by Mark Allen
The ground rushed up at the big metal bird. The landing skids slammed into the pavement. The chopper bounced back into the air, then dipped again, simultaneously rolling to the right like a dying whale. The rotor blades caught in the thick steel guardrail cables and shattered in a flurry of debris. The sudden impact drove the tail into the road, snapping the rear rotors. The skids hit the ground again and buckled like dry twigs; the chopper dropped onto its belly. Sparks flew where metal met blacktop until the chopper came to a grinding halt in the middle of Route 4. The next vehicle that came along was in for quite a surprise.
Kain turned his attention back to the road. Beside him, Larissa was quiet, lost in her own thoughts, whatever they might be. He rolled up the window, cutting off the cold wind rushing through the bullet-strafed Jeep as the headlights peeled back the layers of the night. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Talon was a fading image in his rearview mirror.
For now, anyway.
CHAPTER 14
Ten minutes and a dozen miles later, a light ground fog began creeping across the road, forcing Kain to slow down. They had just passed through the quiet village of Fort Ann. Off to the right, the harsh white lights of the maximum security state prison gleamed menacingly on row after row of razor wire. Kain felt something deep and primal inside him recoil at the sight. By the laws of the land, he deserved to be inside those walls; he had executed more men than he cared to count and if he ever found himself before a judge, it would not matter that all his victims had deserved to die. They would call him a conscienceless killer and drag him away in chains to spend the rest of his life in a cage. He would rather eat a bullet.
Larissa spoke, pulling him back from his morbid thoughts. “I know where we can go.”
Kain glanced at her. Her face had regained some color; she no longer looked like a ghost. “Where?” he asked, passing a sign that indicated the town of Whitehall was only ten miles up the road.
“Grampy Cobby’s,” she replied. “I told you, he lives in an old hunting cabin way back in the woods. It’s the perfect place to hole up, at least until we can come up with long-term plans.”
Kain remembered her telling him over lunch the other day that Cobb now lived off the grid in the backwoods of Dresden, which was only about fifteen miles up the road between Whitehall and Ticonderoga. He didn’t like involving an innocent in their dangerous situation, but if Cobb was as isolated as Larissa indicated, it was unlikely Talon would find them any time soon. “All right,” he said, “let’s do it.”
“Once you go through Whitehall, look for Pike Brook Road on your left,” she said.
Whitehall looked deserted when they drove through it. The only spots that appeared to be open were a convenience store, laundromat, and a rundown motel uncreatively called Joe’s Motel. The motel boasted a big, illuminated sign out front, but only half the lights worked, so the sign read Jo Mo. Knowing they needed to ditch the bullet-riddled Jeep, Kain swung into the motel. There were no cars in the front parking lot, but out back behind the office they found a well-kept ’89 Dodge Ram pickup truck that probably belonged to the owner of the motel. Kain wasn’t surprised to find the doors unlocked and the keys tucked above the visor; it was that kind of town.
The vehicle exchange successfully completed, he drove through the town’s sole traffic light, then glanced over at Larissa. Her head was turned toward the window, as if she was gazing out at the dark scenery rolling by. Part of him wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but the other part warned him not to do something that could result in stirring up an emotional hornet’s nest.
Instead, he turned his thoughts to Silas, wondering if he was dead or alive. Kain had seen the sliver of wood impale Silas’ eye, but it obviously hadn’t killed him instantly. Had he succumbed to the wound later? Had the sliver punctured into the brain? Kain knew he would have to find out eventually. If Silas was dead, he could finally let go of his hate. How would he feel not carrying that particular cross after all these years? Something told him he would feel empty.
The road became a bridge over South Bay, the southern tip of Lake Champlain, and as Kain looked out across the water he saw moonlight dancing over the glassy surface, mating with the fog and giving the bay an eerie, spectral glow. Some melancholy part of him wished he could simply sink into those waters and never surface again. Just drift down to the bottom and leave behind the pain of this life, the constant ache in his heart. Not just the ache for everything he had lost, but a deeper ache, the ache of loneliness, the ache of self-imposed solitude.
On the other side of the bridge was the sign for Pike Brook Road. Kain took the left-hand turn and immediately felt the pavement become rough and uneven, the tires juddering over potholes. The Dodge Ram’s headlights flashed over fog-laced woods.
“I take it we’re on Pike Brook Road,” Larissa said.
Kain felt the shocks being punished by the rough road. “What was your first clue?”
“Hardly anyone lives back here,” Larissa said, “so the county never bothers to fix the road. A half mile ahead you’ll see an abandoned house on the left. You can’t miss it. Place looks like a junkyard. When you see it, let me know.”
“You sure your grandfather isn’t going to mind us dropping in on him like this in the middle of the night?”
“Of course not. He’ll be happy to have some company. You know, he always liked you. He’ll be glad to have you back for a visit.”
As long as the visit doesn’t get him killed, Kain thought grimly.
He spotted the abandoned house Larissa had told him to look for. She was right; with the skeletons of ancient automobiles rusting amidst the wild grass and thorn bushes—not to mention the heaping mounds of garbage—the place did indeed look like a junkyard. “We just passed that house,” Kain said. “What am I looking for now?”
“There should be a clearing just up ahead on the right. The path we want is across from it on the left.”
Kain noticed she said “path” and not “road.” A few moments later he realized why. What had once been a logging road was now little more than a deeply rutted, rock-strewn path barely wide enough for a single vehicle. Kain engaged the four-wheel drive and drove slowly. Brush choked both sides of the trail, branches scraping against the truck like bony fingers.
The Dodge jerked and jolted over the nasty terrain and tossed Larissa around like a rag doll. She clung to the armrest like a drowning sailor to a life preserver. “Rougher than I remember,” she said.
“How far to the cabin?” Kain asked.
“About another mile.”
As the Dodge bucked its way up the trail, Kain thought of Matthew Cobb. He hadn’t seen the old man since he and Larissa had split up. He wondered if Cobb blamed him for breaking his granddaughter’s heart. Kain steeled himself for the possibility of awkward questions and angry accusations.
A few minutes later Kain saw a “No Trespassing” sign nailed to a tree. He drove past it, splashed through a small creek that bisected the path, and then Cobb’s cabin appeared off to the right, set back amid some pine trees. Kain didn’t see any place to park so he just stopped in the middle of the path and killed the engine.
“Are we there?” Larissa asked.
“Yeah.”
Just then the cabin door opened, spilling a wedge of light out onto the porch. A silhouette loomed in the doorway, a featureless black shape that Kain recognized as Cobb. That recognition didn’t keep his hand from dropping to the butt of his Colt .45, though. An automatic response, as involuntary as breathing, something he did without even thinking about it. At least, that was part of it. The other part was the fact that Cobb had a shotgun in his hands. Kain tried not to think about the irony of escaping from Talon’s clutches only to be killed by friendly fire from a gun-happy grandpa.
“Don’t know who you peckerwoods are,” Cobb called out in a voice every bit as gruff as Kain remembered, “or what you’re doing with Joe’s truck, but I sugg
est you haul butt back the way you came or I’ll fill your asses with so much buckshot you’ll be shitting lead for a week straight.”
Larissa opened her door. The dome light came on. “Grampy,” she said, “it’s me. Larissa. Put the gun down before you hurt yourself.”
“Lissy? That you? By God, girl!” Cobb scampered down the porch steps with an agility that belied his advanced years. He strode toward the Dodge Ram on a walkway made of pallets and planks. “Who’s that with you? New beau?”
“More like an old one.”
Kain opened his door and climbed out of the Jeep. “Hello, Matt.”
“Travis Kain. Well, I’ll be.” There was no hostility in Cobb’s voice and Kain realized he had been worried for nothing. “By God, boy, what brings you way back to these parts? A pansy like you could get himself killed sneaking ‘round in this back-country.”
“Long story,” Kain said.
“And you’ll tell me every last bit of it, but I reckon it’ll hold until we get you two love-birds inside.”
“We’re not—”
Cobb waved a hand. “Save it, sonny. Get my granddaughter inside first and then you can tell me what is and what ain’t.”
As Kain circled around to the passenger side of the truck, he studied the cabin. A bit rough-looking, but not bad. About forty feet long, fifteen feet wide, constructed of rough-cut lumber. A chimney sprouted from the back corner of the roof, probably connected to a wood stove, judging from the firewood stacked along the east wall next to the porch.
Thick mud sucked at Kain’s boots as he opened Larissa’s door and took her hand to help her out. Cobb stayed on the walkway, not saying anything, but Kain knew his hawk-like eyes watched every move, missing nothing. That’s just the kind of man Cobb was. Kain had no doubt that he was trying to decipher exactly where things stood with Kain and Larissa, and if Cobb couldn’t figure it out on his own, he would just come right out and ask. It wasn’t a question Kain looked forward to hearing. He looked forward to answering it even less.
Larissa stepped out of the truck and promptly sank up to her ankles in the thick, sucking mud. She gasped as the cold muck oozed into her shoes. “I’m sinking!” She grabbed Kain’s arm and clung to him.
Kain was acutely aware of the closeness of her body. He swallowed hard and said, “So?”
“So,” Larissa said with an impish grin, “you’ll have to carry me to the cabin.”
Kain knew he shouldn’t, knew it would bring back memories best left buried. Those memories were already banging on the door of his mind, threatening to break through and tear open old scars. But he also knew he was going to do it anyway. Putting thought to action, he reached down and cradled her in his arms.
Instant flashback and oh God, the pain...
Their sixth date. Their first time making love. Just him and Larissa in a quiet motel far off the beaten path. Standing outside the door to their suite, Kain cradled her in his arms, desire making his heart ache. As he nudged open the door, Larissa pulled his head down to hers. Their lips fused with wild emotion, hearts and souls merging as they surrendered to each other, kissing their breath away, yielding to the magical spell of passion sweeping over them.
Kain carried her into the suite. Candles had been lit in anticipation of their arrival. Soft shadows flickered across the bed. Kain laid her down and they slowly undressed each other. She smiled up at him, and that smile said it all.
And then they were one, flesh on flesh, heat into heat, a passion so intense he thought it would reduce him to smoldering ashes. She cried out in ecstasy, her body shuddering as she gasped into his ear that she would love him forever.
It was Cobb’s voice that broke through his sweet yet painful memories, jerking him unceremoniously back to the present. “Well, are you just gonna stand there like some kind of idiot or are you gonna bring her inside?”
“Travis.” Larissa kept her voice soft so Cobb couldn’t hear. “Are you all right?”
Kain fought back the tears that wanted to come. Now was not the time. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just … thinking.”
She raised a hand to touch his face, but he pulled away. “Don’t,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Why not?” she asked softly.
Kain felt her warm breath on his face as her question echoed in his mind.
Why not?
He would never tell her the truth. Because the truth was that he wanted her touch, her kiss, wanted to wipe away the dust and scars from his heart and dare to love again. He had loved Larissa once and if he wasn’t careful, he would fall in love with her again. And he could not allow that to happen. No matter how close Cupid’s arrows struck these days, no matter what feelings for Larissa they stirred up, his love belonged to Karen, wherever she was. Heaven or hell, it didn’t matter; he had promised to love her forever and it was a promise he would never break.
He carried Larissa through the mud and set her down on the walkway. Cobb instantly scooped her into his arms and squeezed her so tight Kain thought he was going to crush her. But the beaming smile on Larissa’s face let him know she wasn’t being hurt. Cobb picked her up and swung her around. “God, it’s good to see you, Lissy.”
“Grampy, put me down,” Larissa said, laughing.
“I notice you didn’t tell Kain to put you down when he was holding you,” Cobb retorted with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. But he obeyed his granddaughter’s wishes and set her down on the walkway.
“That’s because you’re an old man, Grampy,” Larissa said with a grin. “Kain’s arms can handle my weight. But you have to be careful not to break something.” She mimicked the sound of snapping bone, then stood on her toes and kissed Cobb’s grizzled cheek.
Cobb snorted. “Who you calling old, missy? Kain, drag your scrawny little butt into that cabin right this instant, ‘cause you and me are gonna have ourselves an honest-to-God arm-wrestling contest so I can prove to this sassy-mouthed granddaughter of mine that I can whup your ass any day of the week and three times on Sunday.”
Kain had retrieved the duffel bag from the truck while listening to Larissa and Cobb’s good-natured banter. He now slung it over his shoulder and joined them on the walkway. “Think I’ll pass on that, Matt,” he said. “You scare me too much.”
In the trees nearby, an owl hooted. Deeper in the woods, some sort of prey screamed as it fell to a predator in the continual cycle of life and death. Out here, existence was reduced to its simplest form, and Kain found that soothing. A slight breeze stirred the pine needles above them. Kain knew better than to let his guard down, but maybe they had found a place they could actually rest for a few days.
Cobb put his arm around Larissa’s shoulders and guided her back to the cabin. “Hear that, Lissy? Kain says I scare the piss outta him. Smart man.”
Grinning, Kain followed them into the cabin. Cobb really had gone hermit, stripping away the trappings of civilization. The floor was nothing but bare boards covered with a couple of cheap throw rugs. The walls were stuffed with pink insulation held up by a few strategically-placed sheets of wood-grain paneling. An ancient wood stove squatted in the corner, a rickety table and a couple of straight-backed chairs occupied the center of the room, and a gas stove and slop sink took up most of the west wall. Gas lamps hung here and there, copper tubing snaking along the exposed rafters. A half-wall with a doorway cut into it separated the kitchen/living area from Cobb’s bedroom—or what passed for a bedroom in this ramshackle lodge.
“The Taj Mahal it ain’t,” Cobb said, “but I call it home. Got a couple of gas tanks out back for the lights and stove. There ain’t no plumbing—sink just drains out under the cabin—so if you feel the need to bleed your bladder, you’ll have to take a walk; outhouse is on the other side of the road.” He deposited Larissa in a battered arm chair next to the wood stove, then turned to Kain. “Of course, you and I bein’ males and all, we can just step out on the porch and let it hang over the side. Nature is our urinal, ya know? But don’t
let me catch you asking Larissa to give you a hand, if you know what I mean.”
“Grampy!” Larissa’s cheeks flushed red.
Kain just shook his head and smiled. Cobb was a real piece of work and he would never change. “I think I can handle things myself, Matt.”
“You want to handle your thing yourself, that’s your business. Just make sure you clean up after yourself.” Cobb headed for the stove, his step spry and lively; he looked like a wizened old leprechaun. “Now, while I whip us up some java, you go ahead and tell me just what brings you two all the way out here.”
Kain gave him the bare-bones version, sticking to the basics. By the time Cobb fetched some mugs from the cupboard over the sink and filled them with fresh-brewed coffee, Kain had brought him up to speed. He omitted the part where Larissa had confessed that she had never stopped loving him. He didn’t figure it was any of Cobb’s business and besides, it wasn’t something he really wanted to think about right now.
Cobb set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Kain. “Hope you like it black,” he said, “because I’m all out of cream and sugar. Need to take a trip into town and fetch some grub pretty soon.” He put a cup in Larissa’s hands, then sat down at the table across from Kain. “One thing you should know. That Frank Giadello scumbag you mentioned? He’s dead.”
“How do you know?”
Cobb pointed at a small battery-operated radio sitting on a pine plank shelf. “Heard it on the evening news. They’re speculating it was some kind of gangland rivalry, one crime family taking out another. They nailed Giadello right in front of his house, just outside the gates. Took out two bodyguards and then proceeded to put some serious killing into him. News report said he was hit by over twenty bullets, so somebody really wanted him dead.”
“Rene Perelli,” Larissa said.