by Andrew Allan
I punched the car into reverse and sent sand shooting into the back of Wanda’s truck as I raced backwards out the dirt drive. They stood naked in the doorway imploring me to come back even while Wally checked his lip for blood. Fuck that in the neck. Actually, do not fuck that. At all.
I was furious. Angry because I’d been misled. Angry because they had just wasted an hour with time running out. Angry at myself. I should have caught on a lot faster. And, I over-reacted. They were freaks, but harmless and I hammered them. That wasn’t cool. I needed to keep myself under control if I was going to get the real bad guys. Now, it was night and I still didn’t know the identity of the real executioners.
I didn’t recognize my third destination, the country dive bar, until I had almost driven past it. I skidded, turned, and slid across the dusty gravel parking lot. Once parked, I caught my breath and rested my head on the steering wheel. I needed to calm down and re-calibrate.
Progress report: So far, so bad. Two dead-ends. Make that one dead end, one freaky end. Or, a very promising opportunity if I had a capital punishment fetish. Which I don’t.
Hunger rumbled in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten for several hours. I thought about running into town to grab food. It would make a good foundation for the beer I’d probably have to drink inside the country dive. But, that would set me back another forty minutes, at least. I couldn’t decide so I reclined the driver seat back to rest.
Lying there with my eyes shut, I hoped Teddy was doing better than me. Maybe he had made a big discovery. A name from the French execution records, perhaps. Or a lead on a politician. Something. I worried beyond that. What if we both struck out? Then what? I needed to just calm down and focus on the present.
I tried a catnap. They work for me. Just fifteen minutes of sleep and I’m good for another three or four hours.
The crackle crunch of gravel under tires woke me up. I opened my eyes to the glare of headlights. I waited for the truck to pass and park before opening them again. The clock said I had slept for twenty-five minutes. So much for saving time. I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and tried to stretch. But, the car was too small to fully extended my six-foot-one frame. So, I turned the engine off and got out. I reached both hands towards the sky and let the stretching muscles ripple through my body.
That’s when I saw the man from the photo.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
HE WALKED OUT the dive bar with a young girl on his arm. I squatted down by the side of the car. A glance down at the photo then a glance over the hood to compare faces.
It was him. No doubt.
Young and cocky, strutting his stuff for the girl who appeared naïve and enamored. He guided her over to his car. Same brown Camaro, same white pinstripes. Just like I’d seen outside Ilsa’s house. How did I not recognize it when I pulled in to this parking lot?
That poor girl had no idea who she was dealing with.
They got in the car and drove west.
I got in mine and followed.
That’s all I was going to do for the time being. I didn’t feel ready to take him on. The girl was a problem, too. She’d be a witness. She could help him attack me. I didn’t know. I had to wait until I could get him alone. Or, was I just scared and making excuses now that I had my shot?
He continued west to Lake Butler, then cut north on Highway 121. He drove for many miles. We passed Florida State Prison. I could have sworn I saw him point it out to his passenger. Bragging about his job? She’d be young and dumb enough to find it romantic. Maybe he had put a heroic spin on things. A young girl would probably like that.
The highway grew dark and there were no other cars. That made it tough to follow him without being noticed. So, I had to drive casual, vary the distance between my car and his. But, most importantly – DON’T LOSE HIM! Not now. This was the break I’d needed and I had to make the most of it.
His car breezed through the small town of Ellerbee. But then, he turned off a barely there access road leading into a dark, forested area. I had to pass it to make sure they didn’t see me following. A mile down the road I pulled onto the soft dirt shoulder and U-turned.
Once I spotted the access road on my return, I stopped the car and killed my lights. I faced a wall of black forest. No light glow from his car in the distance. Now what?
I opened the door but the inside dome light turned on, revealing me. I fumbled to flip it off. Then, I sat still. Waiting and watching. No movement up ahead.
So, this was it. The encounter I’d been wanting. The one I told Ilsa had to happen. It could be the first step towards saving us. Or, the last breath I take.
I got out and shut the door without making a sound.
I stood still and listened. The air was warm, humid. The night talk of insects and owls was alive and echoing through the trees.
I heard something. A faint thud. Maybe? Too far away and too soft to indicate which direction it came from.
My eyes adjusted to the dark now that the headlights were off. I could just about make out the dirt path ahead. I thought about re-starting the car and driving further down the road. It would save some time. But, I balked. I didn’t want to make any noise. I checked the highway behind me one last time to make sure no cars were pulling in. I was alone. I started walking down the dirt road, into the night.
I couldn’t tell if my eyes had adjusted more or if the moonlight had gotten brighter. Either way, I was seeing better and further. The soft dirt muzzled my footsteps and I picked up the pace.
I reached a sharp bend in the road and stopped to catch my breath. I looked back at the path I had traveled. With my breath just about under control I listened for the couple that had traveled ahead of me. My pounding heart made it difficult to hear much. The insects and owls didn’t help.
But, her scream ripped through the night.
It was terrifying and loud enough to make me jump and get my adrenaline pumping. Danger was the only interpretation.
I ran as fast as I could along the twisting path, following the fresh pressed tire tracks in the sand. Gnats and mosquitos crashed into me. Something bigger whizzed past my ear. I didn’t stop. My lungs started to tighten but I pushed on. I needed to get there.
I dead-stopped at seeing his car a hundred feet ahead. My shoe slipped in thick sand causing my leg to buckle and me to tumble to the ground. I pushed myself right up, even though my knee was killing me. Sand coated my sweat soaked skin. I brushed it off, but kept my eyes fixed ahead.
There – a flashlight beam. Beyond his car. I flopped back down and rolled to the side of the road, next to a row of palmetto scrub. The flashlight was shining the opposite direction. I guessed about fifty feet past the car and off the trail, amongst the trees.
I got up and snuck over to the car, slowing about fifteen feet away and watching to see if any one – any life – was in it. All clear. I walked up to the trunk. There was the Union County license plate I had seen before. At that time I had no clue I’d be making a pilgrimage here to save my life. To save Ilsa’s.
I touched the trunk. Metal still warm from the day and driving. It sent a shock through my system. Eerie and surreal to touch anything belonging to my enemy. This car drove him to kill me. It was a mind fuck. This guy wanted me dead.
Another scream.
I dropped fast, belly first onto the trail. I could hear the scream echo through the forest. More screaming came. Words I couldn’t distinguish. But, a horror I could. It was a plea. A desperate one. I peeked under the car and saw nothing. I rose to a squatting position and checked around both sides of the trunk. Nothing still. I got up and walked around to the driver’s side door.
Keys in the ignition. I reached in and grabbed them. I ran in the direction of the flashlight. But, I stopped and ran back to the car. The keys popped open the trunk. The trunk light turned on so I kept it low. A quick survey of contents: rope, dirty boots, gas can, a small hatchet that looked intricately designed. Top quality. Just like the ones they’d attacked me with before.
Her voice grew louder. I couldn’t understand the words. But, I now understood she was gagged. He didn’t care what she had to say.
I tiptoed through the scrub. Taking my time, careful not to snap twigs or crunch leaves too loud. Creeping closer...
The light grew bigger and brighter. I could hear the slink of metal chain links running over each other. I heard bark rubbing off trees. I heard the grunt and groan of a man engaged in focused physical labor.
I got low behind a cluster of palmetto scrub and peered through its fronds into the clearing ahead. The executioner moved around, agile, swift, and intense. His shirt was off. His body glistened with sweat in the humid Florida night. He looked off screen, where I couldn’t see. A devilish smile on his face.
Her gagged voice, I could understand her words - “Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me...let me go. Please!”
He laughed.
I scooted a few palmettos over to get a new view. He pulled out a large, menacing blade. Like nothing I’d ever seen. Shorter than a sword. Longer that a big hunting knife. With a hard curve to the blade. Like a mini saber, with a diametrically opposed barbed dagger on the end of the handle. This was no knife you’d find at the hunting store. And, it lacked the showy embellishments of gimmicky collector’s knives. Like the ones they sell on the home shopping networks. This was a real-deal cutting and killing instrument with a style designed to terrify.
He walked towards me. I skittered back into darkness and pressed my body against the dirt. I stopped breathing and stayed dead still. He came closer. The air in my lungs started to hurt, pinch. I gripped the hatchet, but was in no position to wield it. If he saw me, he’d get a good jump on me.
He leaned down, barely three feet from my face.
Shit!
I tensed and tightened.
He glowed white hot in the light beam.
I started to push my body off the ground.
He reached right at me...
He grabbed the flashlight and turned away from me.
The light beam shining in his face prevented him from seeing me.
Too goddamn close!
But, this was perfect.
His back was too me, I had the hatchet in my hand and an open shot.
Do it! Now!
Kill him!
I got on my knees, then up to a crouching position. I quick-stepped into the small clearing.
My eyes followed the light beam. Hatchet cocked. Ready to strike.
But, I would never be ready for what I saw before me.
CHAPTER FORTY
THE FLASHLIGHT BEAM made her glow. She was naked and restrained to a tall pine tree. Belly against bark, chains wrapped tight around her neck and lower back. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her pink lips twisted and trembling. Her feet kicked up sand but offered no defense. Red scratches raked across her arms and back made it clear she’d been raped. Her back and bum were fully exposed for the blade.
But, it got worse.
As the flashlight beam swung from side to side with his natural movements, it revealed a forest of rotting corpses chained to the trees behind her. All disemboweled and in various stages of decomposition. At least, six or seven rows deep.
Girls just like her. Innocent, pretty, and fooled. All killed with no chance for escape.
It was the worst thing I’d ever seen. A raccoon nibbled at a dead girl’s blood-caked calf.
She saw me over his shoulder and screamed, “Help!”
He caught it.
He spun around and slashed with the blade. He missed. The flashlight blinded me. I kicked without looking and connected. He grabbed his ribs as I blinked vision back into my eyes.
“You!” he said, incredulous.
He ran at me slashing that beast of a blade. I ducked and chopped his wrist as he passed. He screamed as my small blade ripped through his right forearm causing muscle meat to flop away from the bone. He had to put the blade in his other hand.
We circled and sized each other up.
“How did you find me?” he said.
“I followed the stink,” I said and took a jab at him. He blocked. We fell apart and circled again.
“Your death warrant’s been signed. You’re a dead man.”
A French accent. It sounded like it had drawn out and slowed down after years of living in the Southern United States.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” I said. “Why are you guys trying to kill me?”
“I don’t have to explain to you.”
“Who hired you to kill Ken Kerenz?”
He swung at me. The blade slashed through my shirt, across my pecks. Not deep or painful, but scary close. I stepped back to give myself more room.
He pointed the tip of his blade at me.
“You been a real pain in our ass. Père don’t like that.”
“Who?”
He slashed and slashed. I jumped back and stumbled, landing hard against the tree. Her tree. She screamed in my ear as he charged with the blade. I dove at his legs and clipped him hard. He dropped the flashlight as he went up and over me.
She screamed again.
I got to my feet, grabbed the light, and shined it in his face. He squinted and stalked towards me.
He tried to project menace by cutting the air with the blade while inching closer.
“Père est le maître bourreau. Vous pourrez soumettre à sa lame,” he said. I could tell by his smirk he knew I wouldn’t understand it.
“I don’t know what you’re saying. But, I know you left France when executions were outlawed. And, I know you work at the prison. And, I’ve told others all about it. Including the press. By that, I mean...you’re screwed,” I said.
He started to say something else. But, I threw the hatchet at him. He would have only caught a glimpse of it with the flashlight shining in his face. He hit the ground hard.
I ran over. The left side of his forehead was dented in. The back of the hatchet must have hit him. I looked around but couldn’t find my blade. So, I grabbed his and raised it to finish him off.
I hesitated.
Then, I remembered: He had wounded Ilsa and killed Ken. And, he tried to kill me.
I brought the blade down hard and fast, slashing his stomach and neck.
I tossed the blade over his body while I watched him start to bleed out. The sand absorbed the blood at first but then it spilled too much too fast and a puddle formed.
A cough.
At the tree. Blood dripped from her lips. The side of her torso had been punctured when he’d launched at me.
I ran over to unchain her. Padlocks held the chains tight.
“Hang on!”
I ran back over to his bleeding body and reached into his pockets. I found a key. And, his wallet. I tucked it in my pocket and ran back to the girl at the tree.
My legs felt weak in the sand. My hands shook and I had to steady myself against the tree to get the key into the lock.
It popped open. I yanked it out and both the chains and the girl slid down the tree into a heap on the ground.
“Come on. I’ll get you out of here,” I said as I reached under her shoulders to pull her up.
She moaned and resisted. I put too much pressure on her wound. I released that side and pulled her up by the one arm and put it around me.
We staggered back to the killer's car.
“I’m taking you to the hospital. We have a car. We’ll get there fast,” I said, breathless while setting her in the passenger seat of his car.
I hopped behind the wheel, started the engine, and backed out of there as fast as I could without losing control. At the sharp bend, I ran the car into a clust
er of palmetto scrub. I had to stop and pull out and slowly re-work the angle. Then we were flying. Sand and dust kicked up and swirled in the headlight beams. I had my arm around her seat and looked back over my shoulder.
“Shit!”
I stopped too late. I rammed right into the front of Teddy’s car—the one I'd been driving. I pulled the car forward.
“Sorry, we have to switch cars,” I said.
I ran around and pulled her out of the car. She was heavy and slow to move. Her heels dug deep into the sand as I dragged her over to Teddy’s car. I laid her over the hood while I fished out his keys. Found them, opened the door, got her in, shut the door.
As I walked around the front of the car, I took the dead guy’s keys and threw them as far into the rough scrub as I could. On the off chance he did live, I made sure it was a long, miserable walk back to town for him.
I backed Teddy’s car out to the main without even looking to see if traffic was coming. We drove off into the night.
The car raced across the quiet, black asphalt. Forest darkness to the left and right. Blue moonlight shimmered on the long road ahead.
She barely moved.
“Hang on. We’re almost there. It’s not your time to go,” I said.
I moved the hair off her face. She looked out of it, fading fast.
I felt the extra wallet under my ass, pulled it out, and flipped it open.
His driver’s license. I finally had a name: Clovis Gagnon.
I screamed triumphant.
Son of a bitch, I fucking found you!
I snooped through the rest of the wallet. Nothing of consequence.
No matter. I had what I needed. A name and an address.
It was exhilarating. I survived my first battle. I got one of them. I could fight them, despite what Ilsa and DG believed. Knowing that, and perhaps because my adrenaline was still pumping, I didn’t feel any remorse over killing him. Especially not after seeing all those dead girls in the forest.
