by Strand, Jeff
She slapped herself in the face, hard. The earlier punch to the face had finally stopped hurting, but the pain flared up again. She had to stay awake, no matter what.
When she blinked, it was hard to open her eyes again. She wanted nothing more than a warm, soft bed, with fluffy pillows and a thick comforter...
She jolted awake again. Damn it! She was going to die because she couldn't do something as simple as staying awake. She slapped herself a second time, but could tell that wasn't going to work. It was time to get serious.
She picked up a branch and held it in the campfire until it was burning. She held it to her mouth, blew out the flame, held it over the back of her hand, and...couldn't do it.
What the hell was the matter with her? It was a choice between burning her hand or falling asleep and dying!
She put the branch back in the fire and repeated the process. This time she didn't hesitate. There was a hissing sound as the branch pressed against the back of her hand, and she winced in pain.
That woke her up.
If she had to, she'd start burning her face. Whatever it took. She wasn't falling asleep.
* * *
Rebecca had four burn marks, two on each hand, and even though they all still hurt, it wasn't enough. Burning her face might not even be enough.
She scooted her log away from the campfire. If she did fall asleep, at least she'd taken the precaution to avoid falling into the flames.
Four o'clock. Still at least two more hours of darkness.
She awoke to a pain in her face as she realized she'd tumbled forward and hit the cold ground. It was a very good thing that she'd moved away from the fire. She knew she had to get up, but even though the ground was cold, it was very, very comfortable, and she wouldn't sleep for long, maybe fifteen minutes, and they probably weren't watching anyway, and even if they were she'd wake up when they came, right?
Her rational mind tried to contradict this, but it failed in the last few seconds that she remained conscious.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rebecca opened her eyes. It was daylight, and her entire body ached. She sat up slowly, groggily. The campfire had gone out, but to her incredible relief and astonishment, she was in the same spot in which she'd fallen asleep...not particularly comfortable, but certainly preferable to waking up tied to a tree or inside a burlap sack.
Then she noticed that there was a note taped to her shoe.
She hurriedly tore it off and opened it. It took a couple of moments for her vision to focus, then she read:
Hope you got a good night's sleep. You looked so peaceful that we just couldn't bear to wake you. Anyway, sorry if you were disappointed by the lack of activity, but your husband got a free night and so did you.
It won't happen again.
So hang out today, do a little fishing, get in touch with nature. Don't leave sight of the pond. And don't forget the rules. If you tell anybody what's going on, you're a widow. See you soon.
Another day of sitting around, going crazy.
* * *
Rebecca got the fire started again and spent several minutes just trying to get warm. She coughed a few times. Wonderful. She was probably going to catch pneumonia, if she didn't already have hypothermia.
It was almost eight o'clock, and since she was still alive, she was glad she'd managed to get those four hours of sleep. Gary and his friends hadn't brought anything in the way of breakfast foods, so she had two more hot dogs, some chips, and a beer. A nice flashback to her college days.
After she'd eaten, she wandered down to the pond again, avoiding looking in the direction of the bloodstained rocks. The pond was calm and inviting, but even if she were willing to swim in water that might be concealing gory surprises, it would be absolutely freezing.
Well, she had to do something to keep busy. She had enough weapons, and trying to set up booby traps seemed like a waste of time. So, what the hell, she'd go fishing.
She assembled Gary's pole, then went through his tackle box searching for a good lure. Of course, she didn't know what made a good lure, and none of the brightly colored objects looked anything like any type of fish she'd ever seen. She went with a fluorescent green one and tied it to the end of the line, then went out to the pond. There was only one embarrassing miscast before she got the line out into the water and began to slowly reel it in.
There. She was fishing. Gary would be proud of her.
She finished reeling in the line and cast it out again.
Yep, she was fishing all right. What excitement.
But, she had to admit, reflecting on how boring this sport was served as a halfway decent distraction from her other problems.
The line caught on something, but a quick tug pulled it free. It probably wasn't a fish.
She cast a few more times with no success. She had yet to see a fish jump, so it was entirely possible that there were none to be found. It didn't really matter either way, since she was just going to release whatever she caught anyway. She still had hot dogs and potato chips.
The line caught on something again, and this time it wouldn't come loose. She yanked it several times, then tried walking backwards, but that threatened only to snap the line. She sighed. It was close enough that she could probably wade out there and free it, if she cared in the least about saving the fluorescent green lure, which she didn't.
One more tug, and the line popped free. Well, not completely free, since reeling was making some progress but the lure still seemed to be caught on something heavy. Perhaps a particularly lazy fish.
She continued reeling. Maybe she'd caught the traditional tire, or boot, or whatever bad fishermen traditionally caught.
Maybe Doug's boot...
She lifted the line out of the water. The lure was attached to a large clump of grass and dirt. With some effort she extricated the hook and tossed the gooey clump back into the water. Then, after a quick glance around the area to make sure she was still alone, she cast the line again.
If only the convenience store shopping list had included some reading material.
Oh well. She had to admit that this was a bit relaxing. She was far from feeling like she was stretched out on a blanket on a sunny beach being served Pina Coladas by buff thong-wearing waiters, but her stress level had dropped a percentage point or two.
The line got caught again.
She gave it a sharp tug, and this time the lure pulled free easily. So easily that it popped out of the water and flew right toward her face. She stepped to the left, narrowly avoiding getting punctured and wondered if normal fishermen had to deal with this shit.
She wasn't about to quit. If she was going to save Gary from sadistic kidnappers, first she needed to prove to herself that she could do some simple fishing without getting killed.
She cast and reeled in the line three times without it getting caught on anything, including a fish. The fourth time the line ended up on the ground behind her, but that was okay, she was still doing better than she would have anticipated. The fifth time was her most perfect cast yet. If any cast was going to catch a fish, this was going to be the one.
She began to reel it in, and it got caught on something.
Not a fish.
Something heavy again. In fact, it felt a lot like that clump of dirt she'd caught before. But you never knew...it could be a dead fish, which would technically be a victory on her part.
She continued to slowly reel in the line, but then it stopped altogether. She gave it a very tentative tug, preparing herself to dodge a flying lure. Then another, slightly harder tug. Something gave, she wasn't sure what, and she was able to continue reeling in whatever was caught on the lure.
Now that it was closer, it felt a little heavier than the clump of dirt. She caught a flash of something metal on the surface of the water and gasped as she wondered if it was another tooth filling.
Or maybe a wedding band.
She increased the pace of her reeling, straining to see what she was pulling to sho
re. Finally she lifted it out of the water.
Just another clump of dirt and grass.
With a silver fishing lure caught in it.
Maybe even Gary, Doug, or Scott's. They weren't any better fishermen than she was.
"Nice catch," a voice called out behind her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rebecca gasped and dropped the fishing pole, feeling like she'd had an instant heart attack. She spun around and saw two men emerge from the woods. They both looked to be in their fifties and were wearing heavy jackets and backpacks.
Without hesitation, Rebecca grabbed the spear by her feet and held it out in a threatening manner. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
One of the men held up his hands to show that they were empty. "Whoa, hold on. Nobody's gonna hurt you."
"I asked who you were," Rebecca said, slowly making her way toward the campfire. The men didn't look dangerous, but neither had Alan at first glance.
"My name's Nicholas Barrett," said the first man, lowering his hands.
"Todd North," said the second.
"What do you want?" asked Rebecca, picking up a second spear.
"We're just here to do a little fishing," Nicholas insisted. "That's all. We're not here to hurt anybody."
"You can fish someplace else," Rebecca told him, surprised that she was able to talk at all, let alone with such authority, considering how terrified she was at the moment.
"Yeah, well, I know we can, but I own this land," said Nicholas. "So I'm not sure that I'm the one who needs to fish someplace else."
Rebecca stared at the men. They seemed friendly enough, but they also seemed nervous. Of course, having a strange lunatic woman point hand-made spears at them might have contributed to that, but still, what were the odds that they'd just happen to show up? This pond wasn't exactly right off the main highway.
"You need to leave," she said.
"I promise you, we're not here to hurt--"
"Now, damn it!"
Nicholas shook his head. "We're not about to leave a lovely young lady like yourself all alone, not when she so obviously needs some help. Now why don't we all just sit around that nice warm fire and talk this out?"
"Listen to me," said Rebecca. "I could not possibly be more serious. You and your friend have to get out of here, now. I can't explain. Just go!"
Nicholas shrugged. "If that's what you want, then we'll go. But I have to warn you, I'll be back before you know it with the police."
Rebecca cursed under her breath. Now what? If these guys were associated with Alan and Stephen, then they were staying, no matter what. If they'd been forced into the same type of situation that she was, then they also weren't going anywhere. And if it was a coincidence, if they really did own this pond and had just stopped by for some fishing, well, she couldn't let them contact the authorities.
None of these three options were appealing, but if it was the third one, she couldn't let them stay here and get killed.
"I can't talk about what's going on," she said, "but please don't go to the police. I don't know how I can convince you of this, but please believe me, you can't bring the police here without causing irreparable damage."
The men exchanged a glance. "I don't see how that could be true," said Nicholas, "but if that's the way you want it, so be it. We won't involve the law in this. But we're not going anywhere. You look like somebody who needs help, and I've never refused to help a lady in need."
"I'm not asking for your help."
"Either way, you need it, and we're staying."
The third option was no longer realistic. Nicholas was too insistent. All they'd have to do is promise not to tell anybody about her, leave, and then call the police anyway.
So, either they were on the kidnapper's side, or they were being forced into this. If they were on the kidnapper's side, they could very well have instructions to try to kill her, to see if she could get away. Survive the attack, just like Gary did. If they were forced into this, did that mean that they were playing the roles of Doug and Scott?
Would Nicholas' blood cover the rocks next?
Did they even know how much danger they were in?
If they were innocent victims, then maybe she could warn them. They could work out some kind of plan, increase their chances of coming out of this alive.
But if they weren't innocent, and she revealed any part of her own dilemma to them, then she'd never see Gary alive again.
"You're risking your lives if you stay here," she warned.
"We'll take our chances," said Nicholas. "Would it be all right if we sat by the fire now? It's pretty chilly out here."
She almost said "sure," but caught herself. This was no time for polite behavior. She couldn't let her guard down in case they turned out to be working with Alan and Stephen. "Make your own," she told them.
"That's kind of heartless," said Nicholas. "We're only trying to help you out."
Rebecca didn't respond. The men looked at each other then began gathering branches for their own fire. She watched them intently, ready for them to rush toward her at any second, but they set up their own camp about thirty feet away from her without incident.
Once they'd finished stacking the wood, Nicholas took a few steps toward her. "Mind if we borrow some fire?"
"You didn't bring matches?"
"I think we left them in the car."
They definitely weren't regular old campers. Rebecca wanted to refuse, but then again, she'd be better off getting as much information out of these guys as she could, especially if they were innocent victims.
Still, she wasn't letting go of the spears.
"All right," she said. "Bring a stick."
Nicholas picked up a branch and walked over to her fire. He poked the stick in the flames and gave her a friendly but uncomfortable smile.
"What brings you out here?" he asked.
"I don't want to talk about it."
He nodded and looked like he very much wanted to say something else, but didn't. He stood there for a moment. "I guess my stick's burning."
"I guess so."
He pulled the stick out of the fire and returned to his own site. Rebecca watched him carefully as he stuck the burning stick underneath the pile of branches, setting the tinder on fire.
Nicholas could still be working with Alan and Stephen, but she believed that he was being forced into this, just like her. He had the appearance of somebody desperately wanting to blurt out a secret but not daring, not the appearance of somebody biding his time until the right moment to strike.
But what about Todd? Did the two men even know each other?
That's what she needed to figure out. If Nicholas and Todd were both victims, then perhaps she could signal something to them. She had to be careful, because somebody could still be watching them from the woods, and the men could be bugged (hell, she could be bugged).
If Todd was one of the bad guys, then she had to be even more careful.
She sat on her log, watching them for a few minutes until their campfire was burning nicely. They both crouched next to the fire, warming their hands. "Hey," Rebecca called out, getting their attention. "If you want to, you can take these other two logs to sit on, I'm not using them."
"Thanks," said Nicholas, walking over to her. Todd followed. Rebecca tightened her grip on the spear, still half-expecting them to lunge at her, but the men each picked up a log and returned to their camp. Only Nicholas thanked her.
They sat at their respective fires for a while, the two men speaking quietly. Rebecca couldn't hear what they were saying, but Todd's body language indicated a nervous rather than threatening tone, at least as far as she could tell.
She looked out at the woods. Nobody in sight.
What if Nicholas and Todd had no idea they were in physical danger?
She wanted Gary back more than anything, but could she live with herself if these men were slaughtered because she didn't give them any kind of warning?
It was an a
wful quandary. Was the risk of getting caught breaking the rules worth just letting them die?
She stared into the fire, thinking.
Until she was more certain about Todd, she wasn't going to take the risk. If she did decide that he could be trusted, she'd simply play it by ear. She wouldn't be giving up on Gary by breaking the rules. After all, she still had to survive the night if he was going to be released, and she'd have a much better chance of doing that if she had Nicholas and Todd on her side.
