BACKWOODS RIPPER: a gripping action suspense thriller

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BACKWOODS RIPPER: a gripping action suspense thriller Page 6

by Anna Willett


  When he’d finished explaining, he made Paige repeat the process back to him.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to try to slip out without either of them seeing me.”

  Hal held up his hand. “Wait, what do you mean either of them? Who else is here?”

  Paige grimaced. “There’s another woman, Soona. I think she’s autistic.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what their relationship is, but it’s creepy. I don’t like leaving you with them, but I’ve racked my brains and this is the best I can come up with.”

  Hal noticed faint purple smudges under his wife’s eyes and a tremor in her voice. He should be the one taking care of her, she was due to give birth in two months and here he lay sending her out to rescue them.

  “Maybe we should wait,” he said. “Give it a few more days. By then my leg might be a bit better and I could come with you.” He didn’t believe it even as the words came out of his mouth. He suspected his tubular and fibular were broken, he’d seen similar injuries stationed in Afghanistan, and he knew it would take surgery and months of physio to come back from something like this.

  “No. It has to be now,” Paige said. “You need proper medical help.” She paused and looked over her shoulder as if she expected Lizzy to burst through the door. “She wants us here for a reason and I don’t want to hang around to find out what it is.”

  He knew she was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. If you can’t walk all the way to the car or the tyre’s too heavy for you to lift, come back and we’ll think of something else.” He wanted to add watch out for snakes, but after yesterday, she didn’t need reminding.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’m going now. If Lizzy asks, tell her I’m sleeping. Last night she stuck me downstairs in a freaky hospital dormitory. Hopefully she’ll assume I’m in there.” She paused and seemed to be thinking. “Try to keep her talking, but be careful, she gets angry over anything.”

  She bent and pressed her lips against his. Her mouth felt soft and warm. He hooked his arm around her back and pulled her down until her breasts were pressed against his chest.

  “Be careful. I love you,” he said in a croaky whisper.

  “I love you too,” she said, and pulled back.

  Without a backward glance, she was gone.

  * * *

  Hal watched the back of the door; he wasn’t sure how long he stared at the flaking paint and the round tarnished knob – maybe an hour? When he looked back over at the small, dirt-stained window, the sun had crept halfway across the room. His leg jangled with pain. Whatever Lizzy had given him wore off fast.

  His gaze shifted over to the narrow cupboard doorway. He recalled Lizzy pushing a trolley out from there and wondered if she kept the drugs there too. He felt a stab of shame. With his pregnant wife trekking through the bush to get him help, all he could think about was getting his next shot of happy juice.

  He laid his forearm over his eyes and tried to think of something other than the agony below his knee. He needed to pee. He looked over at the metal locker next to his bed. A tall glass half-filled with water would have to do as a makeshift bedpan. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and shrieked. The tiniest pull on his leg made his bones grind together.

  Hal gritted his teeth and stretched out his hand. His fingers were closing around the glass when the door banged open and Lizzy strode into the room. Hal felt ridiculously pleased to see her. So much so he suddenly felt like crying.

  “How’s the pain?” She asked by way of greeting.

  She held a tray, which she put down on the locker. He could see a plate with what looked like scrambled eggs and a syringe.

  “It’s bad,” he said, eyes locked on the syringe. His stomach growled, but he barely noticed.

  Lizzy looked him over with flat emotionless eyes. “I’d better take a look at you.”

  Hal forced himself not to flinch or cry out as she flipped back the sheet. He didn’t look down at his leg, not wanting another close-up of the carnage he’d seen on last inspection. After what seemed like an eternity, she pulled the sheet back up.

  “I’m going to have to clean your wound and stitch it closed.” Hal listened to her speak, but as hard as he tried to concentrate on what she was saying, his eyes kept drifting back to the syringe. The liquid inside it looked clear and the tip of the needle practically gleamed in the light.

  “It’ll be painful, so I’ll give you something before I start.” She thought for a moment. “Do you need to use the bottle?”

  “Yes, but I can wait until you’ve given me the injection,” he said hoping she couldn’t hear the desperation in his voice. Just give me the fucking painkillers. “The pain’s bad.”

  She balled her hands into fists and wedged them above her sizable hips. “No. First things first. If you wet the bed, I’ll have to lift you and change the sheets.” She leaned her head forward slightly, craning her neck and jutting out her chin. “You might not care, but I do.”

  She moved around the bed and opened the cupboard door. Her head disappeared inside for a moment and then she reappeared holding a plastic bottle with a long, wide neck and a flat bottom.

  “Let’s get this nasty business out of the way and then we can make you more comfortable.”

  After Hal finished peeing into the bottle, Lizzy took it and scurried out of the room. He heard the sound of running water hitting something metal and then a clanging. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten into the room and didn’t know what sort of building he was in, other than its obvious age. Having no frame of reference made him feel oddly disoriented, as if he were in a bubble that could be drifting in space. The only indication that he was still in the real world came from the sunshine that spilled through the window.

  He strained to hear other noises and became aware of a distant rattling. Somewhere in the big blue sky beyond his view, a bird twittered.

  “Right,” Lizzy said entering the room. Her voice had a sonorous quality that made it sound almost masculine. “I’m going to put this in with your drip.” She picked up the syringe and waved it near his face.

  When she’d finished administering the painkiller, Hal let out a long breath and closed his eyes. He could feel the edges of the world beginning to blur and his mind slipping into a soothing darkness.

  “No you don’t,” Lizzy said and slapped him on the cheek.

  His eyes popped opened. “What are you doing?” Even through the haze he managed to feel surprised that the woman had actually hit him.

  Deep shit. That’s what Paige had said they were in. But how deep, he couldn’t say. He wondered if Paige had made it to the car yet. It must have been at least an hour since she left.

  “You’re going to eat some eggs before you sleep,” Lizzy took the plate from the tray. “You’re so dopey, I’ll have to feed you,” she said and plopped down in the chair that Paige had occupied earlier.

  “Okay,” he said, then added, “Thank you, Lizzy.”

  She paused with the spoon half way to his mouth. Her forehead creased with annoyance. Her eyebrows were black, peppered with grey. The colour matched her weird eyes, he thought crazily. “Your wife should be the one spoon-feeding you. I’ve got plenty to do without babying you.”

  He could see her mind working. Any second, she’d put the spoon down and go looking for Paige. He had to keep her busy as long as possible. “She was beat, so she went to lie down,” he said, and tried for a smile.

  Lizzy’s eyes moved over his face and then down to his wrist. She studied the tattoo for a moment. “Why do people feel the need to mark themselves like that?” She asked, and gestured with the spoon.

  It seemed like, for the moment, she’d forgotten about Paige. Her shifting thoughts unnerved him, but at least her attention had been diverted. Hal wondered how long it would be before Paige returned with help. Lizzy gave him the heebie-jeebies, but he couldn’t tell if she was dangerous.

  “I don’t know why I got the tattoo,”
he said, answering her question. “It’s just one of those things that seem like a good idea at the time.”

  “Like travelling around in the bush with your pregnant wife?” She fixed him with a look of grim disapproval.

  The aggressiveness of her words took him by surprise. He could feel the painkillers starting to sweep him away, making it difficult to focus on what she said.

  “Maybe,” he said and felt the room soften. The hard edges of the door frame and the sunlight on the floor looked fuzzy.

  Lizzy shovelled a spoon of eggs into his mouth and he swallowed automatically. The taste it left on his tongue was thick and unpleasant. He wondered what she’d put in them. Before he had time to consider what she’d done to ruin the eggs, she shoved another spoonful into mouth. He resisted the urge to gag, and swallowed.

  “Alright. That will do for now,” she said and set the plate aside. She gave him the glass and allowed him two sips before it disappeared from his hand.

  “I’ll get rid of the dishes and then start on your leg.” It sounded ominous. Hal wondered what start on your leg would mean in terms of pain. She’d mentioned cleaning and stitching his wound; he was grateful the drugs were taking effect and could only hope she intended to give him a local before she got to the stitching part. Insanely, thinking about Lizzy stitching made him want to laugh.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. He pictured Paige, alone, walking through the bush. In his mind he could clearly see the sunlight glinting off her golden hair. He permitted himself a moment to consider her perfection before the guilt of letting her go off into the unknown overtook him.

  Lizzy was crazy, but she was right, it had been his idea to drive to the South West without any real plan. He’d wanted a few more weeks, just the two of them, before the baby arrived. It was selfish of him, and now Paige had to pay the price. We could’ve just spent a week at a lodge, why did I insist on discovering the Wild West? The simple answer, he wanted to be free one last time before the baby took over their lives.

  A haze crawled over his conscious mind, trying to pull him down into the dark. He tried to force himself to remain alert, didn’t deserve the comfort of oblivion, not while his wife and unborn baby struggled to find help. Thirty seconds later, sleep took him.

  * * *

  “Where is she?” The words hit him like a slap. He remembered Lizzy slapping him earlier and opened his eyes.

  The sunlight waned. Long shadows cast by the window spread a gloom. He shifted his head left and saw Lizzy standing over him. Looking up at her, the loose creases of skin under her chin framed angry spots of red filling her cheeks.

  “She’s gone,” Lizzy said. “And I bet you put her up to it.”

  He tried to think of something to say, but his thoughts were scattered and his mouth felt packed with cotton wool. Lizzy moved to the end of the bed and pulled back the sheets. He winced as the cool air hit his leg.

  “Grab his shoulders.”

  He tried to sit up and ask whose shoulders she meant, but something slid under his neck. It took him a moment to realise someone else stood in the room. A face swam above him. He took in a slack mouth and dark empty eyes. The thick smell of eggs and unwashed hair filled his nostrils. He grimaced and tried to pull away, but the woman with her arm under his neck held tight.

  He knew he had the strength to shake her off, but as he struggled, hands wrapped around his ankles. His legs lifted and all thoughts of resistance vanished. A sheet of agony enveloped him; he screamed.

  “No. No don’t,” he heard himself begging, and almost didn’t recognise his own voice.

  Hal felt himself being lifted off the bed. The bones in his lower leg ground together and the world darkened. He seemed to hang in mid-air for a moment and then his butt hit something, the rest of his body quickly followed. He tried to rock forward and grab his leg, but his shoulders were pressed down. Something slid across his body and he felt pinned in place.

  He looked above him and could see faces. Lizzy’s and the other woman’s floating eerily. He began to understand that he was on a stretcher and a fleeting memory of being in this position before came to him.

  “What are you doing?” He managed to get the words out through clenched teeth.

  Lizzy glanced down and regarded him with emotionless, shark eyes. “That snake bite’s infected. We need to take your leg off or it’ll kill you.”

  The words sliced through the pain. Did she say “take your leg off?” Yellow ceiling sped by; the trolley was moving.

  “You’re not cutting my leg off,” he shrieked and pushed against the restraints that held him on the stretcher.

  A door banged and he was in another room. The powerful smell of bleach stung his nose. A large metal sink loomed on his right. He turned his head and saw a silver trolley laid out with evil looking instruments – in the centre, a hack-saw. It had a solid handle, the blade slightly rusty.

  “No.” It came out as more of a scream than a word.

  Lizzy’s face appeared above him. She leaned so close that for one crazy moment, he thought she meant to kiss him. He could smell her sour breath.

  “Settle down. I’m only taking the lower leg.

  Chapter Eight

  Paige pulled on the sides of her denim jacket and grabbed the phone out of her bra so she could check the time: nearly midday. Forty minutes since leaving Mable House. Snatches of pale blue sky were visible above the canopy. A crispness hung in the air that the weak glimpses of sunlight did nothing to warm.

  When she’d snuck out the back door, Lizzy was upstairs and Soona nowhere in sight. Paige worked her way around the house until she made it back to the ute, then grabbed her jacket out of the back and headed to the left side of the house, avoiding the entry road at the front of the building. Her plan had been to duck into the bush and try to walk parallel to the road.

  The uneven terrain and scattered debris from the trees made walking a challenge. She looked back over her shoulder. Behind her, as ahead, only scraggy looking shrubs, twisted trees, and deep native grass flourished. All around her patches of pink, purple, and yellow wildflowers poked their heads up in recognition of the spring sunshine. Paige supposed the setting might be considered pretty, and under different circumstances she’d likely stop and enjoy the wildness of it all. But for the moment, all she could think about was water.

  She didn’t bring any with her, telling herself not to waste time trying to find something to carry it in. What a mistake that had been. Her throat felt dry and her lips cracked. She tried to remind herself that a human being could go for three days without water, but her parched tongue told her otherwise. She thought of the Esky sitting in the back of the Ford: cans of cola and bottles of water inside. All would be warm by now, but even warm they’d taste wonderful to her sandy mouth.

  She heard a crackle and scanned the long grass ahead for signs of movement, but found it impossible to tell if anything slithered beneath the thick foliage. Paige looked to her left and could make out the edge of the road between the trees. If she tried walking closer, she’d be torn to pieces on the thorny branches of the yellow bushes blooming there. Those bushes reminded her of everything else about his place. They looked appealing and harmless, but close up they were surprisingly sharp.

  She sidestepped the area where she’d heard the rustling and continued forward. The drive from the cheese factory had taken about twenty minutes so, she guessed the walk back would take about an hour and ten. Under normal circumstance. Yes, if she were walking on the road and had some water, but struggling around thorny bushes and over fallen branches while grappling with thirst was a different story.

  At the rate she progressed, she wouldn’t reach the car for at least another hour. She wondered how Hal was holding up. He’d done his best to seem calm, but Paige heard the pain in his voice. He’d tried to talk her out of fixing the car, but they both knew it was the only way. She prayed he’d be okay, and that God would help her be strong enough to reach the car and do wha
t she had to. She didn’t know what Lizzy might be capable of or if the woman really was dangerous, but her gut told her she had to get Hal out of that house. The baby moved, a slow shifting unlike anything she’d felt before. Paige took it as a sign of agreement and picked up the pace.

  She checked her phone again, looking for the time and the dim possibility of a signal. She puffed out a deep breath, ten after-twelve and no lit bars. She slipped the phone back in her bra and moved on. Her feet were swollen inside her shoes and her back strained as if under the weight of a ton of bricks, but the worst part had to be the itch growing around her calves. She guessed it was from insect bites and the constant friction of dry grass against her skin. Why the hell did I wear a short sundress? Because, she answered herself, you thought you were going to be spending yesterday enjoying some alone time with your hubby, not slogging through the bush looking for help.

  When she made it to the car, the first thing she’d do, after drinking a few litres of water, was rub some Soothe on her legs. Another little promise she made to herself, another reward for taking one more painful step and then another.

  To keep her mind occupied and stop herself thinking about water and snakes and all things fangs-ridden inhabiting the bush, she went over the steps Hal had taught her; lift the tyre in place, put on the lug nuts in a star pattern. Next, tighten them lightly using her fingers, then put the remaining nuts on and tighten all using the torque wrench … It sounded simple. Hal made it sound easy. Paige swallowed and her throat rasped.

  She needed to rest. Her heart thundered, labouring to pump the increased volume of blood around her body. Her breathing came in shallow puffs, and she neared the edge of exhaustion. Paige took another step; her foot caught on a piece of dead wood and she stumbled forward. Hands splayed out, she landed on them and her knees.

  Hitting the ground with a jolt, her left hand landed centimetres from a jagged stick jutting from a fallen branch. Something shifted under her right hand, wet and slick. She pulled back and made a sound of disgust. Her hand came away coated in blackish red goo. Where she’d landed lay the rotting remains of what might have been a galah. The bird’s stomach had burst and clusters of maggots writhed around the spill of intestines.

 

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