injured hand, the minute-sized wound that matched Megan’s mouth. She didn’t know if she would get out of these woods alive.
9
There was a mangled tent straight ahead. Another tent sat practically untouched to the left. Amanda stood at the launch of the campsite, a glowering look of shock wrinkling her face.
Her eyes returned to the dead girl. She lay awkwardly on her stomach, but her face pointed at the sky.
Amanda bent at the waist, heaving nothing but air. This was her third attempt at vomiting. She’d skipped breakfast, so nothing was coming out. Her sides felt tight and achy, her stomach had cramped into knots, and the flat between her shoulder blades was sore.
Amanda looked at the girl once more. She couldn’t stop looking. The girl’s face was frozen in pure terror, mouth agape, her lifeless eyes like two wraithlike orbs that seemed to stare through Amanda.
“Oh…my…God…”
She tried to absorb what she was seeing but it seemed impossible. Daring herself to move closer, she skulked to the broken body. Amanda
drew her .45. Its familiar weight helped her feel better, to focus.
And, it was ready to fire.
She scanned her surroundings. All seemed quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Whoever—or whatever—had done this had clearly moved on. She could sense it. Other than Amanda, no one alive was nearby.
She slowly kneeled by the girl. Even though it was pointless, she checked for a pulse. When her fingers grazed the spiraled, dough-like flesh of the dead girl’s neck, she snatched her hand back as if it had been burned. The tips of her fingers felt as if she’d dipped them in ice water.
“Oh shit…oh shit…”
Panic hoped to invade her mind, conquering what small amount of practicality she’d managed to keep hold of after discovering such a brutal scene. She practiced slow breaths, hoping to calm her erratic nerves.
Struggling to stand, Amanda brushed her hand across her pants as if she could wipe away the feel of the girl’s cold skin. She stepped around the body, making her way to the tent to her left.
Looming in on the front, she could see inside through the gaped flap. She spotted blood-soaked walls inside. She got down on one knee in front of the tent, using the barrel of her .45 to push the sagging flap aside, and peered inside.
There was a lot of blood, strewn about viscera, and a mutilated torso.
****
“Two bodies was all you found?” asked Paul.
Amanda sat in the SUV, the driver’s side door propped open, and leaning stiffly forward. “Isn’t two enough?”
“You know what I mean. There were three that went out there. No third person?”
“The other tent, which I believe belonged to the other girl, was demolished. But, I didn’t find any trace of her. I did a brief search of the grounds, but turned up squat.”
“Have you been to the turnoff to see if their car is there?”
“Not yet.”
“She’s out there somewhere.”
“Exactly.”
“I wonder if maybe she hightailed it.”
“Why would she do that? She’s probably been abducted.”
“You don’t think she might have been the one who killed the others?”
The image of the girl with the cranked neck sizzled in her mind. “Not a chance.”
“You’re sure?”
“Paul…”
“All right, you’re sure. I’ll radio in for a chopper; see if I can get some rangers in from Shenowa to back us up.”
Amanda felt a little better, but not much. “Sounds like a plan.”
Paul’s distorted voice came back, “In the meantime, hang tight, I’ll be ringing you in a few minutes to let you know what’s going on.”
“I’ll be here.”
“There. You’ll be there. Right? You’re not going to take off and go looking around, right?”
“Paul—”
“—Promise me you’ll stay there, okay?”
Amanda harrumphed. “Okay.”
“Give me a few.” Then he was gone.
Amanda hung up the receiver, shut her door, and fired up the engine. Then she drove off, ignoring Paul’s request as she continued in the direction she’d been going.
10
Megan was no longer running, and not quite walking. She was staggering, hand clutched to her side as sharp pains pierced her abdomen. She was exhausted. Panting.
She knew he would pop back up, but she prayed it wasn’t anytime soon. If he were to come now, she wouldn’t have the strength to retaliate. She would surely die. Knowing this should have given her a sudden surge of energy, that jolt of power she needed. It gave her nothing. If she couldn’t find the determination to fight for her survival, then she was already gone.
Right?
“Nope,” she muttered, but wasn’t convinced by her own voice.
Her skin was hot and sticky, and although she felt as if she was leaking sweat from every pore of her body, she was hardly sweating at all. That meant she was well-past dehydration. Surprisingly she wasn’t hungry. Although she hadn’t eaten in several hours, food was the farthest from her mind.
Rest. She needed rest. And some water if she could swing it.
Looking around she didn’t see any streams to drink from.
Seriously? This is the goddamn mountains and there isn’t any water? What the fuck!?!
If she walked a little bit farther, she’d probably come across something, but she was just too tired to attempt it right now. The resting idea sounded like the better one at the moment. But, where could she? Just lying down right where she was walking would be a bad idea.
He’d spot me for sure.
For all she knew, he’d already spotted her and had been silently trailing her all this time. She glanced behind her, expecting to find him standing right there.
And he was.
Her heart jumped in her chest. She blinked and he was gone. Standing motionless, she stared fixedly into the woods. She debated whether he had really been there or not.
Her eyes were fucking with her. She really needed some rest.
Up ahead was a secluded spot, a heavy cluster of trees and wilting limbs for her to hide under. Some of the branches were nearly touching the ground. A perfect place.
Megan hurried to the grove, hunkered down, and crawled under the limbs. Pine needles sighed across her arms. She went deeper in. Tall, willowy trees ringed around her. She found a spot, leaned against a tree, and hugged her knees to her chest. It had been a long time since she’d felt so sad and afraid that hugging her knees could make her feel at all safe.
She buried her face into the groove between her knees. The tears came right away, slurping against her eyes and skin. The morning played back in her head through a series of rapid images. When she’d gone to sleep last night, everything had been normal. Her life, her boring life had been ticking along as it always had. Dully. Enter Allison and Brian with a proposal: a weekend trip to the mountains—just like old times.
Forget about what ails ya! Allison had said, in a horrible attempt at an Irish accent.
Megan had been more than eager to go. She’d anticipated the trip with the same kind of excitement she got as a child counting down the days to Christmas. In a way, this trip was like Christmas. She was getting together with friends, doing something fun. And, last night had been so much fun. They’d talked about old adventures, and vowed that these excursions would become a ritual once again.
That idea’s done.
As dead as her friends.
She hated she’d allowed herself to think such a thing.
Her mind drifted. Sleep unexpectedly came, putting all thoughts on hold.
11
Amanda kept the SUV creeping along, the hand on the odometer barely tapping the five. She rotated her gaze from the windshield, to the driver’s side window, out the passenger side, and repeating the never-ending cycle. All she wanted to find was a spark of human life, but all she’d seen thus far was expansive land with such thick huddles of trees her eyes couldn’t infiltrate their luscious green fortresses.
Paul’s voice exploded from the radio. She loosed a scream.
“Dammit Paul!” Shaking it off, she snatched the radio. “Yeah?”
Paul’s voice sounded even cracklier than earlier, and even then, he’d been hard to understand. Because she was getting further and further away from the tower, her signal was waning.
“I’ve got some good news…and some bad news.”
“Let me hear the bad news,” she said.
“The chopper is occupied. It’s being used back at the state park to air lift someone to the hospital. Apparently some old lady had a heat stroke trying to hike to Cemetery Ridge.”
Amanda wasn’t surprised. Too many attempted that complex hike, and usually suffered for it. “Wonderful. Is she okay?”
“The lady?”
“No, the chopper! Of course the lady.”
“Ouch. Yes, they think she’s going to be okay.”
“Thank God for that. So what’s the good
news?”
“That was the good news.”
“That she’s going to be okay?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck me sideways with a tire swing.”
“I did manage to get us four more rangers from the state park. But, it’ll take two hours for them to reach Cunningham Point, which is where you need to meet them. I’ve also got calls into Brad and Sheena even though they’re off duty, hoping to get them to come in.”
“Did you say Cunningham Point?”
“Yeah…”
“Are they high? It’d take me nearly two hours just to get to that area. They could access the mountain paths from Lotter’s Bend and come up the back way and meet me near Carpenter’s Caverns.”
“What the hell are you doing heading towards the Caverns? They were condemned, remember? Too many tunnel collapses.”
“I’m not heading to them but I can be, and besides, I’m not planning to trudge through them. They could meet me at the old turnoff. It would cut an hour off their drive time and mine.”
Paul sighed heavily into his end of the microphone. The speaker crackled like wadding tin foil. “Not everyone has your balls, Amanda. That’s some intense terrain and not many people can handle it, nor do they want to try.”
“For petesake…”
“I’m just relaying the message.”
“Well, relay this back to them. Tell them if they want to come in their way then fine. But also inform them not to wait on me because I’m not going to meet them there. I’m already deep in, and don’t know how much more good I can do on wheels. I might have to switch over to foot before too long and search somewhere other than the road.”
“You didn’t wait at the camp like I asked, did you?”
“What do you think?”
The speaker fizzed again from another heaved sigh.
Amanda ignored his reaction. “We’re missing one of the girls. If the farmers have taken her, then I’m probably already too late as it is…”
Last One Alive Page 4