In the Woods

by Farrar, M K

  She stayed as still as possible, fighting her body’s instincts to leap to her feet and climb the damned tree to get away. She widened her eyes, her skin prickling with fear as the snake brushed the sole of her foot, before vanishing back into the undergrowth.

  Cass let out a shaky breath. It was gone—for the moment, anyway. She realized she was trembling.

  Oh, God, what if there are more? She’d almost poked the damned thing with her bare foot.

  No, it was gone, and she couldn’t sit here, unmoving, for fear of snakes. That would kill her as sure as a snakebite.

  Blinking back tears of fright, she refocused on the stick. She wasn’t sure she had any strength in her limbs after that encounter, but she had to try. Another couple of hours, and it would be getting dark. This was going to get a whole lot scarier when night fell. There might even be a flashlight in that bag.

  That idea was enough to get her moving again. Keeping a close eye for anything that slithered, she reached out with her feet again and grabbed the stick between them. Then, in an awkward, shuffling movement on her bottom, she wriggled back around so she was facing the bag, the distance between herself and the bag now as short as she could get it.

  She stretched out with the stick, her lips pressed into a thin line, her muscles protesting at the awkward position. Her back was as far down the tree as she could get it, so she was almost fully lying on the ground with her arms above her head. She did her best not to think about the snake and imagine it moving beneath her. A grunt of exasperation escaped her. She couldn’t get enough control over the stick using her feet to do anything useful with it, and even if she could, she was still too far away by a long shot.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, dropping the stick and wriggling back up. “Mother fucking fucker!”

  She already felt drained just from trying to reach the bag, her energy quickly sapping. Sweat beaded her upper lip and stuck her t-shirt to her back. With no way of replenishing her energy sources, each attempt to reach something made her weaker.

  But she had to try. What were her other options? She couldn’t just sit there and hope to be rescued, could she?

  What were the chances of someone else coming along and finding her?

  Chapter Seven

  Exhaling a deep sigh, Cass sat back against the tree to rest.

  A mosquito landed on her cheek, and she squashed it with her shoulder, leaving a streak of red across the material of her t-shirt. Her hands itched. Red lumps had formed, swelling her fingers from where she’d been bitten while she’d been focused on trying to reach the bag.

  Her thoughts went back to the possibility of being rescued.

  Maybe someone would spot the plane on the landing strip. The Magician had said there was no one around for fifty miles or more, but that didn’t mean people didn’t come this way. All she had to do was wait it out, and then someone was bound to stumble across her, weren’t they?

  Cass looked around at all the graves of the other young women, and tears filled her eyes. No one had come across any of them. They’d probably also hoped and prayed that someone would disturb the Magician and his sick game, but it had never happened for any of them, and she had no reason to think it would happen for her either.

  Something else was bothering her. Even though she was dehydrated, there was an ache in her bladder that she couldn’t continue to ignore. Thank God she only needed to pee. She didn’t even want to imagine her humiliation if she had to take a shit out here. It wasn’t as though the dead were looking, but that didn’t stop her cringing inside at the idea of squatting and taking a shit. It felt so wrong, though she knew she hadn’t exactly asked to be put in this situation, had she? She was going to have to do whatever it took to survive.

  Cassandra was able to wriggle the chain down to hip height, and there was enough give in the chain to allow her to undo the button of her pants. At least she wasn’t going to have to piss herself. That wouldn’t have been pleasant. She skirted around the outskirts of the tree trunk, the chain between her ankles jangling, until she was on the opposite side of the tree. It was ridiculous to feel like the body of the man who had taken her was watching her somehow, but she couldn’t shake the sensation. He was dead, and dead men didn’t see anything.

  But what if his spirit is still here?

  Cass wasn’t sure where she stood on the whole heaven and hell theory, but she’d put her money on him going to the latter, if such a place existed.

  This might be hell. Or maybe hell is the soul not being allowed to leave the body, so it’s forced to stay and watch its own decomposition.

  She shuddered and forced the idea from her head.

  If that was the truth, would that be her destiny as well? If she didn’t make it out of this situation and died, chained to this tree, would her soul remain here, too, watching the decomposition of the man responsible for her death?

  “Stop it, Cass!” she scolded herself out loud.

  Thinking like this wasn’t going to help her. There were no such things as spirits, or souls, or ghosts. It was just the flesh, and once it stopped working, it stopped altogether. That man was dead, and his knowledge of her existence died with him. He wasn’t still watching her.

  Angling her hips forward so she could reach her pants, she managed to push them, together with her underwear, down her thighs. She stopped the downward movement with her knees, holding the material in position, even though it was more likely they’d end up wet. If she let them fall too far down, she wouldn’t be able to reach far enough down to pull them back up again. She couldn’t take them off completely, not with her ankles chained, but she wouldn’t have liked the idea of being chained to a tree while half naked anyway.

  She placed her toes against the base of the tree trunk, and, using the tension on the chain, leaned out, so her bottom was at the farthest distance from the tree. The chains around her ankles meant she was only able to spread her legs by a matter of inches, but she discovered she was able to widen her knees to create a little more room.

  In position, she willed her bladder to release.

  It seemed that particular organ had stage fright. Her shoulder muscles strained, the chains digging into her wrists. Her thigh started to tremble.

  “Come on, come on.”

  To her relief, her bladder gave in, and a hot gush of concentrated urine hit the dirt beneath her. A little dribbled down the inside of her thigh, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was going to end up surrounded in piss and vomit, at this rate. She hoped it wasn’t going to attract any wild animals, but then she remembered the dead body not far away and realized some bodily fluids were probably the least of her worries.

  She gave her butt a wiggle. Shake it off.

  Using the tension on the chain, she pulled herself back to upright. Her pants and underwear were still around her knees, and she realized it was going to be harder getting them back up again. There was no possibility she could just leave them down. Aside from the embarrassment and vulnerability of being half naked while chained to a tree, there were plenty of insects buzzing around that would happily make a meal of her. Mosquitos whined past her head, and clouds of midges hovered close by. The last thing she needed was a bottom covered in mosquito bites with no way of scratching them. It would drive her crazy.

  Taking a breath, she worked the chain back down the tree trunk as far as it would go. There was just enough give in the chain to allow her to use her elbows to drag the pants up higher around her thighs, until she was able to grab the front of her pants with her fingers. The position meant she was in a half squat, half crouch, and getting the pants back up wasn’t easy. She made a mental note to not let the clothing fall so far down when she next needed to relieve herself. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be here that long. She needed to cling to the hope that someone would find her sooner rather than later. The thought of being here any longer than a matter of hours filled her with despair.

  She’d figure something out before then. She’d manage to get her hands
on the key, or she’d work her wrists out of the chain. Or, hell, a lightning bolt would strike from above, severing the tree trunk in half, and allowing her to simply slip the loop of chain off the top. She smiled wryly to herself at the final option. Knowing her luck, a lightning bolt would strike her dead before it damaged the tree.

  With a strange, crotch thrusting movement, standing on her tiptoes, she was able to do the button and zipper of the pants back up again. She was lucky he’d chained her to the tree in the position he had, and not with her hands completely behind her back, or she’d have struggled to do much of anything.

  Suddenly exhausted, she moved away from the newly wet patch on the ground and sank down, planting her backside in the dirt. Through the gaps in the branches overhead, the sky had darkened to a purple hue, streaked with wisps of clouds painted in orange and red. Were there more clouds than there had been before?

  One thing she was sure of was that it would be fully dark soon. Already, the shadows beneath the trees had deepened, stirring her imagination with the possibility of what the shadows might be hiding. Her gaze flickered over to the dead body before her, and the mounds of earth that shielded yet more corpses. She didn’t want to be stuck in the dark with the dead.

  Her lower lip trembled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give in to self-pity, but unable to help herself.

  Huddled up under the tree, with her hands chained to the trunk, Cass cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  The bang was so loud, it vibrated through her body. An intense pain hit her chest, as though someone had struck her and yanked her shoulders back at the same time.

  Screams followed, cries of disbelief and horror. Then movement, everyone rushing around her, running forward, while she stood rooted to the spot, her arms and chest aching, her mind trying to process what had happened.

  Blood filled her vision, making it hard to see. But deep down, she knew, and that knowledge sank into her with an understanding that everything had changed now. She had changed. The person she’d been, as yet not fully formed, would never reach the potential she might once have held.

  She was crying, crying hard, as though her chest might burst open with her sorrow. What had happened was bad. So very bad. And there was nothing she could do to change it or take it back.

  A FIRM FINGER FLICKED the top of her head.

  Cass launched bolt upright, forgetting momentarily that her hands were still chained to the tree, and she was unable to go far. The chain around her wrist pulled tight, jerking her backward again.

  She let out a groan. Most of her body was either asleep or hurting. Her face throbbed from where she’d been punched. Her fingers tingled with pins and needles, and she knew it was going to hurt like hell in a minute. Every part of her exposed skin itched with mosquito bites—those bastards must have been feeding on her as she slept. Her backside was numb, too, and her calves gave a twinge, threatening to cramp. She peeled her lips back from her teeth and swirled her tongue around the inside of her mouth, trying to generate some moisture.

  What had woken her? It had felt like somebody flicking her head. But then she felt it again, that same tap against her skin, only this time on her forehead, and the flick was cold and wet. She lifted her face to the sky, and the same flicks hit her nose and cheeks.

  It was raining.

  Instantly, she sprang to life. Rain. Rain meant water.

  The rain grew heavier, and Cass stepped away from the shelter of the tree’s branches above and tilted her face up to meet it. Droplets hit her skin, and she opened her mouth as wide as possible, capturing the blessed, cool moisture.

  A laugh of delight escaped her lips. She tipped her head farther back and closed her eyes, raindrops drumming on her on her closed eyelids, cheeks and forehead. The cold water felt like heaven against the itchy mosquito bites. The rain grew heavier still, and she swallowed the water that had accumulated on her tongue. It soothed her parched throat and moistened her dry, cracked lips. She wished the rain would fall heavier, wanting to gulp down mouthful after mouthful. But she stayed in position, even though her neck strained, not knowing how long the rain would last, or when it would come again.

  Eventually, the ache in her neck became too much to bear, and she was forced to lower her face. She was able to twist around and cup her hands, trying to fill her palms so she could drink from them instead, but the position was awkward and her hands were so close to the trunk of the tree, where the leaf and branch coverage was the thickest, that she didn’t managed to catch much.

  The rain continued, pattering onto the ground around her, soaking into her hair and clothes. The branches of the tree she was chained to offered her some shelter, but the rain was heavy, and the leaves collected the rainwater until they became too great and tipped, spilling a fresh gush of water on top of her.

  Now her initial euphoria at quenching her thirst had faded, she was left huddled in the rain, pressing herself closer to the tree trunk to try to make the most of the canopy of branches above her head. The rain had soaked right down to her skin, dripping off the ends of her hair, and it didn’t look like it was easing up any time soon. She grew colder by the second, and shivers wracked through her body.

  The headache she’d been battling ever since she’d first woken and found herself in the passenger seat of the airplane was finally starting to abate, though all her other injuries continued to throb. The headache had been from dehydration, she had no doubt, and from the drugs she’d been given that had knocked her unconscious. She hated not being able to remember when that had happened, or the events preceding it.

  It’s not the first time you’ve blocked something out because you don’t want to remember, is it?

  She swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. There were things in her life she didn’t even want to think about. Things she wouldn’t be able to function as a normal human being if she dwelled on them. Look at her parents. They hadn’t been able to not think about what had happened, and it had eaten them up inside.

  The rain continued, showing no sign of easing up. If only she had something she could use to catch the water, so at least when the rain stopped, she be able to drink. No, she wouldn’t be there that long, would she? Did she really need to start planning ahead to a point where she was going to need to worry about enough water to survive? What about food? There might be something in the rucksack, but she couldn’t reach it. Small bugs? Tree bark? The fungi? Were any of those things edible? She didn’t want to consider the possibility that she’d reach that point of desperation.

  How long could she survive without water? How long without food? She was sure she’d heard something like three days without water, and three weeks without food, but she had no idea if that was right or not.

  At least with the rain, the bugs had gone away—for the moment, anyway. No doubt they’d be back with a vengeance when the rain stopped. Right now, though, Cass felt like the rain would never stop. Soaked to the skin, she shivered hard. She was huddled against the tree trunk, her limbs once again going numb. Her fingers were a strange purple-blue color, with white tips, and she forced herself to wriggle them to keep the blood flowing. She wished she could wrap her arms around herself to try to keep warm, but that was impossible.

  She suddenly realized how dark it was. Rain clouds had blocked out any light that might have been offered by the moon and stars, leaving her sitting in a thick black soup. She didn’t want to think about the man’s dead body only a matter of a few feet away. It was bad enough being in this situation without also being surrounded by the dead.

  Cassandra... A whisper among the patter of raindrops on leaves and the ground around her.

  She sat up straight, listening hard. Had she heard someone whisper her name? Or was she hearing things, her mind playing tricks on her? It was normal for a person’s imagination to run riot when placed in the dark, under extremely stressful situations. She’d probably be crazy not to start hearing things.

  Still, sh
e couldn’t help calling back. Someone might be out there—people searching for her, perhaps. What if she could have been rescued, only she’d missed her opportunity because she’d been too frightened to speak.

  “Hello? Is anyone out there?”

  Her voice sounded pitiful among the patter of rain, but she strained her ears, half expecting a reply. In her mind, bloated, pale hands, cold and dripping with rainwater, reached out to touch her face in the dark, and she pressed herself closer to the tree trunk, wishing she could vanish into the earth.

  A sudden flash of lightning lit up the forest around her in a white-blue light. The trees appeared skeletal and threatening, the dead man’s corpse a dark shape on the ground. She strained her eyes in the moment of light, her heart pounding, half expecting to see a figure, standing somewhere ahead, the same one who’d hissed her name. But she didn’t see anything more than trees, and only one dead body, so she guessed that was okay.

  The lightning flickered a couple of times, and then she found herself back in the dark again.

  A rumble of thunder followed, a long roll across the sky, followed by a deafening boom. Cass cowered and let out a whimper. The thunder coaxed out memories of her dream, and she shook her head to try to rid herself of the images. She had enough to worry about without dragging all that back up.

  How long would it be until morning? She had no way of telling the time. For once, she wished she was in the habit of wearing a watch, but she’d never really bothered since she always had her cell phone on her for the time. Lots of people had fallen into the trap of wearing one of those step-tracker watches, but she already knew she was on her feet all day when she was working and didn’t need a watch to tell her that. She certainly didn’t want a watch tracking her sleeping pattern either. Just like with her steps, she was perfectly aware her sleeping pattern left much to be desired, and seeing how little she slept in black and white wasn’t going to make her feel any better.