by Vivien Vale
I see the muzzle of the gun—another Stanton Industries special, I’m sure—and Adam’s eyes fixed right on me. I know that Adam is a good shot, but at this range, it doesn’t even matter.
Fish in a barrel.
I hear Adam’s heavy breathing as he waits for my answer.
“How did you find me?” I respond with my own question. I don’t really care about his answer, but I don’t know what else to say.
“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” I can almost smell the malice coming from Adam. He doesn’t look cool or calculating like he usually does. He looks, honestly, pretty fucking gritty. I don’t think he’s bathed or brushed his teeth since I last saw him.
“GPS, Avery! It’s the most basic thing in the world! You stole my car, crashed it, and I tracked you down. Not that it matters—I would’ve found you no matter what.”
“What do you want?” I feel physical fear creeping in, but a large part of me is ready to tell him go eat a dick—gun or no gun.
“The same thing I’ve always wanted, Avery.” Adam’s speaking with menacing calm. “I want to marry you. There’s still time to finish the ceremony as it was supposed to be finished!”
Adam’s cool demeanor slips, but he swallows—an oddly terrifying sound—and starts speaking again calmly.
“We can still have our wedding as planned, Avery. The guests are still there, and they’ll all be relieved to know that you’re okay. Think about how happy they’ll all be to see you and to finally get to watch our wedding.”
“No,” I say, all remnants of fear draining from me. “I don’t want to marry you, Adam. I’d rather die.”
Adam sighs. He rubs his temples with his index finger and thumb, like I’ve exasperated him.
I’m always exasperating Adam. It’s kind of the only thing I’m good at.
“Well, that’s too bad.” The gun clicks as he flicks off the safety. “Death it is, then.”
This all feels like a big joke, even though I know it’s not.
“You have a choice here, Adam. You can leave. Forever. Just go. Now.”
“I’m afraid not. I know that you’ve been staying here with the man who owns this disgusting cabin, and I can guess what you’ve been doing together. I can smell the fucking sex in here—so don’t bother lying to me. He ruined you, Avery.”
For a second, that hurts.
Then it just pisses me off.
I’m not fucking ruined because of Jack.
I’m whole.
“Just leave, Adam.” I know I’m supposed to be scared, but I’m just growing angrier.
“He knows too much,” he counters. “You both do. That’s why you both have to die.”
Adam stands up, keeping the gun trained on me. Now I know he means business.
Chapter 35
Jack
For such a ridiculous fucking cold snap, in the middle of an especially brutal winter, the birds sure seem upbeat today. Normally, I’d find their nonstop singing to be a distraction when I’m working on something outside.
However, their chirpy melodies sound okay right now. They even sound kind of nice, traveling through the frosty air as I work on this poor, departed bear skin.
I feel like I could write a poem about it. Wouldn’t that be something. I could be a modern day fucking Wordsworth or something, writing about nature.
With the right inspiration, you’d be surprised at what you can accomplish.
I can tell this creature didn’t live the happiest life, but after the way things had to go down, I’m gonna do my best to make the most of this situation.
It’s getting colder and windier than it’s been in quite a while, which is impressive considering what this winter’s been like.
I don’t stop working, though. I don’t even consider it―if the songbirds can stick it out, there’s no reason that I can’t as well. I’m also well-prepared for a day-long session of outdoor work…as always.
The birds keep chirping, I keep working. Even after what feels like an eternal time out here in the wilderness. I don’t usually feel this close to nature, or this in rhythm.
The windiness, the bursts of chill―I use it as much as I use the bird songs and the rustling of trees as inspiration for this project. It’s beginning to feel like my life’s work.
Avery’s waiting for it, and I’m beginning to be certain that she’s my life’s work, too.
When it’s finished, it needs to be worth the wait.
It’s strange, working harder than I ever have―and still losing my sense of time. It’s even stranger that I don’t care. I realize that this is not about time.
I’m not worried about daylight hours wasting away. I’m not worried about it getting even colder. I’m just worried about getting this done while I’m feeling the inspiration and the energy.
On the other hand, I’d like to save some of that energy for later. Like I said, I’ve never felt this connected with nature―and my natural urges are strong as they’ve ever been these past few days.
Then again, I never seem to lack energy when it comes to fucking my Avery.
I get into what some of my old colleagues used to call the ‘flow of things’, when you almost forget where you are, what time it is, or how long you’ve been doing what you’re doing.
All that matters is the task at hand.
I stay that way for a few minutes―or an hour. I don’t know. I’ve completely lost track of time.
I keep working until I start to strongly feel the cold and the wind. At my body heat, that’s easier said than done.
The sun is almost set by the time I’m ready to call it quits for the day. It’s not that I’m tired, or even that I’m cold. I just fucking miss Avery too damn much to be away from her any longer.
Even Buck must have given up on his self-appointed duty of Chief Bird Barker. For a while, I could hear his rough little boofs echoing up and down the mountain, but he must have missed Avery too much, too.
That mutt loves her just as much as I do. He’s probably curled up next to her in front of the fire right now, monopolizing on her belly rubs.
Little shit had best be ready to budge over. Those are my belly rubs.
Strangest thing, though…I don’t hear Buck barking anymore, and I no longer hear the birds singing, either.
I’m not worried about the project anymore.
I’m wondering about what happened to the fucking birds.
I drop what I’m doing, literally leaving it on the ground. Then I run back to the cabin.
The first thing I see is Buck on his side, whimpering in pain. I drop to my knees in an instant, patting him down. It seems like he’s just dazed—the pain in his whimper is more surprise than anything. I’ll haul him to the vet first thing when the snow melts—but before I do that, there’s a bigger problem.
The front door is swinging wide open.
My first thought is that Avery’s left again. That must be it.
But Avery wouldn’t leave the front door open, and Avery sure as hell wouldn’t have hurt my dog.
I start sprinting towards the door, and the wind shuts it in my face. I don’t let that delay me for a second. I kick open the door, and it flies off the hinges, sailing into the room and crashing on the floor as I run in.
I hear a voice—frantic, half-formed, muddled words coming from upstairs. I start sprinting again, stepping on the door and jumping onto the stairs.
I do two steps at a time, then three, and then four for my last stride, bringing me face to face with Avery sitting close to the top of the stairs.
Her hands are bound behind her back.
Avery’s eyes are filled with a confused dread and a weird kind of annoyance. Looking down from her eyes, I see where those half-formed words were coming from―a towel from the kitchen tied over her mouth.
After I make eye contact, Avery starts desperately trying to speak.
A feeling in my toes starts traveling slowly through me. It’s a feeling of determina
tion, of energy―but more than anything, it’s a feeling of serious fucking rage.
Avery’s arms and ankles are bound with hemp rope to one of my chairs. I’m about to take a good look at this fucker who did this to her—he’s standing right behind her. He must’ve brought that rope with him, and the intention of hurting my woman along with it.
This sick subhuman has made the worst mistake of his fucking life.
I carefully look him over. He’s dressed in a clean, pressed suit, but he smells like someone who’s been neglecting basic self-care.
His hair is wild and unkempt, and the look in his eyes, in Adam Stanton’s eyes—that’s right, I fucking know who this—is the look of someone who hasn’t been sleeping.
Good. That bastard shouldn’t be allowed to sleep at night.
But despite that, I recognize that this is a dangerous man. I follow the arm of Adam’s suit down to the pistol he’s holding.
The firearm looks familiar. It’s the type of pistol often issued to officers in the service.
By Adam Stanton’s own shitty fucking company, no less.
He’s aiming it steadily at Avery’s temple.
This is a dangerous man and a dangerous situation. Although I’m beyond furious, I tread fucking lightly and make careful eye contact.
As I hope, he begins speaking first.
“I know who you are,” he tells me.
I don’t tell him I know who he is, too.
“You hurt my dog,” I say instead. “I don’t take too kindly to that.”
I catch Adam’s firearm again in my peripheral vision. He doesn’t notice me looking at it, and I think how fucking easily I could disarm this sack of shit.
I could do it easily, but I’d also likely end up with a dead man in my cabin.
Avery doesn’t need that, not after all she’s been through. Truthfully, I don’t need that, either. At this point, taking a life is the last thing I want to do—no matter whose life it is.
Avery’s changed me. For the better, I think.
I’m still feeling the rage at full throttle, but I know how to channel it effectively. My mind is shifting into overdrive, working out the best way to proceed to ensure a peaceful outcome.
“You’re the bastard who ruined my woman. This is my bride!” Adam yelps, his voice cracking with crazed emotion.
I maintain my cautious eye contact, signaling to Adam to keep talking—and he does.
“She was to be my bride. She is my bride, She’s my rightful bride! But you…”
“Me.”
“Yes, you!” Adam shrieks with a window-shattering voice. “You ruined her. There’s no way I could ever make you pay for this.”
This is getting fucking old fucking fast. Even his monologue bores me.
But from the desperate look in Avery’s eyes, I do my best to figure out a way to settle this properly.
I want to keep myself from destroying this man, but it’s becoming very difficult.
Ruined her, my ass. When I’m inside Avery, we’re both whole.
“Why don’t you point that firearm away from Avery? If you’re going to kill me, you’d best do me first.”
Adam keeps the gun where it is.
“Because if she dies before I do,” I say carefully, “you don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to you.”
His hand trembles.
I’ve got him.
“You,” he sneers. “I had a contract with the military when you were in the service. It was one of the most lucrative defense contracts in the nation’s history—which is pretty fucking crazy when you think about it, isn’t it?”
Adam’s voice is getting both crazier and more arrogant as he monologues. I feel the anger shoot through me.
“You may think that we were just being cheap,” Adam continues, “that they were all just horrible accidents. Is that what you thought?”
I’m at a point where I’m not talking because I can’t. I’m paralyzed with anger. That might end up being very bad news for Adam.
“You’re a sick fucking bastard, just so you know,” I say flatly. “A war criminal too, from the sounds of things.”
Adam ignores me. “There’s nothing that happens that I don’t want to happen. It’s all up to me, but you’re not supposed to know that, and that’s another reason that you need to end right now. More importantly, I need to deliver justice for what you’ve done to my bride.”
“Fine,” I say trying not to speak through my teeth. “Like I said—you’d best shoot me first, then.”
Adam throws his head back and giggles at the ceiling like a crazed motherfucker.
Christ. Losing Avery really made this man snap.
Adam brings the gun down to his side.
“You’re not so tough or powerful now,” Adam taunts me, “Isn’t that right, you fucking Boy Scout?”
He moves the gun from one hand to the other, keeping it pointed down at the floor.
“You ambidextrous now?” I ask him.
“Oh, that’s a big word for simple mountain folk like yourself. I can kill you with whichever fucking hand I want. But before I do, I need to ask: do you feel the least bit bad for ruining Avery with your primitive brutishness?”
“Do you feel bad,” I ask, “for representing pure evil, pure malice? For disregarding human life so readily? For putting civilization in peril by creating mindless destruction and chaos, solely for the sake of profit?”
I watch the gun in Adam’s hand—it looks like he’s loosening his grip. I continue.
“Do you feel bad, Adam,” I say his name emphatically, “for the shitty fucking way you’ve acted, and continue to act, towards a woman who wants nothing to do with you?”
“Nothing happens that I don’t want to happen,” Adam says, looking shell-shocked. “I—I paid for her.”
“And she still doesn’t fucking want you. Never fucking will.”
Adam acts fast, so fast that even I can’t stop him.
He swings his arm around, pointing the firearm at Avery’s head―and pulling the trigger.
Chapter 36
Avery
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for fate to swing the axe.
I’ve been preparing to die this whole time, really. So many different times, in so many ways.
I'll be in heaven soon.
Angels will take me…but they’ll take me away from Jack.
To me, that’s the saddest and most heart-wrenching pain I’ll have to endure.
He's the last thing I think about when Adam pulls the trigger.
My only comfort is knowing that he’ll be the last thing I see.
In an instant, all my time with Jack flashes before my eyes. Every moment we spent together previews in front of me in one long, glorious moment. Time slows down and I have one last chance to experience what true love feels like.
We had a good run. It's been short, but at least I finally experienced love before I died.
I think about Jack and how life had wounded him so badly. My death will just torture him further. But I'm helpless to stop it and so, I just let go and wait for a bullet to the head.
I wait…and wait some more. But nothing happens.
Adam’s cussing makes me open my eyes. He is messing with the trigger. It looks like his gun jammed. Karma has finally caught up with him.
How the tables of fucking fortune have turned.
It's a sweet moment of karmic bliss when you know that everything has come full circle. Jack is going to get what he deserves at last.
The bad guys never win. I should’ve known that from fairy tales by now. The fact that I'm not going to die just yet makes me believe even more that I have a chance of being happy, of being with Jack.
I have barely a moment to react or even to breathe a sigh of relief before Jack jumps into action.
Jack unties me and removes the gag while Adam struggles with his faulty gun. I rub my wrists and suck in a deep breath of fresh air. Free at last. I still can't quite believe tha
t my life is not over. The taste of Jack’s maple syrup from the dishtowel is even still in my mouth.
I look up into Jack's eyes and see that he's relieved, too. For a moment he stares at me, checking to see that I'm alright.
It’s thanks to fate that I've been given a new lease on life. And I know Jack will handle the rest.
But at that moment, I see Adam getting up over Jack's shoulder, poised for an attack.
"Jack, look out!" I yell.
But Jack is already turning on Adam before the words leave my lips. I didn't even have to say anything. Jack has some kind of sixth sensory skill for detecting danger.
It’s extra useful for when I’m around, since I’m really fucking good at getting into it, or so it seems.
Jack’s face is red with fury and desire for revenge.
I would fucking hate to be Adam right now with no hope at all.
Jack catches Adam by the neck. There's no contest between the two of them. Jack is so much bigger than Adam that it's ridiculous to even compare.
He holds Adam by the neck and throws him against the wall where he begins to strangle the latter.
Is it wrong to say I find sick satisfaction from seeing the man who almost murdered me now in the grips of the man who saved my life?
In this moment, I realize that Jack will always protect me. He always has my back. And my front.
And some parts of me between my legs that are probably improper to be thinking of right now.
But at the same time, I came very close to death—I saw death tonight. And I know Jack is gonna to make Adam pay for that, sorely.
"L-let me go!” Adam says, choking on the words. “We can work something out. I've got money. You can have it. You can have anything you want. Just let me go!"
Jack is unfazed. All I see is a fiery rage in his eyes. He's on a mission to kill and I'm not sure I oppose the idea.
He releases Adam, who falls limply to the floor. Jack starts kicking him in the ribs over and over again.
Adam's screams do nothing to make me empathize. I want him to suffer. He deserves everything he gets.
Jack pummels him to the ground and punches Adam's face multiple times. Soon, he's a bloodied, unrecognizable mess.