by Pike, Leslie
“Fucking bitch!” he yells.
I turn, to find him trying to get up. He can’t quite make it, but he will soon. I can see he’s taken in the cost of leaving this bitch unattended. This is it. I’ve got to run. Because injured or not, he’s going to come after me. I bolt for the door. Shit, he’s locked the deadbolt! Production made sure they could lock up the cabin at night. I run to the window, picking up the iron skillet on the table on the way. I smash the pane into a thousand pieces and climb out. I hardly register the cuts on my legs and left hand, as my feet hit the porch.
I immediately see the ATV parked in front of the house. Attached to the back, is the carry-all I saw in the van. He must have brought me here that way. I run to the vehicle, hoping to find the keys there. They’re gone. Damn!
Kevin rips open the door and comes unsteadily to the steps. He’s holding his pistol, trying to load it with ammo. He sees me at the ATV. It looks as if his vision is impaired. That hit on the head took its’ toll. I turn and take off into the trees.
* * *
I’m moving as fast as I can. My head hurts, my foot hurts and my most delicate areas are hurting more than all the other spots combined. But it can’t be pain that brings me down. No, keep moving. I hear the ATV fire up, but the sound fades as I move further into the trees. I’m trying to stay away from any clear path or trail way. I can’t make it easy for him to follow. I don’t think he’ll be able to on foot. Not if I’ve hurt him as much as I think. So I move between the trees and ruts and big roots rising from the flora. I climb over huge rocks and under fallen branches. Frightened birds rise up as I pass quickly by their nests. And I see little creatures scurry out of my way as I step on leaves and twigs.
I pause for a moment and look around. Everything looks alike. I’m pretty sure I’m going in the direction that will lead to the Rectory, but the fact that I’ve had to serpentine the ground, has me confused. There’s no clear path. There are only trees, rocks, inclines and the ever-present mountain. I keep going. I’m trying to conserve my movements and use the least amount of energy needed to get where I’m going. I read that somewhere, and maybe it’s true. It seems to be working. For all I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve still got some reserve. Maybe it’s the strength of desperation shoring up my resolve.
I have this narrative going through my mind. I can hear my grandmother telling me to keep going, keep trying and keep believing I’ll make it out. To that end, every so often I try the phone. Still nothing. But what if I send my safe word to Finn’s cell? Will it send if there’s a moment of connection? Without my own cell, his is the only number I can remember. I type the word “blue,” and attempt to send. It tells me it wasn’t delivered, but I’m going to hope for a miracle. I leave the phone on, in case somehow the police can track my whereabouts. I’m such a tech newbie; I don’t really know what’s possible.
I think for a moment. I need to leave a sign. I’m far enough away, and while Kevin’s not close, I’m going to do what Sister Letitia did. I look around and up at the trees. I spot one that might work. It’s about twelve feet tall, with a wide canopy. It’s separate, standing apart from the other trees close by. Next I need to find a long sturdy stick. I scan the ground and the nearby incline. It only takes a moment or two to find. Then I remove my top and take off my bra. Thank God I wore my bright pink one. I put my top back on, grab the stick and move to the tree. I start to climb, but it’s harder than I remember. I used to do this every day when I was a kid. Grandma had a big Oak in the front yard, and I spent many hours on the branches. I’d read and watch the neighborhood activities. But I’m twelve years older and out of practice. It takes a few more tries, but I finally make it to the first solid branch. I only had to climb about eight feet off the ground. Then I just move up a few thick branches. When I’m standing secure on one and leaning against another, I wedge the stick in front of my body. I hook my bra onto the stick and lift it through the canopy and onto the top of the leaves. Then with the stick, I work to spread the bra out, over the canopy. It takes me a few tries, but I’m on a mission. If a plane flies low enough, they’ll be able to see this. There’ll be no mistaking the clue—neon pink against the green of the leaves. I drop the stick and make my way back. When I jump to the ground, I take the stick with me. I’m feeling pretty satisfied with myself. Thank you Sister Letitia.
I walk for another hour, until I know I’ve got to do something about my thirst. That, coupled with all the energy I’m expending, is becoming an issue I can’t ignore. Let me think. What’s my first priority? Water, obviously. No, wait. I need to arm myself. In case Kevin finds me. He has guns. And what do I have, a stick? Think. What did the nun do? She made a knife. I remember reading the pages, but I skimmed over the details. Shit! Think, think. I look at the ground and poke around the decaying fallen leaves and vegetation. I turn over a piece of decayed bark, and see some kind of solid white mineral. No, it’s about a six inch piece of an animal bone I think. Sister Letitia used a piece of rock, but why couldn’t I use this? This would be stronger.
I grab the overturned rock, and the bone, and move to the flat surface of a nearby boulder. I place the bone on the boulder and smash it into pieces with the rock. Yes! One of these should work fine. I look for the most suitable splinter, among the pieces. But the edges are much too jagged for me to grab onto, if I have to use it as a weapon. I need to have a handle. I think for a minute. Then I eye my stick. That’s it. I look around for something to use to attach the bone shard to the end. There’s nothing. Maybe a vine of some kind would work. I spot my leather bootlaces. I squat and unlace one boot. Then I look over the tip of the stick. There’s a small fissure on one end. I use my hands to try to jam the bone into the crack. The ragged edge reopens the cut in my hand.
“Ow!”
I grab a handful of newly fallen pliable leaves, to use as padding. I wrap them around the splintered bone, and use the bottom of my shirt to help me shove it into the fissure. I test to see how securely the bone sits. It wiggles just a bit. But a bit is too much. It needs to be solid and secured. I take my shoestring, and lash it around, in a figure eight pattern. It tightens the bone in and squeezes shut the narrow crevice. It’s ready.
Now I need to find water. Drinkable water. What I’ve seen has been stagnant. So I cross to a nearby fallen tree, covered with vegetation. Maybe I can find a grub or something to eat that will moisten my mouth. I poke around with the other end of the stick, being careful to avoid another cut on my hands. There’s nothing here but bugs and weird little worms. When I look up, I notice a fairly wide trail of ants, marching up an adjacent tree. They’re moving from the ground, to the pitch in the first branch. A memory pops into my mind. I can almost hear Grandma’s voice, telling me how ants find water. When I was a small child, I was afraid of ants. Grandma explained that when I saw lots of them marching up a tree in a row, they’re going toward water. She said they were just an ant army, looking to quench their thirst.
“Hello, troops.”
I can just about reach the dip of the branch, where the water must be. I stand on my tiptoes, and feel for it. It’s there, a small reservoir in the crux of the tree. Ants are drinking from nature’s cup. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get it. I look to the ground, for anything resembling a tiny cup. I need something small, which will fit between the branches, and into the crux. I scan the ground, and find half of an acorn. Perfect. I pick it up, and blow on it to remove the most visible bits of dirt. I wipe it on my shirt. Then I reach up to get my first tiny scoop. Before I drink the first thimble sized bit of relief, I look inside. Ants. I try to pick them out, but it’s a losing battle. Their army is winning. I’m losing more water than ants. I drink. It’s only a tablespoon at most, but it’s water. I repeat the process till I’ve drained the source. Then I wipe the dead ants from my lips and keep walking.
I’m trying to get my bearings, but it all just looks like the same settings I’ve passed before. I don’t really know how much
progress I’ve made. I have seen a few small streams. When we were at the Rectory I never saw any sign of water. The vegetation here is thick, and I can hear the constant cry of birds sounding their calls. There’s a big variety of warblers and jays. I even heard a few woodpeckers. Then I started thinking about the fact that I could come across something much more terrifying, like a bear. But I had to release that image from my mind. The greatest threat to my life is coming after me on an ATV, and he’s the predator I need to concentrate on.
I can’t see ahead very clearly, so I get down on the ground, to look through the undercarriage of the vegetation. Now I have a completely different perspective of things. Adjacent to where I’ve been walking, is what looks like a game trail. Should I follow that? I stand up and cross over to look. The animal prints seem small. Maybe deer. There’s no sign of bear prints, or at least what I think a bear print would look like. I’m going to follow this, because it may lead me to water, or even a place where fishermen are. I start walking. After only ten minutes or so, the path begins to narrow. It ends at a slow moving creek, next to a large flat clearing. The banks of the creek are muddy and packed with bits and pieces of decaying vegetation. Across the clearing, is an incline dressed in multicolored fallen leaves. They look as if they lie at least six inches deep. At the foot of the incline, sits a stagnant pool of water, where leaves float on top.
I go to the creek and bend over to get a handful of water. As I do, I hear the ATV in the distance. My heart feels as if it’s stopped. I freeze with a sickening terror. It must be Kevin coming. Is it? It could be someone looking for me. Or someone who could help me. What’s my next move? How can I see the rider, without the rider seeing me? I remember what Sister Letitia did to hide from Father Adrian. I need to camouflage myself as best I can. I move to the mud and the leaves. I scoop up handfuls of the thick muck and smear it on my exposed skin. The sound of Kevin’s ride is getting closer. I rub the mud on my forehead and cheeks. I put it on my nose and chin and ears. I cover my hands with it. I smear it over all the shiny surfaces of my clothes, my snaps and zippers and buttons. I rub it across my entire wardrobe. All the while, Kevin moves closer.
When I’m done with the mud, I gather a few leaves and bits of vegetation. I stick some in my boots and the edges of my sleeves. I put some in my hair. Then I move to the incline. I have to stand in the stagnant water, in order to lean against the 120 degree slope. I work to hide myself under and amidst the leaves, which only partially cover me. But maybe the camouflage will trick the eye. My spear is buried under the leaves, beside me in my right hand. I hear the sound of the ATV. It’s close now.
I sense movement to my right. I don’t want to disturb my hiding place by turning my head, but something’s crawling closer and closer to my face. I hear the sniff, sniff, sniff of an animal, as it detects me lying among the foliage. Peripherally, I can see a thick furry body. When it gets within a few inches of me, I figure out it’s a beaver. A big fat curious beaver, with enormous looking teeth. Shit! He could uncover my hiding place and alert Kevin of my disguise.
“Shoo! Shoo! Damn it,” I whisper.
Silent tears are running down my face. They mingle with the mud, and my eyes begin to burn. The beaver doesn’t move. He looks like he’s about to take a bite out of me, when he hears the sound of the approaching ATV. That spooks him, and he takes off, waddling for cover. I see Kevin coming from the far left. I stay perfectly still, hoping I’m blending into the incline. He motors up to within twenty feet of me. He swings his body off and grabs his rifle. He looks like hell. His lips are swollen and dried blood streaks wind down his chin and neck. He’s having trouble seeing, because his right eye is drooping, and he keeps blinking to focus. He scans the scene for any sign of me. I’m afraid my beating heart is going to give me away. It’s so loud in my head and pounding so violently in my chest. I’m surprised the leaves aren’t moving.
He goes to the creek and finds the scoop marks I made. Damn it! I forgot to cover those. He looks up, all around him. He looks at the incline where I lay hidden, as if he’s looking directly at me. But he says nothing. He sees nothing. He goes back to his ride. Before he gets on, he checks the gas tank. There must not be much left, because he rocks the ATV back and forth, trying to get the last bit. Then he climbs on and slowly motors away. I stay put. He’s not giving up that easily.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Finn
We’re taking a short water break. Paul points to a circle on the map.
“Here?”
I scan the area, marked by the location scout.
“Yeah. That’s our next target.”
We’ve been on the mountain for three hours, traversing the most likely point of entry. The search and rescue team are a few miles away. We’re finding nothing. There’s not a sign anyone’s been here. I look more closely at the map.
“Wait. Remember when we were on set outside the cabin that long night?” I say.
“We were there a lot.”
“The night the grip came out of the bushes. We were walking back to base camp.”
“Yeah. He was taking a piss.”
“When he walked out, we were all laughing. But something caught my attention. I thought I saw something hiding in the trees.”
“Really?”
“I chalked it up to being jumpy. But what if it was Kevin? It could have been him scoping the set.”
“It could have been, I guess. Think we should go there first?”
“Yeah. That’s where he’d take her. There’s a cabin, and no crew anymore. Everybody from the film is gone as far as he knows. If they’re not there, maybe they’ll be at the Rectory. Let’s head out.”
I fold the map and return it to the backpack.
“How far away are we?” Paul says.
“About an hour. Forty minutes, if we run.”
We start running.
* * *
Twenty minutes in, we’re both sweating and breathing heavy. It’s a damn good thing we’re in as good of shape as we are. Paul’s body is made for what this trek is demanding. I’m still paying for my addictions, but so far I’ve been able to keep up. Will, pure will. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting to her. I’ll fucking kill myself trying.
“Break!” Paul says.
We slow to a stop. I reach into the backpack and bring out a water and the radio.
“Let’s check in with Vinnie again,” I say.
“Tell him where we’re headed.”
I take a long swig of the water and hand it off to Paul. I press the call button.
“Come in Vinnie. Over.”
Immediately we hear the crackle of Vinnie’s radio.
“Find anything interesting? Over,” Vinnie says.
“No. Nothing. But we’re headed toward the two movie sets. Firsts the cabin, then the Rectory. We’re about fifteen minutes away I think. Over.”
“Ok. I’m in the chopper, with a SWAT member and rescue. Keep me posted. We’ll be coming that way. Nothing here so far. Over.”
“Ok. Over and out.”
I end the call and return the radio to the backpack.
“Let me carry that now,” Paul says.
“No, I’ve got it. Let’s keep moving.”
We start running. When we get about five minutes closer to our goal, Paul spots something up ahead. He comes to a stop.
“What’s that?”
I look in the direction he’s pointing and see what appears to be the back of an old abandoned shell of a car. It’s rusty and the doors are missing. Vines have wrapped themselves around the bumper and sprout from the open hood. It’s in the shadows, and we can’t see inside from this angle.
“Wait. Let’s think this out,” I say.
“Looks like the body of a ’76 Nova. How’d it get here?”
“There must be a road nearby, or there was one. Who knows?”
I take my backpack off and retrieve the loaded Walther PPK.
“You going to shoot it?” he jokes.
“Just being cautious.”
I motion for us to split up and come to the car from opposite sides. If Kevin or Esme’s inside, we don’t know how things will play out. Paul approaches the car from the right side, and I take the left. We’re trying to be as quiet as possible. We want our presence to be a surprise. When we get within a few feet of the car, we relax a bit. I can see part way into the front seat, and it’s vacant. Paul gets to the car before I do.
“It’s just a rotting shell,” he says.
“Watch it, brother.”
He leans into the back seat, to get a closer look. I see his eyes widen.
“Fuck!”
I get to the opposite side and see what Paul’s discovered. A huge, old, fat and hairy boar lies resting on the back seat. We’ve spooked him. He raises his head and sounds a menacing ear-splitting squeal. His teeth look huge, and he’s missing an eye. In one fast movement, Paul leaps to the top of the car, his reflexes carrying him out of danger. But there’s so much rust on the hood, it dips with the weight of his body. It nearly touches the animal’s head. The frightened angry boar can’t reach Paul, so he turns his attention to me. Without really thinking it out, I lift my gun and fire twice. One bullet finds its’ mark, between the boar’s eyes. The other one buries itself in the rotting seat. The pig slumps to the ground, his body half in and half out of the car. I was one beat away from being his dinner. My ears are still ringing from the loud shots.
“Son of a bitch!” I scream. I start laughing, and so does Paul.
