Shannon stared at her uncle, confused.
A head game? Or is he actually trying to help me?
“Now, go.”
Without hesitation, Shannon pushed through the door and ran for her life.
Peter couldn’t believe what he had done. Peter Brookes, king of sexual conquests and destroyer of financial empires, never cut anyone a break. Yet, a teenage girl singlehandedly reduced him to a man of lesser worth. Peter put the welfare of his niece before his. Gave her a chance at survival. A first.
Maybe he helped her because of his brother, Mattie. After all, Matt was the only member of his family he had any feelings for, small as those were.
Yet, he knew something else—something inexplicable—had compelled him.
Single-minded earnestness burned in the girl’s face. Intelligence brushed past the tears in her eyes. Faced with impending death, the girl had sought answers. A true warrior.
He saw great potential in her. A shame, really, to blow it away. She might be the first person related to this God-forsaken family who could possibly rise above the horrors of the past and move onto a normal life.
He wondered if he’d truly given her a fighting chance, though. Or had he cheated, as he had all his life? He knew she’d take the route he suggested. Maybe he had not played fair. Or maybe he told her the best survival strategy merely to assuage his guilt? Guilt. A strange feeling—one he couldn’t wrap his head around.
Peter cocked his rifle and prepared to bury his guilt along with his niece. Edwin grinned. The inbred boy moaned from the shadows of the kitchen corner. Peter purposefully avoided looking at Joshua as he made for the door.
Once outside, he strapped on his night-vision gear again and secured the knife in his belt.
Then as he raced down the driveway, the comfortably familiar feeling of anticipation flooded him like a shot of adrenaline.
About a mile down the road, he spotted a parked car. The car appeared similar to the automobile that ran over the other girl. Earlier, he had watched the car flee the scene. Why would it have turned back? A chill ran up and down his spine.
Peter scrambled for his car keys. He gunned his car into reverse and roared down to the parked car.
Fifty feet from the car, Peter flashed on his bright lights. The smashed hood verified it as the same blue hybrid he saw earlier. He left his car, leaving the door open. His headlights illuminated his path. Hitching his rifle up, he approached the vehicle. Trash littered the floorboards. A cell phone lay on the passenger seat. At the back of the car, Peter knelt at the license plate. Kansas tags, but definitely not from this county. From what he recalled, the “JO” stood for Johnson County. A Kansas City suburb.
Peter pulled at the door. Locked. Why would someone abandon a car in the middle of nowhere? The only residence for miles was Edwin’s shithole. Someone—somewhere—was out there.
This changes everything.
A nearly sexual intensity filled Peter with the prospect of a new player in the game. His niece had an ally. Perhaps the earlier driver wanted to atone for running over the girl.
Peter’s fleeting compassion drifted away like a forgotten memory. Humming a Sondheim tune, he plunged his knife into the hybrid’s front tire. The tire hissed and deflated to the gravel. Smiling, he flattened the rest of the tires.
Peter pulled his car partially into the ditch. He grabbed his gear and locked the doors. Plunging into the cornfields, he pursued his prey with a newfound zest for life. And death.
Matt crouched in the cornfield. He had no idea how to approach Shannon. Ten years was a long time. The last time he saw her, when he’d said his goodbyes, she had just been a little girl. She might not even recognize him. More to the point, would she even want to see him again? There certainly wouldn’t be time for apologies or explanations, as much as he desired to offer them.
The door cracked back and hung open. Shannon sprang from the house. He climbed to his feet, a cold lack of sensation in his knees. She rushed toward the field, not far from his hiding place, and leapt inside. He followed her, crashing through the stalks. Much faster than him, she pulled away with a frenzied speed.
“Shannon! Stop!” She didn’t hear his whispers at first. He raised his voice. Down the row, she stopped, uncertain. But just for a second. Matt pushed on, every footfall resounding in his head. Nearing her, he jumped, snagging her by the ankle. They tumbled to the dirt. Stalks snapped beneath them like cracked knuckles.
The ground met Matt’s chin with a sharp blow, but he held firmly onto her foot. Shannon lashed out at him, feet kicking into his face. His hand slipped down to her tennis shoe. “Shannon, stop! It’s me! It’s Dad! It’s okay. I’m gonna’ get you out of here.”
Shannon looked back, hesitated. Then her foot landed squarely in Matt’s face. He fell back, stunned, dizzy. She leapt to her feet, squatting, fists balled up. Climbing to his knees, Matt launched on top of her. He held a palm over her mouth as he pinned her to the ground. “Shannon, I’m trying to save you! Stop screaming!”
A car barreled down the road next to the field. They froze. Heading in the opposite direction of the farmhouse, it had to be Peter or Edwin. Lying still, they waited for the car to pass.
Shannon stopped resisting. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When Matt slowly removed his hand from her mouth, she immediately clamped her hands there. Stilling sobs. Her body shook with a feverish intensity. “Shannon, it’s me, your father. We’ve got to get out of here now.” Sitting up, he extended a hand toward his daughter.
“Dad?” Doubt, close to hysteria, colored her voice. “Dad? Oh, my God. Are you part of this, too?”
“What? No. God, no! I want to get you out of here.”
“No…no, no, no… I don’t believe you.”
Matt placed a finger over her lips. “Listen, Shannon. You’ve got to trust me. I’m going to get us out of here. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me. I know I haven’t given you any reason to. But we’ve got to get out of here now!” Matt pulled her to her knees. “Are you ready?”
Shannon gave a lifeless nod.
“I have a car close by. But we need to go.” They stood, Shannon warily eyeing him. When Matt reached for her hand, she recoiled. Then she offered it back to him, a small sign of hope. Matt grabbed it, held on tight. Gave it an extra squeeze like ten years hadn’t passed. He pulled her onto a path unencumbered by stalks. Scurrying down the aisle, they headed toward the road.
Matt stopped. Ahead stalks rustled. He turned to Shannon, finger to his lips. Her eyes widened, practically glowing beneath the moonlight. A delicate sound, so minimal it might be an animal. Or someone not wanting to be heard.
Matt whispered, “We’ve got to get out of the field.”
Pulling aside several stalks, Matt searched for a clear exit. Plowing through the stalks would raise too much noise. A risky decision—but their only option—they had to go back. Turning, Matt pulled Shannon along behind him. They ran quietly, traveling down the dirt path.
Lights blazed in the distant farmhouse. Matt stopped, listening for the intruder behind them. Silence. He gestured toward the gravel road. Shannon nodded. Squatting, they made their way to the road, staying within the tree’s shadows.
Matt stepped onto the gravel road, glancing back at the house. With his distance eyesight failing, he saw no activity, blurry or otherwise. Then he noticed Shannon’s eyeglasses were missing. Both of them were now effectively blind.
Matt tiptoed across the gravel. Shannon released his hand—the impatience of youth—and sprinted across the road. She stood on the other side, arms folded, waiting. Matt abandoned stealth and ran to join her where they crouched in the roadside ditch.
Barbed wire marked the territorial line of an abandoned field overgrown with tall grass and weeds. Perfect cover. Matt carefully held up the lowest strand of wire, motioning for Shannon to crawl through it. She maneuvered underneath and then pulled it up for Matt. The wire caught him, a slight jab pricking his belly. It didn’t matt
er. Nothing mattered but his daughter’s safety. They were almost home free. Soon the nightmare would be over.
“We’re almost there,” he whispered.
Shannon remained emotionless, and it stung Matt deeply. Their first father-daughter outing in ten years, a life-or-death situation. Not the way he had envisioned it.
Matt led the way through the cutting grass, blazing a trail as best he could for his daughter.
A glint of moonlight bounced off the hybrid’s roof, a life-saving buoy. “There’s the car.” Tension visibly slipped away from Shannon’s face. Her hand loosened in his. Even though exhausted, they ran the last leg at full speed. Overtaking Matt, Shannon crawled underneath the wire before Matt reached the fence.
By the time Matt climbed up the ditch to the road, he saw Shannon facing the car, immobile. Her shoulders slumped, folding within her tiny frame.
“Shannon?”
She turned, mouth open, eyes dulled. Matt peered around her.
All four tires were flat.
“What now? What now, Dad?”
Standing helpless on a desolate Kansas back road, Matt felt like road-kill waiting to happen.
Chapter Twelve
Edwin didn’t believe in coincidence, had no use for it. God planned everything. Now God was testing his loyalty as surely as God had commanded Abraham to kill his son, Isaac, as a test of faith. Plain as the nose on his face, it was obvious Edwin’s granddaughter should be punished for her sins. Who better to do the job than her own kin?
Edwin pulled his hunting rifle off the wall and loaded the chambers.
Time to join the hunt. God’s plan. Nothing was going to stand in the way of his receiving his just reward. After all, the Good Book says the meek shall inherit the earth.
“Joshua,” he called. “I need you, boy!” Joshua pounded down the stairs at a speed that always took Edwin aback. Surprising he never tumbled down the steps. But the boy had a Godly grace in his huge body. “We need to go and take care of the girl. That girl means to hurt your daddy, Joshua. You don’t want that, do you?” Edwin spoke slowly, but his son would try even the patience of Job. “So, we need to hurt her before she can hurt me. You understand, boy?”
Joshua muttered an agreement. For what the boy lacked in intelligence, he certainly made up for in loyalty. More than Edwin could say for his other offspring.
“Well, then, let’s go get her.” Edwin strolled toward the door, rifle in hand. “I heard Peter tell the girl to run into the woods. I need you to look there. You understand?”
Joshua nodded.
“Good boy.”
When Edwin stepped outside, he took in a deep breath. Remembering the smell of the land for the last time. Edwin pointed out toward the woods with one, simple gesture. Joshua flew through the cornfields toward the woods, faster than any horse Edwin had ever seen.
As Edwin climbed into his truck, he cleared his throat and spat.
“Amazing grace, how sweeeeeeet the sound, that saaaaaaaaved a wretch like meeeeeeeeee! I once was losssssst, but nooooooow am found, was blind, but noooooow, I seeeeeeee…”
In the field, Peter heard whispers followed by retreating footsteps. Changing direction, but undoubtedly winding their way to the car. Fine, let them reach it. They’ll be in for quite a surprise.
Peter remained hiding, the car within his sights. Voices sounded from the road. He pulled back a stalk to scope out his targets, the rifle wedged squarely against his shoulder.
His brother, Matt, stood next to the car. Stymied, Peter lowered the rifle. He peered through his goggles to make sure.
Although he hadn’t seen Matt in years, it was unmistakably him. Heavier, with less hair, maybe. But Matt carried the same sense of self-defeat in the way he moved and walked.
He didn’t want to kill his brother, would prefer not to, actually. But Peter saw no other way out. His freedom was at stake.
Dammit.
He dropped the gun again. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot his brother in cold blood. Could he? Mattie had suffered alongside him in those painful, early years. He spent his childhood trying to protect Matt from their father. An unexpected surge of emotion punched him in the gut as he remembered one of their last days together on the farm…
While their father plowed the fields, Peter and his brother pitched hay. A tedious, backbreaking job that Peter never fully understood. Sometimes he thought their father made them do it just to torture them.
“Mattie? What’re you going to do when you leave here?” Peter wiped sweat from his forehead. He jabbed the pitchfork into the hay. The handle wobbled defiantly in the air.
Matt sat down on a haybale, considering Peter’s question. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it. You know, before I just accepted this was everything. Farming. But you’re right, Peter. This is no life. I think I’d like to go to college.”
“Really? What would you study?”
Matt shrugged. “Beats me. Took me a while just to decide on college.”
Typical Matt. He never could make a decision about anything, especially his own life. But Peter admired him for trying to better himself. “Well, I think you can do it, Mattie. I think you should do it.”
“Thanks.” The boys leaned back in the hay, enjoying a brief respite from their chores. The sun toasted their faces with comforting warmth. Then it all came crashing down.
“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit!” The boys jumped to their feet as Edwin swaggered in front of them. He picked up the pitchfork, prodding it at them like a lion-tamer. “I can’t believe what my ears are hearing.”
Trembling, Matt stooped to scoop up hay with his hands. Peter boldly held his ground.
“Tell me again, boy. What you gonna’ do with your life?”
“I want…to go to college…” Matt’s voice crawled to a tiny whisper.
“College? Why, you’re too dumb to go to college!” The old man slapped his overalls, enjoying his son’s discomfort. Matt’s eyes filled with tears, his cheeks burning a deep red. Peter wanted to defend Matt but knew when to keep his mouth shut. Even then, his survival instincts were firmly in place.
“That’s what I’m going to do.” Matt said it under his breath, but his attitude surprised Peter.
Edwin’s jaw dropped. No backing out now, Matt had unleashed the beast.
“Well, now. I’m going to give you your first lesson in higher education, boy.” Edwin narrowed his eyes. “Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“I said take off your damn clothes.” Before Matt could respond, Edwin raised the pitchfork and brought the wooden handle down upon Matt’s shoulder. Matt cried out as he dropped into the hay. Peter clenched his fists, moving toward his father with violence in mind. Just as suddenly he stopped. It’d suit no purpose for them both to be beaten.
“Get those clothes off. Now!”
Matt crawled to his feet. His overalls slipped to the ground. Other than his sunburned face, neck and arms, he stood pale, white as snow in his underwear. Covering his chest with his arms, Matt stared into the dirt. Peter shot a hate-filled glare toward their father. How he wanted to wipe that sadistic leer from his father’s face. Beat it off him with his fists.
“Kick them boots off.”
Matt hesitantly complied. The old man pinched his arm and dragged him toward the farmhouse. Peter followed a safe distance behind.
“Now, stay right there. Don’t you dare move. Idiot!” Edwin planted Matt several feet in front of the kitchen window before going around the side of the house. Peter caught Matt’s eyes and shook his head. He felt impotent, powerless.
Edwin returned, holding the water hose, cranked on at full force. He cackled as he unleashed the torrent onto Matt.
“Here’s your god damned education, you moron. You worthless piece of crap. Get this through your head. You’re too stupid to go to college. You’ll never amount to nothin!” Their father hosed Matt for thirty minutes. He danced around, seeking out different angles, braying like a
hyena. Matt shook under the onslaught, eyes clamped tight.
Peter wanted to kill his father, plain and simple. What a nice feeling.
“Now, I don’t want to hear no more talk about college. You’re gonna’ stay out here tonight, no food, no clothes, no nothin ’till you learn your lesson.” He tossed the hose to the ground, storming away to turn off the water. Peter ran to his brother.
Edwin popped his head around the side of the house like a demented jack-in-the-box. “You want the same treatment, boy?”
Peter shook his head.
“Then go back and do your damned chores.”
Peter raced back and snatched up the pitchfork. Every time he jabbed it into the hay, he envisioned Edwin’s throat as the mark.
The rest of the day, Peter stole glances at his brother. Matt shivered and sobbed continuously. When the sun went down, Peter threw caution to the wind and went to his brother. The old man was still out in the field anyway.
“Are you okay, Matt?” he whispered.
“I…guess so. Go…go in the house, Peter…before you get in trouble too.” Their cruel father had drained Matt’s earlier optimism away. Siphoned it out of him like a leaky bucket. Hours ago, Matt seemed excited about the potential of a college education. Now he resigned himself to a future full of nothing but tedium, hard work, and abuse.
Throughout the night, Peter looked outside. In the dark, Matt wriggled like a night crawler in the mud, ready to collapse from weakness. After his parents went to sleep, Peter grabbed the blanket off his brother’s bed. From the refrigerator, he stole what food he thought wouldn’t be missed…
Peter snapped out of his reverie. He didn’t want to think about what happened next. Too painful. Too damned humiliating what he had said to Matt.
Particularly given the current circumstances.
Ironic that Peter spent all those years trying to protect his brother. And now he was faced with a situation where he had to kill Mattie. Cruel, unjust irony. But that was the nature of fate. Fairness didn’t enter into the equation. Fickle bitch, that fate.
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