Firelight spilled from the cabin’s front windows. Next to them, the door opened, and Teresa stepped out. I heard her call lightly, “Deets, something feels wrong. I’m kind of flipping out.” Then she screamed as the two thugs appeared in the lit area, the skinny guy grabbing at her while Crew Cut prodded her back inside with his rifle.
Knowing they would be distracted by her and by my absence, I took off fast down the dirt track. Through the windows, I could see the fire flickering while shadows danced in terror on the walls. Teresa was being held by Mister Skinny as Crew Cut searched the other two rooms. Returning, obviously enraged at not finding me, he pointed his gun in Teresa’s face, yelling at her. She shook her head defiantly. He ripped her away from Skinny and threw her onto the mattress. Standing over her, he gestured to Skinny, who then opened the door and stepped outside.
I dropped to the ground.
Skinny swept his gaze and rifle over the meadow. I watched from about forty feet away. He walked to one side of the building and peered into the darkness enveloping that area. The moon was leaping from behind its mountain, so my visibility would be a serious risk soon.
Inside, Crew Cut was still hovering above Teresa, talking, face tilted downwards. I no longer could see her. Hopefully, she hadn’t been hurt by the creeps’ rough handling of her.
Skinny patrolled back along the cabin front and stopped at the far end, looking around nervously. That side was in shadow as well, but he stepped around the corner, taking his search to the cabin’s rear. I moved forward in a crouch, half-running. Perilous, but I set my course to where Skinny had last been, hoping to either ambush or evade him.
I slid my body flat up against the darkened wall and waited for Skinny to appear.
He came around the opposite side of the building and went in the front door.
Storm windows were down, muffling the voices inside, but I heard Skinny’s shrill whine of a report to Crew Cut. “Fuck him, we’ll take care of him later. He’s probably lost or fell off the cliff. Let’s do her now. C’mon man, I want to see her pussy.”
I moved to a window, chancing a glance into the main room where the two ogres stood over Teresa. She lay on her back, still in her flannel shirt and jeans. Her arms were raised across her breasts, her hands cupped in protective fear near her mouth. Crew Cut stuck his rifle between her knees and told her to spread her legs.
I wanted to pounce but calculated that by the time I charged them, they could easily raise their guns and blast me to hell. Choosing a sound strategy over a desperate emotional attack, I decided to wait until the moment they put their guns down or started to strip her before I took my chance to act.
Crew Cut leaned his rifle against the stone area surrounding the fireplace.
I tensed, judging if I should try to take out Skinny, even though he still held his weapon.
The barrel-chested blonde guy reached down and yanked at Teresa’s zipper. She thumped a foot into his knee. He yelled furiously at Skinny to hold her.
Skinny was standing behind Teresa’s head with his back to the door. He put his rifle to one side and grabbed at her arms. Crew Cut placed himself between her legs and ripped at her jeans. She kicked wildly and screamed.
The beast inside me cleared the ten foot space to the front door in one leap. The knob broke off as I twisted it, but the door crashed open.
I continued my charge, snarling, targeting Skinny. His head jerked back in confused fright. Letting go of Teresa, he half-turned around while scrambling sideways. His panic saved his life. The tire iron caved in his right shoulder instead of his head, knocking him to the floor.
Teresa immediately lunged upwards and raked her fingernails across Crew Cut’s face.
The rapist fell back. Teresa rolled to one side, crying out shrilly. I took a quick step towards Crew Cut. Off balance, he awkwardly put out one hand as if to stop my advance, then scooted on his ass and scrabbled for his gun.
Teresa yelled, “Watch out.” She jumped towards Mister Skinny, who had a one-handed grip on his rifle and was struggling to roll over and shoot.
Teresa tried to wrench the gun out of his hand. I turned from my attack on Crew Cut, shifting my weight into an overhead swing with my main weapon at Skinny.
Somehow in that instant Teresa’s eyes and mine met, each of us registering how desperately afraid we were of each other. The wild ferocity of our passion earlier that afternoon shot between us, and we recognized its raw power had torn to shreds our emotional boundaries. We were touching the primeval, and knew our inability to separate from it could destroy us.
The tire iron smashed into Skinny’s wrist. Teresa ripped the gun from him, then whipped herself around into a sitting position on the floor, her legs still up on the mattress. She lost her balance, falling back against a chair, flailing the rifle while trying to aim it at Crew Cut. The chair scraped off to one side. She tumbled onto her shoulder blades. Twisting and rocking, she frantically tried to right herself.
Crew Cut grasped for his weapon, but instead knocked it over with an ill-timed, desperate lunge.
Skinny, lying facedown in agony, still had the will and strength to fight. Shouting with pain, he kicked my left foot out from under me. I staggered to my knees. An explosion ripped from Teresa’s gun. Her upper body was slammed backwards from the force of the weapon’s recoil. Wood shattered above Crew Cut as the bullet tore into the fireplace mantel.
Someone screamed. Someone swore.
Teresa had smashed the back of her head against the floor and looked to be out cold.
Crew Cut plunged his hand into the fire, pulling out a flaming stick. He hurled it at me, sparks flaring across the room. His daring move was unexpected. I swatted and ducked belatedly, the wood hitting me in the forehead.
Crew Cut dove for his gun again, this time swinging it upwards. I whipped my left hand low and hard, the chain length flying out horizontally as I flung the links sidearm across the room. Teresa was raising herself up groggily, and the twirling metal missed her cheekbone by inches. It cracked into Crew Cut’s head, wrapping viciously around his jaw and neck. The gun clattered from his fist as his body toppled, blood pouring from his mouth.
I leaped across the mattress, which was starting to burn, and picked up Crew Cut’s gun. My hair was smoking, and I could feel little jabs of pain on my scalp.
“Teresa, are you all right?” I yelled as I started to stomp on the mattress fire.
“Yes...my head hurts...all right, though.”
Seeing fright, shock, and disbelief in her demeanor, I removed the gun from her.
“Teresa, can you move? Get water. The mattress is burning.”
Skinny was moaning but looked like he had surrendered to his injuries and was lying still. I didn’t know if Crew Cut was alive.
Teresa’s gaze fell on the flames. Startled, her mouth dropped open, then she understood. Leaping up, she ran to the bathroom. I tried to assess the situation.
Put out the fire, restrain these evil fuckers, and get out of here. Find the police.
Teresa returned with two wet towels, slopping and smothering the burning areas. When she finished, she stood across the room looking at me as if she thought I was going to be the next man to try and hurt her.
“Is he alive?” She gestured tentatively at Crew Cut. “Did I shoot him?”
“You didn’t hit him. I’ll check if he’s breathing.”
I moved closer and noticed bubbles of blood popping in his nose. One eyelid flipped open, revealing a blank stare, then it fluttered and shut. His face wrinkled in a painful wince.
“He’s alive.”
I approached Teresa and put aside the guns. She was spooked, had almost been raped, and was still feeling the effects of a long LSD trip. I held her lightly by her shoulders. “We’ve made it so far. We’re alive. Let’s keep our heads on and survive this the best we can.” She looked wide-eyed
at me, searching my intent. Despite the doubt clouding her features, she must have believed she couldn’t fight anymore and slowly folded herself into my arms, trembling, trying to trust the broken world again. Over her shoulder, I could see the bathroom mirror. Standing there was a wild, yellow-eyed creature, bloodied warpaint splattered across his forehead and cheeks. A wisp of a white feather of smoke rose from a blackened patch at his hairline. Canine fangs slowly receded back into his mouth. Specks of foamy spittle peppered his chin and nose. He held Teresa in his arms trying to reassure her that, together, they could make it through anything.
I looped an impossible fourth knot into the green bed sheet wrapped around Skinny’s body, duplicating the entanglement of cloth I had performed on Crew Cut with a blue sheet. After tying the two mummies together with pillow cases, I fastened the semiconscious bundle to the legs of a sofa. I poured water over all the knots to tighten them further.
“That puzzle should hold a couple of crippled assholes for awhile.”
Teresa observed coldly that the bedsheets looked like fuses, and maybe we should light them instead of wetting them.
I asked her to douse the fireplace with water. Remembering I had read somewhere that a person in shock is in mortal danger and should be bundled warmly, I helped Teresa into her jacket and tucked a quilt around her, then threw a precautionary blanket over the two creeps. I didn’t know what to do for them medically but worried about them dying and me ending up being charged with murder.
Recalling that we had two remaining marijuana joints, I stuck them in my pocket. “Place is going to be crawling with cops soon. I’ll hide them somewhere up the road.”
Carrying the two rifles, we opened the door. Crew Cut burbled, “Help me.” I shut the door without answering, leaving them in the darkened cabin.
The moon was up, pouring full light on the meadow. Released from the cage of violence, we moved stealthily up towards the dark tree line, trying to blend with the luminous glitter dancing in the air. The hope that with each footfall we would fade into an invisible place was replaced by a certainty that our escape wasn’t the last of the night’s ordeal.
As we entered the wood, Teresa put her hand out to stop me. Her eyes held the moon, and her face was translucent, revealing cracks beneath the ice of her skin.
“I know you saved my life. Please be patient with me.” She leaned into me like the first time we had kissed, and my heart became a broken place, where once her touch had promised she could heal all the hurt that ever had besieged me. A whisper from her lips sought me, “I’m going to be a mess for a while.”
For a brief moment I was standing at the edge of time, wondering what came next. Looking at Teresa, listening to her, I understood how the moment after the last kiss on earth would feel. Angels filled you with love and longing as you waited for them to return.
Chapter 42
As we moved deeper into the woods, closer to the ravine, Teresa followed each step, attuned to my tension and movement, never saying a word.
Doctor Steel had never directly harmed me, and I didn’t know the rules, but his presence that night proved a horrific revelation. He had to be a mind reader or a spirit gazer to have referenced the ghost Hank, the Indian hallucination, and the dog-fury that had possessed me. His power was threatening and his intentions, no doubt, malevolent. It struck me that just because Teresa and I defeated the attack earlier, it didn’t mean Steel hadn’t set up another one of his minions further on down this very path. Right then I realized I may never be rid of him. I remembered him in the alley mockingly declare that we’d be having fun together in the years to come. He had to be behind the hammer pulverizing Betsy’s skull, and Teresa and I had just escaped even more murderers answering his call. I worried if Teresa would always be a target until he was satisfied with his damage, or was our violent victory enough to spare her?
Whatever he was trying to accomplish, I had no time to analyze or reflect deeply on his abilities. At the bridge, an orange incandescent streak lingered in the air where the reptilian tongue had slashed the fabric of the night. I stooped by the truck, motioning for Teresa to be alert. The path was darkest between the gully and the parking lot. After staring into the abyss that lay before us for a few dreadful minutes, we dared continuing on.
Would a bullet stop Doctor Steel?
Black spaces between trees held murderous intent. Creatures shaped from shadow slipped through the air, snapping and hissing, waiting for a command to cut us to pieces. Invisible stalkers threatened just inches behind us, wraiths of our fears brushing at our backs.
Reaching the van, I could just make out the shape of a human standing quietly across the parking lot. A cold chill emanated from him, but Steel let us leave without saying a word. He had maneuvered us deeper into his world, every step calculated.
Chapter 43
We pulled into a small country store with two gas pumps out front. An old guy with a bristly mustache covering half his face sat behind the counter.
“Hello Sheriff, this is Crockett from the Sinclair station about halfway up the climb.” He spoke loudly into the store’s phone, then scratched at his whiskers as he paused to listen to the reply.
“Fine, fine. But we got a problem here. There’s a young couple standing here in my store. Sounds like they’ve been through hell. Say they were attacked by a couple of men with guns.” He eyed us skeptically and frowned as he digested the sheriff’s response.
“No, they say they disabled them, tied them up, and have their weapons. Left one with a broken wrist and smashed-up collarbone. The other’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, so I guess you’d better bring along medical help.” He raised a finger as if to attract our attention, then nodded to himself.
“Oh, I didn’t? Well hell, I’m sorry. Loon Mountain Cabins, about five miles up the road. The boy here has some minor scratches, and the girl looks real shaken up. Hold on a second.” Crockett raised his eyebrows at me. “Weapons in the bus?”
I nodded. He directed his attention back to the phone. “Got the guns in their vehicle.” He snorted as the sheriff spoke, then answered, “Either that or some good old boys had too much to drink and stepped in their own mess. You’ll see for yourself. Tourists. Soft and sweet. I’ll let them know you’re on the way.”
Medical attendants checked and cleared us, then Sheriff Bidwell interviewed us briefly while two patrol cars, sirens blaring, whisked up the mountain road. We followed in the sheriff’s vehicle after he received a radio call that the parking lot had been secured. Two ambulances and a state policeman proceeded us down the gravel entrance.
I described the layout of the land and what to expect, then waited as five officers moved down the path towards the cabin. Twenty minutes later, a deputy returned for the medics.
“It’s Gus and Drake, Sheriff. Beat up pretty bad.” The policeman appraised me with a questioning look. “They’ll live. Drake could have some head trauma. Might be good for the dumb bastard.” He let out a short sarcastic laugh and looked at me once more, shaking his head in bewilderment. He turned back to his boss. “The place has electricity.”
“I’ll check it out and have the boy and girl go over the events on location.”
So Teresa and I relived the evening, adding to the story the harassment incident in town and the truck that had practically run us off the road the day we arrived.
I couldn’t tell if the sheriff believed our version of what had happened. He let us collect our belongings, and we followed him into town in the VW. At the police station we wrote out a statement, but when he asked whose wine bottles were those that he found at the cabin, I’d had enough. “Sheriff, we’ve had a rough night. Teresa was thrown down and almost raped. We had to fight for our lives. If you’re going to fuss about a couple of bottles of wine, then this conversation is approaching the absurd. I’d like to call someone in New York.”
I dialed Daisy’s
home number, and ten minutes later a lawyer was on the phone with the sheriff. After a short conversation, he hung up, then escorted us to a motel. When the clerk handed him two sets of keys, I looked at him with tired eyes. “Just one room. Save some money for the county, Sheriff. We live together already.”
Bidwell nodded pensively, turned to Teresa. “Would that be all right with you, Miss?”
Teresa held her hand out for the key. “Yes.”
“Folks would say it’s not proper.”
“I’d feel safer.”
The officer raised his head briefly as if checking with his god, then looked us both directly in the eye. “One room, two single beds.” The clerk started to protest, but Bidwell waved him down, then grunted, “Good night.”
While Teresa was in the shower, I stepped outside to the soda and candy machines. There was a patrol car parked at the entrance to the motel. The cop waved me over.
“Hey superman, do you want me to get you something more substantial than that to eat? There’s a truck stop nearby that never closes.”
“How about a pizza?”
“What do you want on it?”
“Pepperoni and anchovies.”
“Is that what gives you superman powers? That was some fight. Must’ve scared the hell out of you. How’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s kind of out of it.”
“Yeah, I imagine so. Christ almighty, what a nightmare for her. Gus and Drake are some mean-assed characters. Hopefully, we’ll finally be able to put them away for a long stretch.”
Chapter 44
After we finished our meal, Teresa lay in her bed, facing away from me.
I left the bathroom light on, with the door cracked open, and settled on my side of the room. Puffing on a cigarette, my head propped against pillows, I tried to get my jangled thoughts in order. Between memories of some moment or detail of the cabin fight, I would imagine Greg in that village in Vietnam, unleashing his anger and fear with a shot to the old man’s head, unpinning a grenade, and throwing it into a group of women and children.
Mayhem (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 1) Page 21
