Last One Alive

by Kristopher Rufty

  “None folks, I guess…”

  “You got’damn right, none folks, that’s who.”

  Rusty smiled. “Lessin’ he’s the son of a witch.”

  Billy glanced up at the sky as if to ask why him. Then he looked at Rusty. “You’s kiddin’ me, right?”

  Rusty shrugged.

  “Boy, I oughtta wear out three sets of knee caps kickin’ your ass! They’s ain’t no damn witch boy runnin’ around these woods. I done tolt ya.”

  “Ain’t what I heardt. I heardt they’s one.”

  “Who told ya that shit?”

  Rusty shrugged. He couldn’t recall who had, or honestly, if anyone had.

  “You ‘bout dumber than shit on a cone. We’s been comin’ out to these’a here mountains since we was kids, and we ain’t never saw nothin’.”

  “Yeah we have!”

  Billy scowled.

  “Remember?”

  “I don’t ‘member shit!”

  Rusty knew he was lying. “We saw somethin’ one time.”

  “Probably your pecker shot some weenie snot in yer eye and you thought it was a ghost!” He shook his head as if Rusty was an imbecile. “I’m done havin’ this talk witcha, boy.” He looked away from Rusty, still crouched over the bag.

  Sighing, Rusty looked where the noise had registered from.

  Neither of them noticed someone approaching, the craggy boots, and tattered pants hanging in streams above the laces.

  “And besides,” added Billy, “if’n he was here, I’d just have to pop him again.”

  Rusty turned just in time to witness Billy’s head being lopped off in one quick swipe. A glimmer from a giant blade flashed harsh light into his eyes. The head landed on the ground a few away with a moist thunk.

  The stump of neck spurted blood like a red fountain.

  Rusty Judd opened his mouth, silently screaming as no sounds came out. He cupped his hands over his mouth like a frightened little child. He felt like a child right now. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. He was looking at a dead person, the guy they’d left behind. The man was moving about just fine despite Billy’s declarations. His mask was blotted red in a spread pattern from the bullet wound. He slid the machete back into its sheath.

  He hardly gave Rusty two glances as he reached down and lifted Esther off the ground. Billy’s headless body dropped forward, landing on the sack. Blood jettisoned from two holes in the neck.

  Rusty’s legs betrayed him and gave out. He dropped down on his knees. His eyes fixed on the walking dead person.

  The man gripped the pulley-handle, then jerked it back. The saw reeled to life, puttering puffs of yellowish smoke, contaminating the air with the gag-inducing odor of gas and oil. He turned around to face Rusty. He was a giant man, with shoulders like a wall. He pulled back on the throttle a few times, really making Esther roar. Billy had never gotten that kind of response from her. This guy really knew how to handle a weapon.

  He advanced towards Rusty, closing the short distance between them. He raised the saw high in the air. The sun was behind him, outlining him in golden hues that gleamed off the colossal piece of equipment like a swirling bar against the brilliant blue of the sky.

  Rusty shrieked now. The spinning chain came down on the top of his bald head. His body quaked as the grinding teeth chopped through his skull. It didn’t stop until it had gone all the way through him, splitting his body into two equally-halved Rustys.

  22

  Missy gripped Megan’s head with both hands, mashing her lips against her groin. She ground her hips ardently against Megan’s face, smearing her juices over her nose, into her eyebrows, and dousing her chin.

  The sudden rumble of a tiny engine made them both jump.

  Missy shoved Megan away as she sat up with a start. “What was that?”

  Megan wiped her mouth. The back of her hand was smeared in clear streaks. She looked at Missy whose attention was diverted towards the noise.

  “Sounds like they got Esther goin’.” She turned back, worried. “We gots to hurry. They’s comin’. And I haven’t gotten to yet.”

  Grimacing at the wet stripes on her hand, she glanced over to her side. Her eyebrows arched.

  It was just sitting there as if Missy had forgotten all about it. She looked at the hillbilly bombshell, saw her attention was still diverted, and reached for the object. There was a trembling wave of satisfaction when her fingers curled around the handle.

  “Guess we better hurry up,” said Missy. “They’s gonna be heres any minute.” Missy crawled back to Megan who had an arm hidden behind her back. “I’s so close, too. Shouldn’t take but a minute…”

  Missy leaned over, putting a hand on each of Megan’s shoulders. She kissed Megan on the side of her neck, then put her lips right at her ear. “It’ll all be over soon. I promise.”

  “It already is…”

  “Wha…?”

  Missy’s voice was cut off by a wet punching sound. Blood sprayed out of her mouth. She felt it spatter her ear and cheek. She made gargling sounds as Megan twisted the blade of Missy’s knife in her stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” Megan said.

  Missy jerked against her. Megan continued holding her, preventing her from pulling away. Missy’s arms squeezed tighter as Megan shoved the knife even deeper.

  Missy moaned. Megan could feel the blood exuding from her mouth on her neck. The blood coming from her stomach had doused her hand like a warm liquid glove. It was warm as soup and thick like cough syrup.

  “What…d’you…do to me?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  Missy’s burden shifted when her legs gave out. Megan scurried back and let her fall. She landed beside Megan’s legs, rolled over, and glared up at her with enlarged eyes full of shock. Trails of blood sketched down her face, and ran into her hair. The lemony locks were becoming sticky clumps.

  The knife’s handle jutted up from her stomach like a lever. Missy twitched a few more times before finally going still. She stopped breathing. The surprised reaction of betrayal had frozen on her face. Her eyes continued to glower, humiliated and heartbroken. A tear trickled down from each one.

  Megan’s words flew out of her in a single gust:

  “I’msorryifyouwould’vejustshownmehowtogetoutIwouldhavetakenyouwithme!”

  She cried body quaking sobs. She turned away from Missy, unable to look at her anymore. Then she spotted Missy’s shorts crumpled into a ball of fringy denim on the ground.

  The keys!

  Her eyes widened, hope building. She crawled toward them in a frantic dash. When she had almost reached the shorts, the chain snapped her right back. She landed on her buttocks, coughing. Not bothering to catch her breath, she quickly tried reaching for them again.

  The shorts were no more than an inch out of reach. She strived to reach them, her arm extended as she madly groped. She wished her fingers would suddenly grow enough so she could snatch the shorts.

  That buzzing sound was growing louder. She’d almost tuned it out entirely during the melee with Missy, but now it was impossible to ignore. Not only was it louder, but progressively rising in volume.

  Coming closer.

  The stout tang of gasoline wafted through the air. It reminded her of being twelve and riding on the back of her brother’s dirt bike. Being on the back, it was all she could smell the whole ride. The memory almost made her cry. When the psychopath revealed himself, injured but vigilant, revving the tiny motor as hard as it could handle, she did.

  He looked at Missy leaning against the tree, then brought his eyes back to Megan. The steady buzz was hell to her ears, her brain vibrated in her skull.

  The motor was killed, sputtering down to a stop. Silence tinkled back from the earsplitting ruckus of the saw. He sat it down by his feet.

  Megan assumed that was Esther. She wasn’t surprised Billy had given a name suited for a grandmother to a power tool.

  The man, keeping his eyes on Megan, reached be
hind his back. He slowly withdrew one of the two-bladed axes. Lowering it, the blade dangled by his ankle.

  So this was it. All the fighting, the running, letting a crazed hillbilly sexpot do things to her in hopes that she could catch her off guard and escape. All of it was for naught. Had she known this was how it would end, she wouldn’t have bothered.

  Maybe it was better this way. She definitely didn’t have the stamina to fight anymore. She was just so tired.

  “Okay,” she said. “Do it.”

  He raised the ax above his head. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the impact of the hefty blade. The final blow. She hoped it would be quick. One brunt slam of pain, then she would feel nothing else.

  A rustle of movement. The whoosh of the ax cutting air.

  Then the clank of the chain snapping. She felt vibrations travel through the collar.

  There was no additional pain.

  She cracked one eye open, checking. The other slowly opened next. He stood before her in his signature stance.

  Looking down, she checked the chain. It was broken. Before the thought that she could run had even registered, he’d already reached down and grabbed the section hanging from the collar. He wrapped it around his hand a couple times. Then he stood up straight, returning the ax to the holder behind his back.

  Megan had no desire to make for a run. There really was no point. He’d just snatch the chain back, hurting her throat even more than he already had.

  He tugged on the chain a couple times, signaling it was time to go. Sighing, Megan stood up. She crossed her arms across her breasts. She wished she could do something about the tattered hole in her shorts, but it would have to be left the way it was.

  She noticed Billy’s rifle leaning against a tree several feet away. She’d love to get her hands on the gun but it was way out of reach. Might as well have been on another planet.

  She glanced at Missy. And gasped.

  The knife. It was right there. She could easily grab it, but he would notice her reaching over and yanking it out of Missy’s stomach.

  He got to walking.

  Now!

  Megan faked a stumble, and dropped on top of Missy. Her hand gripped the handle of the knife and quickly pulled it out. It made a sloshing sound as it was extracted, like cutting watermelon. Before he could turn to see what the commotion was she tucked the knife against her stomach, then hugged herself like she was hurting. She made sure the blade was flat against her skin. It felt cold and sticky.

  He stopped, turned back, and stared at her a moment. Although she couldn’t see his face, she could tell his suspecting gears were turning. He walked towards her. Megan sat up, blocking Missy from his view. For a horrifying moment, Megan thought he’d seen the knife and would come take it from her. He didn’t. He kept walking right past her until the chain had almost run out of slack. Then he whipped the chain, sending a wave up the length. It popped her in the neck. Her head rocked to the side, almost pulling her body with it. She managed to stay squatted, thankfully, because if she’d had fallen back the knife would have been uncovered. It might have even slammed into her. That would have been a way to go.

  Her skin stung where the chain smacked it. He lifted his hand, preparing to repeat the punishment, so she quickly got up. She understood he was going to take the rear to keep his eyes on her.

  She got going and he followed, guiding her along like a dog on a leash.

  23

  Amanda didn’t see the girl. She’d been waiting by this tree but when Amanda got near, she’d run off. This had been the simulation for the last long while. So, Amanda was surprised when she looked around the tree and didn’t find her running ahead, showing her which way to take next.

  “Where’d you go?” she muttered.

  From where she stood, she made a slow circle. She saw no trace of the girl, nor did she find any indication of where she might have gone.

  Now Amanda wondered if she’d ever been there at all.

  Of course not.

  Amanda had convinced herself she was being led to somewhere important by the ghost of the dead girl, and as crazy as that was, she hadn’t been bothered by it. Somehow, it felt right, like this was how it was supposed to be. So, she’d gone along with it, not questioning the foolishness of it all.

  When the chomp of approaching footsteps caught her attention, she knew she’d been brought here for a reason. She spun around, pressing against the tree. Her breasts were squished against the bark, and it hurt when the little jagged tips poked her through her tank top.

  She peered around the side, only exposing herself from the eyes up.

  “Holy shit.”

  Several feet ahead she saw a giant beastly man walking a young woman like a canine. She knew right away this was the girl she’d been looking for. It was hard to see them clearly through the dense tree population. But from what she could tell, the guy was wearing some kind of mask. The girl was naked, or close to it.

  She raised her gun, switching the safety to off. There was no shot to take. With all the trees, their limbs, there was way too much interference. She lowered her gun, waiting for them to get out of sight, then snuck out from behind the tree and followed them.

  24

  An hour of walking and they were back at the clearing, the bodies, the tree she had been hammered to. Nothing had changed since Megan was last here.

  She glanced over to the girl displayed on the other tree. She wondered how close she’d come to getting away. Was her hope extended and snatched right back like an open palm with money in it, but if you tried to take the money it closed and pulled away?

  She felt the choker pull at her throat with some force. It was the way someone would tug at the reigns strapped to a horse. Then it was yanked to the side, and so was she. He was making her turn, and she knew where he wanted her to go.

  Back to the tree.

  Megan slipped the knife into the front of her shorts, praying the blade wouldn’t lick her where Missy had been. She moved with the swift current of the chain, stumbling over loose sticks and pinecones. If she couldn’t keep up, she would fall, break her neck.

  Maybe I should.

  She wondered how bad it would hurt. Would it be quick and painless, or slow and agonizing? Just let the weight go to her knees and she’d find out.

  She couldn’t do it. Even though the next several hours, days, or even weeks would be more agony than she could possibly imagine, she wouldn’t take her own life.

  Megan felt the chain going to the right. He took her back to the tree where she had been nailed, then looped the chain around it a couple times.

  He left some slack, but not much, just enough that she could move her head, but there wasn’t much else. She kept her hand over the hole at the crotch of her shorts, not so much to keep him from seeing her vagina, but to keep him from seeing the knife blade. She was tempted to use it now, but she knew if she did, she might only get one slash at him. She needed a lot more than that. She’d hold off, for now.

  He turned away from her, moving toward the iron pan sitting on top of the grate. The fire was quenched, having burned itself out while they were away. He removed the machete from his hip, examining the blade.

  “Why haven’t you killed me?”

  He looked at her.

  “I don’t understand. Why don’t you just finish me off? God knows you want to.” She shrugged. “I mean—you tried to kill me and when you had me earlier, you didn’t do it, and then back there…you could have killed me again, you’d won, but you didn’t.” Whine was returning to her voice, she fought to detain it. “Why? Just tell me what I’m here for. Why?”

  He took a deep breath, his shoulders rose and fell. His eyes were transfixed on her. He raised his empty hand as if he was about to answer—

  “FREEZE!”

  Megan jumped at the abrupt boom of a voice. She looked to her right, and saw a woman marching out from the woods in a rigid stance, with a pistol leveled at the man’s chest. She wore khaki
shorts that hugged her hips and a white tank-top. There was another shirt tied around her waist, and she could see the golden points of a badge pinned to the front as it flapped against her thigh.

  She recognized her from yesterday morning. The forest ranger operating the desk at the station they’d signed in at.

  The man turned his gaze from Megan back to the ranger, then back to Megan. It appeared he was trying to decide who he wanted.

  “Drop the machete! Now!”

  He did one more back and forth glance, then released his grip on the machete. It fell, penetrating the earth blade down.

  The ranger gave Megan a cautionary glance. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  Megan laughed. She hadn’t meant to. It just came out, a shrill cackle. “Not at all.”

  The man twitched, bringing the ranger’s attention back to him. “Get BACK!” She hadn’t relinquished her guard. Aiming the gun squarely at his chest, she was ready to fire.

  He didn’t move, only continued to stand there as if sculpted from concrete.

  The ranger spoke to Megan. “Can you free yourself?”

  Although she already knew she couldn’t, Megan reached for the collar and gave it a couple tugs. “No…I can’t…I can’t…”

  “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  Keeping her gun pointed at the man, she walked over to Megan, sweeping her head from side to side. Probably looking for others who might be hiding within the trees.

  “There isn’t anyone else out here.”

  “He’s alone?’

  “As far as I know…there were some others…but he killed them too.”

  “Others?”

  “Yeah…hillbillies. Shiners with some pot plants somewhere around here.”

  The ranger stopped. “Pot plants?”

  “Yeah, they had bags of the stuff. Why?”

  Megan thought she saw the hints of a smile on the ranger’s face. “No reason.” She looked where the chain was looped. “I’m going to need you to help me slacken it some. Arch your feet, push up on your toes.”