Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone

by Styles, M. A.

  “Well goddamn!” shouted the talker. “We’ve found Laura!” He slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal. The old truck shook as it picked up some speed.

  The four of them slid back again. All their body weight piling on to Laila as she was pinned against the door. They all watched in horror as they got closer and closer to what used to be the woman, Laura. They hit her full force, pushing her up the hill for a bit before her body was pulled under the truck. As they rode over the body, the back wheel hopped up, throwing them around. Jack landed right on the antlers again, but thankfully this time it was a rounded part from the eight-pointer, and he felt it snap under him. They flew up over the hill causing them to lift up once more. Laila half landed out of the back. Before Charlie grabbed her by the waist to pull her back in, she spotted the body and its crushed skull slowly sliding to a stop perpendicular to the road. A cloud of dust and the top of the hill then blocked her from view.

  This time the deer slid all the way up against the back door, saving Jack’s ass from one more bruise and possible puncture wound. At his side he saw the piece of bone that snapped off from his last landing, and quickly shoved it in his cargo pants pocket while their captors were laughing hysterically in the cab.

  “Looks like we won’t have to worry about where she got off to anymore,” he chuckled. “I told you it was going to get mighty cold last night.” He gave the gun holder a nudge with his elbow, “She was always more stubborn than smart, that one.”

  The four companions caught each others eyes. This is not going to end well for them. Charlie was still holding onto Laila’s pants, and she slowly placed her hand on his, hoping not to draw any attention to the gesture. She gave his hand a squeeze as they looked at one another silently, then let each other go.

  “We’re here, folks.” he said as he pulled up in front of a small, windowless building that looked more like a seedy motel office than anything. He parked right in front, and pocketed the keys walking gingerly to the back to pull down the door. “Can't wait for you to see the place!” he said, then slapped a little song onto the bed of the truck. He lifted up his gun to their faces. “Out you go then!”

  With that his silent partner got out of the front, slinging Jack’s backpack full of their only chance at defending themselves over his shoulder. He hung back a little to train his gun at the line of four as they made their way out from the truck bed. One by one they stiffly exited to the ground, hands raised. The quiet one walked to the back of the truck, and grabbed hold of the bucks back leg, dragging it out, then dropped it to the ground. Doug turned around and saw the animal in the dirt. A hard frown twitched on his face.

  “Don’t worry buddy. We’ll string him up as soon as we can. Get him drained out. Maybe we’ll put you up next to him, since you’re so close,” the talker innocently suggested, staring Doug dead in the eyes. Doug swallowed hard. “In you go,” he said as he walked through the door.

  Laila, took the first step towards it, but Charlie quickly stepped in front of her taking the lead. Once they were inside the quiet man closed the door behind them, making it harder to get a good look at the place.

  There were a few lit candles placed around the nearly empty room, casting rings of light in the corners. There were a couple of old, empty liquor bottles left about in random places. The old wooden floor boards under moldy, flattened carpet creaked as they crept slowly further in to the room. The talker held up his hand for them to stop. Then he put his hands on his hips, and walked thoughtfully behind a rotting desk at the side of the room under what looked like an open storage loft filled with old, disintegrating wet cardboard boxes. Tarps hung here and there between the widely spaced beams. He leaned over the top of the desk, placing his hands on the surface, and peered at them.

  “So, here we are. Since you’ve been so very cooperative, I’m going to ask you nicely to keep your hands on top of your head, and get down on your knees.”

  Suddenly the quiet man swung the butt of his shotgun hard into the back of Doug’s knee, knocking him to the ground. The other three looked around at one another as they slowly sunk to the floor. The quiet man took Jack’s backpack off, and whipped it across the floor placing it right in front of the desk. The talker peered over the desk in delight.

  “Well, let’s see what you’ve got for us today, shall we?” He suddenly pushed himself up onto the desk. He swung his legs over so he was sitting right at the front causing the cheap, moist plywood to bend underneath him. “We’ll start with this cute little front pocket seeing as we have the gist of what’s in the main part.” He gave them a wink, and pulled the zipper exaggeratedly slow while looking at Jack. He comically wiggled his eyebrows and shoulders in feigned excitement. His partner slowly made his way to the front of them, now standing like an executioner of old.

  “Looky here,” the talking man said, pulling out a folded blue cloth napkin. He gently placed it on his lap and raised an eyebrow at them. He peeled away the corners to reveal its contents. “I’ll be damned! I mean you guys do look fairly clean for this scenario we are in, but boy, do you have it good it seems,” he slowly took out a dried circle of apple, and with his other hand a slice of fresh bread.

  The quiet executioner leaned over to take a look, and snagged an apple piece for himself, immediately sliding it under the triangle piece of cloth that covered his mouth.

  “How’s that taste buddy?” the talker asked, and watched as his friend shook his head yes in pleasure. “Now don’t get me wrong,” he turned back to the group on their knees, “we got it pretty good here.” Suddenly a rooster called as if almost on cue. “See we got some chickens, even a pig or two, whatever a surprise-,” he rolled his hand around in thought as he looked up at them, “we’ll say: visit, from a neighbor may bring our way. Like you kind folks, with that deer. And we’ve got a lot of friends out back who help us out when we need them,” he said threateningly as he ripped a piece of bread off and it slowly disappeared behind his fabric mask and into his mouth. He placed the napkin open on the desk. The little stack of dried apples fell over to the side. He then raised himself up to standing, wiping the crumbs off his hands as he rubbed them together. He walked slowly towards Laila until he was right in front of her and reached down, cradling under her chin. He raised it up so she was looking at him, “Do you want to be one of our friends, darlin’?”

  Charlie let out an angry huff, and you could hear him start to breath heavy.

  “Uh oh, are you two-,” he cut himself off, dramatically putting his hand to his heart in jest. “No? Are you two together? I don’t mean to offend, but in all honesty…,” he let Laila’s face fall back down, caressing the side of it as he walked over to Charlie and stood in front of him now. His hand quickly darted out and grabbed his hair, yanking his head up, “You’re not going to be around much longer.”

  “What the fuck is your game? You wannabe bandits with those things on your faces?” Charlie spit the words at him.

  The talker let go of his hair, and walked back toward his friend who was still holding the shotgun on them.

  “Our game?” he repeated putting a hand on his buddy’s shoulder. “What’s our game, Dale? I don’t think we’re playing,” he said right into his ear in a loud whisper so they could all hear. He turned back to the four, “We do whatever the fuck we want, you see. So we’ll be killing you three, most likely,” he pointed to the men, “and then we’ll be adding her to our friends here out back. We seem to have an opening, don’t we, Dale? Laura’s little abode is now free, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically.

  Dale answered with a, “Mm-hm,” and let a hand go to his crotch where he adjusted himself from the excitement of the thought.

  Jack was now wildly looking around the room for something, some way to get them out of this, but there was nothing. The bow was still strung over his shoulder, but he had no arrows. His gun was about fifteen feet away in his backpack with the rest of their weapons. The men are too far away for him to reach out and grab for theirs. Then h
e remembered the piece of antler, and it suddenly started burning a hole in his pocket. But he knew, there was nothing he could do with it now. He could feel the panic sitting hard in his chest, and he was angry this was how it was going to end.

  The talker noticed the change in demeanor, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright guy, don’t be upset. It’s nobody’s fault. Nothing you can do about this little predicament now. It happens. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. But I like you. Good taste in gear,” he said pointing to his own bow on Jack’s back with a smirk. “Though I will be taking that back as soon as our bossman makes his way here shortly.” He dropped his voice down conspiratorially, “See, he likes to start his morning with a little trip to one of our friends rooms, but he is awful mad at Laura for making a run for it last night. She was one of his favorites. Had her from pretty much the beginning. Chances are he’ll be taking it out on somebody for a little bit longer than usual. Until then, let me help us pass the time by telling you what’s going to happen to y’all. You know, so you can stop worrying,” he put his hand to his heart, and put on a fake sad face.

  That was when they heard Laila’s breath quiver in a small sob she couldn’t quite hold back anymore. Charlie started to shift back and forth a little bit in complete helplessness. Every now and again you could hear Doug swallow hard from behind them. Jack’s chest was heaving. He was still looking around feverishly trying to put something together, but he knew this was the end. The pointless search was merely a distraction from what the talker was saying at this point.

  “Good ole huntsman back there,” the talker started craning his head over the front three. “We already gave the clues to how he’s going to go. Some of us here are more keen on deer meat, while others, well, let’s just say they don’t have a preference as to what type fills their bellies.” He then looked over to Charlie. “Lover boy? Well, we’ll probably have you watch your little lady get settled in here. You know, so you can see what her new life will be like without you holding her back. Then we’ll most likely leave you to the boys who have some,” he paused thoughtfully trying to find the right word, “frustrations they need to get out. It’s not pretty, but it’s effective and hey, ‘two birds, one stone’ they say right?” He gave them a big smile. “And you!” The talker looked right at Jack, causing him to break his frantic eye movements and look over in his direction. That’s when he saw something move in the loft. Up in the dark back corner, right over the talkers shoulder.

  “I want to call you a thief, but I can’t blame you. I would’ve done the same thing. So what should we do?” He looked over at his friend with the shotgun pointed at their faces.

  They could hear his heavy, fast, excited mouth breathing. He started to rock on the balls of his feet a little in anticipation. The talker noticed and chuckled, and talked to him about calming down, he’ll get his turn soon. Jack took the opportunity to look back into the corner again. He saw a shadow lowering itself down from a beam, silently. He quickly looked back over to the talker as he looked back at Jack.

  “How bout this? I think you’d fit in ok here. Maybe after a few, well, let’s call them pep-talks. We can give you a chance to be part of this outfit, and if it’s not a good fit,” he chuckled, moving a few steps closer to Jack. “No pun intended. We’ll just shoot you in the head. Nice and quick.” He made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot Jack, even making the “boosh” sound of it firing. The talker then noticed Charlie's extreme agitation, and turned his attention to him.

  Jack tried to discreetly look back at the figure in the dark corner. It now slowly and stealthily made its way out from the shadows. Some candle light hit it, and he could see that it was one of them. Dressed in dirty black cargo pants, thick soled boots, a long trench coat opened to a ripped up black shirt, a triangle of fabric over his mouth. He looked back over at the quiet one, Dale, who was watching the talker whisper more vile shit into Charlie’s ear. This is it. It’s going to start soon. He took one last look at the third guy who was now right behind Dale, and Jack closed his eyes. Does it make him a coward? He didn’t fucking care. He couldn’t watch them die, even if he would be dead soon, too. Then he realized something strange. The third guy was wearing a balaclava under the pseudo handkerchief. He snapped his eyes open, and saw the third guy right behind Dale. In a flash his hands were on the sides of his head snapping his neck instantly with a fast and hard twist. As he and his shotgun clattered to the floor, the talker turned to the noise just as the newcomer sliced his throat with quick precision. The talker spun a bit back toward his killer, grasping his throat, blood pulsing out and down his chest. Then he crumpled to the floor, a lifeless heap.

  Laila gasped, and Charlie reached a hand over the front of her protectively. Doug got up on his knees, and all four of them were just staring at either their savior, or new captor. Who the fuck knows?

  He stood there unsettlingly still, the knife still in hand, one drop of blood sliding off the end of it to the floor. Inbetween the two bodies he looked at them, cocking his head to the side slightly. In the flickering light of the room you could just make out his eyes looking from one face to the other. Charlie looked over at the backpack left on the floor in front of the desk, and the newcomer raised his other hand and wagged a gloved finger at him, and shook his head “no” in warning. Charlie froze in his spot. The man slowly walked over to the backpack, never looking away from them, and bent down grabbing it by one of the straps. Jack let out a defeated breath at the thought of this new hell. Then the guy threw the backpack right in front of them, and stood up.

  Charlie and Jack looked at each other, then the bag, trying to figure out whether it was a test or a sick game, but then he put his finger to where his mouth was under the balaclava and fabric, telling them to be quiet. Then went back into the shadows again. They heard someone coming in the back way of the office, cursing under his breath. The door whipped open revealing a fat man, struggling to get a rag tied around his face.

  He charged half way into the room, “What the fuck is happening here, you god damned idiots. The rest of the girls are-“ then he stopped dead in his tracks, breathing heavy from his walk and anger. He looked around, bewildered, to the four of them kneeling on the ground, then turned back to the two dead bodies of his friends. That was when the man came out of the shadows again and punched the fat man in the throat, dropping him to the ground. The man walked a few steps to stand over him, but looked up at the four to nod his head towards the door, telling them to leave. He stepped over the fat man, and straddled him, punching him in the face repeatedly at a slow and steady pace.

  Charlie and Jack were frozen watching until Laila shoved the bag in front of them, her machete already in hand, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” She pulled Charlie up with one hand under his arm.

  Charlie grabbed his gun from the bag as Jack did the same. Then he took his pack, swinging it over his shoulders, and threaded his arms through the straps. Doug was already out the door. Laila stood in front of it waiting for the other two, but Jack couldn’t look away.

  “Jack, we’ve got to go. Now!” Charlie shouted to him as he headed out.

  Jack snapped out of it, and spun around to face him, “They’re going to turn any second,” he said, presenting his conflict to Charlie.

  Charlie paused for a split second of contemplation, then shook his head. “I don’t think he needs our help,” and he was out the door meeting Laila and Doug at the back of the old green truck.

  Jack walked backward out the door, looking at the scene as he went. The fat man was laying on the floor between his friends. Blood from the talker’s slit throat slowly crept its way to him. His face was indiscernible already: swollen, broken, and bloodied, but you could hear a muffled gurgling sound coming from him. He was still alive. The man from the shadows was now standing over him again, looking down at his handy work. Then he looked up and started heading towards Jack at the door. Jack’s breath caught in his throat, but the man stopped right in fron
t of it, and looked at Jack for a second. He took a step back slamming the door closed just as a bullet struck right at his head level. The four of them quickly crouched down behind the truck.

  “What the hell is going on?” Laila shouts.

  “Dad!”

  Charlie quickly stood up scanning the woods, and he saw Harrison running towards them, rifle in hand, and they all ran out to meet him.

  He wrapped his arms around his father’s waist, “I’m sorry I should’ve taken a shot at the body.”

  Charlie hugged him close, “No, no,” he breathed out. “It’s fine; it’s fine. Head shots are for people.”

  Jack is spinning, trying to look all around them, “We have to get out of here. Where’s the Jeep, Harry?”

  He looked up at Jack. “It’s still where we parked it,” he said ashamed. “I saw them take you guys and I- I just couldn’t leave you, so I followed them up the road. I saw, I- what is this place?”

  “I don’t know, and I’m fine keeping it a mystery. Let’s move,” finished Charlie, and they started running down the dirt road.

  A few seconds later they heard a man screaming, and Jack stopped, looking back, putting his hands on top of his head in regret.

  “We have to go, Jack. It’s too late now,” Laila shouted to him from further down the way, and he took off after them again.

  Once they get to the main road, they sprinted the whole way to the Jeep. Even Doug was keeping up with them with a slight limp from the blow he got to his leg. Charlie got in the drivers seat, Laila in the front passenger, and the rest crammed in the back slamming the doors shut as fast as they could.

  “Harrison, the keys!” Charlie said, forgetting he gave them to his son when they first decided to check out the truck. Harrison jammed his hand into his pocket, pulling them out to give to his father.