Faint of Heart

by Strand, Jeff

  Stephen considered that. "You have a point. But it's not the point I'm looking for. We'll forget you said that and give you one more chance."

  "Oh, c'mon!" said Alan. "I'm getting blue balls here!"

  "I said shut up. Don't think I won't turn the gun on you. And, yeah, Rebecca, we do have an endgame planned, but I guarantee you we won't cry ourselves to sleep if we have to abandon it. We'll be just fine. No more free answers. Convince me to let you live."

  She had no idea what he wanted. What could she possibly say to make a pair of psychos like Stephen and Alan believe that they shouldn't kill her? What did they value? They didn't care that she and Gary were deeply in love, and they didn't care about the sacrifices they were willing to make for each other. What would a couple of sleazy murdering scumbags feel was lost if she or Gary was killed?

  "The sex is unbelievable," she said. "Please don't take it away from us. I'll never get laid like that again."

  Stephen pulled the barrel of the shotgun away from her head.

  "I can respect that. Alan, unlock the car. Let's take her to see Gary."

  * * *

  They put a cloth sack over her head and then put her in the back seat of Gary's car. The drive was only about five minutes, but they let her out of the car only to usher her into the trunk of the car that Alan had first used to kidnap her.

  This was a much longer, colder drive.

  She tried to feel relief, but couldn't. She'd still seen their faces. Still knew their names. And for all she knew, Gary had been murdered hours ago. His body could be facedown in the woods, being devoured by bears.

  But...this is where Gary's night had ended, right? Convincing Stephen not to kill him? She'd relived his entire experience, and survived, and if they were playing fairly the only step left was to take her to her husband and set them both free.

  Maybe they'd do it. Maybe this was over.

  It was difficult to judge the time, but the drive had to be over an hour before the car finally came to a stop. She'd slowly passed much of the time by carefully removing the fishing hooks from her hand. The trunk lid flew open, and she was greeted by the unpleasant yet familiar sight of Stephen's shotgun.

  "Get out carefully," he said. "Don't mess it up now."

  She climbed out of the trunk. They were still in the woods, and she recognized the cabin--it was the same one they'd been in before.

  "Is he inside?" she asked.

  "Could be. Could be underneath. Don't make any sudden moves."

  She slowly walked toward the cabin. Alan opened the door for her, and then gestured with his hunting knife for her to go inside. She did.

  The main room was empty.

  "Take off your jacket and then sit down," Alan said, pulling a wooden chair into the center of the room.

  "You have to promise me I'll see Gary."

  Alan shrugged. "Fine. I promise."

  Rebecca took off her jacket, tossed it on the floor, and sat down in the chair. Alan walked over to a small shelf and picked up a roll of duct tape. While Stephen kept the shotgun on her, Alan looped the tape around her ankles, taping them to the legs of the chair, and then did the same to her wrists, taping them to the armrests.

  "Your husband," said Stephen, "is in the next room."

  "Is he...is he alive?"

  Stephen stared at her for a moment with absolutely no expression, and then nodded. "Yes, he is. Congratulations, Rebecca. Gary had a terrible weekend, and you had one that was almost as bad. I'll give Gary the edge because he had more of a personal connection with the people we murdered, and because we beat the shit out of him, but still, you two have a lot of common experiences to talk about."

  "So bring him out."

  "Can't do that quite yet. Now, I said that you had to relive his experience, see what he saw, do what he did, and survive it. You did that. The only problem is...his experience isn't over yet."

  "I don't understand," said Rebecca, even though she did, completely.

  "Which one do you want?" Stephen asked Alan.

  "The girl."

  "No surprise there. So, Rebecca, I've always believed that the best way to bring a couple closer together is for them to be cut up at the same time. We're going to test that theory."

  Stephen walked out of the main room, through a doorway. Alan wiggled his eyebrows at Rebecca and kissed the blade of his knife.

  "Is the gag off yet?" Alan asked.

  "Not yet."

  "Hurry up."

  "I'll pick the pace, asshole. Okay, now it's off."

  "Rebecca!"

  It was Gary! His voice was strained, as if he had laryngitis, but he was alive!

  "Gary! I love you so much!"

  "Are you okay? Did they hurt--?"

  There was a loud thump, and Gary went silent.

  "No talking!" shouted Stephen from the other room. "You can scream but you can't talk. The first person to use an actual word loses an eye."

  "Go on," Alan urged. "Use a word. Say something. Let's empty that socket."

  "Are you ready, Alan?" asked Stephen.

  "Oh, hell yeah."

  "Then let's make the first cut."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Alan pushed the sleeve of Rebecca's sweater up over her elbow. Then he touched the tip of the knife against the back of her arm.

  "Does that hurt?" he asked.

  Rebecca didn't answer.

  "Can't get you to use a word that easily, huh? No problem. That eyeball is coming out one way or another. But for now..."

  Very slowly, he pulled the knife down her arm, parting the skin, leaving a red trail down to the back of her wrist.

  In the other room, Gary grunted with pain.

  "Sounds like Stephen is going deeper than I am," said Alan. "We'll fix that with the next one."

  "You done?" Stephen asked.

  "Yep. Let's do the other arm."

  Alan pushed up her sleeve then held his index finger in front of his lips in an exaggerated "Shhh!" gesture. "Don't tell anybody," he whispered, "but I'm going to cheat a bit."

  He placed his hand over her hook-torn hand, winked, and then squeezed his fingers tightly closed. Rebecca cried out.

  "Damn, Alan! What are you doing out there?" Stephen asked.

  "Nothing, nothing." He then proceeded to cut Rebecca's arm the same way he had the other one, except that he did indeed cut deeper this time. Rebecca sucked in a deep breath through her gritted teeth but didn't scream.

  She could get through this. It was just physical pain. Probably not as bad as the pain of having a baby, which they would do for goddamn sure if they survived this ordeal.

  "Both arms are leaking bad," Alan announced.

  "Time for the neck, then."

  "Oooooh, the neck." Alan placed the tip of his blade just under Rebecca's ear. "I'm going to cut you ear to ear. I hope not to sever any important veins or arteries, but a lot of that will depend on you. Be very, very still. Do not move. We're not equipped to help you if blood starts gushing out of your jugular, so be a statue. Understand?"

  She stared straight ahead, focusing on a pinpoint spot in the center of Alan's chest, as he slowly drew the blade across her throat. He wasn't cutting deep, probably nothing more than a superficial wound, though she could feel at least two trickles of blood running down her neck.

  Don't move...don't move...

  Her ears were ringing and she wanted to throw back her head and just shriek like an animal, but she didn't. She remained frozen.

  Alan stopped right in the center of her neck. "Does it hurt?"

  Still frozen.

  He resumed cutting.

  Rebecca's mind was in a state of absolute panic, and she wasn't breathing, not even through her nose, but she didn't give in to the terror. Alan slid the blade all the way up to her other ear then held it up to her, showing her the bloody edge.

  "She's still alive," he said to Stephen.

  "No corpse here, either. I'll bring him out."

  There was a loud screech
, and then a few moments later Stephen dragged Gary, duct-taped to his own chair, out of the other room.

  Lines of blood ran down his neck and his arms, and the side of his face was bruised so badly that he was barely recognizable, but he was still alive. She'd get to hold him again. Share a bed with him again. She knew it. They were going to get out of this.

  "The eyeball gouging threat is lifted for one minute," said Stephen, looking down at his wristwatch. "Say what you need to say."

  "God, Rebecca, I'm so sorry!" said Gary. "I'm so sorry you got pulled into this!"

  "It's not your fault! I love you!"

  "I love you too!"

  "I promise you, we're going to live," said Rebecca. "We can endure whatever they try to put us through! Just stay strong! We can't come this far only to die, so just promise me you'll stay strong!"

  "Has it been a fucking minute yet?" asked Alan.

  Gary was sobbing. "I can't believe you did this for me. I love you."

  Alan pretended to jam a finger down his throat. "Come on, Stephen, I don't want to hear this bullshit."

  Stephen kept his eye on his watch. "They still have time."

  Rebecca had nothing else to say. Not in front of these two. She'd save it for when they were together, alone. She mouthed I love you and went silent.

  "That's it?" Stephen asked. "All right, you two lovebirds. I'm glad you got your final words out of the way. They say that love is blind, and we're going to find out if that is true, because now, we are indeed going to stab out your eyes. Both of them."

  Alan chuckled. "And then we're going to cut out your tongues. Not many people get the opportunity to french kiss from across the room."

  "They sure don't," said Stephen. "Now trade me."

  "What?"

  "Trade me."

  "Fuck that. She's mine."

  "No. She is not."

  Alan looked as if he were going to argue then shrugged. "Fine. I can stab out a man's eyes as well as a woman's, I guess. When we get to nipples, we're trading back."

  They switched places. Stephen stood in front of Rebecca and clenched his own knife tightly in his fist.

  "You're not going to let us live, are you?" she asked.

  Stephen shook his head. "Nope. But do you know why I wanted to trade?"

  "No."

  "Because though my friend is a torture-happy fiend, I am not. I'm all talk. So Gary is going to suffer, but I'm going to put you out of your misery. Do you want to tell him you love him one more time?"

  "Not in front of you."

  "That's totally understandable." He leaned down close to her, his face inches away from hers. "I'd like to let you two die together, but I'm not a fan of romantic endings. This isn't tragedy. This is horror. Gary is going to be screaming for a long time after you're gone. Good night."

  He slammed the knife into her chest.

  She barely felt it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It seemed like a sweet mercy to be detached from all sensation, as when she'd watched Todd go into the fire, but it would be leaving Gary behind.

  She couldn't leave Gary behind until she was dead.

  She wasn't dead yet.

  Right now, she was alive, with a knife jutting out of her chest, and Stephen's head only inches away from her own.

  She slammed her forehead into his face as hard as she could, not caring if she shattered her skull and sent pieces of her brain flying across the room. She might not be able to get out of this alive, but she could sure as hell make him regret ever kidnapping her.

  Stephen let out a howl--an actual howl--and stumbled away as blood jettisoned from his nostrils. He'd pulled the knife most of the way out, though the blade remained lodged a couple of inches deep into her chest.

  "God damn it!" he screamed, hands over his nose.

  Alan seemed to think that was absolutely hysterical. He let out a long, loud laugh. "Oh, man, she really messed you up. Need a towel?"

  "No, I don't need a fucking towel!" Stephen used both hands to wipe blood from his face onto his shirt. "I think she broke it."

  "Not a bad guess from all the blood."

  Rebecca's hands and feet were taped, but her torso wasn't, so she thrust it back and forth several times. The knife dropped out of her chest and onto her lap. Her chest was bleeding, but not nearly as bad as Stephen's nose.

  Gary saw that she'd freed the knife, and began to slam back against his chair, trying to topple it over. She knew exactly what he was trying to do: create another distraction.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Alan asked, stepping behind him and smacking Gary on the back of the head.

  Rebecca couldn't lift her knees much, but it was enough. She grabbed the knife by the blade, twisted it around in her fingers, and went to work cutting through the duct tape that bound her wrist. It was a good, sharp knife.

  Gary jerked himself to the side, toppling over his chair. The chair didn't break apart and Gary wasn't in a much better position than before, but Alan was looking at him instead of Rebecca.

  She cut through most of the tape then yanked her hand free.

  Stephen was still staggering around the room, hands pressed tightly against his face, bellowing in agony. If only a bone fragment had shot into his brain.

  "You think you're gonna get away from me like that?" asked Alan, kicking Gary in the chest. "Is that what you think? You think you're gonna get a less painful death?"

  Rebecca slashed through the duct tape binding her swollen, bloody hand, cutting through the skin in the process, and then went to work on her feet.

  Alan kicked Gary so hard that Rebecca thought she heard his ribs crack, and then he realized what Rebecca was doing with the knife. She freed her left foot.

  Alan strode across the room toward her, holding his own knife in front of him. As he passed Stephen, he smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Snap out of it! It's just a broken nose, for fuck's sake!"

  Rebecca's hand was trembling so badly that she could almost feel the bones rattle, but she cut through the last piece of tape.

  She leapt out of the chair like a wild animal. She didn't care that Alan had a knife--she had one, too. If she hesitated, if she was the least bit squeamish or frightened, she'd be dead. So would Gary. Her husband was lying right there on the other side of the room, and God damn it she was going to get him back.

  She lunged at him with her knife at the exact moment that he swung his toward her face.

  His blade slashed across her chin.

  Her blade punched into his throat.

  Alan grabbed his neck and gasped as if he were choking to death. His eyes went wide and blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

  Rebecca picked up her chair, which felt weightless, and smashed it into him, knocking him to the floor.

  Stephen ran at her.

  As adrenaline fired through her veins, she swung the chair at him as well. Stephen held up his arm to defend himself, and it snapped on impact, a jagged bone bursting right through the sleeve of his jacket.

  With the next swing, his jaw caved in.

  He went down.

  She bashed the chair into him one more time, and Stephen stopped moving.

  There was no time to relax. She picked up Stephen's knife, hurried over to Gary, and gave him a big kiss on the lips. He winced in pain but kissed her back.

  She cut one of his hands free then started on the other, but he shook his head.

  "No, no, I can do it. You find a phone. You're bleeding really bad."

  She looked down at her chest and realized that he was right. It was a ghastly stab wound. But she wasn't going to die from it. There was a hospital stay in both of their futures, but they weren't going to die.

  Though she didn't want to resort to primal savagery, she couldn't have Alan attacking her while she was trying to search him for a phone. Three more bashes with the chair eliminated that possibility. Stephen was still breathing, but he was unconscious and no threat. If he did look like he might become a threat, sh
e still had the chair.

  She found a cell phone in his pocket; it had a signal.