BACKWOODS RIPPER: a gripping action suspense thriller

by Anna Willett

  Ignoring Lizzy’s dig at her, Paige persisted. “Did your father send you away because you got pregnant?”

  The silence stretched. Lizzy still held the spoon, she dipped it in the dregs of her soup and swirled it around. Paige wondered if she’d gone too far. Maybe asking about her relationship with her father would set off another angry attack. She steeled herself and moved her right hand from her belly and slipped it in her pocket. She felt the handle of the knife.

  “He was under a lot of pressure,” Lizzy said after a long silence. “He loved me. I helped him keep this place going.” Her grey eyes looked watery as if she were fighting tears. “He needed me. It’s not easy to be responsible for everyone … sometimes the stress got to be too much.”

  Paige wondered if Lizzy was still talking about herself or her father. She felt a tiny pang of pity for the woman, then just as quickly she pushed the feeling away.

  Lizzy dropped her spoon into the bowl with a sharp clang. “What happened today with Wade, I didn’t mean to do that,” she said changing direction. “Wade was a good man, not like some of the ratbags in town.”

  “Did he have a family?” Paige asked hoping her question wouldn’t provoke the woman. It was the longest conversation they’d had since Paige first flagged down Lizzy’s ute. Part of her wanted to know more about the woman capable of inflicting so much pain, but another part wanted to shrink from Lizzy as if the madness that raged in the woman’s mind could be contagious.

  “There’s time,” Lizzy said. “His wife died four years ago and his son lives in Darwin.” Her eyes were calculating and a smile played around the corner of her mouth. The tears glossing her eyes only seconds ago were gone so fast Paige wasn’t sure if they’d ever been there.

  “Time for a cuppa,” Lizzy said jovially, and stood up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Paige paced the room, her bare feet slapping on the scuffed boards. It was still too early to make a move. She’d left Lizzy and Soona in the kitchen almost an hour ago, but when she crept out to listen, the sound of the television floated from their living quarters. Paige stopped pacing and sat on the narrow bed.

  The dormitory was lit by a single naked bulb hanging from a twist of wires. The light cast shadows in every corner giving the room an eerie feel. She patted her pocket and felt the outline of the knife. If everything went to plan, she wouldn’t have to use it. She clenched one hand over the other and drew them up to her mouth. Her body fought heavy fatigue, and the muscles in her back felt bunched and tight. She’d only managed a few hours of sleep last night. In the last three nights, she’d slept very little, and during the times she had found deep sleep, she’d been plagued by nightmares.

  She tucked her legs up onto the bed and leaned sideways until her head rested on her right arm. Sleep would be an escape, if only a short one. She longed for a few moments of black nothingness where she could hide from the ugly reality that shadowed each waking hour. Paige locked her eyes on the door. The wood was painted a shade of green that was probable once minty and cheerful, but now faded to the colour of boiled cabbage.

  She was probably safe for tonight, but if she didn’t get away soon, Lizzy would come for her. Killing Wade had narrowed Lizzy’s window of opportunity. The fact that Wade had no family to report him missing would give her a little wiggle room, but sooner or later the police would come calling. That meant within the coming week, Lizzy would take what she wanted and dispose of Paige and Hal.

  Paige draped her arm over her belly and felt the gentle movements of her baby. She couldn’t let that happen. The small innocent life inside her shifted, oblivious to the danger. Paige closed her eyes and hummed a lullaby she remembered from her own childhood. The baby settled and Paige let out a sigh. Her eyes fluttered open and checked the door one more time before she sank into sleep.

  * * *

  She was in her father’s bedroom, the sheets were rumpled and washed in early morning light. She called out, but her dad didn’t answer. Her heart pounded in her throat and her ears buzzed. She reached out and touched the chest of drawers near the wall and felt something land on her hand. She tried to flick it away thinking it was a fly – it’s always a fly. But the thing on her hand hung on, too heavy to be an insect.

  In her dream, Paige looked down at her hand and gasped. A thick, dark green snake curled around her wrist, its pink fleshy mouth gaping open to reveal a long blue tongue. She shrieked and shook her arm sending the snake flying across the room.

  She headed for the bathroom calling out to her father as she stumbled through the door. Her father lay sprawled on the black tiles. His face turned to the floor and his arms stretched out in front of him as though he were getting ready to dive through the floor.

  “Dad? Dad, are you alright?” Paige cried out, knowing he wasn’t. He would never be alright again.

  The buzzing in her ears grew louder, almost deafening. She sank to her knees when she noticed her father’s legs, they were both nothing more than bloody stumps sticking out of his blue-striped boxer shorts. Ribbons of red and white flesh left a trail of blood smeared on the black tiles. It looked like he’d crawled across the floor.

  Paige moaned and reached out to touch his shoulder, but flinched back when his head snapped up. She stumbled back, her mouth open but refusing to make sounds. It was her father’s body, but Hal’s tortured face stared up at her. When he opened his mouth a swarm of flies buzzed out. Paige’s chest pumped up and down until finally, she pushed out a scream.

  She scrambled on the floor next to the bathroom door trying to get to her feet, but her arms were caught by squirming snakes that held her down and slithered over her skin. She jerked back trying to free herself and her eyes sprang open. For a moment, the glare of the light baffled her, she felt something touch her cheek and shrieked.

  * * *

  Paige swatted at her face with her right hand before realising that she was hitting herself. She’d fallen asleep on her left arm and her numb fingers brushed against her cheek. Still breathing hard from the nightmare, Paige sat up and rubbed her left hand until painful pins and needles flooded her lifeless limb.

  Her eyes darted to every shadowed corner, the light seemed shockingly bright over the bed, but in the corners anything could lurk. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep. The back of her dress felt damp with sweat. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and waited for the sense of confusion to dissipate.

  Over the last thirteen years, she’d had countless dreams about the morning she’d found her father dead on his bathroom floor, but this one was by far the worst. The terrifying images wouldn’t leave her mind and her hands shook with fear. She closed her eyes and saw Hal pulling his severed legs across her father’s bathroom. She forced the image away and sat on the edge of the bed breathing in and out slowly. There was too much at stake tonight to let a nightmare sap her strength.

  After a few minutes, she felt calmer and her hands were steady. She pushed the stiff grey fabric of her dress aside and pulled the phone out of her bra. When Paige looked at the blank screen, despair flooded her until she remembered it wasn’t flat, just turned off.

  “Come on,” she said. “Get your shit together.”

  I’m trying, she thought and turned the phone on. Eleven-twenty and less than a quarter charge left in the battery. It’ll have to do. Paige left the phone on and shoved it back in her bra. She opened the dormitory door and let the light spill across the foyer. She crept across the entry, the tiles icy under her feet. When she reached the darkened sitting room, she paused and listened. Outside an owl hooted softly and the wind rustled trees and rattled the windows.

  This moment had been building in her thoughts all afternoon. Part of her mind thumped with fear, dreading what was to come; yet another part of her no longer wanted to pass the buck and wait for someone else to save her skin. That piece of her was eager to get going.

  A small whisper of doubt ran through her. What if Lizzy knows what I’m up to and took the gun an
d the keys? Paige moved around the bulky furniture and found what she was looking for. She flipped the dust sheet off the hospital chair and gave a small grateful sigh when the gun, shells, and keys were still on the oversized padded sofa.

  She grabbed the car keys and put them in her pocket with the knife. She carried the shotgun and the box of shells and headed upstairs. The light from her room spilled out enough glow for her to see up to the second floor, but after that the darkness swamped her. She juggled the gun and the shells trying to get to her phone. Finally, she put the gun on the floor and pulled out her phone.

  “Thank God for smartphones,” Paige whispered and turned on its light.

  She snatched a look over the banister, reassuring herself Lizzy wasn’t lurking below, and picked up the gun. The double barrelled pump-action shotgun had a thick stock made out of some sort of heavy wood. Awkward to carry, its bulk and weight were reassuring. She’d heard it go off and seen the carnage it could wreak, a grim but comforting thought.

  The three storey climb was difficult at nearly thirty weeks pregnant, but when you throw a shotgun into the mix, it becomes a slog. By the time she reached the third floor, her arm muscles shrieked with protest and her thighs burned with lactic acid. She stopped at the top of the last step and leaned against the banister. She didn’t want Hal to see her struggling, he was already reluctant about the plan. If it looked like too much effort, he’d try and talk her out of going on.

  Paige put the gun and the phone on the floor and stretched her arms over her head. She pistoned them in and out a few times then rolled her shoulders. Her legs still felt stiff; if she made it to tomorrow she supposed she’d suffer for it. If I make it to tomorrow, I’ll be high kicking regardless of what shape my legs are in. She picked up the shotgun and phone and took the last few steps to Hal’s door.

  The light from the phone cast a blue veil over the bed. Hal was sitting up, eyes wide and skin an eerie grey colour. The image of Hal on her father’s bathroom floor flashed across her mind.

  “I was starting to think something went wrong,” he said.

  Paige put the shotgun on the bed and grasped his face in her hands. His cheeks felt warm and the four-day growth of whiskers rasped against her palms. “I’m sorry you were worried,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Everything’s fine.”

  She held his face for a second longer and looked into his green eyes, just to reassure herself he was real and the dream was gone. Hal was alive and safe, for the time being.

  He held her wrist and slid her hand to his mouth. “I know you’re set on doing this, so I won’t try to talk you out of it.” He kissed her palm and then pulled her against him so his cheek pressed against her belly. “All I care about is the two of you getting away from here.”

  “I know,” Paige ran her fingers through his hair. She missed his touch. She wished this nightmare was over and she could climb into bed and curl herself around him.

  “If there’s any …” he hesitated. “Any problems, just go.” Paige started to protest, but he cut her off. “I can take care of myself. The last time – when she, you know – I was drugged to the eyeballs and not expecting it. She won’t get another chance like that.”

  Paige pulled back. “I have to get going. The light on my phone won’t last long.” She dropped the box of shells on the bed. “Can you load this while I get everything ready?”

  Paige turned and slipped out of the room. When she returned Hal held the shotgun, sliding the shells into the breach. He cocked it up and down. “There were only two shells in the box so if you have to use it, make them count.” He handed her the gun.

  “No. Keep it with you. If she comes through the door, shoot her.” Paige pushed the gun back towards him.

  Hal’s face tightened. “I’m not going to argue with you about this,” his words were harsh, she’d never heard him like this. “I’m not a defenceless cripple. Take the gun.”

  She wanted to protest, but knew it was useless. Time was short and she had to go. Besides, if they were going to get through this night, they’d have to have faith in each other.

  “Okay. I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him. “Give me about an hour before you move.” She picked up the shotgun and turned to leave.

  “I love you.” Paige heard him answer as she closed the door and left him in the dark.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Paige leaned the shotgun against the side of the backstairs taking care to make as little sound as possible. Before leaving the house, she turned off the light in the dormitory and closed the door. If Lizzy woke, Paige hoped she’d assume everyone was asleep.

  She lowered herself to the second step from the bottom and winced as her thighs protested and the stair creaked. The moon, partially hidden behind gauzy grey clouds, offered only the faintest silver light. Most of the yard remained in darkness, the sheds and grevillea bushes only recognisable as jagged black outlines. By the light of the phone, Paige slipped on her dirty tennis shoes. They were dry now, but the canvas felt stiff and unyielding against her feet.

  She used the banister to haul herself up, and picked up the shotgun. She felt strangely light, as if the weight of her belly had lessened somehow. Not unpleasant, but unsettling in its newness. Adrenalin, she told herself and hoisted the gun into the crook of her arm.

  The wind kicked up a notch and the associated rustling and rattling provided noise cover. Not that crossing the yard was noisy, far from it. Paige followed the small arc of blue light past the Hills Hoist and towards the bushes. Once she was on the other side of the grevilleas, she’d be out of sight.

  She rounded the bushes and a scraping thump brought her to a halt. She sucked in air as if jolted by an electric shock and fumbled with the gun. The light bounced around and slid from her hand, hit the ground, and landed near her feet. Her head snapped left and right searching for the source of the faint sound. Without the light, it was impossible to see more than a metre in front of her.

  Paige clenched the handle of the gun and lifted it higher, without the light she had no idea where to aim. Her head still moving back and forth, she crouched down and snatched the phone out of the grass. This time she nearly lost her grip on the gun. She tightened her grasp and stood up.

  Blood rushed through her ears and her breath came in sharp barks. If Lizzy had been walking behind her, Paige probably wouldn’t have heard her over the wind and her own panicked breathing. She moved the light in a wide arc, observing as much as possible before taking another step.

  The noise had come from the left and at least a few metres ahead, somewhere in the direction of the sheds. Could Lizzy be hiding in a shed? It was possible. Maybe she’d heard Paige go upstairs and dashed outside to wait for her. Paige bit her bottom lip and stepped forward. She stretched out her arm trying to throw the blue beam as far as possible.

  The coarse fabric of her dress blew against her legs as her hair flew forward over her face. She shook her head and turned back towards the house. It stood in darkness. Just on the other side of the bushes, she could distinguish the huge outline of the Edwardian building but with no interior lights.

  Gun in her right hand, held just above her hip, and the phone in her left, Paige stepped forward. There came another noise. It sounded like finger nails scraping metal. Paige froze. A cry of terror built in her throat, big and solid like an avocado pit. She clenched her mouth and raised the phone higher. The blue light trembled, landing on one of the sheds.

  She resisted the urge to call out. In her mind she was already formulating what she’d say when Lizzy stepped out of the shadows. I’ve got the gun. Stay away from me or I’ll shoot you. Even in her head, her voice sounded weak. Where was that cold dark voice that had whispered in her ear?

  Paige let out a shuddering breath and edged closer to the shed. The light played over the grey wood of the walls. Bathed in the blue of her phone, the building looked washed out and grey like ancient bones. She skimmed the light over the grimy windows and up to the r
oof. When the glare hit the joint between wood and tin, another scraping shook the building. This time it sounded closer, frantic. The light made contact with something yellow and reflective. Paige sucked in air and then relaxed.

  A creamy brown possum turned and pushed itself through a narrow gap under the roof. It disappeared inside, curly tail sliding after it. Paige realised her shoulders were hunched around her neck. She let them slump down and tipped her head back at the inky sky. A bloody possum, she almost laughed. I nearly shot a possum.

  Before walking on, she skimmed the light around the building just to be sure nothing else lurked in the dark. Apart from a few spiders, the shed looked unoccupied. Paige stole another glance back, but the bushes obscured her view of the house. It was as though the yard had closed around her. The thought of walking across the huge property at night seemed like the easiest part of her plan, but now every nerve in her body jangled on edge. Every sound and every shadow seemed menacing and sinister. I’m a city girl, she thought and let out a dry laugh that sounded more like a moan when it hit the wind.

  Only this morning, Soona had shown her the way to the car; with the sun shining, every detail of the property was crisp and clear. In the dark, the difficulty lay in remembering which way to turn. By the time Paige cleared the sheds, she could smell the rich aroma of freshly turned earth mixed with the sharp smell of tomato plants. The earth hadn’t been freshly turned this morning. Paige remembered the tomato plants, but they’d been at least a metre and a half high. That meant that they’d been planted some time ago.

  Worried that she’d taken a wrong turn, she played the light to her left across the rows of vegetables. The taller plants shimmered as the wind rustled through their dark leaves. She could make out smaller plants and seedlings by their outlines. Then an area about the size of a surfboard stood apart from the rest of the greenery. The earth had been piled over in a mound. Along the centre ran a neat row of seedlings, each plant about ten centimetres high. It looked and smelled fresh. Paige frowned and moved to continue when realisation hit her like a cold shower on a hot day – Wade.