She had no idea how he could possibly aim at her, but she also knew she didn’t have time to worry about it. As she moved again, a flash of light bounced off the car. She looked up. He was searching for her with a flashlight. When the beam rested on her, she dropped to the ground and rolled again. The gun went off again. He was missing but not by much.
Her heart pounded, and she moved her legs on instinct. She was being hunted, and her primal brain operated on instincts developed over millions of years.
She had rolled behind long grasses and was no longer in his direct line of view. She could see the light beam move above and around her from left to right, up and down. He was scanning for her. Looking for movement. He was also approaching her position.
She knew that even a good marksman would have a hard time holding a flashlight and shooting a moving target in the dark at this range, especially someone that was hurt. Marc had told her how phony the scenes in popular movies were when they portrayed men shooting handguns. Even experienced marksmen had limitations. She wished she’d been even more paranoid earlier and kept the Sig with her. If she could fire back, it would at least slow him down.
There was no time for considering regrets. She had left her jacket and gloves behind as well. She had no food or water. She had no flashlight. However, she was alive and that was something.
She knew he was hurt. She hoped his injuries were bad enough to stop him from chasing her. He was still cussing and threatening. His advancement towards her was slow. She hoped the trap had broken his leg, but whatever damage it had done, it wasn’t stopping him from pursuing her.
Drew ran. Her small size was an advantage. She was quick at zigging and zagging. Her small, short frame made her a tiny target. She heard several shots, one for each time the flashlight had momentarily landed on her. Each time she saw the light, she changed direction. The third time, she faked changing direction and continued the direction she’d been running.
She heard another shot as she tripped and fell. Dirt and rocks crushed into her face. The man screamed out again, “You bitch!” She was gaining distance from him.
Drew could make out the tree line. It was darker where the meadow ended. Drew felt branches hit her face as she ran into the forest. She slowed her pace to avoid running straight into a tree trunk. Under cover in the trees, there was no way he could see her. She knew she was safe from being shot for the moment.
Keeping her hands in front of her face, she moved downhill. She wasn’t sure where she was heading, but it was away from the cabin and her stalker. She knew to her right and uphill was the driveway and to her right and downhill was the main road. To her left and downhill was the creek which flowed towards the bridge, Fallen Oaks Trailer Park, and the main highway to Glenley.
She considered doubling back and going upstream along the creek. She could wait him out, perhaps end up going back to the cabin. But that seemed too risky. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Her legs were burning, her muscles were taxed beyond their capability, and she was trying to catch her breath. She tasted blood. She couldn’t tell if she’d cut her face, gotten a bloody nose, or bitten her tongue. It was too dark to see, and she hurt everywhere.
Her entire body ached. She had to stop. She needed to rest and to drink. She turned around to look in the direction she’d come from, but she couldn’t see more than a couple of feet. It was too dark under the tree cover. She sat down against a tree trunk and slowed her breathing. She listened. It was quiet for a moment, but then in the distance, she could hear a car door slam. He was in his car. She was safe at least for now.
Drew considered her assets. She was alive and relatively unharmed. Some minor scrapes and bruises, but no major injuries. She had on jeans, boots, and a light sweater. She wasn’t wearing gloves, a hat, or a jacket. It would get very cold tonight, below freezing. Without shelter, she’d die of hypothermia. She was covered in sweat after running so hard. Her body’s natural response to cool her down was now going to freeze her to death if she stayed outdoors.
She would go to the stream. Besides being able to drink from it, the stream would lead her towards help at Fallen Oaks Trailer Park. She could call the police.
Drew knew there were neighbors closer, but none of them had phone service. She was also more likely to get lost if she left the stream.
She reconsidered going back to the cabin to wait him out there. The problem with that plan was not knowing where her stalker was. He could be there waiting. She couldn’t hear his car, and it was impossible to see anything in the distance.
She knew he wasn’t so injured to stop chasing her. He’d made it to his vehicle. He had made it clear he wasn’t giving up. He wanted her dead.
There was no way he could sneak up on her in the forest. If he turned on his flashlight, she’d be able to see him a long distance away. If he tried searching without a light, he’d have no chance of finding her. It was too dark.
She couldn’t stay put and wait out the night, so she walked downhill for what seemed like twenty or thirty minutes. Tracking time was difficult. She rarely wore a watch because her smartphone was always with her. It kept time, tracked her appointments, found the best sushi restaurants, and even told her how far she’d walked each day. She wished she had it. The flashlight would have been nice, but she’d put it in her suitcase upon arrival. It had been kind of nice being off the grid, but she’d kill for her cell now.
She heard the stream and quickened her pace. Her first landmark gave her a sense of accomplishment and renewed hope. She drank deeply. The water was barely above freezing and burned her throat. She splashed her face and washed away dirt, sweat, and blood. The cold water shocked her. Now fully alert, she closed her eyes and listened.
She could hear the stream. It bubbled and gurgled. She shivered and realized how cold she’d become.
Drew heard a cracking noise. A broken branch. She remained still. She opened her eyes. They had adjusted enough to the darkness to see a short distance. By the stream and out from under the trees, the sky was visible. It was less cloudy now, and she could see stars. If the moon was coming out tonight, it hadn’t risen yet. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
She heard the noise again, uphill and to her right under the trees. She strained to listen over the noise of the bubbling creek. She was afraid to run. Drew crouched behind a boulder and remained still.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.
~ Winston S. Churchill
I’ve been shot at many times. Without result, obviously.
~ Brandon Hull
Brandon Hull wasn’t pleased. He pulled a knife and a lantern from the trunk of his car. He cut his pants open and examined his leg.
He drove up to the cabin and hobbled inside. His leg was throbbing. He didn’t believe the bear trap had created a break, but he could have a hairline fracture. Putting weight on his leg hurt like hell.
He added logs to the fire, lit a lantern, and found coffee. He opened his first aid kit, took a painkiller, and cleaned his leg where the trap had broken the skin. Infection wasn’t his concern right now. He’d get antibiotics later. He was concerned about swelling, internal bleeding, and being able to walk. He’d need medical attention soon. He wrapped his leg with an Ace bandage. He used duct tape to fix his pants, and he filled one of his side pockets with protein bars he’d found in the cupboard. He filled his canteen. As long as he wasn’t losing too much blood internally, he could stay out all night.
He admired her, the bitch. She surprised the fuck out of him. He realized he was too pleased. This isn’t a game, he reminded himself. He knew he still needed to find her.
Hull loaded up his car, checked his Glock, reloaded the clip that was in the gun, and pocketed another full clip. He started up the car and headed down the hill.
When he passed the bridge, he drove a bit more, then backed into the trees and parked. He opened the glovebox and took out his pho
ne. He powered it up, but there was no service. He restarted the car, cussed to himself, and drove into Fallen Oaks. The phone picked up service.
There was only one text message from Boyd. He asked for a status report. Hull considered texting him an answer, but there was nothing definitive he could report. If he texted that the situation was good, and later it all went to shit, he’d have some uncomfortable explaining to do. Better to wait. If things went to hell, if Drew continued to elude him, it would be better to let the Congressman know to expect a shitstorm. And then he’d try to leave the country if he could. Boyd would probably try to kill him first.
Hull drove back to the spot he’d hidden before and parked the car. He put on his gloves and a jacket. Then he turned off the engine and ate a protein bar.
“So, how you doing out there in the woods, no food and cold as a beer cooler at the 7-Eleven, Miss fucking Drew?” He settled in his seat and waited. Patience was a friend. He hadn’t survived this long by being hasty. Although tonight, he admitted to himself, he’d gotten a little rushed.
Hull’s career in the field had usually involved dealing with other men, not women. Generally, those other men were trained soldiers or criminal thugs, professional killers like he was. Men that were trained to use weapons, tactics, and survival skills. His job was like a chess game with life and death stakes. It was about sacrificing human pawns and moving pieces about to attack an opponent’s weak spot. The end game was simple: go for the kill. Hull had been surprised by Drew’s resilience, her lack of fear, and that she hadn’t submitted. He liked that she was a worthy opponent. It made winning more enjoyable. And there was no doubt in his mind — he would win. He always did.
He considered his options and tried to place himself in her shoes. What direction would she head? Would she go back to the cabin? How long would it take her to get here if she kept moving? Would she try to go to one of the neighbor’s cabins? Would she try to make it here to Fallen Oaks? The trailer park seemed most likely. Nobody uphill had phone service.
Hull decided there was no way she could make it to the bridge sooner than a couple hours. He had plenty of time.
He drove back towards the cabin, stopping often to listen. When he got to the cabin, he walked through it again. He scanned with his flashlight, genuinely curious about where she’d hid. He noticed the open doors on the bathroom cabinet. Clever girl. Clever.
Hull looked at his watch. She’d been on the run for a little over an hour. She couldn’t be more than halfway down. He got back into his car and drove past the halfway point. He would try to cut her off before she made the bridge.
He knew that even if he couldn’t ambush her along the way, she’d have to come into Fallen Oaks at some point. She would not make it to the trailer park. No way. He’d find her one way or another. Hull was confident of that.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Don't underestimate the power of being underestimated.
~ Tim Fargo
I realized it was okay to fail. It wasn’t just okay, it was imperative. Fail a thousand times. But try a thousand and one.
~ Drew Stirling
Drew Stirling remained silent and held her breath. Her body was stiff and it ached. She had no weapon, and a sense of dread fell over her. She felt the urge to vomit.
The sound of the bubbling stream was peaceful and hypnotic. She wished she could lie down somewhere warm. She listened and concentrated. Another noise, to the left just below her. It was moving away. No. Now, another noise to the right. This was madness.
Drew cocked her head slightly to the left and listened. She heard nothing. She strained her eyes and saw nothing.
“Fuck!” She jumped. A deer had been so close to her she could have touched it. It bolted when Drew shouted. Several others joined it, escaping an unknown danger. Silence fell again when the herd was gone.
Drew stood and stretched her legs. She had no good options other than to continue downstream. The air was getting colder, and she needed to keep moving to stay warm.
She came around a bend in the stream and felt the first sense of relief, nearly joy, since she’d entered the woods. She could see lights in the distance. Hope. The lights of Fallen Oaks Trailer Park appeared to be far away, at least a mile, but she could see them. She was not going to freeze to death in the woods. She had a chance.
She also knew that her pursuer wasn’t going to give up. He’d kill her if he caught her.
Concentrate. Live. Move. Stay alert.
Drew walked into a clearing along the side of the creek. The trees were dark shadows a couple hundred feet back, and the creek had a small beach along the bank. The sky above her was clear and she could see stars. The moon must be somewhere up there, she thought, because she had better visibility. She made it to the end of the beach, and there appeared to be a faint trail leading further downstream. She followed it along the stream and headed towards the lights.
She walked for quite awhile before she realized how far away she really was from the trailer park. She hadn’t reached the bridge yet, and the bridge was a bit of a drive from the trailer park. It wasn’t easy to judge distances in this darkness. She knew if she kept walking and stuck to the trail, it would lead to the bridge. The road over the bridge led to safety.
When she made out a dark shadow spanned across the creek, she felt another wave of hopefulness. She knew she was close and she knew she was more exposed. She walked up a knoll with a clear view and saw the bridge in the distance.
It was time to think about tactics. Where would he lie in wait? Where would he setup an ambush?
Think like a killer. Like an animal. If I wanted to catch me, where would I hide?
Drew stood still and studied the area around the bridge. The shadows and shapes in the dim light might still give him away.
She considered her options. It was too late for second-guessing. She was already too far downhill to go back. The next logical step was to get to Fallen Oaks. Once there, she could either try to find someone that would let her use a phone or find a vehicle that had a spare key in the visor. Everyone was always leaving the keys to their old pickup trucks in the visor. All she needed to do was find an old Ford or Chevy truck, and she could borrow it to drive into Glenley. Sure. And maybe there would be a taxi waiting for her there too. She laughed to herself. Maybe she could just tap her feet together and chant, “There’s no place like home.”
She had to prioritize. The first thing she had to make happen was to enter the trailer park unnoticed by her stalker. She couldn’t just walk down the road. Drew assumed he was still out there and had every intention of killing her. He had most of the advantages, but she wasn’t defeated yet.
She’d have to cross the creek in order to get into Fallen Oaks. Her options were to go over the bridge or cross the stream in the water. Her stalker would know her dilemma. Getting wet would lead to hypothermia. Crossing the bridge would leave her exposed.
She continued to walk and delayed her decision. She occasionally stopped to look and listen. The path moved into the trees and then curved back towards the stream. It was clear of brush and limbs along the bank. As the trail approached the bridge, it moved uphill and connected to the road. When she made it there, she crouched next to a tree to stay concealed.
She rested and thought. She couldn’t sit all night, but she had enough time to be patient and think. Drew needed a plan to get across the bridge, a plan that wouldn’t end up with her dead.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
What the gods want happens soon.
~ Petronius
I realized if I didn’t just go, I’d never go. Going was the key. It didn’t matter where I was headed just as long as I was headed somewhere.
~ Ben Davis
Ben Davis had his radio volume turned up high, and he was singing out loud. He drove through Glenley without stopping. He’d filled up the gas tank earlier in the day, and his dad had poured him a to-go cup of coffee.
“Leave the cup at
your mother’s. It’s probably hers anyway,” he’d said.
“You still sound bitter, Dad. Get over it already.” Ben was the oldest of three, and he’d been forced to be both the liaison and referee for his parents’ recent divorce. He loved them both, but he was finished playing these roles.
Dinner conversation that evening had been a milestone.
“Ben. Are you sure? California. Really? It’s so, it’s just, it’s so different.”
“Yeah, it’s different. More sun, less snow. I might learn to surf. You need to move on. Get over Mom. Go on a date. Although, Glenley? I’m not sure you’ll find any single women up here that aren’t in their eighties.”
“Listen to you. How long have you been single yourself now, a year?”
“Eleven months.”
They both laughed.
They exchanged hugs and Ben left. He did love his dad and mom. He was shocked when they’d announced six months ago that they were divorcing. Ben, still fresh off his breakup, took it especially hard. His girlfriend had been his high school sweetheart. He had thought they’d marry.
Ben had pleaded with his parents. He’d told them many of the same things he’d told his girlfriend when she announced she was breaking up with him.
“Can’t you try counseling?
“Can’t you give it more time?
“Maybe just separate for a while?
“Don’t you still love each other, at least a little bit?
“How can this happen?
“I thought we were a happy family.”
Ben realized that every relationship was held on an old-fashioned balancing scale, the kind that weights were placed upon to create a balance like a teeter-totter. Couples put weight on one end of the scale with every action. His parents’ marriage had tipped too far. Then it ended.
Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1) Page 17