by Farrar, M K
Unless it started raining again, the only way she was going to get a drink was if she figured out how to get herself free.
Remembering her initial plan—and also realizing that her thoughts of her thirst had made her lose her focus, so she’d just been standing there, not doing anything for several minutes—she set her attention back on the tree. She didn’t know how long it was going to take, but if she moved the chain back and forth in a sawing motion and pulled the chain down at the same time, it would eventually start to cut the same kind of groove that was higher in the trunk. If she could get the groove to gradually move down the tree, she could buy herself some extra inches to try to get her feet around the body and drag it toward her.
It was certainly worth a try. She’d do anything to get her hands on the key.
Cass spread her feet in the dirt as much as her bound ankles would allow, positioning herself to be a strong as possible. She pushed her fingers underneath the chain, so they were between the metal and the bark, giving herself a better grip. Then she pulled the chain from left to right, and back again, creating a sawing action.
Within minutes, her muscles burned and sweat popped in beads on her upper lip and brow and trickled down her back. Even though she’d not been going long, she paused to check her handiwork.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
The tree didn’t look any different than it had before. And now she was even hotter and thirstier than she’d been to start with. But she couldn’t just stop now. Wasn’t it worth her being thirsty and with aching muscles if it meant she was free?
“Come on. You can do this.”
Clenching her jaw, and with a renewed sense of determination, she got to work once more. She applied as much pressure as possible, pulling the chain down as she sawed. Sweat dampened her t-shirt and dripped off her forehead into her eyes. Her back was aching now, and a sharp pain had appeared right under her left shoulder blade. Her thighs trembled, and she had to stop, the world spinning with a sudden bout of dizziness and nausea.
She sucked in several deep breaths, trying to get hold of herself again. She wasn’t going to be much use if she passed out from overexertion. The dizziness faded, and, anxiously, she checked the tree again. She had left a mark on the wood from the chain, but it was nowhere near enough to allow her to pull the chain farther down. The chain was still several feet away from the base of the trunk, and she hadn’t made much of an impact.
Cass pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. Not only did she not want to give in to self-pity, she also couldn’t afford to waste any precious extra fluid by crying. She’d already sweated more than she should have, the warmth of the day drying the sweat from her skin, leaving it tight from the salt.
This wasn’t going to work, not without her making herself very ill.
There had to be another way.
“You’re better off picking off the bark,” a female voice said from over her shoulder.
Cass froze, her pulse galloping. It was the same voice again, the same one she’d heard before, only this time she knew it wasn’t in her head. She’d heard it as clear as if she’d spoken herself.
Goosebumps broke out all over her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
“That’s going to take her forever.” It was a different voice this time, still female but younger.
The original woman replied, “Well, it isn’t as though she’s got anything better to do, is it?”
“Shut up!” Cass screamed, still not daring to turn around. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
She wanted to put her hands over her ears to protect herself from the voices, even though deep down she knew they must be coming from her head. Was that what dehydration did? Did it cause hallucinations, so vivid they seemed completely real?
“It’s a good suggestion,” the first woman said, directing her comment at Cassandra. “You should try it.”
Cass didn’t want to try anything right now. She only wanted for it all to go away.
“Leave me alone! Please, just leave me be.”
She remained in position, her head sunk into her shoulders, as though hoping to use her shoulders to block out the other women. Deep down, she thought she knew who they were, too.
His first, Sonja Holland, with the silky black hair and pale skin, and his second, the cheerleader, Becky Dawson.
No, that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t hearing the voices of two of the women the Magician had murdered.
They were dead and buried.
Chapter Ten
Too frightened to move, Cass remained with her forehead pressed up against the tree, her shoulders shuddering.
She didn’t know what she should be more frightened of—the possibility the ghosts of murdered women had come to haunt her, or that her mind was already so badly gone that she was experiencing vivid hallucinations.
Either option was terrifying.
She didn’t want to turn around and look, but she also knew she couldn’t just stand here with her face pressed up against the tree. She was like a child playing hide and seek, hiding behind some curtains and imagining that because she couldn’t see anyone else, they weren’t able to see her either, despite her feet sticking out of the bottom. Just because she didn’t want to look didn’t make things go away.
Shaking violently, she forced herself to lift her head. With her heart in her throat, she dared to turn her head and peer over her shoulder in the direction the voices had come from.
Cass exhaled a long sigh of relief. No one was there. The spots above the unmarked graves were as empty as they’d always been. She was imagining things, hallucinating from the stress and dehydration. She’d known that, really, deep down, yet she’d still found herself more frightened at the idea of ghosts than she was at the workings of her own fraught mind.
She slumped against the tree, her hip against the trunk. In that position, something small and hard pressed against her thigh. It was uncomfortable, so she straightened again and glanced down to see if she’d chosen a spot where a nodule of wood or a small offshoot of a branch was poking her, but the tree trunk appeared relatively smooth—as smooth as a tree trunk could be, anyway.
The sun had come out, and while she’d initially been grateful to its rays, and had positioned her body as far out into the dappled sunshine as she was able to get, considering her hands were still chained, now she wished for more rain.
A massive crow dropped down from one of the trees surrounding the clearing. Its slick feathers were iridescent in the sunlight—greens, purples, and blues. It cocked its head toward Cass, its black bead of an eye glinting with wicked intelligence. Then it looked toward the body, and took a couple of bounding steps, its body bouncing with the movement.
Cass immediately saw what was on the bird’s mind.
“Hey, you. Shoo! Get away from here.”
The bird didn’t even startle at her shout. It jumped closer to the body and then leaned in and pecked at the leg of his pants. Realizing the clothing wasn’t food, it hopped another couple of steps and gave a couple of experimental pecks to his fingers.
The sight turned her stomach. Did the bird think its fingers were worms? It probably didn’t even care. Fresh meat was fresh meat.
Cass pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, trying to contain her revulsion. She couldn’t not do anything while the bird picked at the man’s skin.
Finding a burst of energy, she kicked out her legs again, drumming her feet against the ground.
“Arghhh!”
The crow jumped away from the body.
“Get out of here!” she yelled.
It let out a distinctly irritated caw and spread its long wings and leaped into the air. It settled up in the branches of one of the trees, eyeing her disapprovingly.
Cass exhaled a sigh and slumped back against the tree. Fucking bird. She had no doubt it would be back, and would probably bring its friends next time, too.
It must be approachin
g noon by now, and though the sun had thankfully dried her clothes and warmed her shivering, chilled body, she was thirsty again. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, her lips gluing to her teeth. If only she’d had some way of collecting the water when it had rained, so she’d be able to drink whenever she got thirsty, but if there was, she hadn’t figured that out yet.
Cass pulled her thoughts from concerns about her lack of water and focused on the small hard thing that had been digging into the top of her thigh. If it wasn’t part of the tree, what was it? Did she have something in her pocket?
How stupid. She hadn’t thought to check her pockets, assuming them to be empty.
The position was awkward, with her angling her hip upward, while she pulled the chains taut to be able to reach. She managed to get her fingers inside the pocket of her pants and delved down. The tips touched crinkly cellophane, and she pinched it together, holding on tight as she pulled the small item out.
“Oh my God!”
Cass stared down at the tiny wrapped mint in her hand. They offered them as a freebie at the coffee shop. In her mind, she pictured a pile of mints sitting on the little silver platter by the till, free for customers to take once they’d paid. She often popped one into her mouth as well—no one liked coffee breath—and on this occasion, she must have slipped one into her pocket as well then forgotten about it. Now, the tiny mint felt like a nugget of gold in her hand. She’d never been so pleased to see a piece of candy in her life. Her mouth watered at the sight, and she licked her lips and swirled her tongue around the inside of her mouth, grateful for the extra fluid.
What should she do? Though deep down she wanted to tear off the wrapper and shove the piece of candy into her mouth, this was the only one she had. It represented more than just a sweet taste and a hit of sugar. It was something to look forward to. Something to break up the hours. But once it was gone, it was gone, and then she’d be left with nothing again.
She closed her palm around the mint and held it tight. Never in a million years would she have thought one piece of candy would have the power to stir up such conflicted emotions inside her.
To eat, or not to eat?
What if she didn’t eat it, and someone came along and rescued her? Would she then regret not having eaten it in the first place? She would have denied herself for nothing. But if she was freed, she figured she’d be so relieved she wouldn’t give a crap about one piece of candy anymore.
How long had she been here now? It must be approaching twenty-four hours. How many more hours or days lay ahead? She needed to hold on to the idea she’d be rescued, or that she’d figure out a way to rescue herself. She wasn’t going to allow herself to entertain the possibility of dying out here like this. If the rain came and went, she’d be able to keep herself alive, but that might not be a good thing. Eventually, she would starve. She didn’t know exactly how long it took to die of starvation, but she imagined it wouldn’t be a good way to go. In her head, she pictured someone eventually finding her, still chained to the tree, her clothes hanging from her emaciated frame. People would shake their heads and talk about what a tragic and horrible death to suffer, but they’d only know a fraction of what she’d been through. They’d all be shocked, but at the same time, they’d be thankful it wasn’t either them or one of their loved ones who’d been through such horror.
The mint wasn’t going to save her from starvation, but it would bring her some relief when she got desperate. And she wasn’t desperate yet—not really. She was desperate about her situation, but she’d had the drink from the rainwater last night, and though she was thirsty and hot from the sun, she knew things were going to get a lot worse.
Thankful the wrapper had saved the mint from dissolving in last night’s rain, Cass made a decision and carefully placed the candy back in her pocket.
She turned her attention back to the tree and remembered what the imagined voices of the dead girls had said. They’d told her to try picking off the bark, rather than sawing with the chain. Cass frowned and studied the tree trunk again. Experimentally, she pulled the chain down to its lowest spot and reached out to an area right beneath where the chain sat and picked at a piece of the bark. Sure enough, a chunk of it came away in her hand. She frowned and pressed her lips together. It was going to be painstaking and time-consuming, but she could do it slowly and without expending too much energy, unlike her attempt to saw with the chain. If she was able to remove just a couple of inches of bark, it would allow the chain to drop lower and give her that extra space she needed to try to reach the key.
“Thanks, girls,” she said out loud, addressing the two women who had suggested the idea, despite knowing they weren’t really there and she was only thanking herself.
Maybe it was stupid, but saying thanks to them took some of the fear away. Perhaps her conjuring of their voices in her head was her mind’s way of giving her some company out here. They could even be friends for her, and not people she needed to be scared of. After all, hadn’t they all been in the same position? If anyone was going to be rooting for her right now, it would be all the women he’d killed before her. She would probably be a hero in their eyes—the one who stopped the Magician and prevented him from killing again.
Her gaze drifted back across to the lump of his body. How had he chosen his victims? How had he chosen her? Was it all done completely at random, or had he been stalking her, following her to learn her routine and pick out the best time to snatch her? She wished she could remember something more about the time building up to when she’d been taken. It seemed important, though remembering wasn’t going to change anything now. She knew she’d been struggling lately, dragged down by bouts of depression that left her fighting just to get out of bed, to shower and get to work. Her life was one of loneliness, overruled by an inability to make a connection with other people. She always felt as though she was on the outside of others living their lives, while she was looking in. Even her work colleagues seemed to share some secret about how to be easy and happy with each other, while she skirted around them, in part hoping they didn’t notice her, while desperately wishing she could find a way to join in.
She couldn’t even pinpoint her last memory. Her routine was so dull that she struggled to recall which day was which. She remembered coming home from a shift and taking a nap, but had that been the day before she’d been taken? It could just as easily have been the day before that. She assumed she’d been taken during the early morning when she’d gone in to work to open up, since she was wearing her work outfit, all except for the shoes, but maybe she’d been snatched on the way home the day before?
It didn’t matter. Whatever happened during that time before she’d been taken, and which she’d most likely either blocked out because it had been too traumatic, or more likely because of the drugs he’d given her, nothing was going to change the situation she was in now.
Cass picked a spot that looked like the most shaded part of the tree and sat down. The bark all over this big old tree was loose, as though years of rain and sun had caused it damage. She reached out and got her fingers under one piece, picking away until it came away in her hand. Bugs and creepy-crawlies scattered from the newer, pale wood beneath, suddenly startled by the light.
“Well, that doesn’t seem so hard,” she mused.
The work she’d done previously, using the chain, had also helped to loosen pieces of bark. Like she was picking at chipped nail varnish, she kept going, pulling away piece after piece. Some parts came away easily and in large chunks, while other areas refused to budge. It probably didn’t even matter if she wasn’t able to do all of it. Even making the tree trunk thinner on one side might give her the extra mobility she needed.
The work was monotonous, and soon the tips of her fingers grew raw, shards of wood jamming beneath her nailbeds. Her body ached, her head pounding with a fresh headache.
The candy in her pocket called to her.
If she ate it, it would be gone, and she would no longer
have a last piece of pleasure to look forward to. The temptation was enough to make her pause, however. She deserved it, didn’t she? She’d made some progress with the tree, and there was now a lighter patch where she’d picked off all the old, crumbling bark. The small sugar hit would help; it would give her that extra little bit of energy to continue. Her mouth watered at the thought. Besides, if this worked and she was able to reach the key, she wouldn’t need to worry about saving one silly little mint. She’d be able to stroll right on over to the backpack and help herself to whatever was inside.
Her mind made up, she got back to her feet. Her hands still weren’t low enough on the tree trunk to allow her to reach into her pocket without first being on her tiptoes then lifting her hip up, toward the tree trunk. Cass pushed her hand into her pocket, her fingertips touching the crinkly piece of plastic encasing the candy. Carefully, she closed her fingers around the mint and pulled it out. Her heart beat faster, her hands trembling with nerves. It was crazy how just one mint was creating such a reaction in her. If she survived this, she didn’t think she’d ever look at a piece of candy in the same way again.
Pulling the mint out fully, she readjusted her position so she was able to hold it between both hands in order to open the wrapper. She was terrified she’d drop the candy into the dirt and be unable to pick it up again. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d go crazy if that happened. She needed to be as careful as a surgeon doing heart surgery on a newborn.
Holding the two ends of the wrapper between her thumb and forefinger of both her hands, she carefully twisted. The clear cellophane unraveled, exposing the candy inside. Cass cupped it in both hands and lowered her face to inhale the minty, clean fragrance. It reminded her of toothpaste and ice cream and hot mint tea. She darted out her tongue to lick the piece of candy, savoring the moment, but her tongue was so dry that the candy just stuck to the tip, and she drew the whole thing back into her mouth.
