BACKWOODS RIPPER: a gripping action suspense thriller

by Anna Willett

  A narrow bar of the backyard showed. The doors to the large shed stood open. Paige could see Wade’s bike parked nearby. Something metallic just beyond the doors caught a glimmer of sunlight. It was impossible to be sure, but she thought she’d caught a glimpse of a car farther back in the gloom of the shed. She stepped away from the window and inhaled sharply. How many vehicles were hidden on this property? And more frightening, where were their owners?

  Paige stepped up to the window and ducked sideways when she saw movement. Sure that she was concealed by the side of the curtain, she risked another look. Lizzy ambled out of the shed. She emerged into the light like a bear coming out of a cave and tossed something aside. She wiped her arm across her face leaving behind streaks of dirt or oil.

  Paige watched Lizzy regard the bike. Then the woman used her foot to hit the kickstand up and wheeled the black and silver Harley into the dark.

  Satisfied that Lizzy was busy disposing of all traces of Wade, Paige returned to her search. She pulled the plastic tub down from the top shelf of the wardrobe. It was transparent, its contents – sewing paraphernalia – clear without the need to open it.

  Paige dropped the tub and winced at the way it thudded on the scuffed boards. She hesitated before continuing her search. If Lizzy had heard, she’d be heading for the back door. After a minute or so she decided that the thud had probably been loud in the confines of the room, but not so loud as to carry outside.

  She rose up onto her toes and tried to see the back of the shelf. There was something there, but the angle made it difficult to make out more than a dark shape. Stretching her arms as far as they would reach, Paige trailed her fingers along the back. Her hand touched something cold and solid. She pulled her fingers back as if stung, and then reached forward to hazard another touch. The object was cylindrical and smooth. She curled her fingers around it and slid it towards her. The barrel of the shotgun came into view.

  “Yes.” Paige muttered and pulled the gun down.

  She laid it on the bed and reached up fanning her hand out and running it over the wood of the shelf. It closed over a box; she dragged it forward. A rolling came from inside. Not many left, but it’ll have to do.

  With the shells and the gun on the bed, she put everything else back on the shelf and closed the wardrobe. The beginnings of a plan formed in her mind. But something else gnawed at the edges of her thinking. Something important, just out of reach. She didn’t have time to ponder, she had to find the keys.

  The only place she hadn’t checked was under the bed. Flipping back the chenille bedspread, she dropped to one knee. Her thigh and shoulder pulsed, a large plum-coloured bruise already spread across the top of her leg from where Lizzy’s blow had sent her thumping to the ground. She bit her lip and crouched as low as her swollen belly would allow.

  Two matching black cases were slotted next to each other, taking up almost three quarters of the space. It’s about time something went my way. Paige pulled one of the cases out by the rim. A thin, yellow ribbon dotted with stars flopped around the handle. The ribbon had been Paige’s idea. Before leaving for their honeymoon in Bali, she tied it on her case so she could tell hers from Hal’s.

  Paige grasped the ribbon between her fingers and rubbed it as if it had magical powers; that by touching it, she’d be transported back in time. The baby gave a sharp kick.

  “I know, I’ve got to keep moving,” she said and pushed the case back under the bed. It was Hal’s case she needed.

  She reached under and grabbed the corner. It was lighter than hers because he never seemed to need much when they travelled. Thankful for that, she pulled the case out from under the bed. It slid across the boards with a whisper. They hadn’t bothered with locks this trip so opening it posed no problem.

  How long has it been? It seemed like a few minutes, but it was probably closer to ten. She unzipped the case and flipped up the lid. Pushing back a pile of T-shirts, Paige and found what she was looking for.

  For a second, she doubted what her eyes saw. After everything they’d been through, the sight of the spare car keys seemed too good to be true. Paige’s hands shook as she snatched the keys out of the case and put them on the bed with the gun.

  Shoving the case back under the bed, she used the side of her bare foot to sweep the dust balls that had been pushed free by the cases out of sight. She scanned the room, making sure nothing looked out of place. Her eyes came to rest on a stack of papers on the chest of draws. It looked like mostly old receipts, bills, and flyers. A letter folded in three segments, caught Paige’s eye. It looked new compared with the rest of the pile. The bottom third of the page was unfolded and she could see the unmistakable stamp of a government department.

  Don’t, her mind screamed. Get out now, before she comes back. Her instincts told her to grab the gun and the keys and get moving, but something about that letter, the way it was perched on top of the pile, the unfolded end beckoned her closer like ghostly hand. Whatever secrets the letter held, wouldn’t help her and Hal. The smart thing to do would be skedaddle. But instead of getting out of the room, Paige found herself in front of the dresser picking up the letter.

  She unfolded the paper, her damp fingers almost sticking to the edges. It was from the Health Department and dated three months ago. Much of what was written was of no interest until Paige came to the second paragraph.

  While we offer our condolences and gratitude in recognition of your father’s many contributions to the health and wellbeing of our service men, without a licensed Medical Practitioner, Mable House Aged Care Facility is no longer eligible to serve as a licensed care facility. Under the Aged Care Act of 1974, in the absence of a General Practitioner, State and Federal funding shall cease and the facility will be required to suspend operation.

  A Health Department representative will visit Mable House on the 29th of August to assist you in making arrangements for your remaining two residents to be transferred to Steven Tate Hospital in Albany.

  Paige stopped reading. A few days before Lizzy stumbled upon Paige and Hal, Mable House had been closed and, judging by the tone of the letter, against Lizzy’s wishes. Coming on top of the death of Lizzy’s father, it could explain why the woman snapped. Paige had a feeling that Lizzy had always skated close to madness, but maybe her father and her work kept her from reaching the edge and diving into lunacy.

  She folded up the letter and put it back on the pile. Knowing what set Lizzy on her path of kidnapping and murder wouldn’t help Paige escape; if anything it only made the situation more terrifying because, with her father gone and the hospital closed, Lizzy had nothing to lose.

  It was as if the temperature of the air changed. The hairs on Paige’s arms stood up and she felt something sinister closing in on her; the feeling almost palpable in its intensity. Something was loose in the house. Something wild and ominous had broken free of whatever it is that keeps people from doing all the wicked things that whisper to them in their darkest moments. She could feel that something gathering force. She knew if she didn’t get away from Mable House, it would infect her too.

  Paige picked up the shotgun, noticing its weight, she hefted it under her arm then snatched up the keys and shells. She left the suite of rooms as quickly as possible, pausing only to close the door to the sitting room behind her. The back stairs groaned and the screen door clanked.

  Paige froze, her legs felt heavy, as if filled with sand. The ancient floorboards in the kitchen groaned. Even if she knew how to load the shells into the shotgun, she’d never manage it before Lizzy reached the sitting room. She scanned the room looking for somewhere to stow the items. Running out of time, she flipped back one of the drop sheets covering the furniture. A cloud of dust flew up and swirled around her like mosquitoes. Underneath was a high-backed padded hospital chair. Holding her breath to avoid inhaling the dust, she put the gun, shells and keys on the chair and pulled the sheet over it.

  Her impulse was to run upstairs and tell Hal what she’d found. S
he wanted to be anywhere but near Lizzy who, Paige feared, would know what she’d done just by looking at her. Instead of running, she pushed her shoulders back and walked into the kitchen.

  It was as if nothing had happened. As though Lizzy hadn’t murdered a man in front of Paige and then hit her to the ground. Lizzy, standing by the sink washing her hands, turned when Paige entered the room and gestured to a large metal pail sitting on the draining board.

  “Fresh marron,” Lizzy said pleasantly, her face still smudged with grease. “They’re a good size too. I’m going to cook them as soon as I get some water boiling.”

  It took Paige a second to process Lizzy’s words. It seemed Wade was forgotten and now it was time for this fresh horror. Paige could hear the crayfish scrambling over each other, their pincers clacking and hitting the inside of the pail. It sounded like bones scraping across a tin roof.

  “I’m allergic to shellfish,” Paige said, swallowing the sick feeling that threatened to turn into another bout of vomiting.” She took a step forward and grasped the edge of the table as a wave of wooziness swept over her.

  “You didn’t mention that earlier,” Lizzy snapped and tapped the side of the pail. The marron clattered frantically, a black claw appeared over the top.

  “Didn’t I?” Paige gave a dry chuckle. “I’m all over the place lately.”

  Lizzy held her gaze a little longer than necessary before turning away. “You’ll have to fix yourself something then. I’m not cooking two meals; this isn’t a hotel.” She spoke rapidly, her words like machine gun fire.

  The swing in the woman’s moods, from pleasant to angry, was becoming worse. Or maybe Paige was more aware of the constant shift because she’d seen what Lizzy could do when she got angry.

  “I’ll just fix a sandwich for me and Hal, if that’s alright?” Paige wasn’t hungry, but she needed to eat. She needed her strength for the baby and to go through with what she had planned.

  “Suit yourself,” Lizzy said with a shrug, and started opening cupboards.

  Paige pushed away from the table and made her way to the fridge on legs that felt like they were made of pudding. Her body was coming down hard from the adrenalin surge that started when Wade arrived and had carried her through the search of Lizzy’s bedroom. Now she needed food and rest.

  She opened the fridge and took out a block of cheese and a tomato. Then turned back to the table and opened the bread bin. She assembled the sandwiches in silence, sharing the room with the woman who had mutilated her husband and killed a man in front of her, as if all that had happened took a back seat to the mundane task of food preparation.

  Lizzy lit the burner on the stove and a faint smell of gas filled the room. The woman turned from the stove and regarded Paige as if seeing her for the first time that day.

  “Urgh, you’re filthy,” Lizzy said drawing her brows together. “I’ll fetch you something clean to put on, but that dress will have to go.”

  I’m drenched in a dead man’s blood. “Thanks,” she said and sliced a cheese and tomato sandwich in half.

  Lizzy bustled out of the kitchen. The door to her living quarters opened with a clack. Did I close the bedroom door? Paige stopped what she was doing and turned to listen. Had she left everything as she’d found it or was there something she’d overlooked? Paige tried to remember how far open Soona’s door had been when she’d hid behind it. Would Lizzy notice if it had moved?

  * * *

  Paige found it difficult to breathe, her throat felt tight and constricted. She tried to cut another sandwich, but her hands shook too badly. She took a plate from the shelf over the stove, the crockery clattered in her grasp. The plate slipped from her hand, only saved by her quick reflexes.

  When Lizzy came back into the kitchen, Paige didn’t look up, afraid the anxiety she felt might be written on her face.

  “Here,” Lizzy said.

  The crack of the woman’s voice made Paige flinch. If Lizzy noticed anything amiss, she gave no indication. She tossed a grey dress over the top of one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Put that on before you eat,” she ordered. “Then give me that dress and I’ll burn it. It’s not the sort of thing a woman in your condition should be wearing in the first place.”

  She made it sound like disposing of evidence was the most natural thing in the world, and she was in fact doing Paige a favour by helping her correct a fashion blunder.

  Paige wanted to scream in the woman’s face, rage at her for what she’d done to Hal and Wade. The urge swept through her like a cyclone. She longed to open her mouth and let every ugly thought she had spew out. Maybe it was the constant fear or the shock of the things she’d seen or just the bombastic tone in Lizzy’s voice when she ordered Paige to get changed, but Paige could feel herself tipping over the edge of sanity. It was like standing at the top of a steep flight of stairs and leaning forward. If you let yourself go, you’d be badly hurt, but pulling back keeps getting harder.

  Paige looked down at the knife sitting next to the pate of sandwiches. It was no bigger than a steak knife with a dark brown handle held in place by a brass screw. If she picked it up and pushed it into Lizzy’s thick, veiny neck, all her problems would be over.

  Lizzy turned to the pail, reached into the bucket and pulled out a struggling marron. Without hesitation, she plunged the creature into the now boiling pot of water. It flayed and struggled, trying in vain to leap out of the scorching water.

  Paige curled her fingers around the handle of the knife. Would the woman’s skin offer much resistance? How long did it take a person to bleed to death? In the movies, it usually happened within seconds, but reality was much more brutal. Would Lizzy writhe on the floor for half an hour? Good, do it, the cold dark voice insider her urged. Four days, that’s how long it takes to torture someone into killing for survival, Paige thought without emotion.

  She held the knife at her side and stepped around the table. Across the room, she could see the back of Lizzy’s neck, sun damaged and criss-crossed with lines. Once you start stabbing, keep going till she goes down, the voice whispered.

  Three steps and she’d be across the room, directly behind the woman. She couldn’t hesitate, she’d have to act before Lizzy turned. If she didn’t strike immediately, and Lizzy realised her goal, she wouldn’t get another chance. She’ll cut the baby out of your womb and let you die, the voice warned. Paige knew it was true, time was running out. She had a plan, but this would be easier, quicker.

  She took a step but the whack of the screen door halted her progress. Paige’s head snapped around at the same time Lizzy’s did. Soona shuffled into the kitchen, her jeans and shirt streaked with dirt, hands stained with grime. She stopped near the end of the table as if listening to a faraway sound that only she could hear.

  Paige held the knife against her leg and stepped back to the sandwiches. Soona’s distant countenance sparked a flicker of recognition that triggered a memory. She recognised her as the toddler in the old photo. Until that moment, Paige had assumed Soona was Lizzy’s sister. They looked similar and Soona’s age could be anywhere between thirty-five and fifty; it was difficult to tell. But now it dawned on her, Soona is Lizzy’s child.

  Paige snatched up the grey dress Lizzy had left for her and hurried through the sitting room. She’d been about to kill a woman in front of her own child. It hadn’t been a passing thought; she’d really meant to do it. The detached coldness of her mind only a moment ago seemed ghastly. How could she have contemplated such a thing only hours after watching the life disappear from Wade’s eyes? Paige looked down at herself, still covered in blood. It stained her dress, her face, even her legs.

  She made it to the dormitory and closed the door. She leaned against the bed and sucked in huge breaths; shuddering sobs built in her throat. Paige stumbled into the tiny wash room and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair stood up in wild peaks, flecked with red. A gash on her right cheek looked stark against her puffy swollen face. But most shocki
ng was the look in her sunken eyes: haunted, vacant. Eyes so empty anything could take up residence behind them.

  Paige realised she still held the knife. She tossed it in the sink; it struck the porcelain with a clank. She reached down and ripped the bloody dress over her head. It reminded her of the smell in the room after Lizzy cut off Hal’s leg. She gagged and threw the dress on the floor. It landed on the cracked tiles with a wet plopping sound. She removed her phone from its hiding place in her bra, and put it near the dress.

  Stripped down to her underwear, she turned on the cold tap, scooped up handfuls of water and threw them in her face, gasping at the cold shock. Desperate to cleanse herself, she grabbed the towel from the rack and soaked the end under the water. She used it to scrub her face and arms, then her chest. The air in the tiny bathroom grew heavy with the coppery smell of blood.

  She ran the towel under the water again and again, scrubbing until her skin felt bruised and the cut on her cheek opened up. When she stopped, she was dripping wet, shivering in a puddle of water. Before turning away, she regarded herself in the mirror once more. I’m slipping away. Lizzy’s destroying me and something awful is trying to take my place.

  Paige pulled on the grey dress and felt the stiff fabric clinging to her damp body. It was too large, but it covered her from calf to elbow and helped ease the chills. She longed to curl up on the squeaky single bed and sleep. It would be such a release to close her eyes and forget, just for a while. The temptation to give up pushed against her will, but if she gave in, what would happen to Hal? The baby?

  She stooped down and retrieved the phone; the battery was getting low so she turned it off. She’d need it later. For a moment she considered the knife, still sitting in the sink, a glimmer of light winking off the blade. She’d almost done something horrific. Something that would change her in a way beyond recovery. She ran her finger over her bottom lip, then sighed and took it out of the sink. Only if there’s no other way, she thought and shoved it in the deep pockets of her new dress.