The Haunts of Cruelty

by R. G. Ryan

  “That would be my pistol, I’m afraid,” I said regretfully. “Okay, go on.”

  “Well, he’s laying on the ground almost unconscious and moaning, so we start to leave. Suddenly the moaning stops, and we turn around to see why and…he’s gone.”

  “That’s very weird,” Carter replied.

  “Yeah, well you should have been there!”

  I said, “I believe you, Eddie. I can’t explain it, but I believe you.”

  “He should have been dead,” she continued. “I mean, he was basically blind in both eyes, had lost a lot of blood and yet there he was—walking and talking like he was still going to kill us. I’m getting goose-bumps just talking about it.”

  She hugged herself as if to ward off a sudden chill.

  I asked, “Why didn’t Cassie come down with you?”

  “She stayed behind to—get this—look for Paul so she could help him. Said she was afraid he’d die up there from his injuries.”

  “So she sent you down here to wait for me?”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  I looked at the two FBI agents.

  “We’ve got to get up there as quickly as possible.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “Paul, are you out here?”

  A cold gust of wind seemed to snatch Cassie’s voice from her throat before it even reached her lips. Hugging herself under the makeshift poncho to fight off a sudden chill, she took one more look around the area and turned to retrace her path to the cabin. Even though she didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been actively searching for Morgan, it felt like an eternity. Since her search had been motivated more by guilt than a genuine concern for Morgan’s well-being, she felt she could now walk away with a clear conscience.

  It only took about twenty paces to realize that nothing looked familiar. Leaning back against a large, smooth boulder she pondered this annoying predicament. There was enough moonlight to see where to step, but just barely. Should she go back to where she had stopped, or keep walking and hope to spot a landmark before the light was gone completely? With a weary resolve, she pushed off from her resting place and continued in the direction she was going.

  As she walked, Cassie thought through everything that had happened. Paul had definitely changed. It was as if he had given himself over to a darker side of his personality. Of course, saying that Paul Morgan had surrendered to his darker side was the equivalent of saying that a jihadist had given himself over to terrorism. Nevertheless, whether by choice or by hostile takeover, a transition had been made and he was no longer the same. And it wasn’t just a new manifestation of cruelty, for he had always been cruel. Now there seemed to be something consummate about it.

  Stepping around a sharp outcropping of rock, she thought back to her former relationship with him, and while there was much she didn’t recall due to the constant haze of drug addiction, etched clearly in her mind was the vivid recollection of sadistic behaviors to which she, Muriel and Eddie had been subjected. Her hand found its way to a particularly memorable scar on the inside of her left thigh. But as hideous as that scar was, it paled in comparison to the scars left on her soul. And yet, here she was trying to find him in order to render what help she could so he didn’t die, even though she had painstakingly planned his death a thousand times over.

  It was a conundrum of striking proportions.

  A sound behind her and to the right wrenched her thoughts back to the present. To her untrained ear it had sounded like a small rockslide. Standing as still as stone, she focused all her concentration on listening.

  She heard it again, this time a little closer.

  “Paul, are you there?”

  In spite of immense efforts at control, her voice had quivered a little when she spoke his name. Listening intently for a reply, a thought clawed its way to the forefront of her consciousness: Maybe he was hurt too badly to speak.

  “Paul, if you’re there let me know where you are. I only want to help you.”

  She waited in silence for several seconds—still nothing.

  “Okay. Have it your way. I’m leaving.”

  Turning to go, she spotted a uniquely shaped rock formation several yards ahead that looked familiar—it was a place she had rested when passing by earlier. She calculated that the cabin was no more than a twenty-minute walk from this point. However, the path paralleled a drop-off where one wrong step could mean disaster.

  The sound of pursuit began with her first movement forward.

  She stopped—it stopped.

  She moved forward—it moved.

  “Come on now, Paul. No more games, okay? I’m cold, hungry and just want to get back to the cabin.”

  It had to be Paul. But if it was, why didn’t he answer? For the first time she found herself wondering about the varieties of wildlife native to the area. What was out here, anyway? Were there coyotes, and if so, didn’t they run in packs? What could an unarmed woman do against a pack of ravenous coyotes? The thought made her tighten her grip on the pistol that, without ammunition, was now basically a club.

  Picking up her pace a little, she made a startling discovery—she no longer limped. Her foot, which had so recently been too swollen and painful to sustain even the slightest weight, now felt stronger—more flexible. It was while pondering this wonder that she realized with sickening comprehension that she had stepped off into nothing and was tumbling down the face of a steep slope.

  It’s interesting what the mind thrusts into one’s consciousness when faced with life-threatening circumstances. Through Cassie’s mind flashed images from an extreme skiing video she had recently seen of a skier falling out of control down a steep mountain slope. She clearly saw him bouncing off rocks, his limbs twisting in unnatural contortions, landing ultimately in a heap of broken and shattered bones.

  When at last she came to a merciful stop, rolling painfully into a large bush of some sort, she fully expected a similar fate. As it was, her worst injury seemed to be a stabbing pain in her left side where a sharp rock had torn through the poncho as well as all three layers of clothing. Remarkably she could feel no broken bones, and while she was definitely bleeding she realized that it was minimal in comparison to what could have been.

  Slowly and painfully, Cassie stood and did a quick inventory of her core and extremities. With a fleeting glance toward the golden-yellow face of the full moon in its place as nocturnal ruler of the heaven, she stumbled onward—completely lost, but in too much pain to care.

  From out of the darkness a shape hurtled toward her and before she could react, Paul Morgan was on top of her. His initial charge had knocked her onto her back and he now straddled her torso. It felt as if his strength was easily four times what it had been before. Pinning her arms over her head with one hand, he began to claw at her clothing with the other as if trying to tear it from her body.

  Over and over in her mind she kept repeating, “This is impossible!”

  Yet, there he was, his ruined face leering down at her as he railed, rambled and babbled about what he was going to do to her.

  Exerting all her strength, she managed to hook her heels around his chin and pull his body backwards. As soon as he surrendered his purchase on her hands, she sat up, grabbed his right arm and rolled out from under his weight. Moving more quickly than he could react, she scissored her legs across his throat and, using her knee as a fulcrum, stretched his arm backwards until he rolled away from her to keep it from breaking.

  Apart from a bellow of pain, however, her actions only appeared to make him stronger.

  “This isn’t possible!” she whispered once again.

  Sensing that her best option was to flee, she stood only to feel her feet pulled out from under her.

  “Got you now! You’re mine and I’m going to have you right here.”

  As she tried to regain her feet, he dropped across her back, driving the wind out of her. Gasping for air, she felt her legs being forced apa
rt and his hand grabbing at her jeans.

  She shouted, “Stop it! Stop it, Paul.”

  “Stop? Why? You used to want it all the time. Used to beg me for it. Well, now you’re going to get it!” he shouted back as he pressed his forearm across the back of her neck causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Want you? Seriously? It was the drugs I wanted. Not you!”

  While everything that was happening to her defied logic, logic literally screamed in her head that she had only one chance to accomplish an effective escape.

  She suddenly relaxed, going completely limp under his weight.

  It took Morgan a full minute to figure out that Cassie had stopped resisting. He sat back on his haunches breathing heavily. Kneeling on the ground beside her inert form, he rolled her over onto her back, giving her a little poke in the ribs to see if she were really out of it. When she didn’t respond, he straddled her once again and pushed her arms over her head, staring into the face that had been his obsession for so many years.

  Cassie felt him lean over her, seemingly undecided as to what to do next. Through slits in her eyes, she saw him turn his head, as if he had heard something off to their left. He was so focused on the sound that he didn’t notice Cassie bringing her hands slowly forward until they rested under her chin. She then laid her left hand over the right and began to push against it, gradually increasing the pressure.

  When Morgan turned his head back around, he had just started to say, “You’re mine now, girlie,” when she released her grip and caught him full force in the jugular notch right below his Adam’s apple with a spear finger strike. He fell to the side, kicking his feet spasmodically as he fought for air.

  Cassie sat up, watched him struggle for a moment, and then stood over him waiting for the right position before driving a knee into his crotch. He rolled over onto his left side, retching violently as he brought his hands away from his throat to clutch desperately at his groin. As he lay there in agony, somewhere in her mind flashed a spark of pity, which she immediately doused as she put everything she had into an elbow strike to his ruined eye, and then kneed him in the groin again just for good measure.

  He screamed loudly, and then lay still.

  She thought about checking for a pulse, but decided against it as she stood and began to jog slowly through a natural wash that had been carved gently between the precipitate bluffs. At first the goal had been to just be anywhere away from Morgan. Now, however, as cold and depleted as she was, she knew that if she didn’t find help soon, she wouldn’t survive the night. It was that knowledge that ultimately forced the decision to make the long and torturous climb back up the slope.

  As she turned her steps uphill, suddenly he was there in front of her no more than twenty feet up the slope blocking her progress.

  “You and me we…got some…unfinished…business, girlie,” he croaked with his ruined voice, raising his wounded arm and pointing toward her.

  Cassie closed her eyes tightly and shook her head as if to clear away the cobwebs. However, when she looked back up the slope he was still there and still pointing at her.

  Out of complete frustration she said, “There is nothing to finish, Paul. Why can’t you just leave this alone?”

  “Leave it alone? You’ve got to be kidding! You tried to kill me back there—unsuccessfully I might add—and I feel I deserve some satisfaction for that.”

  She hollered up at him, “I don’t think you’ll be satisfied until I’m dead!”

  “It’s an idea that I’m warming to, but not just yet.”

  An otherworldly laugh erupted from his lips; echoing through the canyons and giving Cassie the distinct impression that she was surround by others who were laughing as well.

  The thought occurred to her that this was perhaps a hallucination brought about by her current state of exhaustion, dehydration and lack of nourishment. As if to foster the notion, more quickly than her eye could follow he suddenly appeared fifty feet to the right of where he had been only a moment before.

  No one can move that fast!

  And since he was no longer directly in front of her, with a renewed effort she continued her climb and had nearly reached the summit when he was suddenly in front of her again.

  “That’s it, come to daddy. Come…to…daddy.”

  “Okay,” she said with amazing calm. “How are you doing this?”

  Her question seemed to take him by surprise.

  “What?”

  “This! This weird thing where I beat the crap out of you and it doesn’t seem to have any effect? Where you’re bleeding profusely but still moving around like an Olympic athlete?”

  She could see him grinning.

  “Oh, let’s just say it’s daddy’s little helper.”

  “Drugs? There’s a drug that does this? Something that makes you have superhuman strength and endurance?”

  “That’s what the dude told me. Now…like I said…we’ve got business to finish.”

  Calling upon all her strength she quickly faked left drawing him in that direction and then powered the final three steps to the right gaining the top before he realized what she had done.

  She hadn’t really known what to expect, but what he did definitely surprised her. He didn’t rush her, although that had been one eventuality for which she had prepared. Neither did he taunt. He merely stood silently, regarding her with the kind of consideration a predator would give a helpless animal that is about to become the evening meal.

  She found it interesting that as she faced a situation that could very well end her life her thoughts were focused on how long it had been since she had bathed. Judging by the foul odors issuing from various areas of her anatomy it had been way too long. Probably about as long as she had had a decent meal.

  “Would you like to know how you are going to die?” he asked calmly.

  “Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me anyway…sure, why not? How am I going to die?”

  He barked out a humorless laugh, “You seem to find humor in things that aren’t funny, Ms. Blake. And I assure you that this is most definitely not funny, for I will kill you.”

  “Uh-huh and it will take a long time and blah, blah, blah,” she mocked.

  “I could kill you now,” he suddenly shouted, advancing two paces.

  Cassie held her ground, arms hanging loosely at her sides, weight distributed evenly on her feet as she prepared for any move he might throw at her. Suddenly, an idea came to her—she literally had nothing to lose so she tried it.

  “Okay. Game over—I quit.”

  Confusion flew across his ruined face.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m not going to play this game anymore, Paul. I’m tired, thirsty, hungry…and I really have to pee.”

  He sputtered in frustration and anger, “You can’t just quit!”

  “So, what…there are rules you’re following or something?”

  Once more he pointed in her direction.

  “I’m warning you, my patience is wearing thin.”

  “Right, well, I’m going now.”

  Cassie turned and walked away fully expecting him to rush her.

  “You can’t walk away!”

  She waved wordlessly over her shoulder.

  “Stop this instant or die!” he hollered after her retreating form.

  As he continued to bellow threats, she turned off the trail to her left between two large boulders and found herself in a corridor seemingly carved from natural stone. She made her way quickly but carefully, at one point narrowly avoiding splitting her head open on a deadly overhang as she looked back to see if she were being followed.

  Nothing, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t coming, so she increased her pace.

  The opening in the ground came literally out of nowhere. One minute the ground was there and the next minute she was falling screaming into nothingness.

  Her last conscious thought was, “W
ell, this is it, then.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Carter and Washington stood with me in a tight huddle at the doorway.

  I said, “I need to think out loud for a few minutes.” The two men nodded their heads for me to continue. “Okay, so, based on what Eddie has told us, Paul Morgan is severely wounded, perhaps even blind in one eye—which is what I have suspected all along. Also, the erratic behaviors she described lead me to believe that there is a strong possibility of multiple personality disorder with a darker personality that has now taken over. In fact, it is substantiated by a psychiatric profile I found on him years ago. I also have reason to believe that he is on some form of designer drug…one that enhances strength and endurance. Now, the last Eddie saw of Cassie, she was looking for Morgan and going toward high ground,” I turned and asked, “Is that right, Eddie?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “If you go out the door and turn to your right, you’ll see a little trail that heads up toward the bluffs. Cassie and me figured the miners who built this cabin must’ve made it. We followed it quite a ways, maybe a mile or so, and as you go higher it sort of follows the natural shape of the bluffs, you know, how they kind of curve around and everything. We figured if we kept following it, sooner or later we’d come to a mineshaft. But since we really didn’t have a plan, except to get as far away from the shooting as possible, we never got to find out.”

  Carter asked, “So there is a definite pathway that we could follow?”

  “With only the moonlight it’ll be tough, but if you had a couple of flashlights the path would be pretty obvious once you got on it.”

  I said, “Washington, see if Redfern has a read on that SatPhone yet.”

  “I have to tell you something,” Eddie said quietly.

  “Okay.”

  “Cassie doesn’t have that phone.”

  “What? Why?”

  “After I left Cassie and had gone a little ways down the path, I noticed that something was stuck into my pocket. When I pulled it out it was…” She put the phone on the table. “…it was this.”