RETRIBUTION RIDGE: a dark, gripping and intense suspense thriller

by Anna Willett

  Judith’s hands dropped to her waist. She touched the front pocket of her shorts and then found the gap in the fabric. Martin’s grip tightened. He shook her neck jarring her head against the dirt. “Answer me.” He gave her neck another shake and then loosened his grip.

  “He’s near the trail,” her voice a barely audible croak. Judith fumbled the penknife out of her pocket using her right hand. “He’s alive, but in bad shape.” Martin stared into her eyes as if trying to read her mind, decide if she was telling the truth or not.

  A grinding roar echoed over the tree tops. Martin kept his hand on her throat and looked up. The moment’s distraction was all she needed. Judith used both hands and pulled open the blade. Then held it flat against her stomach.

  Martin turned his attention back on her, “No more fucking around. Time’s up.” His eyes shifted away from her face as if he didn’t want to watch as he squeezed the life out of her.

  The instant before his grip closed off her airway, Judith spoke, “You won’t get away with this.” She slid the knife up to her chest listening to the blood whoosh in her ears. A tremble travelled through her body, carried on a wave of adrenalin.

  Martin looked into her eyes. One side of his mouth twitched in what might have been a grin. “I always have a back-up plan.”

  “So do I,” she said with a rush of air and slammed the penknife into his left eye.

  The blade pierced Martin’s eye with a burping pop. Warm liquid squirted over Judith’s fingers. He screamed, a sound somewhere between rage and agony. Martin tore his hand away from her throat and tried to reach for his face. Judith snaked her left hand around the back of his neck as if pulling him in for a kiss. Her fingers gripped the damp mass of hair on the back of his head and held him steady while she pushed the blade through his eyes socket burying it so deep that the handle slipped out of her grip.

  Martin’s body arched. Spittle flew out of his open mouth and splattered Judith’s face. Thick yolky looking goo hung from his left eye socket. Judith gagged and pushed his body away.

  He offered no resistance. His bulk flopped sideways giving her enough room to slide away from him. Judith sat up and sprang to her feet, kicking up a spray of dirt and leaves. She staggered a few steps coughing and gagging. Scratching and rustling came from behind her. She swung around expecting another attack.

  Martin lay on his back, damp leaves and dirt covered the right side of his black shirt. The handle of the hunting knife surrounded by a still-spreading patch of blood protruded from his thigh. His legs jittered and drummed against the ground. The light had changed from orange to dusky grey turning the skin on his face to a pale ghoulish mask streaked with oily looking blood. Judith forced herself to look at his eye.

  In the gloom, it was almost black. The lid drooped slightly turning his agonised expression into something that resembled a sleazy wink. In the centre of the pulpy mess, a glint of metal. The curved end of the penknife handle Judith realised. Another cramp seized her abdomen. She covered her mouth and instantly regretted the movement. The smell of the yolky slime on her fingers coated her nostrils. She bent at the waist and gagged out a film of clear liquid.

  Judith stayed bent forward breathing deeply, trying to flush the smell of blood and bile out of her nose. When the cramps subsided, she lifted the tattered ends of her shirt and wiped her mouth and eyes. Apart from her breathing and the chirp of insects, all was silent. She risked another look at Martin, mostly to reassure herself he wasn’t getting up, but also out of grim curiosity. A need to see the damage she’d done.

  His legs were still, the twitching and drumming ceased. Martin’s ruined face hung in the vacant slackness of death. Judith considered feeling for his pulse just make sure he was gone, but decided the memory of his face would be enough to haunt her dreams without adding the feel of his dead skin. She guessed she should feel guilt over killing him. After everything that he’d done, he was a human being. But inside she felt only hollowness. Hollowness and exhaustion.

  Judith turned away and headed back towards the trail. It occurred to her that the distant sound of the helicopter had stopped. I hope Harper’s flying away from this desolate place, she thought, and hurried forward.

  * * *

  The world rushed back with a roar. Harper opened her eyes and found herself looking up at grey sky and thick blue cable. The smell of fuel and grease wafted over her and the thundering whir of helicopter blades pushed against her eardrums, blocking even the sound of her own breathing. She felt weightless, tiny. She tried moving her good arm and found it bound against her body. Tilting her head up, she realised she was draped in silver and encased in a metal basket swinging through the sky. Her lips felt frozen against her teeth, her face numb with cold.

  In seconds, she arrived at the opening to the helicopter and the basket was pulled into the safety of the aircraft.

  The basket thumped against something. Harper’s injured arm jostled against the side of the cage. A shaft of pain ripped through her, starting at her wrist and travelling like electricity up her arm. She gasped and clamped her teeth together.

  “Sorry, love. We’ve got you now. All steady from here,” came a man’s voice, loud and clear over the roar of the blades. His face appeared over her. Not Trent, but someone younger with the sort of pale freckled skin that looked like it would burn in seconds if exposed to the sun. “I’m Matt, I’m a medic. You’re safe.” He held her gaze and nodded. “Where’s the pain?”

  Harper’s mind felt sluggish. Even answering the simplest questions required thought. “Arm… arm and chest.”

  He nodded and turned away. She heard clanging and plastic tearing. When he turned back, he held a small plastic mask.

  “Where’s Judith and Milly?” She raised her head and craned her neck.

  “The police are still down there.” He reached forward stretching the elastic strap of the mask towards her head.

  “No.” Her voice sounded harsh. “I don’t want to leave without them.” Pain cut through her chest and she felt something bubbling in her throat. “I can’t…”

  “We’re not leaving them behind, but we need to get you and this guy to hospital.” He jerked his head to the right. “He’s in pretty bad shape. We can’t hang about.”

  Harper turned her head to the right. Archie lay only a few metres away strapped to an identical cage. Two people Harper guessed were medics huddled over him. Do they know what he did? It wouldn’t matter; these people would help him no matter what. She was about to say something, warn them about him, when the mask clamped over her nose and mouth.

  “Don’t try to talk. Just breathe.” Matt’s voice had a soothing quality. Harper wanted to close her eyes and fall back into the blackness. But Judith and Milly were still down there. So was Martin. She had to tell them. Tell them to get on their radio and get the police to find Judith and Milly before it was too late.

  “They’ll find them.” Matt spoke as if he’d heard her thoughts. “They won’t stop until your friends are safe.”

  “Not my friend, my love,” her lips moved behind the mask.

  “He’s crashing,” came another voice nearby, sharp and urgent. The word set off a flurry of movement.

  Harper heard packages being torn open and orders barked. She could make no further sense of what they said, but the critical nature of their conversation was clear to her even as she drifted into unconsciousness. I hope he dies, she thought and gave in to the darkness.

  * * *

  A light mist drifted across the ground, winding its way through trees and shrubs. Judith felt the temperature dipping as dusk bled into evening. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to block the chill that eked its way through her flesh and into her bones. Her teeth chattered and her legs felt numb both from cold and fatigue.

  It had been at least fifteen minutes since she’d noticed the helicopter’s absence – a good sign. They must have found Harper or they’d still be searching. But did that mean the rescue party had gone? No, sure
ly not. She’d told the triple-zero operator how many people needed help; they wouldn’t just leave. Would they? The thought of spending another night in the Leeuwin Naturaliste National Park sparked a wave of panic.

  I can’t stay out here alone, not with Martin. She stopped moving and looked over her shoulder. The wilderness, draped in mist and shadows looked menacing and desolate. It was easy to imagine Martin lurching out of the trees, empty eye socket filled with blood and lips drawn back in murderous hate. Her skin crawled with goose bumps. She turned back and forced her quivering legs on.

  It was difficult to be sure how much farther she’d need to walk before reaching the spot where she’d found Harper. When Judith left, all she could think about was finding her sister. She cursed herself for not taking more notice of landmarks and distances. It would be full dark soon and Judith had no idea if she headed in the right direction. A cold, hard lump of panic formed in the pit of her stomach. She tried to talk herself through the fear by recounting what she could remember of the landmarks.

  There had been an open space with deep grass, she remembered crossing the clearing before entering the trees. Yes, yes. I crossed that clearing at least twenty minutes ago. Before the clearing there’d been… Her memory faltered. She wanted to stop and rest. Her mind refused to work as if the mist covering the landscape had worked its way inside her head to blanket her thoughts. Her scratched and bruised thighs burned with the effort of climbing the slope. Judith looked down at her legs and her mouth dropped open.

  The slope. The scratches. She’d walked down the slope and into a thick crop of bushes. Heading upwards meant she had to be moving in the right direction. Licking her cracked lips, she bent forward and half-walked, half-crawled her way over the rocky slope. Her fingers clawed at the ground splitting and breaking what remained of her fingernails.

  A bird called from higher ground. The sound deep and long, like an echoing voice. Judith scrambled upwards wondering what sort of bird made such a human sound. The call drifted over the slope and seemed to repeat from both right and left.

  “Scary bir…” Judith muttered and then caught her breath. Listening, she didn’t blink or move. This time the call came from the right, clear and booming.

  “Judith?”

  She dropped to the ground flattening herself against the uneven surface. Her chin, already raw from bashing against the cliff, bounced off a flat stone half-buried in the slope. Judith winced and bit her lip. Is it him, Archie? He could have been faking, pretending to be badly hurt. What if he’s looking for me? She lifted her head and sucked in air. No, she reminded herself. I heard the helicopter, they must have found him. Yeah, but what if they didn’t?

  Judith knew Archie couldn’t possibly be running around calling her name. She’d seen the back of his head and how his skull dipped inwards, but she couldn’t shake the fear. Shivering, she clung to the ground digging her fingers into the damp earth. Pressing her check against the dirt, she considered running. Maybe hiding amongst the trees. Her mind threw up images of Archie, one eye bulging and dark blood dripping down his neck, climbing over the slope on his hands and knees.

  Making a decision on what to do next drove a wedge of panic through her chest. She hesitated, caught between hope and dread. Tears blurred her vision.

  The call came again, this time closer, “Judith?” A pause and then more.

  “Judith?” Her name repeated over and over like a chant coming from all directions.

  She raised her head. Archie might be evil, but he couldn’t be in five places at once. The calls came from multiple people. It hit her like a cold wind. A search party. It was so obvious she almost laughed. Clambering to her knees, she pushed herself up, stumbled, and then managed to stand.

  “I’m here,” her voice came out so thin and high she hardly recognised it as her own. She gulped in air and pressed her hand against her stomach. “Help!” The word burst out with all the power she could muster. Judith sucked in another breath and continued to call, “Help. Help. Help.” She repeated the cry until her bruised and battered throat refused to work.

  Lights poured over the slope. A rush of voices and movement. Judith stood and waited for the glow of torches to find her. The first to reach her, a man carrying a torch and a nylon shoulder bag, rushed forward pinning her in his light.

  “You’re okay,” he said, his voice overly loud and breathless. He dropped the bag and pulled out a silver blanket which he draped around her shoulders. Judith swayed as if the light blanket might topple her over. The man’s arm shot out and encircled her waist. “I’ve got you, love.” His voice, heavy with concern and reassurance seemed to pull at something in her head and stomach. Whatever thin strands of control and resolve that remained, broke and she began to sob.

  More people approached. The man holding her said his name was Frank.

  “Don’t let go, Frank,” she croaked out around sobs.

  “I won’t, love,” he said simply, and began walking her over the slope.

  * * *

  Judith woke not with a start but a slow return to the world. She lay on her side in a private room of Bunbury Hospital. A thin bar of light, pale and grey fell across the green linoleum floor. Her hands were covered in small dressings. They’d been washed clean of dirt and grit, but her nails were shredded and lined with grime. The roof of her mouth dusty with thirst, she sat up reluctantly leaving the warm comfort of the pillows. Her back spasmed and the muscles in her thighs and calves groaned.

  She reached for the plastic beaker on the bedside trolley and took a sip of water. Her throat clenched, squeezing the cool liquid over what felt like bits of wire lining her tonsils. Her head throbbed, most likely from the sleeping pills she’d been given the night before.

  After everything that had happened, Judith expected to feel … What? She wasn’t sure, but certainly not ready to laugh about her ordeal. But why not? She was alive and so was Harper. They’d come through a nightmare, wasn’t that something to be celebrated? Almost as quickly as the spark of relief grew, it burned out in a blaze of guilt. Milly.

  Judith ran her fingers through her hair, it felt stiff with grime. She wondered if the police had found her sister yet or if she still lying near that tree looking up at the sky with misty eyes. The door clanged open. Judith jumped and grabbed the sheets, clenching them up to her chest.

  “Morning,” a tiny woman in black pants and a navy shirt sang. She carried a tray out in front of her. She approached the bed, her round hips swaying, and placed the tray on the trolley.

  Judith picked up the smell of toast and coffee. Her stomach groaned. A nurse offered her a sandwich last night, but her throat had been too tender to attempt food. But sore throat or not, she intended to eat whatever she could force past her tonsils.

  “You want tea or coffee?” The woman asked with a smile that seemed too bright for such and early hour.

  Fifteen minutes later Judith put down her spoon. She’d worked her way through a banana flavoured yoghurt, a blueberry muffin, and two cups of coffee. Her body might still be racked with aches and pains, but at least her stomach felt calm. The food seemed to have also restored some of her strength. She tossed the covers aside and flung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  After a brief visit to the bathroom, where a haunted woman with brown Betadine stains dotted over her cut and swollen face greeted her in the mirror, Judith returned to the bed. She wanted to see Harper. That was her priority. Next, find some clothes and check herself out of the hospital.

  She grabbed the nurse’s call button and was about to press it when a woman in black pants and a white zip-front top appeared. “Morning. I’ll just check your vitals.” The woman announced and lifted the chart from the end of the bed. She began bustling around, taking Judith’s blood pressure and writing on the chart. ‘Susan’ was printed in bold black letters on a name badge pinned to her ample chest.

  Susan dropped the chart back into the cage at the end of the bed. “How’s your pain level?” she asked,
slipping her pen in the pocket just above her badge.

  Judith shook her head. “I want to see Harper.” The words came out louder than she’d intended. Nurse Susan stopped talking and finally made eye contact. Her thin brown eyebrows drew together. “Sorry, I just… I’ve been…” Suddenly she didn’t know what to say. How could she possibly explain her need to see Harper in a way that made sense to a complete stranger? “Harper Sydney, my girlfriend.” She tried again. “She was brought in last night. I just need to see her… Make sure she’s alright and knows I’m here.”

  The woman’s broad face softened. She was younger than Judith first thought, maybe thirty or so. “I heard about what happened.” Her shoulders dropped and she let out a breath. “Well, some of it.” She pushed the trolley away and sat on the bed beside Judith. “Your girlfriend has had surgery and she’s doing well.”

  “Is she…”

  “I don’t have any details, just what I’ve heard so don’t quote me on any of it.” She shifted slightly to look Judith in the eyes. Her face was clear and unlined except for her forehead which wrinkled when she talked. “When I got to work this morning, there were reporters outside the hospital. The staff have been warned not to talk to any of them. We’ve been given a run down on what happened.” She hesitated. “I’m not supposed to even be discussing any of it with you.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to refer your questions to the doctor on duty.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “What a load of rubbish. You two have been through enough without making you sit here wringing your hands waiting for information you should be entitled to.”

  “Thank you.” Judith felt a surge of gratitude towards the nurse. “When can I see her?”

  Susan let out another long breath and stood. “That, I don’t know.” She checked her watch. “It’s nearly eight-thirty. I’ve been told the police will be in to see you this morning and the doctor will be around soon. They’ll be able to tell you more.” She pulled the hem of her white smock down around her hips. “Now, let’s concentrate on making sure you’re okay.”