Before he began chanting the mantra, he thought about those final words.
He’d never told Mister Fergus or anyone else about his War Chest of Oddities. In a way, it was a relief for someone else to know about them, he decided.
The Shift agreed.
He smiled to himself and closed his eyes.
Chapter 18
Ray
Pink-tinged sunlight filtered through the plastic sheeting on the window. Was it morning or evening? Impossible to know.
Lizzy was nowhere in sight.
Upon awakening, Ray’s thoughts seemed clearer than they’d been since his capture. He remembered Lizzy feeding him. Remembered the sips of water she insisted he take. Remembered using his most appealing smile when asking her to loosen the chain dangling from the eye-bolts to his wrists. At some point during unconsciousness, Lizzy had apparently obliged. He could move a bit farther from the wall in a 180-degree range. His limbs and back felt stiff, but he could fully stand now. A plastic bucket placed near the woodpile contained a quarter-inch of amber liquid.
“Ugh,” he croaked. He had no memory of urinating in the bucket and the thought of Lizzy helping made him nauseated.
He shuffled toward it now, sliding down his fly. After adding another quarter-inch to the bucket, his gaze fell upon the desiccated wood in the corner. His thoughts were definitely clearer now. Most of the ketamine and midazolam must have passed through his kidneys and into the bucket.
The crumbling firewood lay in the corner of the cabin shored up by rocks on the outside. Still eyeing the corner, he reached for the water bottle next to the bucket. She may torture him in some grisly manner, but she would not let him die of thirst or hunger. A breakfast MRE lay next to the water. He recognized it as one from the warehouse — one of his favorites, actually.
What was the significance of those rocks, he wondered, idly chewing a cold maple sausage patty. Obviously, they reinforced the eroded soil in that spot, but maybe there was more to their positioning. What if the floor under all that rotting firewood was also rotting? Did a hole in the floor leading to the outside do him any good while shackled to a wall? No. Unless the wall was in a similar state. He imagined a cartoon version of himself sawing out a chunk and running away as chains, plaster, and boards chased him from behind.
“It’s not the worst idea,” he said to himself, “if I had a saw.” The sound of his own voice in the chilly quiet of the morning air startled him. Made him think about Lizzy: Where was she? How long had she been gone? What had she done to Fergus and the little girl?
It was time to focus on escape. He was no help to anyone in his current situation. He tested the eye bolts first, assuming Lizzy wouldn’t have merely screwed them in by hand — that would have made for an easy escape. A quick twist to the left of both proved his theory correct. Unscrewing those things would take leverage, a tool, or more strength than his fingers could provide at the moment.
He took a few steps, careful to check the floor’s integrity, and shuffled to the farthest reaches of his tether. The clanking chain sounded unnatural in the rustic setting. His fingertips couldn’t quite touch the woodstove, but they could discern some residual heat from the cast iron.
He studied every inch of the cabin now, scanning up and down, left to right. He began compiling mental spreadsheets of all that he’d identified visually. Then he closed his eyes and listened, being careful not to rattle the chain, and concentrated on nature’s ambient noise flowing through the plaster chinks: a hawk screeched from far above the roof; wind rushed through a nearby pine tree with a pleasant whoosh; mourning doves cooed; the faint but constant gurgle of water slid over stones on its way to somewhere else. He added the audible notes to his mental spreadsheet.
Next came olfactory: lingering wood smoke from the stove; fresh urine in the bucket and stale urine from the camouflage pants he’d been wearing for days; the residual aroma of food from last night’s supper and the more prevalent scent of maple sausage; the mustiness of decay from the walls; a faint whiff of rodent feces from the woodpile.
Suddenly, a much stronger scent assaulted his nostrils, carried on a breeze that filtered under the edges of the window’s plastic sheeting. It was a smell he’d never experienced before: earthy and pungent, but not unpleasant. A faint whiff of sweetness — berries perhaps — followed the aroma.
Something about the fragrance registered on the lizard part of his brain. He wasn’t completely surprised when a low-pitched snuffle resonated through the window.
Do not make a noise. Do not breathe. Do not even blink.
He was grateful for exactly one thing at that moment: Grizzlies did not populate the Smoky Mountains. But black bears did. An average female weighed about a hundred pounds. A male could get up to two-fifty. By autumn, bears had been packing on weight for months in preparation for winter hibernation. This time of year those numbers could double. Even a small female would have no problem crashing through that window.
He scanned the room again. Nothing within reach would serve as a weapon. Lizzy wouldn’t have been so careless.
Growls punctuated the snuffling now. The bear had caught his scent. The only weapon available was the chain tethering him to the wall. Could he strangle a bear? Would he survive the attempt? The notion seemed ludicrous.
There was nothing left to do but remain motionless. With luck, the bear would decide that gaining access to the cabin required too much effort. Surely with so few humans left to use up resources, the bear population enjoyed easy pickings these days. Why expend energy crashing through a window when acorns, blackberries, and river trout could so easily be procured?
Claws raked against the cabin’s outside wall. Bits of ancient plaster and dried moss cascaded to the floor next to him. The snuffling grew louder, coming now through a fresh opening between the dilapidated boards. Another low growl. He imagined the snout and its incisors, molars, and canine teeth on the other side of a few pieces of flimsy, rotten lumber. He envisioned fangs that could shred human flesh like a steak knife slicing through beef tenderloin.
The low growls abruptly transitioned to intermittent roars.
A small female likely couldn’t produce the bass notes and ear-splitting volume. The next moment, a trio of curved four-inch long claws razored the plastic.
That’s it, then. That’s what I deserve for going outside. There was a reason my agoraphobia kept me in one piece all these years. It’s safer indoors. The one time I venture out into nature, I get drugged and kidnapped by a psychopath, then mauled and eaten by a bear. With luck, I’ll be dead before the eating begins...
The roaring stopped abruptly. A rifle shot pierced the silence. On the other side of the wall, the bear hit the ground with a satisfying thud, like a half-ton boulder had been dropped from a crane.
He was likely witnessing Lizzy’s dramatic return. Would he owe her a debt of gratitude for saving his life only to torture and murder him later?
His heart still raced from residual adrenaline. The cabin door flew open. A woman filled the doorway, framed by dust-moted sunlight.
It wasn’t Lizzy.
“Who are you?” the woman asked in a sharp, no-nonsense voice. Despite its edge, the sultry notes befitted the woman herself. She sniffed delicately.
Blood rushed to his cheeks as he imagined his stench. “Sorry about the smell. I’ve been chained up for more than a day.” The absurdity of his response wasn’t missed by the woman.
She smiled. He didn’t suddenly hear a singing choir, but his heart did skip a figurative beat.
“Your circumstances excuse it. Otis, everything’s under control in here,” she said over her shoulder. Her gold-flecked eyes skewered him again. “What happened to you?” She stepped inside the cabin. Her boots seemed to know precisely where to tread on the compromised boards.
“I was out looking for a dangerous woman...a psychopath. She found me first.”
“Interesting. Is her name Lizzy?”
“Yes. How did...? You mu
st know Fergus. You’re from the holler, right?”
“What do you know about the holler?”
“Very little. Fergus wouldn’t tell me much, out of respect for the people who live there.”
A small forward dip of the blond braids indicated an acknowledgement of his new friend’s discretion.
“She’s as bad as he probably told you,” Ray continued. “How big was the bear?”
“You wouldn’t have stood a chance.” There was the smile again.
“I hope you’ll be able to utilize the meat.”
“Of course. Nothing goes to waste in our village. But first things first. Do you know where Lizzy might have taken my daughter?” The edge was back in her voice. “I know she’s alive. Her brother can feel it. They’re twins.”
“Ah. I didn’t know she had a sibling.” Were these the children the drone camera had caught a glimpse of? The ones he’d been delivering food and candy to? He had no idea.
The muzzle of the rifle the woman held suddenly pointed at him. “Better come clean and fast.”
How stupid of him. What would trigger a mother faster than a strange man having knowledge of her child? “Just before Lizzy captured me...us...I’m not sure yet what happened to Fergus in all this...she mentioned having abducted a child. A girl.”
“What else?” the woman demanded.
Ray took a deep breath. “Let me explain. Then afterward, perhaps you can help me get out of this.” The chain clinked as he lifted his hands a few inches.
“We’ll see.”
Ray told her everything: about his life in the warehouse since the pandemic; discovering Lizzy with the drone; bringing her inside only to discover what she was; securing her living space and keeping her contained so as not to harm anyone else; ultimately failing in that endeavor; meeting Fergus after delivering food to the mystery children; admitting that those children were the main reason he’d ventured outside to try to capture Lizzy. It was all completely true and unembellished.
If not for those children, he doubted he could have worked up the courage.
A curt nod of the head was her only response. The next moment she was studying the chain — how it attached to the wall through the eyebolts then threaded through the handcuffs on his wrists. Her proximity made his head swim. She smelled of coffee, female sweat, and something herbaceous. Rosemary? The combination was intoxicating. Either he’d been away from non-psychopathic women for too long or she was, in fact, the most attractive woman he’d ever encountered.
“Otis!” she called out the next moment. “Bring the bolt cutters in here.”
A male voice responded just on the other side of the wall. “I’m working on the bear.” The Appalachian dialect was unmistakable.
“Now, please. The bear can wait.”
Indistinct muttering, footsteps on the ground, then a man appeared in the doorway in full camo hunting gear. Something about his eyes didn’t jibe with the expressionless face. There was anger in those eyes.
Ray disliked him instantly. How much of that could be attributed to the perceived anger or to the fact that he accompanied the woman, he didn’t know.
“You haven’t told me your name yet,” Ray said to her. “Nor have you asked mine.” He ignored the man handing her the tool.
“I’m Serena Jo. Obviously this is Otis. His brother was recently murdered, as was another member of our village. Both were strung up in a tree with their throats slit.”
That would explain the anger. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Ray said.
Otis turned without a word and disappeared outside again.
“I’m Ray,” he continued. “That certainly sounds like Lizzy’s MO. She mentioned having a ‘thing’ for crucifixions.”
“Fergus mentioned that too.”
“Trust me. That bear is nothing compared to what Lizzy can and will do.”
“She specifically said she had taken a child?”
“Yes,” he said. The woman snipped the handcuffs’ steel links. It felt wonderful to be able to spread his arms. “She said Fergus and I better not do anything to her or the child would die. That we would never find her and she would perish of dehydration or hypothermia.” He omitted the ‘bound and gagged’ part.
Serena Jo moved to the eye bolts now, cutting sections out of each and releasing the chain from the wall.
“Thank you,” he said, stretching.
“Hands up. I’ll cut through the cuffs now. Please continue.”
“That’s about it. She’s been injecting me with drugs...midazolam and ketamine...to keep me groggy and manageable. I have no idea what happened to Fergus. He was gone when I woke up in the forest yesterday after the altercation with Lizzy. She told me she had taken him somewhere else so she could have privacy when dealing with me. Payback is on her agenda, I assume. I held her captive for months.”
“I’m not worried about Fergus. My only concern is my daughter.”
“I understand. But he was out here trying his best to catch Lizzy before she could cause more harm.”
“What else?”
“There’s something she mentioned yesterday. Something about following rules in terms of her victims. In the context of the situation, I took it to mean regarding children, specifically.”
“You’re saying she may treat a child victim differently than an adult?”
He nodded. “She wouldn’t elaborate, but that’s how I interpreted it. Which is a good thing for your daughter. What is her name?”
Her eyes misted suddenly before she could turn away. “Willadean.”
“That’s a lovely name. We’ll find her.”
“Yes, we will. But first we’re going to the village for supplies. And I need to check on my son. Here, put this on. Cover your eyes.” She untied a scarf from her neck and handed it to him.
“You want me blindfolded while navigating the forest?” he said, reaching for the garment. He could smell her scent in its fibers.
“No offense, but we don’t let anyone from the outside know the location of our village. That’s one of the security measures that keeps us safe.”
“I understand, but I don’t think I can walk without seeing. There are all kinds of tripping hazards. Roundleaf briars, for one.” He’d remembered Lizzy’s horticulture lesson.
“Lift your feet up high when you step. You can hold onto me. We don’t have far to go.”
He shuddered at hearing the same advice given by Lizzy. When he tied the scarf over his eyes, the sudden loss of vision prompted him to focus on another sense. His olfactory was assaulted — pleasantly so — by Serena Jo’s scent embedded in the scarf just above his nose.
The next moment, strong fingers directed his hand. “Hold onto my coat sleeve. If you feel like you’re going to stumble, reach for my bicep.” She raised her voice. “You coming, Otis?”
“I’m going to finish field dressing this bear. I’ll be along shortly.”
Even behind the blindfold, Ray sensed the woman’s annoyance. She didn’t reply, but began walking. He barely managed to keep up. He remembered the long legs that could surely cover ground faster than most people.
After they’d walked for a few minutes, he said, “You wanted to force Otis to come with us, but you didn’t. Or couldn’t.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Finally she said, “Was there a question in there?”
“Aren’t you the leader of your village? I may have made an assumption. Fergus gave me no details.”
Her sigh was subtle. He might not have heard it if not for the blindfold.
“Yes, I’m in charge. But sometimes I have to pick my battles. We have a mandate: no one goes outside the village alone.”
“So Otis was openly defying you.”
“And it may cost him his life.”
“It’ll be on him, then.”
“In theory, but everything that goes wrong in the village is my fault, even when it’s not my fault. I accept that responsibility.”
“That’s the attitude of an
effective leader.”
Another long pause. “Why did you assume I was the leader?”
Ray laughed. “Everything about you screams authority. Your confidence, your competence, your obvious intellect. At least that’s what I remember before you made me wear a blindfold.”
“Flattery will get you no further than those who hate my guts.”
“Not flattery. Trust me. I wouldn’t know how to flatter someone. I’m hopelessly inadequate in social situations. Especially when it comes to women.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s true. I’m a textbook introvert with anxiety issues and agoraphobia.”
“Interesting. So you’re perfectly happy being holed up in that warehouse?”
“Weirdly, yes. Except for the Lizzy part. I admit, though, I was getting lonely. The drone helped. Spotting the kids on the footage gave me an unexpected jolt of happiness. Got me...hopeful...again. If that makes sense.”
“Yes, it does. The children are everything.”
“I agree. I could help, you know. I have enough food and medicine to last for years. Not just for the kids, but for everyone.”
She stopped suddenly.
“Don’t mention that to anyone in the village. Understood?” The menace in her tone was unmistakable.
“Yes, of course,” he replied quickly. “But why? I just want to help.”
“Because the contents of your warehouse are not sustainable. We’re doing more than merely getting by. We’re healthy, we’re happy for the most part, and we’re self-reliant. No more candy, by the way. The last thing we need is tooth decay. They don’t need food, either. They get plenty to eat.”
“But do they get macaroni and cheese? What childhood is complete without it?”
“I mean it, Ray.”
There would be no arguing with that tone. “Duly noted,” he replied. “I’ve told you all about me. The warehouse, my life before and after. You haven’t told me much about you.”
“Are you familiar with the term OPSEC?”
“Of course. Operational security. I worked for the government, remember? So you’re saying if you told me about your life, you’d have to kill me?”
What Befalls the Children: Book 4 in the Troop of Shadows Series Page 19
