Then There Was You

by Heather Thurmeier

  Her feet were bare, and the ground cover on the forest floor chewed into her soles with every step. She’d been sleeping when they’d pulled her from the truck, shoeless but clothed, thank God. She and Dane had thought it was safer to sleep and travel in the same clothes, but she wished they’d thought the same way about sleeping with shoes on.

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. We brought enough gas with us to get the truck where we want it. Watch your step and keep up.”

  “If you have the supplies, then why won’t you let me go? I don’t have anything else to offer you.”

  The men shared a knowing look between them. “Well, we were going to beat you both and take your stuff, but then....” The guy in front shrugged as his voice dropped off.

  Sara’s heartbeat hammered. Something about their expressions and his vague answer made her skin crawl with unease. She didn’t want to prod him to continue, but she had to know why she’d been taken from Dane. Maybe if she knew their motive, she could figure out their weak spot and get away.

  “But then what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper among the noise of their steps on the forest ground.

  A hand caressed her ass, and she startled, shrieking and jumping away from the unwanted touch. The men all laughed.

  “Then we watched the show you put on last night, and we knew we couldn’t leave you behind,” one of the men said.

  Sara’s head swirled with this new knowledge. They’d watched her and Dane together. Her intimate moments with the man she loved, tarnished and twisted into nothing more than a peep show to them. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the tears from forming in her eyes.

  They’d captured her to rape her.

  This could not happen. She wouldn’t let it. She’d die trying to get away before letting anyone but Dane touch her.

  Sara gave another tug at her arms to see if their grip had loosened at all. It hadn’t. How could she get away from them and back to Dane? All of her weapons were in the truck.

  She stumbled again, falling against one of the men holding her. As she righted herself, a hard length of steel pressed against her calf, just below her knee, and she stifled a smile.

  Her knife.

  She’d remembered to strap it onto her leg when she’d dressed last night. If she could get a few moments alone, away from their watchful eyes, maybe she could retrieve her knife and have a way to protect and defend herself. At the very least, she could use it to hurt them if they tried to put their hands on her. It wasn’t much, but if she used it right, she might be able to do some big damage.

  Why weren’t they raping her here, in the dry leaves, if that was all they wanted with her? Why were they bothering to take her somewhere just to use her?

  It didn’t make sense.

  “All this talk about last night’s performance has got me worked up again. I wish camp weren’t so damn far away.” The man to her left ran his free hand across his crotch.

  Sara tasted bile in her throat. No way would she let him get anywhere near her naked body.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t bother with camp?” the man on her right said as if it were a question rather than a statement to ponder.

  “We’re not far enough from her boyfriend.” The guy leading the way had stopped and turned to address them as if this was a discussion of great importance. “We wouldn’t want to be in the middle of something just to get interrupted by having to kill him. Let’s get her where it’s safe, and then we can each have our own private time with her.”

  He stepped close to her and held her chin, running his thumb over her bottom lip. Sara bit him as hard as she could before he pulled his hand away.

  “Like it rough, do you?” he questioned, eyeing his thumb. A half-moon of bite marks turned red. She hadn’t broken the skin, but she could still taste his filth in her mouth. She spit in his direction.

  “Touch me again, and I’ll show you how rough I can be.” In her head, she heard Dane’s voice chanting, “Fight, Sara, fight!” She would fight. She’d fight until she couldn’t anymore.

  The men laughed, as if she’d told a joke instead of threatening them, and began walking toward their camp again.

  “We’ll see,” the man said. “Maybe after you see our camp, you’ll realize you like us enough to be given the opportunity to stay.”

  Sara didn’t doubt for a second her opportunity to stay in camp would come with a price tag—her body—and she wouldn’t pay that for anything, no matter how shitty the rest of the world got.

  She walked steadfastly, acting as if she’d resigned herself to her fate. In her silence, she ran through all the possible scenarios she could think of for what might lay ahead and how she could get away. All theories concluded with her deciding she would be better off trying to escape in the woods than risk getting to camp. She had no idea what might be waiting for her there, and with other people around, escaping could be near impossible. Her best shot, her one real option, was to try and deal with these three guys immediately.

  “I need to stop. I’m exhausted. My feet are all cut up. I can’t go any farther.” Sara made her voice as whiny as she could.

  “We’re not stopping. If you can’t walk, Chris can carry you.”

  Shit.

  She’d thought they’d let her take a break. It wouldn’t have been much, but she’d hoped to delay them at least a bit from getting to camp. Maybe even long enough for her to come up with a solid escape plan. “Can’t we stop and rest a minute?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I at least stretch for a second? You’ve been holding my arms in the same position for hours. I’m exhausted, and my muscles are screaming at me.”

  The men stopped. The guy leading, who was clearly in charge at this point, turned on her. “Fine. Stretch one minute then you’re getting on Chris’ back if you can’t walk. But try anything stupid like making a run for it, and I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

  Sara swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She didn’t doubt the validity of his threat. The glint in his eyes said he was a man on the edge of sanity. She nodded.

  The men let her arms free, and she crumpled to the ground in a crouch. She swore a few times and rubbed her arms as if trying to get circulation flowing in them again. “Crap. Leg cramp,” she squeaked, gripping her shin in her hands and cringing. She forced tears to her eyes. “God damn it, that hurts.”

  Sara raised her pant leg halfway up her shin and rubbed her calf muscles in deep, slow circles, working her way up toward her knee. As she did, the men fidgeted and appeared to ignore her pain. The leader stepped off to the side to relieve himself behind a tree.

  When none of them were watching, she slipped the small knife out of the sheath and stuffed it down her shirt between her breasts, making sure the blade slid beneath her bra to lay flat against her stomach. As fast as she could, she covered her leg, moaned in pain a few more times then stood.

  “Ready, princess?”

  She shot him a glare but nodded then climbed up onto Chris’ back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders enough to hold on, but not enough to risk him feeling the blade she had hidden. Not the best plan she could imagine, but it was all she had to work with, so she prayed it would be enough.

  After another half an hour of walking through the forest, Sara couldn’t delay any longer. She had no idea how much farther it was to the camp, but she couldn’t risk finding out. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and steadied her nerves. This was it, her only chance.

  “I need to pee,” she announced.

  “Hold it. We’re not stopping again.”

  “I can’t hold it.” She fidgeted, attempting to illustrate the point. “You woke me out of a dead sleep. I haven’t gone since yesterday.”

  “Not our problem,” the leader said.

  “True.” She tried to put an air of indifference into her voice. “I guess it’s Chris’ problem since he’s the one who’s going to have wet clothes in a minute.”

&nb
sp; “That’s sick,” the guy on the left said.

  She shrugged, even though none of them were looking at her to see it. “Not my problem.”

  “Fine. Go. Right here.” Chris lowered his body.

  “Not here!” she shrieked. “I’m not going here, in front of all of you. In the woods. You can carry me off a little from the path. We won’t go far.”

  “You can walk.”

  “True, but then I won’t be able to walk the rest of the way to the camp.”

  The men looked at each other for a moment without saying anything. Finally, the leader guy shrugged and motioned for Chris to carry her off into the woods on his own.

  Ten feet from the trail, Chris stopped. “Here.”

  “Not far enough. Just a little farther,” she begged.

  “No,” he countered.

  “Please, Chris.” She channeled her most sincere-sounding voice while she rubbed her hand along his shoulder. “It’s bad enough I’m going to have to do this in front of you. The least you can do is take me far enough so they can’t see.”

  He hesitated.

  She hesitated as well, not sure if what she needed to say would be worth it in the end, but it was the last card she had left to play. “I...um...I’ll remember your kindness when we get to camp and make sure you’re rewarded.” Squeezing his shoulder, she held her breath, waiting to see if he’d take the bait or not.

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” He moved away from the other men again. “Where?”

  “Right there, by those rocks.” She pointed. With any luck, the cluster of large boulders would be enough to cover up the evidence she planned to leave behind.

  Slipping the knife from its hiding place, she stifled a gasp as the blade nicked the inner curve of her breast. A trickle of warm liquid dripped down her stomach. She refused to focus on the sting of the cut when she had a far bigger problem at hand.

  As Chris carried her over to the boulders, she glanced toward the other men. She could barely make them out between the trees and, if what she thought she saw was true, neither watched her journey into the woods with Chris.

  Without letting herself think about the task she faced any longer, she gripped the handle of the knife, squeezing it until her knuckles turned white. In one swift motion, she jammed the blade up into his head in the soft spot where his skull connected to his spine. A second later, she lay with the wind knocked out of her—on top of Chris’ limp, lifeless body.

  The man had dropped like a rock the second her knife had entered his skull, something she hadn’t been prepared for.

  Struggling to her feet, she gasped in a breath, pulled her knife from the body, and sprinted off into the woods. She didn’t look back, didn’t stop, didn’t think about what she’d done.

  Sara ran until it felt like she was treading on broken glass and her lungs burned. She tumbled to the ground in a heap, tears streaming down her face. Pain rocketed through her body—aching from the initial struggle to get away from the men, her feet an inferno of cuts, and a deep moral remorse at having taken someone’s life.

  She curled into a ball, letting the tears flow until they turned to hiccups. She didn’t know how far or how long she’d run. She didn’t know if the other men had found Chris’ body or had seen her flee. She had no idea if they’d followed her or not.

  She was free of them and wanted nothing more than to get back to Dane. She hoped to find him alive.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dane rolled to his knees and rubbed the side of his head where it had struck a large rock partially buried in the ground. A lump the size of a Ping-Pong ball throbbed in time to his heartbeat.

  He tried to guess how long he’d been knocked out, based on where the sun hung in the sky. An impossible task on an overcast day. It had to have been at least a couple of hours. Way too long to run off into the woods after Sara.

  Dane struggled to stand then walked about ten feet into the woods. If they’d hurt her and left her here, she should be close by, just out of view of the road. Or at the very least, there might be a blood trail to follow. But after a few minutes of searching, he found no sign of Sara, nor a path to track.

  He sighed with relief. A part of him feared he’d find her body, beaten and left behind. Since he hadn’t, he hoped she was still alive. Somewhere.

  Surveying the landscape of the woods, he tried to see any semblance of buildings or other places where Sara might have been taken, but all he saw were trees and bushes. They could have gone anywhere. He had no idea what distance they could’ve traveled during the time he’d been unconscious.

  His best bet was to get to the truck, find some gas, and start looking for Sara.

  Dane wandered out of the thick tree cover. Stopping on the side of the road, he swore, and kicked at the dirt. His truck was gone along with his plan.

  He’d thought the attack this morning had been random, but if they’d known to bring gas with them, then it must have been planned. How long had their attackers been waiting in the brush for them? The thought of strangers sniffing around his truck while he and Sara slept inside sent a chill of unease down his spine. He’d been stupid to think they were safe enough to sleep in the truck at night.

  It seemed others made questionable decisions as well.

  Dane sat on the edge of the road and dropped his head into his hands. What could he do? He had no idea where Sara had been taken or how to find her. Nor did he have any means of travel, other than on foot. He might be able to find a vehicle with gas in the tank and keys in the ignition, but that would be equivalent of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

  He saw a few possible choices.

  One, he could hang out here for a day or two to see if Sara would manage to find her way to him. But that seemed doubtful. The dense forest in this area meant she could get turned around in it. So even if she found a way to escape whoever had taken her, then she’d also have to figure out how to get to this particular road.

  Two, he could head to the cabin or bunker. It would be a long walk. Even driving around constant obstacles like stalled vehicles and highways turned into parking lots had taken them two days to get this far. He faced at least double the amount to get there on foot.

  Three, he could head into the woods in the direction Sara had been taken and hope by some twist of fate he would be lucky enough to find her. But that would be about as random as finding a car with keys and gas in it.

  Or four, he could go the rest of the way to the bookstore and hope like hell Sara would choose to do the same thing if she could.

  His stomach growled as he contemplated his options, and he reached for his pack then realized it hadn’t been on his back when he jumped from the truck. Having no vehicle also meant having no supplies. Even the holster he kept strapped to his leg lacked his trusted weapon. Whoever had knocked him out had also liberated him from his gun.

  No food. No safe water. No weapons. The throbbing in his head increased as he stood. No first aid supplies either.

  “Shit,” he muttered to himself. Any of his options were more difficult with no supplies.

  His choices clear in his mind, he saw one feasible plan. The bookstore could be another day by foot, maybe less if nothing slowed him down. It was the most probable place to find supplies and help—and with any luck, he’d find Sara too.

  If not, then maybe he’d at least find her family and could recruit them to go out and look for her. Of course, he’d first have to convince them he wasn’t a scavenger coming to raid their stockpiles. He had to try since it was the most reasonable place to find Sara. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had.

  ***

  Sara forced one foot in front of the other, counting the steps to ten then repeating the process again. To say she was exhausted would be a gross understatement. On the verge of complete collapse would be closer to the truth.

  But she had to keep going.

  How far? So tired.
Keep going.

  Time and distance were immeasurable. She’d counted to ten for about the millionth time, or at least it felt like it, and she’d gone off in the opposite direction of where she thought she’d left the men. If she guessed right, she hoped she headed toward southeast and the river.

  How had the world fallen to shit so fast? Everywhere she went, people wanted to hurt her or strip her of her supplies. Or worse. How had humanity fallen into such a state of depravity?

  Hadn’t she stolen property from vehicles without knowing where the occupants were? Hadn’t she lied to keep her secret bunker safe instead of sharing with those who had less? Hadn’t she killed to protect her own skin?

  She was just as disgusting as the rest of the human race.

  Without time to dwell on such thoughts, she focused on moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other.

  Just ahead of her, something reflected into her eyes, blinding her. She squinted, holding her hand up, and crept forward, making sure to stay as quiet as she could.

  A few minutes later, she reached a break in the trees and found sunlight reflecting off the metal frame around the windows of a vehicle. A road.

  She stepped onto the pavement, and daggers shot through her feet. In the forest, she’d forced herself not to focus on a problem she could do nothing about, but with the possibility of shoes or medical supplies in every car, the pain flared to life.

  The first truck sat empty with its doors hanging open as if its occupants had left in a hurry. She popped the trunk to find it empty as well. The next three were more of the same. Her breath wavered as she limped to the last vehicle nearby. Peeking in the window, she spied a duffle bag.

  “Please, please, please,” she whimpered, pulling on the door handles until she found an unlocked one. Crawling onto the back seat of the car, her body clenched with waves of pain from the stress of her journey.

  She felt like a child opening a Christmas present—the anticipation of the unknown lying in her lap and the hope it would contain what she most desperately wanted. Or in this case, needed.