by Asher Ellis
Navigating the cellar was far easier now than it had been when she first entered. Upon passing Marshall’s body for the last time, Leigh snatched the shark tooth of his shell necklace and pulled, snapping it from the bloody stump where his neck had been. Alex might be thankful to have this one day. Necklace in hand, Leigh went up the storm door stairs, making sure to stay low.
She remained low, just below the line of the cabin’s windows, as she snuck her way toward the corner of the structure. There was nothing more she wanted in the world than to run away as fast as her legs would allow, but she had to check for Sam and Rob one last time. If her stomach-turning experience in the cellar had been good for anything, it at least meant that her friends still hadn’t been discovered. It was looking as though the two guys had gotten away on their own, maybe planning to double back and retrieve Leigh from her hiding spot.
Leigh knew she’d have to hustle if she ever wanted to catch up with Alex. She’d told her to run at full speed, but in this darkness and in these thick woods, Leigh knew her pace wouldn’t be too difficult to catch. Once Leigh reached the corner of the cabin that both Sam and Rob had disappeared behind, she’d see if they were there.
It may have been a solid plan, but it fell apart the moment she turned the corner.
With his back to her, Sam was squatted over something on the ground. Overjoyed to finally have found him, Leigh rushed forward.
When she saw what he was crouched over, her hand shot to her mouth again, her teeth raking the soft flesh of her knuckles.
Dead eyes stared at her from behind Sam’s legs.
Eyes that belonged to Alex.
“Sam?” Leigh whispered.
Sam turned at the sound of Leigh’s voice. A large, ragged wound bled from the top of Alex’s skull, her blond hair sticking together in clumps from where the blood ran down across her face. Even more frightening than the sight of her bludgeoned, murdered friend was the club-like branch in Sam’s grasp, its jagged tip dripping with fresh blood.
Sam stood up. “Leigh!”
“Oh God,” Leigh moaned, her gaze refusing to look away from the bloody club.
Sam opened his mouth to say more but she didn’t wait for the words. She pivoted to turn and run into the forest, but was blocked by someone’s broad chest. A chest clad in a denim vest covered in punk band patches.
Rob caught her by her arms, steadying her so she didn’t fall over. The bow and quiver taken from their cabin still hung from his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Leigh concentrated only on his eyes in order to catch her breath. “Rob,” she gasped, “you were right. Sam’s with them. He killed Alex.”
From behind her, Leigh heard Sam say, “I found her like this!” She turned to see him take a step toward them, which provoked Rob to grab the tranquilizer gun from Leigh’s back pocket.
“Stop,” Rob said, pointing the barrel of the gun at Sam’s face.
Leigh took a step behind Rob so he blocked the path between her and Sam. Speaking directly into Rob’s ear she said, “Don’t listen to him. The other two are inside. It had to be Sam. Look, he’s holding the weapon he killed her with.” She pointed at the bulky branch in Sam’s hand. Sam looked at the club incredulously, as if he hadn’t even been aware he was holding it until now.
“No!” Sam said, dropping the stick. “No, wait a second.” He took another step forward.
The dart hit him in the neck, directly below the lobe of his left ear. Sam stumbled backward, crying out in pain.
Leigh grabbed Rob’s shoulder, furiously shaking him. “Jesus Christ, Rob! They’ll hear him!” But the tranquilizer already began to take effect, quieting Sam’s cries to a moan. As Leigh watched him stagger and lose his orientation, something else caught her eye.
Now that Sam had fallen to the ground, Leigh could see the entirety of Alex’s corpse. Embedded in the thigh of her right leg was an arrow with red fletching.
As Leigh turned to face Rob, she shivered, knowing what she was about to see.
The arrows sticking out of Rob’s quiver shared the same fletching.
“Rob?”
He smiled. “Good night, Leigh.”
Leigh only caught a glimpse of the butt of the tranquilizer gun as Rob slammed it into the bridge of her nose.
And then all was black.
Chapter 20
The knots restraining Jake’s wrists would not be undone by mere twisting or wriggling, that much was sure. On several occasions, Phil had shared stories of his younger days in the Navy, expanding his horizons as he traveled around the world. One of the many skills he’d picked up during his time on military vessels was the practiced art of knot-tying. And while Jake didn’t know the name of the particular variety that bound his hands, he assumed it was probably the first choice of kidnappers everywhere.
“Damn, Phil,” Jake said, grimacing at the man who sat across from him. “You’ve still got it. I can’t move an inch.”
Phil smiled as if he were greeting his grandkids. “Tying knots is like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget.”
Jake jerked his arms upward with all his strength. The wooden chair lifted from the floor and returned with a loud thump, but his hands remained frozen behind him. “Yup,” he said, shrugging. “I’d have to be Houdini himself to get out of this. I bet the Navy misses you.
Phil’s rifle rested on his crossed legs. He removed his hat and hung it from the gun’s barrel like a multifunctional coat hook. “You’re probably right about that. But what can I say? I had my fill of the ocean. I figured I’d see what mysteries the land had to offer.”
Jake looked at his captor. “Speaking of mystery, you want to fill me in now as to why I’m tied to this chair?”
The older man’s nostrils whistled as he took a deep breath in an apparent effort to control his emotions. Having tried everything he could to placate Phil, Jake knew he no longer had anything to lose. Either Phil was going to shoot him or he wasn’t, and all Jake could do was wait and see which it was going to be. In the meantime, he could at least try to get some answers.
Phil ran a hand down his injured ankle, rubbing the cast as if he could feel his massage through the plaster. “I can’t wait to get this damn thing off,” he whispered, more to himself than to Jake. “It really makes me feel my age. God, I’ve been in this town for so long.”
He looked at Jake. “I grew up in Embry. You knew that, right?”
Phil didn’t wait for Jake’s answer.
“Yeah, I’m sure I must have told you before. Well, consider this a little refresher.”
He cleared his throat.
“I spent the first eighteen years of life here, and the only time I left was when I graduated high school and joined the Navy. Back in those days, the sawmill was our town’s biggest source of income. And though you wouldn’t believe it now, that sucker had the highest productivity of its kind in the entire Northeast.”
Jake squirmed. “Yes, I know all this, Phil. Get to your point.”
The older ranger shook his head. “Impatient—just like when we go fishing. You should work on that while you’re still young. But where was I? Oh right, I went and joined the Navy, leaving the thriving lumber town I called my home. I didn’t have the foggiest idea where my adventures might lead me, but somewhere in the back of my head I knew that I’d probably end up at the mill when everything was said and done. So imagine my surprise when I returned home to find that everything had changed.”
Phil paused and Jake took the chance to jump in.
“By the time you got back, the forest had become diseased and the mill was forced to close, and eventually reopened all the way in Scoutsville. So instead of working at the mill, you became a forest ranger and worked alongside a handsome youngster named Jacob Spire who you would eventually take at gunpoint, tie to a chair, and torture with pointless, redundant stories. There, we’ve caught up to the present.”
Phil’s face remained emotionless. His fingers
drummed out a tuneless melody on the stock of the rifle.
And this is when he blows my brains out.
Instead, Phil ceased his tapping and turned his chin to the left, loudly cracking the stiff bones of his aging neck, then rolled his neck the other direction, before returned his gaze to his captive.
“Are you familiar with the motto of the United States Navy?”
Jake was caught off guard. “Um,” he said, suddenly feeling as if he were on a twisted version of Jeopardy. “I know Semper Fi is the Marines. And then there’s ‘Be All You Can Be’…but that’s the Army, right?”
Mercifully, Phil cut off his nervous blather. “It’s Non sibi sed patriae. Do you know what that means?”
Jake just shook his head.
“ ‘Not for self, but country.’ ”
“Oh…kay.”
Phil chuckled. “They may just be mere words to someone like you,” he said, raising his chin with pride. “But to me and others like me, it’s code, even after one’s days of military service have come to an end. Maybe we can’t always protect our entire nation, but a man can certainly do all he can for his home. And that, sir, is exactly what I did.”
Jake’s vision began to blur, and he realized he hadn’t blinked once in the last minute or so. He averted his gaze so Phil wouldn’t mistake his watery eyes for those of fear. He stared out the four-paned window behind his captor. The glass revealed nothing but darkness outside. Not that there would be anything to see in the daylight.
What about Doug?
Doug was probably starting to wonder what was taking Jake so long, and would quite possibly turn around and return at any moment. But while Jake could certainly use the assistance right about now, he hoped Doug would stay wherever he was. Phil would undoubtedly hear the engine of the approaching ATV and spot the vehicle’s headlight long before Doug stuck his head through the front door. The younger ranger wouldn’t stand a chance.
Phil, who had noticed the vigil Jake was keeping on the window, turned to see what was so captivating. With nothing outside but the silhouettes of tree branches against the night sky, he looked back at Jake with a confident smile.
“Doug won’t be coming back,” he said. “I’m sure he’s nice and preoccupied right now. Now, what was I saying?”
Jake looked the man right in the eyes. “Some shit about Uncle Sam, I think.”
“Ah, yes. When I returned home, Embry was not as I left it. The lumber industry was extinct. The town’s economic survival had been put entirely in the hands of outsiders: tourists. Summer vacationers, hikers, and day-trippers. But who in their right mind would risk exposing themselves to a fungus that eats a person’s entire body? Embry seemed like a lost cause, destined to the same fate as so many ghost towns of the Old West. But then I met Seymour Cedar.”
For the first time since Phil had begun his autobiographical rant, Jake’s head shot up in interest. “Seymour Cedar? The guy we found axed to death on my first day out?”
“That would be the one.” Phil uncrossed his legs and removed the rifle from his lap. With an arthritic crack, he sat up and paced to the window. Staring out through the glass, he continued his story.
“I was about your age the day I met him. I’d just gotten a job with the Forest Service, solely because I didn’t know what else to do. Reports of the fungal disease had significantly dwindled, and the local chamber of commerce was beginning to discuss how to raise Embry’s appeal and make it the woodsy vacation destination it had once been. With the risk of infection lower, I figured the best way to help was to get right to the source of the problem: the forest. My plan was to just start exploring the woods and hope I stumbled upon a solution. Turns out, that’s precisely what I did.”
A slight numb prickle was now tingling Jake’s left buttock, and he shifted his weight. The ropes allowed just enough movement to relieve the pressure from his tailbone, but the discomfort remained. Jake breathed through his nose in order to control his frustration.
“And how’s that, Phil?”
The older man rubbed his eyes. “I stepped on a yellow jacket nest. Goddamn things swarmed me instantly, so I took off running. I had no idea what direction I was heading in; all I cared about was getting away from those stingers. Hard to say how long I ran, but by the time I’d lost the last yellow jacket I was staring at a cabin I’d never seen before. There was smoke coming from the chimney so I knew someone was in there. With the thought of putting some cold water on my stings, I didn’t think twice about knocking on the door.
“Unfortunately, no one answered so I moseyed around the back and found one of those old-fashioned water pumps. My wrist was beginning to swell, so I started pumping away and dunked it under the flow. The cold water had just about numbed the sting when there came Seymour, aiming a shotgun right at my chest. I, of course, threw up my hands and said ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ And that’s when I saw this fuzzy green bracelet wrapped around my wrist.”
Jake glanced up from the floor. “You caught it?”
“Yep,” Phil said matter-of-factly. “And though I wouldn’t admit this to just anyone, I panicked like I’d just gotten bit in the face by a rattler. Totally forgot about the double barrels aimed at my midriff. Just stood there, grasping my arm at the elbow and blabbering, ‘Oh shit oh shit oh shit!’ or some nonsense. Didn’t notice Seymour walk up to my side, but somehow he got close enough to grab my wrist and say, ‘Look what you’ve done here. Don’t you know that pump pulls water right from Emerald Lake? Well c’mon, ya dumbshit. Let’s go.’
“Next thing I know he’s leading me inside, sitting me down at his kitchen table, and hands me a tin cup filled with something dark. Looked like black coffee. ‘You better drink this,’ he said, ‘and I’ll cook you up some meat. Better make myself some, too, just in case.’
“I looked at the cup and saw that this wasn’t no coffee. When I asked him what it was he grabbed the shotgun again and shouted, ‘Drink!’ So that’s what I did. It tasted like old rainwater but thick as maple syrup. I downed the whole thing.”
“What was it?”
“I’m getting to that,” Phil said, putting up a hand. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, either, but I did know that my heart rate was starting to slow, my breath coming a little bit easier now. It had literally only been about thirty seconds since I finished the mystery drink but I just felt…better. It’s hard to put into words, but it didn’t even occur to me to so much as glance at my fucking green bracelet of a wrist.
“Instead, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the high I was getting off of Seymour’s homemade concoction. Hell, the stuff was better than moonshine. I savored the air flowing into my lungs and the peaceful sound of the breeze blowing through the branches outside. And a wonderful smell—the most delicious, heavenly scent I’d ever smelled—was coming from Seymour’s stove. When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was my wrist. My perfectly healthy, normal-looking wrist.”
Phil paused to let this information hit Jake with full force. The younger man cleared his throat and said, “Hold on, Phil, back up a second. Either I must not have understood you, or you must not be remembering right, because what you just said is impossible. You were cured of the fungus?”
Phil winked.
“Jesus, man, are you getting early onset Alzheimer’s? You’ve read the newspapers. You’ve seen the pictures of the loggers with stumps for hands because they had no choice but to amputate. Try again.”
The older man smiled and shook his head like a schoolteacher facing a student who thinks he knows better. He then returned to his chair, placing the rifle across his legs again. “Yes, Jake, we’ve both read the articles. And seen the pictures. But you never had the pleasure of eating dinner with Seymour Cedar. And he didn’t share his discovery with you—the secret to survival in Embry, Vermont. Only he knew about the remedy. And now I did, too.”
Jake swallowed hard, a bowling ball-sized lump traveling down his throat. “The…remedy?”
&nbs
p; Phil leaned forward, staring Jake right in the eyes. “Flesh and blood. Human flesh and blood.”
There was a beat of silence.
And then Jake erupted in laughter.
“You, sir, are a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?” He let loose a few more hoots. “Soylent green is people! It’s people! Fuck me, we’re supposed to be friends. The least you could’ve done is shot me in the head and spared me the longest joke in history.”
Phil’s face remained stoic.
“I suppose that’s how I would’ve reacted, too, had a glass of blood not instantly cured my life-threatening disease. So I don’t take offense at your disbelief.”
“Hey, I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have laughed. And I appreciate the efforts you’ve gone through to convince me. Tying me up, the gun in my face. It was just because you just wanted me to listen. I get it. But you obviously need some help, Phil. I didn’t go to an Ivy League school, but I’m smart enough to realize when a troubled friend is reaching out.”
The captor cocked his head at the captive. It was impossible to tell what was going through the busted gears of Phil’s broken mind. When the older ranger finally spoke, he said, “You really are a good man, Jake. A good friend, too. That’s why I’m telling you this. A lesser man would’ve already been taken care of by now, but you deserve to know the truth. You deserve a chance.”
Both men flinched at a sudden thump against the window. Jake caught a glimpse of the fluttering wings of a bat before it continued on with its hunt of insects.
Jake turned his head back from the window. “What do you mean, a chance?”
“A chance to join our cause, Jake. I know you care about this town as much as I do. I know you would’ve done the exact same thing if Seymour had shown you the bodies in his basement. If he’d explained to you how he and his family nabbed a drifter now and then and stored them in their cellar to be consumed later. Wouldn’t you have listened if he had proposed that as long as you let them capture a hiker or camper now and then, they’d never let an infected person escape the woods? What loyal Embry native would say no to that?