by Farrar, M K
“Fuck!” she shrieked.
This wasn’t fair! This wasn’t fucking fair. She tried so hard, had fought to stay alive. She’d eaten beetles, for fuck’s sake. She deserved this. The universe owed her.
She screamed her rage and frustration at the unfairness of the world, screamed for all the pain she’d gone through, not only over the past few days, but over the whole of her life. In her anger, she kicked out at the solid lump of a body.
“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit! Fuck, fuck!” she screamed, though she knew it would do her no good, lashing out with her still chained feet, pummeling the body with her heels.
The body shifted under her abuse, and too late, she realized she’d only succeeded in pushing it farther away. But then the head rolled to the side, so it was facing her now, instead of being face down on the ground, and something caught the bright sunlight, glinting into her eyes.
Cass caught her breath and stopped kicking.
The knife!
Half the blade was buried in his throat, but the other half had already slid out, and now the handle pointed in her direction.
She tried hard not to look at the dead man’s face. She’d been excused from that little pleasantry of dealing with his wide, staring eyes, which were now glassed over and covered in a strange white film. His skin was a mottled white as well, but changed to a dark purple black closer to the ground. The reason for the change in color came to her. With his heart no longer beating, the blood had all settled to the lowest point in his body.
“I guess that means you actually had a heart, then, you son of a bitch,” she hissed.
Her gaze fixed on the handle of the knife protruding from his neck. Already, the flies were back, alighting on the exposed wound and landing on his milky irises. If she was able to get hold of the knife, could she use it to drag him closer to her? She was almost there. She literally just needed a matter of inches and she’d be able to wrap her feet around the handle. She still wasn’t completely confident that she’d be able to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a key with her toes, but if the last couple of days had shown her anything, it was that she could do more with her feet than she’d given herself credit for—after all, she managed to pick up both an earthworm and a tiny sliver of mint.
She was going to try.
The handle of the knife stuck out farther than the rest of him, now that she’d kicked him onto his side in her fury. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far away when she’d lost her temper. That had been stupid of her, but at the same time, it had revealed something she hadn’t considered. How had she forgotten about the knife?
Suddenly, her focus had changed. If she got hold of the knife between her feet and pulled, what would happen? It would be one of two things. The knife would either be lodged firmly in his throat and she’d end up dragging him toward her, which was what she’d wanted to do anyway. Or the knife would slide out of his throat, and she could pull her legs back and carefully lift her feet up to meet her hands, and then she’d have a knife. Either way, it would be a win.
Perhaps the universe was smiling down on her after all.
Cass didn’t want to screw this up. She took a moment to pull herself back up the tree. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them and clenched and unclenched her fists. Then she stretched out her legs again, wriggled her toes, and took a couple of deep breaths. If she cramped up again while she was trying to pull out the knife, she might drop it or accidentally push the body farther away again.
The stink of the dead man had grown stronger since she’d kicked out at him, too. The air was filled with a pungent stench, and she twisted her face away, trying to gulp down a spot of fresh air. She hoped it was simply because of the movement releasing some gases, and that it would fade away quickly.
Feeling as composed as she could be, considering her current situation, and doing her best to ignore all the aches and pains in her body, she edged back down the tree trunk, leaving her arms above her. She shifted her bottom to the right, closer to the killer’s throat, and then stretched out her legs again.
Cass scrunched up her face, her nose wrinkled. She really didn’t want to be touching a dead body, and wanted to pull something out of his dead body even less. Her bare toes touched the knife handle and the flies took off into the air. Suddenly spooked, she jerked her legs back again. She felt like a child who was letting their leg hang off the side of a bed, ready for a monster to grab.
He’s dead. He can’t hurt you. He’s just flesh and bone, nothing more.
With gritted teeth, she stretched her legs out once more. She fought against the demons trying to place images in her head that would frighten her, but her resolve to get her hands on that damned knife was greater than anything she could fear right now. She had already gone through too much to be frightened off by ghosts.
She gripped the knife handle between both feet, took another breath, and pulled.
The knife resisted, the blood having coagulated and dried, the body now rigid with rigor mortis. If she remembered correctly, rigor mortis only lasted a few days after death, and he was surely in the final throes of the affliction. But there was also no muscle tension, and there weren’t many muscles in the throat to start with, and she repositioned her feet to give herself a better hold and pulled again. With her jaw clenched, and fighting the revulsion created by what she was doing, she pressed her feet together and bent her knees, pulling back harder.
The body released its hold on the knife, giving way with a wet slurp that turned her stomach. She fell back, almost dropping the blade. But, somehow, she managed to keep her hold on the handle, and she carefully drew her feet nearer to her body. With her hands still chained above her head, she lifted her feet higher, doing a strange kind of uncoordinated half back roll, so her feet met her hands. She grappled with her fingers, reaching for the handle. If she dropped it now, the blade would land on her, and she didn’t want to be stabbed herself, if she could avoid it, especially not with a knife covered in the days-old blood of a corpse.
Her fingers wrapped around the handle, and she held on.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, she lowered her feet back down, and then just lay on the ground, breathing hard, her pulse galloping. She hadn’t achieved what she’d planned, but she’d at least achieved something.
She had a knife.
Now she needed to figure out what the hell she was going to do with it.
Chapter Fourteen
Knowing she couldn’t lie there forever, Cass pushed herself up the tree trunk and carefully got to her feet. She made sure to keep her fingers wrapped firmly around the handle of the knife, terrified she’d drop it.
The blade trembled in her grip.
The metal was coated in a brown-black sludge, which she assumed was old blood. Quickly, she wiped it on the tree, and then screwed up her face at the smear on the bark, wishing she’d wiped it somewhere farther away. But she didn’t have the luxury of being able to just bend down and wipe the knife on the carpet of fallen leaves. She was thankful she’d managed to get the knife from the man’s throat into her hand and didn’t want to risk dropping it again.
She couldn’t keep holding the knife, though. Her trembling hand was only part of the problem. Her knuckles were already seizing up, and she was terrified she’d do something stupid and end up throwing the knife out of reach. It wasn’t logical, but the illogical part of her mind was worried the idea would pop into her head and she wouldn’t be able to control it. She didn’t trust herself right now, with either her mind or her body.
Glancing around, the area on the tree trunk which she’d cleared of the old bark caught her attention. She’d already proven the layer between the old bark and the new wood was loose.
Carefully, Cass pushed the blade down between the outer layer of bark and the paler wood beneath. She tested it, wiggling the handle and making sure the hold felt solid. It worked as a perfect knife holder, and she was happy to let go of the handle. She flexed her fingers, trying to keep m
ovement in them.
She turned back to the body. She still wasn’t any closer to getting hold of the damned key.
Needing to think, she dropped back to sitting. Her head was foggy, and she struggled to put any coherent thoughts together. The exertion of getting the knife had taken the last of her strength out of her, and her eyes slipped shut. For someone who’d struggled with insomnia most of her life, she now found herself needing to sleep all the time.
Overweight and struggling to sleep? a voice chirped in her head like a television advertisement. Why not try chaining yourself to a tree in the middle of nowhere for several days? The weight will fall off, and you won’t be able to keep your eyes open...
CASS JERKED AWAKE, her heart racing. She felt as though her heart wasn’t beating properly either, skipping beats. It was the dehydration, she was sure. She also had a low ache in her back, that she could have put down to sleeping in an awkward position, but which she was fairly sure was down to her kidneys. Her blood must be like sludge by now, pulsing weakly through veins that were starting to collapse. She was amazed she was even conscious, but she didn’t know how much longer that would last. She’d fallen asleep while she’d been trying to figure out a way to put the knife to good use.
Something had woken her.
It was dark again. She’d slept straight through dusk. She knew it was because of her body shutting down. What was that statistic she’d read some time ago about dehydration? She’d been reading up on it because she figured she probably drank too much caffeine during the day and not enough water, but never imagined she’d end up using it when she was almost two days past her last drink of anything. If a person was just four percent dehydrated, they would experience a twenty percent reduction in their ability to work. She knew she was well past that now. Much longer, and her body’s organs would start shutting down, and death wouldn’t be far away.
A rustling came from the bushes, and she straightened. Of course, something had woken her. In that strange way her brain had now of drifting off, she’d started thinking about dehydration statistics and had completely forgotten something had alerted her in the first place.
Could it be that the deer had returned? She hoped that was the case, but deep down she knew whatever this animal was sounded far bigger.
Another crash met her ears, followed by a grunt and a snuffle.
No, that wasn’t a deer. Deer didn’t make noises like that.
Cass was fully awake now. She clambered to her feet, pressing her back against the tree trunk. Her eyes were gritty, her vision blurred, as she peered out into the dark. It was another bright night, the moon only a few days away from being full. At least she could comfort herself that it wasn’t a werewolf. She shook the thought from her head. That was stupid. Werewolves weren’t real. She wasn’t thinking straight. Actual wolves, however, were very real.
This wasn’t a wolf, though. It sounded bigger, and she hadn’t heard any howling. A branch snapped, and she jumped, her heart in her throat. Whatever it was, it appeared to be heading this way. She kept her gaze fixed on the area the noises were coming from, simultaneously desperate to know what was responsible, and also hoping she’d never have to find out. The almost-full moon cast thick, black shadows into the undergrowth, creating hiding places for both the creature and her imagination.
The crack and crunch of foliage grew louder, and Cass held her breath, her back wedged hard against the tree trunk.
It was coming!
The animal trundled into the clearing, its massive shoulders rolling from side to side, its head swinging back and forth as it walked slowly but deliberately.
It was the biggest bear she’d ever seen.
Cass’s skin prickled with terror, the air trapping in her lungs.
Then she remembered the knife.
Reaching out as slowly and quietly as possible, she slid the knife from where she’d jammed it into the tree. It wouldn’t be much as far as protection went, but at least it was something. If the bear tried to attack her, she could do it some harm with the blade.
But so far, the animal hadn’t appeared to have noticed her, or if it had, it wasn’t interested. The thing that drew it was the body.
It grunted again, head down, nosing the corpse. Then it opened its mouth and closed its jaws around the Magician’s leg and pulled.
Cass jolted into action. “Hey, stop that!”
If the bear dragged the body away, it would take the key away with it. She’d never be able to reach the key if it was somewhere in the woods. Hell, the bear might even accidentally eat it, for all she knew.
The animal was most likely getting ready for hibernation. It would be trying to build up its body fat in preparation for the long winter. The dead body clearly looked like an easy meal, but she couldn’t let it take him.
“Hey! You! Stop that!”
She stamped her feet on the ground and yelled, even though it hurt her throat. She didn’t even consider the possibility she might be attracting the bear toward her instead, only knowing she couldn’t let him take the body. If he did, that would be it for her.
The animal lifted its head, moonlight glinting in its dark eyes. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air in her direction. She probably smelled like shit right now, and not like an appetizing meal, but maybe it could sense her weakness. Did they pick up on things like that? She knew from watching the occasional wildlife show that hunting animals often picked on the smallest and weakest of the pack. But she wasn’t a pack animal. She was human, and even though this was a remote area, there was the chance the animal had come across hunters before and had an inbuilt fear of her species.
But the bear gave a low growl and ducked its head to the body once more.
“No! Get off him. Leave him alone!”
It would be a fitting end for the bastard, ending up as bear food. She wished he was alive so he could see it. But as much as she was happy if his body got eaten by a bear, it wouldn’t do her any good.
Frantic, she looked around, trying to find something to throw. There were a few sticks on the ground, a couple of rocks, and dirt. Of course, she couldn’t pick anything up with her hands. Then she spotted the sneakers she kicked off on the first day. She’d never bothered putting them back on again—not when she needed the use of her toes like her hands—but they’d definitely get a bear’s attention if one of them hit him.
Cass lowered herself to the ground and stretched out her feet. Cramp threatened, as it seemed to every time she moved now, but she ignored it. The bear yanked on the Magician’s cuff. It brought one of its huge, saucer sized paws down on the back of the body’s thigh, as though holding it in place so it could rip off the offending clothing. She couldn’t believe how big the animal’s claws were—each claw the same size as one of her fingers, curving out from the ends of each of its toes—and they dug into the clothing and flesh of the body. Bile rose up the back of Cass’s throat as she imagined the sharp teeth sinking into the dead man’s calf. Swallowing it down, she stretched out again and hooked one of her sneakers with her foot. She pulled it toward her and did that back roll position she’d gotten used to when she needed to pass something from foot to hand. With her sneaker in her grip, she pushed herself back to standing. Every muscle in her body hurt, her back throbbing, her neck and shoulders stiff. It was partly the result of sitting or standing in the same position for days, but also because of the dehydration having sapped the fluid in her joints, leaving them inflamed.
Because of the way her hands were chained, she couldn’t pull her arm back far enough to get a decent aim. But the bear wasn’t far away, and all she needed to do was hit it enough to distract its attention from the body. The animal was massive, its back and rear end taking up a huge amount of space. It shouldn’t be hard to hit, but her motor skills were in bad shape, and she didn’t trust her vision either. She had a second shoe she could use if she missed with the first one, but there was a chance that when she threw the first shoe, it would draw the beast’s atte
ntion toward her, enough that it might decide to attack rather than run away. If it attacked, there was no way she could get the other shoe, but she did still have the knife.
She blinked, clearing her vision, and then pulled back her arm as much as the chain would allow.
“Hey, asshole!”
She threw the shoe as hard as she could. It landed in front of the bear’s nose, bouncing off the Magician’s other leg.
“Shit!”
The bear mewled and shook its body like a dog drying off. She held her breath, thinking, somehow, she might have done enough, but the animal went straight back to trying to unwrap its meal from the clothing.
Dropping back down to the ground, she scrabbled the second shoe toward her and lifted it with her feet. This was her last chance. She couldn’t make the same mistake again. She needed to throw harder and faster this time if she was going to get the bear’s attention.
Cass moved to the side of the tree, pulling the chain around with her. This way, she was able to move her arm farther back, where previously, when she’d pulled her arm back, it just hit the tree trunk. With a scream, she threw the second shoe. To her amazement, the sneaker hit the bear square between the eyes. The animal jerked upright and gave a snort of anger. It rose onto its hind legs, lifting its head and letting out a roar.
Cass reared back, pinning her spine to the tree, her heart in her throat. She’d never been so terrified. The animal was huge, and it displayed its sharp teeth and claws as a warning to her. She thought the bear would attack, but to her amazement, the animal lowered itself back down to all fours and shook off its body, before clearly deciding this was all more hassle than it was worth. It turned to trundle back into the woods, its massive backside shaking from side to side as it went.
Cass remained pinned to the tree, breathing hard, her heart racing. She could barely believe it had worked. The bear was gone.
