Lake of GlassA Story by Caroline L Jessica and Jana take a much-needed vacation at a remote cabin in Vermont. They come across a few oddities in the cabin, and soon begin to suspect that someone is stalking them.
The
late afternoon sun seeped in through the side of the heavily
curtained bedroom window, illuminating the latest box on the bed with
a streak of glowing light. Jessica held up a tattered diploma,
squinting at the faded lettering. Presented
to Jessica Trenholm, for effort in Mathematics. Signed
by her grade 5 teacher, Andrew Woods, or Andy, as most of the
townspeople had liked to call him. Outgoing, community-oriented Andy
had been popular in the town, and everyone had thought he was a gem
of a find in their little town, where good teachers were hard to come
by. Low pay and a remote area were not factors most teachers looked
for when seeking employment. The schools usually ended up with
first-time teachers or those who’d had problems keeping their jobs
elsewhere: Jessica had seen her share of alcoholics, and teachers who
had anger-management issues in her time in school in her hometown.
Everything seemed wonderful when Andy had taken over teaching a few
courses at Elmwood Elementary - until some of the boys started
talking. Andy had been asking some of the more popular boys to come
to his house on weekends, where he’d offered them alcohol and
cigarettes. Jessica remembered feeling resentful, left out, since he
never asked any of the girls to his house. He had eventually been run
out of town by angry parents, threatening to involve the police if he
continued. Who knew where Andy was now. Hopefully not teaching in
some other town…
Sighing, Jessica tossed the diploma into the garbage bag nearby, which was growing substantially since she’d started her spring cleaning. She’d procrastinated until after 1 p.m., having three cups of coffee before she finally decided to sort through the boxes of old papers, books and photos that had been lying around for years, piled in musty boxes in storage closets in her various apartments. Ever since Josh had left two months ago, she’d been meaning to go through all the clutter and get rid of most of it, especially since some of it was his. They’d lived together for two years in a previous apartment, and he had books and vinyl albums that had gotten mixed up with her stuff when they’d moved into this new place six months ago. The apartment she now found herself alone in. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and scooped up what was left in the box - old family photo albums - and put them in the plastic storage bin with the other things she was keeping. The next box held some of Josh’s things. She stared at it, willing herself to open it. Later, she thought, getting up from the bed and making her way to the door through the boxes that were strewn haphazardly throughout the room. Catching a view of herself in the mirror, she shook her head at the tired woman with red, puffy eyes looking back at her. She’d spent last night crying, until finally falling asleep around two a.m. Josh was to blame for leaving her for another woman, but she had some part to play in the matter as well. As with all her previous failed relationships, she had always been the one who was left. She was never the one who did the leaving. Why was she always blind when things started going wrong? Too caught up in her work, too self-absorbed, taking her partner for granted. She knew these things. She’d gone over them in therapy. Her previous boyfriends had even complained about being taken for granted, until they’d given up. But it was still hard to break out of certain patterns of behaviour. Starting again towards the door, she tripped over an old lamp, toppling over one of the boxes she hadn’t finished with. Papers spilled onto the floor. “D****t!” Jake, her chocolate lab, whined from where he lay in the doorway between the hall and bedroom. “It’s okay, boy,” she said. He usually would have come bounding in to see if she was okay, but she’d tried to keep him out of the bedroom, rooting through the boxes and causing a mess. She grabbed a handful of papers that had scattered everywhere and tossed them into the box, but something fluttered to the floor, sunlight glinting off the colours of the photo on one side. Curious, Jessica knelt down beside the box and managed to retrieve the paper from where it lay, half-hidden under the bed. It was a postcard. The side facing upwards was written in her aunt’s fancy handwriting: July 3, 2012. Don’t give up your daydreams. Just the date, and that one line. Her Aunt Marley liked to sound mysterious and all-knowing, and Jessica had always been intrigued by her. She flipped the postcard over and studied the photo. It was a hot spring from Yellowstone National Park, where her aunt had visited all those years ago. The colors were riveting: bright blue in the center, with browns and yellow swirling together on the outer edges. It looked like an eye, Jessica thought. A giant eye, staring at her. Yellowstone would be a fascinating place to visit, but Jessica wouldn’t call it a daydream. She thought of the man who’d fallen into one of the hot springs a few years ago, his entire body dissolved by the acidity. Maybe he’d thought it would be warm and relaxing. What a surprise that must have been. Her hand hesitated as she held the postcard above the trash bag, then she put it in the top drawer of her dresser instead. It was an interesting souvenir from her aunt. A good time, a time when Aunt Marley could still walk around and be independent. Now she was in a wheelchair with a nurse that practically lived with her. It was a shame, the diabetes that had ravaged her life. And she was only 42. Chapter Two The next morning, she was going through the box of Josh’s things when her cell phone rang. “Hello? Oh, hey, Aunt Marley, how are you? That’s so weird, I was just thinking of you lately! I found this old…what? The cabin…oh yes, I remember. Sure, I’d love to spend some time there! That sounds awesome! Great, I’ll call you back. Okay, bye. Love you too. Bye.” She hung up, her heart soaring and a smile on her face. Her aunt had offered her a get-away at a cabin she owned in Vermont. It was near a lake, and quite remote, complete with electricity, running water, cable TV…not quite roughing it in the woods, but a nice break from the city. As much as she’d hated her tiny hometown in the middle of nowhere, Jessica sometimes missed the tranquility of a small town, away from the noise and ceaseless activity of the city. She thought of inviting her friend Jana, since she was now boyfriend-less. “I’m not in love with you anymore,” Josh had stated simply, when she’d found him packing his things one evening after work. “You’re a great friend, but there’s no passion anymore.” Later she found out he’d been seeing a woman from work, a woman he now lived with. That had hurt, like a punch to the gut, leaving a deep wound. And now a vacation seemed like the best remedy. She’d forgotten to ask Aunt Marley about Mike, though. He usually stayed all summer in her aunt’s cabin. What had become of him? He’d probably returned to Vancouver, she thought, where he’d lived before her aunt had found him on one of those dating sites. The family had met him once, when Aunt Marley had had a barbeque at the cabin. He was in his sixties, probably, sporting a neatly trimmed white beard, a full head of white hair, and a surprisingly muscular build for his age. He was tanned from trips to Florida in the winter, and seemed financially independent - although his source of income was unclear. His sense of humour and ease at striking up a conversation with just about anyone put to rest any qualms the family might have had about Aunt Marley getting involved with a man she’d met online. Was the relationship romantic? Platonic? They didn’t really know, but now that a few years had passed and her aunt lived in her home with only a nurse and a dog to keep her company, no one really thought much about him anymore, although he supposedly still stayed often in the cabin in the summers. Fishing with some buddies, his aunt had told them. The only time this irked some of the family was when they’d proposed taking their own kids for a vacation at the cabin. The problem was, no one knew when he might be there. Even her aunt, who got angry and defensive when they asked too many questions, seemed in the dark about his exact comings and goings. “It’s my cabin and he can stay there whenever he wants,” she’d declared. Now, it seemed, the cabin was free, and Jessica was going to take advantage of this fortunate event. Chapter Three “So you’re sure Mike is not going there this summer? Oh, I see. Sorry to hear that. Yes, I asked Jana, and she’s really excited about it. Yes, I know where the lifejackets are if we take out the canoe. Coyotes? Okay, we’ll be safe, I promise. Yes, no fires in the woods. Thanks again, Aunt Marley.” She ended the call, looking around her room with satisfaction. All the boxes had been sorted through, a lot of stuff thrown out, and the rest of it packed away in only two bins, now stowed in the back of her closet. A bag of Josh’s things sat on the balcony outside. He hadn’t dared ask her for the things he’d left behind, since taking off abruptly one night, leaving her in the lurch to pay the rent and utilities herself. She would probably drop his stuff off at the Salvation Army. Or in the dumpster out back. ---- They pulled down the gravel road that led to the cabin, the road narrow and shadowy, dense bushes flanking them on either side. Jessica gazed out the car window, where she spotted three deer running in a panic through the woods, startled by the noise of the car. Jake’s ears pricked up and he stared out the window at the deer. A twig got trapped in Jessica’s window and scratched her face. She slapped away the twig, or tried to, and it broke off. “Ow!” she rubbed her face, looking in amazement at the smear of blood on her finger. “What kind of bushes are these, anyway?” She looked at the piece that had broken off in the car, and rubbed the tip of her finger over a thorn that protruded from its side. “Damn. Look at this, Jana.” “Huh?” Jana was busy singing along to Lana del Rey. Singing too loud and driving too fast. Jessica turned the music off. “Jana, slow down. We’re on a gravel road, the animals aren’t used to being disturbed like this, and plus there’s thorns getting into the car.” “Thorns? What are you talking about, Jess?” Jana laughed, turning the music back on. Jessica shut it off. “Look at my face.” She turned her head and Jana grimaced. “Ouch, dude. That’s nasty.” “Yeah, let’s go slower, please. Hitting a deer and getting stuck here, dying in the middle of nowhere, does not appeal to me.” “Fine.” Jana slowed down. “But you need to chill out. We’re on vacation! Remember?” She hit play and Lana del Rey started singing again, at a lower volume this time. Jessica closed her eyes and nodded, lulled by the dreamy music. She was happy to see Jana relaxed and smiling for once. Jana had been raised in a strict home, her parents hoping she’d follow in their footsteps and be a surgeon, like her father, or concert pianist, like her mother. Unfortunately for them, she hadn’t shown much musical inclination, and veered off into Fine Arts instead. Her parents refused to go see her exhibited work, and she was now studying psychology, a field that fascinated her. Although her parents were invested in her academic and career success, they were also distant, even cold. Jana had recently almost completely cut ties with them, and seemed happier for it. Chapter Four They pulled up to the cabin, which lay half-hidden behind overgrown bushes that looked like they hadn’t been tended to in a long time. “That’s odd,” Jessica said, stepping out onto the gravel driveway. “Hmm?” Jana got out and looked at the cabin, slightly disappointed at the rundown look of the place. “Aunt Marley said her friend Mike was into landscaping. Doesn’t look like he’s done much around here. He comes out here for weeks at a time, I’ve heard.” “Maybe it looks better inside,” Jana said, popping the trunk to get their suitcases. Jake led the way, running excitedly up the stairs to the front door. Inside the cabin was a little better than the outside. It still looked rundown, but at least the place was neat and tidy. Until they reached the kitchen. “Ew, that’s so disgusting,” Jana said. They stood in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing the overflowing garbage can and filthy stove. Even the walls around the stove were spattered with what looked like months, or a year’s worth of sauces that had splashed out of pots and stayed there. “Great, we have to take out mouldy garbage,” Jessica said. “Fun.” They looked around until they found some garbage bags, and brought the trash out to the back to store in a large bin, Jake following. Even the dog took a step back when he got a whiff of what was in the garbage bags. The women each claimed a bedroom and started unpacking their things. They decided to strip the beds and wash all the bedding. Something small and furry rolled out from the bedsheets as Jessica pulled them off the bed, hitting the floor with a muted thump and a metal clang. She screamed and backed up. “What is it?” Jana ran into the room, her eyes following Jessica’s pointing finger to a small, grey thing on the floor. She walked over to it and knelt down. “Is it dead?” Jessica shrieked, shrinking close to the door. “You mean this?” Jana picked up the object and dangled it in front of her, causing Jessica to scream again. “It’s a rabbit’s foot keychain, silly!” Jana grinned. “A what?” “For good luck. My uncle gave me one when I was a kid. He was a hunter. You’ve never heard of these?” Jessica stared uncertainly at it. Jana sighed and got up, shoving the rabbit’s foot into her jeans’ pocket. “Come on, let’s get this laundry going before dark.” Jessica followed her friend out of the bedroom. “But is it a real rabbit’s foot?” she asked as they made their way to the laundry room. Jana shrugged. “Probably not. That would be gross.” -------------------------- As the washer whirred and hummed in the background, the two women stood in the middle of the large living room, staring around them. Tall windows surrounded them, the last of the sunlight struggling to illuminate the room before it was consumed in shadows. The women were gazing with incredulity at pieces of paper taped to the walls, the top of the fireplace, even on some lamps. Most of the papers had one sentence printed in bold, italic font, some in different colours. Some had pictures to go along with them, also printed out. These had probably been made on her aunt’s old computer that lay in a small room upstairs, Jessica realized. “What the hell…” Jana said, creeping up to one of the papers taped to the wall above her head and touching it gingerly with one finger, as if she were afraid it would bite. Jessica followed suit, walking to the fireplace and squinting as she read the small print on the paper taped to the mantelpiece. It said, “Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.” Jana read hers aloud. “Make your life a masterpiece; imagine no limitations on what you can be, have or do.” “It’s inspirational quotes. All over the place. I’ve heard of people who do this. It’s supposed to help you be more positive, believe in yourself, or whatever.” Jana turned to Jessica. “Do you think your aunt did this?” “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never seen her put up quotes like this, but I guess it’s possible.” She frowned, a chill suddenly coursing through her body. There was something eerie about a room covered in inspirational quotes. It was like those jail cells you heard about, where the inmates wrote on the walls when they had nothing else to do, or write on. Like being trapped in someone’s mind, a mind fixated on and bombarded by quotes from those tacky self-help books. “I’ll call Aunt Marley later, to see if she put those up. I’d like to take them down - with her permission, of course.” She realized the hallway to the kitchen was becoming a tunnel of deepening darkness and she had to squint to see Jana. “Let’s get some lights on in here. Night’s coming.” -------------------------- The living room seemed much cosier with the fire crackling in the fireplace and the soft light emanating from the lamps. In the dimness, the writing on the papers taped to the walls could barely be seen, which was just fine by Jessica and Jana. Jessica hadn’t been able to reach her aunt, since the phone didn’t seem to be working. All she got when she picked up the receiver was a low hum, a monotone. She’d tried pressing 0 to get the operator, but nothing happened. And there was no cell phone service, either. They would just have to grin and bear it for the night. After all, that is what they’d come here for. To get away from it all. The television was on, an old black and white movie. Jana’s eyes were closed and she snored softly. Jessica felt tired herself, and got up to turn off the TV when something caught her eye from the window. She turned to look at it and saw a man’s face looking at her from outside. He was smiling, but his eyes looked wild, burning with malevolent intensity. She screamed in horror, and Jana jumped up from the couch. “What’s happening? Jessica?” But Jessica was staring at the window, frozen in fear. “Do you see it? The face?” “No! I mean, I don’t think so…” It was hard to see anything but their own reflections in the window, since it was pitch dark out. “Someone was out there. Oh God. Oh God!” Jessica’s hand flew to her mouth, looking around frantically. “The doors! Make sure they’re all locked.” They ran around the cabin, checking each door. They discovered an open window in the bathroom, and pushed it down as quickly as they could. Jessica felt around for the lock. “I can’t find a lock!” “Let me look.” Jana knelt on top of the toilet seat lid under the window, looking for a lock. There was no lock. “I think it’s too small for anyone to get in, anyway,” she said, her voice shaky. They piled as many books they could find in on the windowsill so that if someone were to open it, they’d hear the books falling onto the floor. After the adrenaline surge of rushing around the cabin, they felt drained. Jessica sat on the toilet seat, staring absently at the wall while Jana collapsed onto the floor, propping herself up against a wall as she sat on the cold tiles. “Are you sure there was really someone?” she finally asked. “I saw something…a face…” “Just a face?” “Well, I’m assuming it was attached to a body,” she said. “You know that movie that was on, that we were watching, was Phantom of the Opera.” “And?” “It’s a horror movie. About a man who hides his face behind a mask. Because it’s repulsive.” “What are you saying, Jana? That I imagined I saw a face in the window because of that movie? I was barely watching it.” “Well, I don’t know. I’m just saying. Hoping, actually. That there isn’t someone actually lurking around here. It’s not like we can call for help.” “This whole idea was stupid,” Jessica said, shaking her head. “What kind of person invites their friend to a secluded cabin with no means to call anyone?” They sat in silence for a few minutes, then came up with a plan. They would take turns sleeping, with one of them staying awake to listen for any strange sounds. Jessica had remembered her aunt kept an old shotgun locked in a cabinet in a back room, and had finally found the key to unlock it in one of the kitchen drawers. She checked to make sure it was loaded, and the girls took turns sitting up with the gun by their side all night. The next morning they woke up late, exhausted from the events of the previous night. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and the fears they’d had faded away, like a bad dream. After all, it was possible Jessica had imagined the face. Or had seen a reflection in the window and imagined it to be a face, when it had been…a lampshade or something. They brought their coffee onto the front porch and sat in silence, looking at the lake. Its waters were still, but dark and probably very cold in the early June morning. “The lake is crystal clear, like glass, on nice days,” her aunt had told her. “It’s so peaceful and calm there, just what you and your friend need to start the summer. It may be cold since it’s still early June, but nothing beats sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee after sunrise, staring out at the lake. It’s like a balm for the soul.” Well, not today, it’s not, Jessica thought. The waters were murky, almost black, and dark clouds were moving in fast from the east. ------------------ “Let’s go out in the boat,” Jessica said around 11 a.m. The sky had cleared somewhat, although it was still chilly. “Being on the lake will be so relaxing.” “What about the face you saw in the window?” Jana said, surprised Jessica wanted to leave the cabin so soon after their scare the night before. “I must’ve been tired,” Jessica said, shrugging. “I’m not used to being in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone service. I think my imagination was getting the better of me.” Jana nodded, and they decided to go out on the lake. “It’s so quiet here, it’s just really therapeutic,” Jessica said, as they drifted on the lake in her aunt’s small boat. They heard birds singing and calling to one another, and the soft lapping of waves hitting the sides of the boat as they rowed from time to time. It felt like they had entered a place out of time, or perhaps they had gone back in time, when the natural world was all there was, before human beings manipulated and declared dominion over nature. They were heading back to the cabin, lulled into a sleepy, dreamlike state by the calm peacefulness of their environment when a buzzing sound startled them from their reverie. Jake barked, jumping up from where he’d been curled up in a corner of the boat, napping. “It’s okay, boy,” Jessica said, petting his head. “What the hell?” Jana asked, looking around and listening to try to pinpoint the source of the sound. “Is that…?” “A chainsaw,” Jessica said, her serenity disturbed and transformed into irriation. “I thought there weren’t people for miles around.” “Yeah. That’s unfortunate,” Jana said, rowing more quickly now to get back to the cabin. “Just when we wanted to get away from it all. People annoy me.” “Tell me about it,” Jessica muttered. When they reached the shore, they stopped short as they heard a thumping sound from the woods. “What now?” Jana asked, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t even sound that far away.” “I know,” Jessica said, wondering if they might have to cut their vacation short. It sounded like someone was cutting down trees somewhere in the woods. Destroying the environment along with the peace and quiet they had been enjoying. “Maybe someone’s building a cabin?” Jana asked. “I don’t know. But I hope it stops soon,” Jessica said. That evening they made popcorn and started watching a DVD. Serendipity with John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale. One of Jessica’s favourites. But she couldn’t focus on it tonight; something was nagging at her mind. She had to call her aunt. She needed to know about those weird motivational sayings stuck to the walls and ceiling. It creeped her out. As she dug in her purse for the number, Jana said, “I forgot to tell you, there’s something weird I found in my room. It was peeking out from under the bed. A picture, of a tattoo. A rose, with a snake wrapped around it, on someone’s arm. But the picture looked like…I mean it looks like the skin was cut off someone’s arm before the photo was taken.” “What?” Jessica had only been half-listening, but what Jana said sounded disturbing. “Can you repeat that?” She’d finally found her aunt’s number in a zippered pocket inside her purse. Jana sighed. “Ok. I’ll say it again. I found a photo. Of a tattoo on some skin, but it looked like the skin had been cut off before the photo was taken.” “Show it to me.” She followed Jana to her room, where her friend pulled the photo out from a drawer in the bedside table. It was a Polaroid. “See?” The tattoo was indeed of a rose, with a snake wound around it. The skin that displayed it was brown and wrinkled, maybe dried, and expertly cut in a perfect square. “Yeah that is creepy. Okay, I’m calling my aunt. I have to tell her about all this stuff.” “It’s almost 11 p.m. Jessica. Isn’t it kind of late? And she’s sick…you don’t want to scare her.” “I guess you’re right...” she studied the tattoo again. “It’s like the snake is a weed, about to strangle the rose. Why would someone get a tattoo like that?” “To be original?” Jana guessed. She looked more closely at the photo. “It makes me think of two parts of love: the snake representing the physical, like desire, lust, and the rose representing the spiritual part.” “That’s amazing, Jana. How do you come up with these things?” Jana grinned and shrugged. “From those courses we took together in English lit. Symbolism, stuff like that. Come on, let’s get back to the movie, and you can call your aunt in the morning.” Later on, Jessica made hot cocoa for her and Jana. While the milk was warming on the stove, she noticed a small, wooden door on her right. The door’s ugly, green paint was peeling in places, and it was padlocked shut. “Odd,” Jessica thought. “This must be the cellar. I’ll have to try to find the key to the lock.” Something grazed her left leg and she shrieked. It was just Jake, sitting on the floor next her, gazing at the cellar door with a surprised, goofy look. Jessica laughed and petted him on the head. She fell asleep on the couch, Serendipity still playing in the background. ------------------------------- The next two days went by uneventfully, as they took walks on the path in the woods in the day, swam in the lake, and had a barbeque on the back porch. They didn’t hear the chainsaw again, and Jessica began to think their vacation might be a success after all. By late morning the gorgeous weather they’d been having turned to dark clouds that moved fast overhead, and a cold wind blew in from the north. Jake’s ears kept pricking up as he looked at the woods, whining now and then. He didn’t leave Jessica’s side, and she wondered what had him spooked. Probably some animals he’s hearing off in the woods, she thought, but a dull uneasiness began to settle in her stomach. The rain started before noon, heavy and sudden. The women covered the barbeque quickly with the tarp and brought the deck chairs inside. After lunch, Jana wandered around the cabin, bored. “When can we take these papers down?” she called to Jessica from the living room. “I haven’t gotten in touch with my aunt yet,” Jessica called back from the kitchen, where she was cleaning up. “I’ll try again later. I’ve been leaving messages, but she hasn’t called back yet. And last time I called, the answering machine didn’t even come on.” “Well, I am ditching this one,” Jana said, walking into the kitchen to show Jessica a strip of crimson paper with a message written on it in big, bold letters: “Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven.” “That’s from Paradise Lost. Milton.” Jessica had minored in English literature at college, along with her History major. “That’s not really a motivational quote…it’s like a justification for committing evil deeds.” “Yeah, this guy Mike sounds like quite the character. Weirdo.” “It could be my aunt who put them up,” Jessica said, putting the dishes away one by one. Jana snickered. “Yeah, right.” “Anyway, don’t call someone a weirdo if you haven’t met them yet. Who knows, she might end up marrying him.” “He’s
obviously interested in her for her money. Her pension. Her…” “I’m just saying. Sounds like a scammer to me. A filthy one too, by the looks of the kitchen when we got here.” She paused, looking at the piece of paper. “You know what’s funny? I found this paper in my room, taped to the back on the door when I closed it this morning. I don’t remember seeing it there before.” “Maybe you just didn’t notice it.” “It’s bright red. How could I not have noticed it?” Jessica shook her head and went to the phone to call Aunt Marley, for the thousandth time. To her surprise, she answered on the first ring. “Aunt Marley! I was wondering where you were. Getting a little worried, actually. Oh…I see. I’m sorry to hear you were in the hospital. But you’re feeling better now? Good. Aunt Marley, I meant to ask you, it may sound strange, but…” she laughed, and cleared her throat. “We found all these papers taped to the walls and ceiling of the living room. With these sort of motivational quotes written on them.” Aunt Marley said, “What?” so loudly into the phone that Jana heard it from the other end of the room. She looked at Jessica questioningly. “I don’t know,” Jessica said, looking around the living room, cordless phone to her ear. “I think there’s about a hundred of them. Yes, taped to the walls. No, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Jessica told her aunt. “We’re fine.” She decided not to tell her aunt about the photo of the tattoo, since she was obviously very upset hearing about the motivational quotes wallpapering her living room. “Okay, yes, I promise we’ll take them down. And throw them out. Um…yes the place was relatively tidy when we got here. No, the hedges are not trimmed…oh. Ok, well why don’t I call you again tomorrow. I don’t want you to upset yourself. I’ll let you know. Okay, bye. Love you, too.” She hung up, but continued to stare at the phone, her brow furrowed. “Well?” Jana asked. “What did she say? It didn’t sound good.” “No.” Jessica sighed. “She wants us to get rid of the papers, and go home.” “That’s a little extreme.” Jana looked at the floor, disappointed. “She said Mike was supposed to have trimmed all the hedges and planted flowers in the front yard, but he’s done none of it. And she paid him. She heard from him the other night. He left a message saying he was in Vancouver. She’s embarrassed that we found the place like this, and would like to have it thoroughly cleaned and work done on the property before anyone comes back.” “Well, as creepy as all that sounds, and as I think that guy Mike is, I say we stay another night. Especially since he’s in Vancouver. It’s really stormy out there anyway,” Jana said. The wind had picked up and the rain fell heavily. A low rumble of thunder made them jump. “Okay, let’s start getting rid of these damn quotes.” That night they made hot chocolate again with the milk they’d brought with them on the trip. By nine p.m. they felt so sleepy they felt they both started dozing off on the couch. “I guess it’s true what they say: warm milk really does help you sleep,” Jessica yawned as they she turned off the TV. They dragged themselves from the couch and moved sluggishly down the hall to their bedrooms. “Yeah,” Jana said, fighting to keep her eyes open, “More like puts you to sleep.” -------------------------------------- A light breeze stirred the curtains on the window next to Jessica’s bed, a woodpecker tapping away at a tree nearby in the early morning. She woke up with a gasp, her heart thundering in her chest. In her dream she’d been swimming in the lake at dusk, her limbs so heavy, she thought she would drown. She called for Jana to come and help her get out of the lake, but her friend didn’t seem to hear her from where she stood on the shore, her back to Jessica. There were things floating in the water around her, and her arms kept hitting them. In the gloom she couldn’t quite make out what they were. When she picked up one of the objects and looked closely at it, she saw that it was a large shard of glass. She threw it far away from her, but realized she wouldn’t be able to make it to the shore without cutting herself swimming through the rest of the broken glass that surrounded her. She sat up in bed, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down before getting up to make coffee. Something about the closet facing her bed caught her attention. The door was open. She was sure she’d closed it last night. It was dark inside, a void that could entrap and swallow someone whole. Someone could be hiding in there. “Stop it, Jessica,” she said aloud, stretching and looking away from the closet. “Stop being paranoid.” Getting up from the bed, she put on her slippers and went over to shut the closet door. Her heart started racing wildly again, her stomach dropping to the floor when she saw it: a strip of white paper, with bright red typewritten letters taped to the back of the door, that read: “It is better to live one day as a lion, than one hundred years as a sheep.” She backed away from the closet door, not quite believing what she was seeing, her skin pricking with goose bumps. “Jana!” she called out, backing towards the door, eyes never leaving the closet. “Yeah?” Jana called from the kitchen. “There’s something weird in my room.” Jana almost dropped the coffee pot she was holding and ran to Jessica’s room. They stared at it, transfixed. “And you’re sure it wasn’t there before?” “Yes, I told you. I’m sure.” “It’s
like the one I found in my room. You wouldn’t believe me when I
told you…” “I thought he was up here with you…wasn’t he in here when we went to bed last night?” “Yes…on the floor by my bed.” They ran outside, looking around fearfully. “Did you let him out?” Jessica asked, facing Jana with a glare. “Of course not! I just barely got up and was making coffee. By the way, I slept so deeply. The best sleep I’ve had since I got here. You don’t think something was in the milk we drank…” “I don’t know.” They stood on the porch calling Jake, but the dog didn’t come running. He was nowhere to be seen. “Let’s get back inside for now, and make a plan,” Jessica said. They closed and locked the door, and were wondering what to do next when they heard a light tapping on the window of the door. Both girls screamed. They turned around and stared at the smiling, bearded man who stood on the porch, looking in at them. “Oh, f**k…” Jana said under her breath, so he wouldn’t hear her. Jessica headed for the cordless phone, but found no dial tone when she picked it up. “This is not good,” she whispered to Jana, ignoring the man at the door. If she pretended not to see him, maybe he would go away. “I found your dog,” the man called in a muffled voice through the glass. He was looking down at something, smiling even more widely now. Jessica ran over the door, and sure enough, there was Jake, letting this stranger pat him. The dog was panting and wagging his tail happily. “Well, thank you,” Jessica stammered, unsmiling, avoiding his eyes. “You can just leave him on the porch.” She cleared her throat, willing the man - Mike - to go away. “Listen, can I come in, just to use your bathroom? I’m camped out in the woods, but unfortunately have no toilet facilities out there.” He grinned, as if this were the cleverest, wittiest thing anyone had ever said, that should endear him to them. “I’m afraid our bathroom is broke,” Jana said, and Jessica threw an odd look her way. “What I mean is…the toilet doesn’t even work. Just leave the dog and go, please.” The man’s grin faltered a bit, then resumed its sunnier than sunny quality. He held Jake firmly by the collar, and looked intently into Jessica’s eyes. She stood so close to the door’s window, she felt he might actually be able to reach through and grab her. A shudder coursed through her body, but she stood her ground, meeting his stare. No one was going to hurt Jake, and besides, they had the shotgun. The shotgun that was locked for the moment in a cabinet. But that was a temporary obstacle… “I failed to properly introduce myself. My name is Mike. I’m Marley’s friend, from Vancouver. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. You’re Jessica, aren’t you? Her niece. She told me all about you. You’re even more beautiful than she described.” He positively beamed at her. A sick feeling twisted and curdled in Jessica’s stomach, but she continued to stare at Mike silently, her face stony. “I have some things in there that I need to get,” he said finally, after almost a minute of their staredown. His smile was gone, his eyes hard. Jake whined, struggling to get loose from Mike’s firm hold. Jessica glanced at Jana, and whispered, “Get the shotgun.” “Where’s the key?” Jana hissed. “In my room, in the jewellery case. Go slowly, don’t run.” Jana gave a quick nod, and headed to Jessica’s room. “There are some things I need in the cellar,” Mike repeated, all semblance of friendliness gone from his voice. Jake let out a high-pitched, helpless bark, and struggled again to get free of the man holding his collar. “Fine.” Jessica opened the door, feeling safer now that Jana was going to get the gun. Mike walked in, releasing Jake, who flew like a bullet into the kitchen, then stopped and looked back, giving Mike a wary look. Mike took a key from his pocket and headed to the cellar door. “Wait a minute, you can’t just…” Jana appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes wide, face pale. Her hands were shaking badly, and she started wringing them together. Jessica gave her a questioning look, but Jana just shook her head, her eyes shifting from Jessica to Mike, and back again. Mike stood in front of the cellar door, key in hand. “Now, are you girls gonna let me get my stuff and leave, or are we going to play this little game all day? Trust me, you don’t want to play it.” Jana started for the front door. She wasn’t sure what her plan was, but as soon as she was on the porch, she would start running. “Get back in here!” Mike roared, and Jessica screamed, a terrified, primal sound she’d never heard herself make before. Jana turned around to see Mike holding a hunting knife to Jessica’s throat. She felt a mixture of fear, horror and hopelessness, and also like she was going to vomit. All the strength in her arms and legs seemed to leak down her body, where it dissipated into the floor, leaving her feeling weak and dizzy. She had to grit her teeth to stop Mike from seeing they were chattering as she shook in fear. “Don’t hurt her,” Jana said, in a small, whining voice. She felt completely powerless. Mike only gave a sardonic grunt of a laugh. “Here.” He threw the key to the cellar across the floor, where it landed halfway between him, Jessica, and Jana. She stared at it, not comprehending. “Pick it up and open the cellar door,” he said, his eyes fixed on her with a hard, ruthless gaze. Jana nodded. “Okay, okay,” she said, her voice tiny and childlike. She approached the key with caution, fearing that any wrong move she might make would set him off somehow, endangering Jessica further. She knelt down to pick it up, and Jake barked from the living room entrance, sensing something was off about this whole scenario. The sound startled Jana, who slipped and fell hard on her bum on the ceramic floor. Her hand flew out, hitting the key and causing it to skitter across the floor, back towards Mike and Jessica. Jake barked again, and started coming towards them. “Tell that dog to stay back!” Mike roared, and Jessica began to sob. She tried to tell Jake everything was okay, but her voice only came out in incomprehensible, stuttered sounds as she heaved from the sobs. “Pull yourself together, Jessica,” he whispered in her ear, and she stiffened, squeezing her eyes tight as she felt the blade’s coldness press more firmly into her neck. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Jake,
it’s okay. Go lie down, boy.” “At this point,” Mike said, sighing and shaking his head as though something minor had disappointed him, “I’m going to have to ask that you, Jana, I think your name is, put that dog in a room before it veers into uncharted territory, namely: me. I’m a hunter, you know, and I know how to deal with animals that attack. I’ve even taken on a bear. Not that I’ll expect you city girls to understand that. I highly doubt either of you have ever been in a situation where you needed to defend yourselves.” He snickered, then started laughing maniacally. “Unfortunately for you,” he said, between bursts of insane laughter, “here we are. You two ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Happens to the best of us.” Jana stared at him as he smiled broadly, his gums pulled back in a toothy grin. It was more like a snarl. Like a predator about to strike, she thought. Gleeful that it had won its prey at last. Jana had managed to get herself off the floor and backed into a corner of the kitchen. She prayed the situation would somehow resolve itself, and that neither she, Jessica or Jake would end up getting hurt. Or killed. “Lock that dog in a room,” he repeated, louder this time. “Then get back here and take that key, put it in the cellar door lock, and open the f*****g cellar door for me. Is that too much to ask? Do you understand?” His last three words were shouted so loudly that a vase fell from a shelf in the kitchen and smashed on the floor. Jake backed up into the living room in fear, bumping into the sofa. Jana nodded, walked towards the dog and grabbed his collar, pulling him down the hall into her bedroom. ----------------------------- One day earlier
Mike hung up the phone, smiling to himself at his own cunning. Marley believed him, as usual. She really thought he was in Vancouver. He’d made sure his number was blocked when he’d called, from a motel about an hour’s drive from her cabin in Vermont. There was no way he was going to let those girls ruin everything. Marley had let it slip that her niece was staying at the cabin, along with a friend. “Bad move, Marley,” he said, smiling to himself, as he packed his clothes in his trusty old suitcase. The edge of a Polaroid peeked out from an inside pocket of the suitcase. All that was visible were a man’s wrists, handcuffed to the posts on either side of the bed he lay on. Mike pulled it out almost affectionately, caressing the man’s face. The man was blindfolded, his mouth open as if screaming. Or wailing. More like wailing. “Rodriguez,” he purred, shaking his head. “You were quite beside yourself in the last moments. Quite the pathetic creature, not even able to form words anymore. I’ll always remember you.” He kissed the photo, and pushed it deeper into the side pocket, with the others. He liked to pull them out now and then to reminisce. His Polaroid camera was his baby. He could get instantaneous images of his work, without the risk of any digital trace. “I’m a genius,” he thought, not for the first time. He stripped off all his clothing except for his boxers, and stood in front of the grimy, full-length mirror that was propped in a corner of the tiny motel room. Flexing his biceps, he turned from right to left, as if posing for a photo shoot. He went to the gym regularly, and ran three miles per day, to keep his fit, muscular body. Even at 62, the young men he met online were in awe of his perfect physical form. His white hair gave away the fact that he was a lot older than them, but his face had few wrinkles, and he had a perfect set of teeth. How surprised the sheep were when those perfect teeth, displayed in a winning smile, revealed themselves to be the deadly teeth of wolf, he thought, grinning mischievously into the mirror. He even winked. A wolf that would bite, and draw blood. “You can’t run, Little Red Riding Hood!” he’d called out to one of them once, when the young man had leapt up from the bed in the cabin in terror, screaming like a little girl. “Get back here, you f****t!” he’d said, kicking the man in the back, where he’d fallen onto the floor in a sobbing heap. “Are you a man, or are you a sheep?” he’d asked, his tone taunting, as he’d dragged the young man back into the bedroom after tying his wrists together. What was that one’s name? Thomas. That was it. The mirror was warped in the middle and spotted with rust stains, causing Mike’s body to appear freakish and out of proportion in places. He flexed his muscles again, admiring the tattoos on his biceps. The tattoo on his right bicep was of a crown, and “King” was written under it in bold letters. The tattoo on his left bicep was a snarling wolf’s head. Even when he showed the sheep these tattoos, waiting for a look of dawning horror, they never suspected what lay in store for them. Stupid, mindless sheep. Trusting, naïve sheep. Blinded by desire, they walked right into his trap, every time. Well, he’d showed them.
------------- Mike snapped out of his reverie as he heard the dog bark from behind whatever bedroom door the girl had locked him in. Jessica was squirming under his grip, which had loosened ever so slightly. He pulled her closer to him, his left arm pressing against her throat painfully while his right arm held the knife firmly in place. She gave a strangled cry. He decided to ignore her this time. She wouldn’t dare move with his knife so close to slashing her throat. But where was the other one? “Hey!” he called out, towards the hallway. “Where are you? I have your friend’s life in my hands, might I remind you,” he said, his tone mocking. Jana appeared, breathless, from somewhere past the bedroom doors. Her eyes were wild and her face flushed. “What the hell were you doing?” “Nothing…I…thought I heard something…outside…” she stammered, her eyes flicking from Jessica back to him. Mike’s face darkened. He dragged Jessica with him towards the kitchen door to get a good look outside. There was nothing there. The windows were open, and he hadn’t heard a thing. He turned back to the kitchen. “Open the cellar door,” he said, and Jana stooped to pick up the key where it lay on the floor from earlier. She put it in the lock and turned. The lock jammed. She turned it right to left, forcing as hard as she could without breaking the key, turning the knob at the same time. Nothing. “Well? Come on!” he yelled, and she took a deep breath, nodded, and tried again, willing the door to open. It finally did, swinging wide open so suddenly she almost fell down the steps. “Now give the key to your friend here, and get in there.” “What?” Jana said, her voice verging on hysteria. “No, you said you had some things to…” “Yes, yes, I do have things in there I need. But first you need to get in there, so I can tie your friend up. Can’t be getting my stuff with you two loose, now can I?” Jana looked at Jessica, who nodded as best she could under Mike’s firm hold. She looked down into the cellar, that was pitch dark at the bottom. The end of the steep staircase was not even visible. “Go all the way down,” Mike said, and Jana complied, making her way carefully down the too-high stairs. The staircase was not even attached to the wall, and shook as she descended it. He shut the door when she’d reached the bottom. “Lock it,” he told Jessica, and she did as he asked, her hand shaking badly. He took the key from her and had her sit on the floor while he dug under the kitchen sink. After almost a minute he fished out a handful of tie wraps and a roll of duct tape. Jessica’s stomach dropped to the floor, and she swallowed hard, her throat still sore from Mike’s grip on it. “Please,”
she said softly, “We won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just take what
you need and go.” He
tied her hands behind her back, and told her to sit in a far corner
of the kitchen, and not move. Finally, it opened. “Come up,” he yelled down the stairs, and Jana started to climb them. “Wait. There’s a radio down there. On a shelf. Get it and bring it up.” “I can’t see anything down here,” she called up. Walking back over to the sink, he opened a few drawers under the counter and found a flashlight. He flicked it on and off a few times, to make sure it worked. “Heads up,” he yelled, and tossed the flashlight down the stairs. It hit the floor with a bang, Jana letting out a shriek at the same time. He shook his head, sighing. The cellar was now illuminated in a dull, yellowish glow, the light of the flashlight disappearing and reappearing again as Jana flashed it around the low-ceilinged room, looking for the radio. “Got it,” she called out, and started up the stairs. Jessica saw the relieved expression on her friend’s face as she exited the cellar, although neither of them knew what to expect next from Mike. Jana’s relief turned to anxiety again as she saw Jessica’s hands bound behind her back, and felt a sick, hopeless feeling overcome her as Mike did the same to her. He then had them each sit on a kitchen chair, their backs to each other, using rope to tie them together at the waist. The radio blared to life, startling the girls, as Mike plugged it in. A local station, playing hit oldies. He moved the old radio’s dial, scanning for different channels, but the first one seemed to come in the clearest. “CJFQ, your favourite Alder, Vermont station, playing the best contemporary music and hit oldies,” an enthusiastic DJ announced as the song ended. A commercial for used cars began to play. Mike disappeared down the cellar steps. “Are you okay, Jess?” Jana whispered, her heart pounding so loudly she strained to hear her friend’s reply. “I guess so. Yes,” Jessica said, every word forced from a painful throat. “What was down there? Did you see?” “Not really,” Jana whispered. “There was a wooden countertop, sort of, really dusty. A box underneath. I just kind of grabbed the radio and came up.” They were silent for a few moments, as the radio continued to spout real estate and restaurant announcements. “This
is your hourly CJFQ news report,” a woman said in a monotone voice.
“Vancouver police are investigating the disappearance of as many as
a dozen young men from the gay village, as well as two men from
Richter, Vermont, who were known to frequent gay dating sites. Police
say they believe the disappearances are linked. One of the victims
from Richter, Alex Cole, has a tattoo of a rose with a snake wrapped
around it, the family says. Photos of the missing men can be viewed
on the Vancouver police website at…” “It’s him,” Jana whispered. “It’s got to be him…the picture I found…that’s got to be Alex Cole’s tattoo. Mike’s a serial killer. What are we going to do?” she said, her voice louder now, verging on hysteria. She moved against the restraints that held them to the chairs, reaching her fingers out behind her as far as they could go, trying to find where the rope was knotted. “I don’t know, Jana,” Jessica said, her voice flat. “I don’t know.”
The girls stiffened as they heard Mike coming up the steps. Clomp, clomp, clomp. He was out of breath and carrying a box, presumably the one Jana had seen downstairs. It looked heavy and was sealed with wide, transparent tape. He kicked the cellar door all the way open, where it hit the wall behind it hard. Jake barked from his confinement in the bedroom, a high-pitched, pleading sound, that turned into a long whine. “It’s okay, Jake,” Jessica called out. “Don’t worry, boy.” Mike laughed and let the box fall to the floor with a heavy thud. “Reassuring the dog. How good of you. I suppose you think you’re the perfect little princess, don’t you? Aunt Marley’s little niece, so prim and proper. She told me about you.” He picked at the tape on the box. Jessica didn’t reply, but Jana let out a “Hmph!” “What is that supposed to mean, ‘Hmph!’ Is that attitude I hear? You’re giving me attitude now?” He grinned at Jessica, staring at her with gleeful menace, thinking it was her who’d make the sound. She stared back him, unblinking. “I know her family didn’t approve of me,” he continued. “Bunch of self-righteous pricks.” “Excuse me,” Jana said, with a boldness that surprised and alarmed Jessica. “You used Aunt Marley, for her money. She told us how you were supposed to do landscaping work around here, and you never did. And she paid you.” “Jana, be quiet!” Jessica whispered loudly. Mike just chuckled, picking up his hunting knife from where he’d put it on the counter earlier. He held it up and moved it back and forth between his forefinger and thumb, as though admiring how the blade glinted in the light. He’d turned the radio down, but the hourly news was on again. The knife clattered onto the counter as he dropped it and turned the volume up. The newscaster repeated the same information as earlier, adding that one of the missing men had been in contact with an older man he’d met on a gay dating site before he’d disappeared. The older man’s name was Peter Davidson, but they thought that was an alias. Peter Davidson was a landscaper, from Vancouver, the missing man had told friends before he’d been last seen alive. Mike sighed and lifted the box onto the counter, where it teetered on an edge. Picking up the knife again, he sliced through the tape on the box, the top flaps snapping upwards. He’d been holding the box onto the counter with one hand, but when he let go it came crashing to the floor. At least twenty leathery, square objects flew out onto the floor, one of them skittering across the tiles to hit Jessica’s foot. She looked down to see an open wallet at her feet. A young, dark-haired man looked up at her from his driver’s licence’s photo. Her skin crawled as if something dead had brushed up against her, but she swallowed hard and used her heel to push it under the chair. Mike was busy scooping up the other wallets, which were various shades of brown and black, and hadn’t noticed the one that had landed near her. Jessica thought she should save as much evidence as she could, before he got rid of it. She wasn’t sure what his plans were for her and Jana, and tried to push that thought far into the back of her mind, into a room she refused to really look into. If she and Jana didn’t make it - and let’s face it, she thought, the chances are not high that we will - at least there might be some evidence left in the cabin to link Mike to the disappearances of those men. “So Mike, were you keeping the wallets for your sick, twisted little fantasies?” Jana asked. “Just like the photo of that tattoo I found in my room?” Jessica froze. Mike stopped what he was doing for a few seconds, not looking at the girls, but staring into the box, which was now full again with the wallets. He stood up silently, not meeting their eyes, and put the box on a chair nearby, taping it shut again. Jessica
could hear her heart pounding furiously in her chest, so loud it felt
like it was going to burst. She felt the last bit of hope she’d had
about surviving this ordeal drain out of her. Mike turned around to face her, a hint of a smile on his lips. But Jessica detected something else in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen until now: uncertainty. Shame, maybe? “And let’s not forget the motivational quotes you papered the living room with,” Jana continued. “Now that was weird, right Jessica?” Horrified, Jessica remained silent, thinking the end was certainly near. Or at least a slow and painful death. More likely the latter, knowing the monster Mike was. “What
were you trying to do, motivate yourself into believing you’re
number one? Ooh, the number one scary killer, luring naïve young men
to a secluded cabin, where they couldn’t even defend themselves.
That takes courage, man. Yup. A lot of courage. You’re one hell of
a guy. I bet you look in the mirror and admire yourself…” To Jessica’s amazement, Jana then jumped up from the chair and slammed the cellar door shut, the rope that had bound them together falling on the floor. She pushed her chair up against it and looked for the key. “Where the hell did he put it?” she shrieked, looking in the counter and in the drawers. “Jana how did you…” “I had a small knife, in my back pocket. I got it from the laundry room after I put Jake in the bedroom. I cut through the rope while he was listening to the radio and opening the box. I taunted him before to buy me time, as I finished cutting through the tie wrap. The rope wasn’t really that hard get free of.” “He could come back out. Cut me free, hurry!” Jana ran over to her friend and cut her loose. They heard Mike groaning downstairs, and hunted for the key again, emptying drawers onto the floor. Finally, Jessica found it, in the cutlery drawer. She put it in the lock, but as usual, it would not turn. The women took turns trying, but time was running out. Mike was starting to come back up the stairs. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll get Jake. Run for the car and wait for me!” Jessica grabbed her keys from a hook on the wall and tossed them to Jana, who ran for the door. It was time to get Jake out of that room and get away from Mike.
Mike stopped on the third step up, grabbing for the wall to steady him. He dug in his pocket for his lighter and flicked it on in the darkness. The room was spinning around him, and he closed his eyes to make it stop. Swallowing, he resisted the urge to vomit as nausea rose in his stomach. He’d hit his head on the cement floor of the cellar. He’d hit it hard. Probably have a concussion, he thought. F****n’ girls. He leaned against the wall, the staircase teetering under his weight, which made the nausea worse. Finally he sat down, both hands on his head. Why hadn’t he killed them earlier? But no…he had to get them to the woods, to his special place, to get rid of the bodies. If he killed them here, with the knife, it would be messy. Messy would leave evidence. But if he strangled them here…at least there would be no blood. Then he could drag them into the woods later. They won’t get far, he thought, not with slashed tires. There were no neighbours around for miles. He’d find them. After all, his jeep was in the woods, not too far away. He had to get up the stairs. Get those damn girls under control. It would be easy. Terror made people into snivelling, paralyzed little prey. He closed his eyes, and heard his mother speaking. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, her voice became clearer. Louder. “Wash your hands again, they’re filthy,” she shouted, standing beside him at the bathroom sink. Tears rolled down his face, but he was silent. She hated the sound of anyone crying, even more than she hated anything unclean or untidy. He must have been about seven years old at that time. Hands shaking, he put them under the running water. “Soap!” she screamed, and he took the soap and rubbed his hands vigorously. His mother watched him scrub his hands for what seemed like an eternity, until she was satisfied. “Dry your hands and get in your room, and stay there until I call you for supper.” He did as he was told. He lay in bed in his room, feeling like the worst, most shameful kid who’d ever walked the planet. He’d pulled the drapes shut to make the room as dark as possible, and stared up at the plastic, glowing shapes of stars his father had put on his ceiling. His father, who’d left to go work up north when Mike was two and hadn’t been heard of since. Looking at the stars always calmed him, and made him imagine what adventures his father could be up to at this moment. Fighting off polar bears, maybe, or building igloos with the Inuit. One day he’d come for Mike, and bring him up north to come live with him. It would be a whole new world, of snow and ice, and the Northern Lights streaking across the sky with their myriad of colours. It would be like living on another planet. A better, magical one. No wonder he left, Mike thought, even at his young age. Who would want to live with his mother for long? His mother was punishing him, for what she’d caught him doing with David, a ten-year-old kid who lived across the train tracks, down near the river. David had invited Mike and another kid from school to his house two weekends ago, for a sleepover. The other kid, Nathan, had to go home early. It seemed his parents weren’t keen on him sleeping over. Mike’s mother had seemed to welcome the break, however. She just told him to come home sometime the next afternoon. David’s parents were down to earth and fun, serving them a home-cooked stew for supper. Their house was messy, with chickens wandering in and out of the kitchen door and across the floor, yet Mike felt more relaxed than he did even at home, where he was berated for not putting a towel back on the rack correctly after he washed his hands. He would never tell his mother how dirty this house was compared to theirs. She’d never let him come back. Around 8 o’clock that evening, David showed Mike his room, that had bunk beds. David’s older brother John usually slept in the upper bunk, but he was at a friend’s tonight. “Which one do you want? Top bunk or bottom?” Mike smiled, pleased to have the choice. “Top,” he said, climbing the ladder to check out the top bed. He would imagine it was a spaceship, flying through space tonight. “Cool,” said David. Later that night, when his parents were in bed and the house was still, David climbed into the bed with him. “Oh,” Mike giggled, and they pulled the covers over their heads. David then kissed him on the mouth, and touched him between his legs. “What are you doing?” Mike asked, pushing him away. “Don’t worry, my brother does this with me all the time. It’s what adults do.” “Okay.” It was like their little secret, and although he was puzzled by the touching and kissing, he went along with it. After all, he didn’t want to lose a new friend. It was hard enough for him to make friends. The following Friday, Mike asked his mother if David could sleep over, and she agreed. Around 10 o’clock that night she burst into his room, after having listened to their giggling and kissing sounds outside. She turned on the overhead light, and Mike blinked in the brightness. “What are you two doing?” she demanded. “David, you are supposed to be sleeping in the spare room.” “Nothing,” Mike said, and David giggled, hiding under the covers. She stormed over to the bed and ripped the covers off the boys, finding them wearing no underwear. “Okay, that’s it. Get into the spare room, David.” The boy did as he was told, head lowered, his smile having turned into a sulk. “You’re sleeping in with me tonight,” she told Mike. “Get your underwear and pyjamas back on. And you’re never to see that boy again. Dirty, filthy boys. Why do boys have to be so dirty-minded? Can you tell me? Huh? Why couldn’t I have had a daughter instead?” Mike stared at her, heart pounding. A hot flush crept up his body into his face, which turned a deep red in shame. He was horrified, and wished he could crawl into a hole and die. Instead he felt exposed, like a rabbit that had nowhere to hide before it was shot by a hunter. What had they done that was so bad? He and his mother never spoke of the incident again, and a few years later, David’s brother was arrested for molesting boys in the town. David himself, however, never pressed charges against his brother, and the family left town not long afterwards.
Mike’s eyes flew open, and he peered into the gloom. Where was he? The only light visible was high above him, a strip of light seeping out from either side of the door. The cellar door. He had to get upstairs. Pulling himself upright, he shook his head to clear the fog that muddled his thoughts, and held onto the wall with one hand as he climbed the stairs. The door opened easily. They hadn’t been able to lock it. Score one for Mike. He smiled, and entered the kitchen. The empty kitchen. “Where are you hiding?” he called out, although by now they were probably running down the road, screaming for help. That’s when he heard a bark, muffled but nearby. He stood still, listening. One of the girls was still in here, he thought, hiding somewhere with the dog. A whisper: “Shh…shh, boy,” from the hallway. He had an idea.
Jessica heard Mike running down the cellar steps. He must have forgotten something. Forgotten to retrieve more evidence of his crimes, she thought. Good. He hadn’t heard her or Jake. “Come on,” she urged the dog, and bolted for the front door. “Not so fast,” a deep voice said behind her, and Mike threw the knife at her. Pain seared in her right leg as the knife went in deep. It stopped her in her tracks, and she cried out in pain, Jake stopping as well. The dog looked at Mike in surprise, then bared his teeth at him in a snarl. Mike only laughed, and pulled out another hunting knife. Limping to the door, she managed to yank it open and yelled at Jake to get out. But the dog wouldn’t move from his staredown with Mike. “Go on, boy!” she yelled, then managed to cross the threshold onto the balcony, pain ripping through her leg and making her breathless. Jake finally ran out. “Run!” she called after him as he darted out onto the lawn, where he turned and looked at her questioningly. Mike was behind her now. She could feel his breath on her neck. He pulled the knife out of her leg swiftly, and she screamed as the pain intensified. On her knees now, doubled over in searing pain, she thought of Jana. The car. She lifted her head, blinking furiously to see through the tears that clouded her vision. The car seemed lower to the ground than usual. No one was in it. He’d slashed the tires. Well, that’s not surprising, she thought. “Where’s your friend?” Mike asked, and she looked behind her. He stood tall above her, gazing down with a condescending smile. He must have been at least six feet tall, and was a broad-shouldered, muscular man. She’d never be able to take him on, especially now that he’d injured her leg. Clever. So she couldn’t run. “I have no idea,” she said. “She was going to get in the car, but I guess you took care of that.” Her words came out in short gasps, and she noticed a pool of blood forming on the porch under her leg. He snorted with laughter, then told her to get back into the kitchen. Whipping out gauze and some transparent tape, he made her take off her jeans while he bandaged her wound. After he was finished he got her a new pair of jeans from her room, then tied her hands behind her back again. Jessica was puzzled, and remained silent throughout the process. Why was he bandaging her wound? He must not want to kill us, she thought. Then he went outside to clean up the blood on the porch. Evidence. He didn’t want to leave evidence. She groaned as terror and despair overcame her, and wondered where Jana was. Hopefully she was running to the nearest house for help. Who knew where that was, though. Miles away. Never again would she go to a place that had no cell phone service. Mike came back in, and bundled up the towel he’d been using outside with her bloodied jeans. He wiped his knife on the jeans before putting all three items into a backpack, which he slung over his shoulder. He grinned at her and winked. “Forgot something,” he said, disappearing down the cellar stairs. He came back up with the shotgun. Jessica’s eyes widened. So, it had been down there all along, where he must have snuck in and hidden it the other night. “Okay, come on. We’re going for a walk.” Outside, they spotted Jake digging near one of the hedges. The dog started pulling something out of the ground with his teeth, then dropped it once it was out. Mike had her lead the way to the hedge, walking behind her closely with the shotgun. “Jake,” she said in a strangled voice, “run, boy.” Jake picked up the object and trotted over to her, dropping it at her feet. It was a severed arm. She screamed and jerked back from it, her stomach twisting in revulsion. She fell backward, crashing into Mike, who stood behind her. The shotgun went off, Mike aiming it at Jake, but she’d thrown him off balance. The dog yelped and ran into the woods. “Goddammit!” Mike screamed. He stood still for a few moments, thinking, then cut the tie wrap binding her wrists with his hunting knife. “Pick
that thing up,” he said, waving his knife towards the severed arm,
“and bury it back in the hedge.” “You have the choice: bury it, or be dead. I’m the one with the gun here. Even without it, you know I could kill you.” “Okay, okay,” she whispered, and picked up the arm by the remains of a shirt that still partially covered it. She continued trying to avoid looking at it, holding her breath all the way back to the hedge.
Jana was lost. After Jessica had given her the keys to start the car, she’d run down the porch stairs and stopped short. She stared at the car, dumbfounded, after she’d realized the tires had been slashed. Then she’d heard the commotion in the kitchen as Mike had come back up the cellar stairs and found Jessica inside. After hiding behind some hedges to try to get a glimpse of what was happening inside, her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest when she heard Mike and Jessica approaching. She’d seen him leading her onto the balcony with the shotgun, and terrified he’d discover her, had run blindly into the woods. There were a group of cabins in the woods used by local hunters, she remembered Jessica saying, and thought if she found them, she might find a weapon inside. Maybe that was where Mike was hiding his vehicle. And where they’d heard the sound of the chainsaw coming from the other day. Now she collapsed under a tree, exhausted after scouring the area for any signs of a path or cabin, or any red ribbons on the trees used to mark a path. Nothing. Everything looked the same as when she’d first entered the forest, except she couldn’t find a way out. Why am I so stupid, she thought. Then she heard Jake bark. She’d heard the shotgun blast earlier, and could only pray that Jessica was okay. Or that, by some miracle, Jessica had shot Mike, and either injured or killed him. It seemed Jake was okay, though, wherever he was. But she wasn’t about to take the risk of calling out for him. She got up and brushed off the back of her jeans, then listened again. Another bark, closer. If I start walking, Jake might hear me, she thought. The dog might be better at being able to find a way out, or a way to the cabins, at least. But where was Mike taking Jessica? She had to find them. She had to try to do everything she could to save her friend. The woods became darker, clouds moving quickly overhead. A low rumble of thunder disturbed the unnatural quiet of the forest, and she shook her head. Great, she thought, another thunderstorm. That’s all I need. Someone, or something, was coming towards her, moving quickly through the brush underfoot. Jana hid behind the nearest tree, praying it wasn’t Mike. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Please, please, she prayed. Then someone barrelled into her. A warm, furry body. Jake. She opened her eyes and sobbed with relief, hugging the dog close as he licked her hands and face. “You silly dog,” she thought. “Thank God, you’re okay. But we need to find Jessica.” The dog whined, and looked back towards where he’d come from, then at Jana again. “Is that where they are?” she asked him, and he whined again. Suddenly his ears stood up and he froze, listening. Someone was close by. “Keep moving,” she heard Mike say gruffly, then saw him and Jessica come into view on her right. She could only hope he wouldn’t see her or the dog. Jake was quiet, behind her. He had the sense not to dash out towards Jessica, at least. For now, anyway. “Where are we going?” Jessica asked, her voice desperate. “I told you, no more questions,” Mike replied. “I will find that friend of yours. I know you’re hiding somewhere around here,” he yelled out. “You dropped an earring earlier. I found it near the hedges.” Jana felt her right and left earlobes, and sure enough, the right earring was missing. She was trying not to breathe in case he heard her, but didn’t know how much longer she could stand it since her chest was feeling tighter and tighter. Jessica was doubled over, her hands on her upper thighs, trying to catch her breath from the brisk walking they’d been doing. Pain and terror had drained all the energy from her body, and she kept walking by sheer will alone. “Keep moving,” Mike said, and Jessica started forward, but tripped on a tree root. “What the hell is wrong with you!” he roared, and pointed the shotgun at her head. Jake leapt out from their hiding place, heading right for Mike. As he jumped up, snarling, a shotgun blast rang out. With a high-pitched cry, the dog fell heavily to the ground, blood seeping from his chest into the ground. “Oh, no,” Jessica sobbed, crawling over to him. “Poor baby, my poor baby.” Jana got up to run, but Mike spotted her. “You come back here or I shoot her!” he warned, and she believed him. She walked over, kneeling on the ground beside Jessica. “He’s not moving. He’s dead,” Jessica sobbed, and Jana put her arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Enough of that, it had to be done. That dog was about to attack me. Get up, both of you. It’s time to take you to my special place.” The girls exchanged a terrified look, then got up and kept walking to wherever it was he was taking them.
The light above the dinner table was too bright. It was so bright he felt it illuminated every corner, every inch of the kitchen, so that he couldn’t hide from their eyes. They were both staring at him - well, glaring was more like it. He felt like he was under a microscope. Like he was so small, so tiny that they could crush him under their feet at any time if he didn’t watch himself. Mike was nine years old, and he didn’t want to eat his mashed potatoes. Mommy always made them too lumpy, and they were quite disgusting. She was usually satisfied with him eating only a few forkfuls, but not tonight. Tonight her boyfriend Stanley was here, and Mommy seemed to want to show him what a good disciplinarian she was. “You’re going to eat those, you little b*****d,” she said, her words cutting into him like a knife. “This is the last f*****g time I’m going to put up with this. Why can’t you just eat what I give you? You’re lucky to get three meals a day, you know. Home-cooked meals, that I slave over the stove making for you!” Her last few words were shouted, and Mike couldn’t help it. The tears fell down his face, into his place, making the potatoes even more of a soppy mess than they already were. “Stop snivelling, you little runt,” she said, and slapped him on the side of his head. “Ow!” he said, rubbing the spot. She slapped his hand away. “What did I tell you? Eat them!” He shook his head. “You heard your mother!” Stanley yelled, pacing back and forth in front of the table, arms crossed. Mike lifted his head, stared pointedly at Stanley, and shook his head. Stanley came up behind him and shoved his head into the plate. Mashed potatoes filled Mike’s nostrils and mouth, but he couldn’t lift his head because Stanley kept holding it there. He couldn’t breathe. Finally Stanley released his hold, and the boy lifted his head up slowly, not wanting to provoke them further. He used his finger to dig the potatoes out of his nose and off his face. “Eat them,” his mother continued, and Mike’s eyes widened. He’d thought the ordeal was over. They wouldn’t let him leave the table until every last bite was eaten, even though the potatoes were mixed with his snot and tears. He gagged a few times, but managed to keep the food down somehow. The ordeal would have been much, much worse had he vomited, he knew. Stanley moved in the following weekend, planning to marry his mother over the summer. Mike stayed as quiet as possible and out of their way, since they seemed to see his presence as an annoyance to their newfound ‘love’. He became Stanley’s punching bag, literally, but the man would only punch him in places where the bruises wouldn’t show, like in the stomach. Mike knew no one would believe him or care, anyway, if he told anyone about the abuse, because Stanley was a well-respected businessman in town who owned land and had invested in several major companies. These companies provided jobs in a town where work was hard to come by. They were married in July, and over the next year the abuse became worse, his mother turning a blind eye to the cruelty his stepfather was inflicting on him. When he’d done something particularly bad, like spilling paint all over the floor by accident one day, his stepfather would bring him into the shed for a “session”. The session consisted of Mike standing against the counter of the shed, shirt off, while Stanley whipped him with his belt. The physical pain was not as bad as the shame and powerlessness Mike felt afterwards. One day, the boy thought, I’m gonna run away. I’m gonna go live with my dad, up north. Dad won’t believe what I’ve been though. He’d probably kill Stanley, and Mommy, if he knew.
The rain was falling steadily now, a cold rain, and the girls trudged on, Mike following behind with the shotgun. Every now and then a streak of lightning brightened the sky, and a low rumble of thunder followed soon after. “We have to step it up, girls,” Mike called from behind them. “It looks like quite the storm is coming.” Jessica looked up at the darkening sky, blinking against the rain. “Jess,” Jana breathed, stopping to touch a darkening spot on Jessica’s right leg. She’d been noticing Jessica struggling to walk, but hadn’t asked her about it yet. “Yeah, he bandaged it up, but I guess the blood is going through.” Jana looked questioningly at her friend. “He threw a knife in me,” Jessica said, stopping to turn around and glare at Mike. Mike stopped. “Are we really going to do this now?” he asked. “Well, how do you expect me to walk, for like, miles?” Jessica asked. “I don’t think you thought this one out well, Mike.” “Be grateful you’re still alive. Keep walking,” he said, pushing the front of the shotgun into her back. Jessica rolled her eyes and started walking again. They were all thoroughly drenched when a dark outline of buildings appeared ahead. “We’re
here!” Mike said. “Straight ahead. Up the stairs.” “Some kind of weird hunters’ retreat?” Jana asked, and Mike just grunted. “Yeah. Something like that.” They entered the cabin, and looked at the spectacle around them. Furs lined the walls, having been hung up to dry, and a stuffed bear and moose head were mounted on the walls. Jessica entered the next room and shrieked when she saw a bobcat snarling at her, back arched, until she realized it was stuffed. “Why are we here?” Jana asked, imagining her and Jessica’s heads mounted on the walls. She shuddered. He didn’t reply, but led them to a small room in the back, where a large bathtub on lion foot paws stood in the corner. Plastic bottles of unidentified liquid lined shelves that were built into the walls. “Kneel down, your backs to me,” he said. “Oh, no…” Jessica moaned, realizing he was about to shoot them execution-style. “Do it,” he said, pointing the shotgun at her head. “You don’t have to do this, Mike,” Jana said calmly. “I can tell you don’t really want to kill us. Talk to us. Tell us what is going on with you. We’re interested. We’ll understand. I’m studying psychology, you know. This stuff is like a drug to me. Talk to me, Mike…” He shook his head vigorously, a strange, intense emotion overtaking him, as though she’d stuck a dagger into his heart. “Shut up,” he said, but he couldn’t look at her. She’d unbalanced him somehow, and he couldn’t think straight. “Mike, just tell us what’s going on…”
“We’re going to be bringing a foster kid here,” Mike’s mother said as he ate his grilled cheese sandwich on a Saturday afternoon. He would eat anything she gave him now, no questions asked, and his mother liked that. She felt she’d accomplished something, and that her boyfriend was impressed that she’d gotten her wayward son into line. Mike knew that complying was the best way to survive in this household. He carefully chewed and swallowed a mouthful of grilled cheese and looked at her. “What is a foster kid?” he asked. “A kid whose parents don’t want him?” “Yes, in some cases. Or one the government has taken away from the parents. His name is Aaron, and he’s ten. He’s a little behind in school, but you’re going to help him with his homework. It’ll be fun, won’t it? You’ll finally have a brother.” Mike wasn’t so sure. He’d have to meet the kid first. But it was an intriguing idea. A new adventure. “Will he stay here forever?” His mother laughed, an ugly, sardonic sound. “Only until he finds a family that wants to keep him permanently,” she said. “We’re just an in-between stage. We can’t be taking any more kids on full-time. You’re a handful as it is.” Mike pouted, thinking he’d been really behaving lately. Why did she have to be so mean? He was quiet and bothered her and Stanley as less as possible. The next day Aaron arrived, a thin, sandy-haired kid with a dour expression on his face. Mike, who was twelve, went up to shake his hand and welcome him to the family home, but the kid ignored his outstretched hand and looked like he was ready to endure whatever hardship was next in his ill-fated life. Mike dropped his arm, insulted, and walked back towards the house. On second thought, he felt a tinge of guilt for the bad life the kid was probably leaving behind, and walked back to the car to help Stanley carry the boy’s luggage inside.
Over the summer, Mike and Aaron became fast friends, Mike teaching the boy how to fish and chop firewood to pile behind the shed for the winter. They had moved to a new house, a bigger property in the country with a stretch of woods out back. It was a big adventure for the boys, and Aaron was excited to help them settle in at the new place. Mike didn’t push Aaron for details on his life before he came to stay with them, but he noticed small, dark circles on the boy’s arm and back, that he heard his mother whisper to Stanley were cigarette burns. Aaron’s face went from stony and suspicious to happy and hopeful as the summer went on. Stanley was away working for most of the summer, checking out prospective land to purchase in a few neighbouring towns, and Mike welcomed the break. Although his mother was difficult, she left the boys alone. Mike wished Stanley would never return, although he knew his mother couldn’t afford this place on her own. Later that summer they helped his mother plant a garden with root vegetables: potatoes, carrots, turnips, onions. They even planted pumpkin, among other squash. “We’ll have enough next year to sustain us through the winter,” his mother said, “and we can sell the vegetables, too. At Halloween we’ll have pumpkins to sell to stores and at our own farmer’s market.” The boys had plenty to keep them busy. A year later, Aaron was still with the family, to Mike’s delight. They had their work cut out for them, digging up the vegetables, helping Mike’s mother at farmers’ markets, and storing some in the cellar they’d discovered under the house. The cellar was a dank, dark place with barely enough room to even crouch inside. Mike’s mother hated the place, and got the boys to go down there when needed. It had a dirt floor, and was a cramped, claustrophobic space. They entered through a trap door in the floor of a small space near the staircase that led up to the boys’ rooms. Only one boy could go in at a time, it was so small, and every time he opened the trap door, Mike felt something change in the air around them, as though a chill had crept out of the cellar and into his bones, gripping them. He tried to get in and out of the cellar as quickly as possible. Stanley had been away a lot recently, but now he was back. He was gloating in the fact he’d purchased a few more businesses and property that was going to be developed into a motels and condominiums, even though the townspeople were in an uproar about more wooded area being destroyed as a result. “We’re set for life,” he told Mike’s mother as they ate their dinner one night, and Mike playfully punched Aaron on the shoulder. They exchanged a smile, and Stanley’s expression soured. “What’s this, are you a couple of f**s?” he said, staring hard at Mike, a mocking smile playing on his lips, malice in his beady eyes. Mike was horrified, and felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Tears started falling down his face, to his shame, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand. Aaron looked terrified, staring at the table, frozen to his chair. “Touching each other on the shoulder, like two lovers.” He laughed loudly, and Mike’s mother gave her son a sympathetic look, with a hint of guilt. For once she took her son’s side. “Stanley, really,” she said softly. “They’re just boys.” “Just boys, just boys,” he repeated, in a mocking tone. “Boys will be boys, won’t they. Well, I won’t have any of that in my home.” He slammed his fist onto the table, making it jump slightly. The plates clattered together noisily. The boys jumped in their seats. That’s when Mike knew. His mother had told him about what had happened with David, when he was seven. Why had she done that? His face turned beet red and he glared at her, anger rising in him. Most of all he wanted to punch Stanley in the face. But the man was much bigger than his lean, thirteen-year-old frame. After that evening, Mike became distant, and Aaron wondered what he’d done wrong. His shoulders became slumped and his expression gloomy as he realized Mike no longer seemed to want to be his friend. The only thing Mike wanted, in fact, was someone to boss around. “You’re not fast enough,” Mike yelled at him, as he carried potatoes into the cellar for storage that fall. “You should be carrying more at a time. We have a lot of work to do.” Mike had been helping Stanley more and more around the property, tending to the pigs and chickens they’d bought. But however much Mike tried to please Stanley, it just never seemed enough. “I told you, you’re gonna have to learn to slaughter a pig eventually. You may as well do it now,” Stanley was telling Mike in the yard in front of the barn. Aaron hid behind the shed so they wouldn’t see him. He never seemed welcome in their conversations. They viewed him as another mouth to feed, one who had to earn his keep, and who was not remarkable in any way. Mike’s face contorted in a grimace, keeping his face away from his stepfather so he wouldn’t see how distasteful the thought of killing a pig was. But it was too late. “Oh, I suppose it’s too much to ask of you, is it?” Stanley said in that mocking, menacing tone Mike had come to know well. “So I have to do everything around here? You’re lazy, and stupid. Aaron!” he yelled, and startled, the boy walked hesitatingly into the yard. “You’re gonna help me slaughter one of the pigs. We need to do it today. Right now, as a matter of fact.” Aaron’s heart raced as the sheer horror of the idea settled in his mind. “No,”
Mike said, “I’ll do it.” “I’ll do it.” The next two hours were some of the worst Aaron had ever known, as he tried to shut out the sound of the pig’s terrified wailing as it realized what was happening, and the image of the blood. The endless fountain of blood as it gushed from the pig onto Mike’s hands, the floor, everywhere. Mike wouldn’t look at either Aaron or his stepfather when it was over, walking silently into the house to wash up. The sight of his skin and clothes thoroughly drenched in blood was chilling. That evening, Stanley announced that Mike had to be punished for not slaughtering the animal properly. “But
Stan, it was his first time,” Mike’s mother said, clearing the
table of dishes. “He’ll do better next time. He - " “Shut up!” Stanley yelled, and punched her in the face. It was the first time Mike had seen his stepfather hit his mother, although he’d heard their fights through his flimsy bedroom walls. Fights which seemed more frequent these days. He often heard objects being thrown against the walls during these incidents, and stayed in his room until it was over. It usually ended with his mother crying and Stanley storming out of the house for a few hours. Mike’s mother rubbed her face, and stared at the floor. “It’s not hard to kill a pig,” Stanley said, “but your son messed it up somehow. Like he always does. The amount of blood I had to clean up in there. Unacceptable.” That night Mike was forced into the tiny crawl space that served as a cellar. Stanley padlocked the trap door after him, so there was no chance he could get out. It was pitch dark inside, and the blackness was almost palpable. Being locked inside was terrifying, and Mike wondered how he would be able to last the night. Would he even have enough air in here? He was surrounded by root vegetables, crammed into every available space, but the place seemed otherwise devoid of any life or hope at all. It felt like a dead place. He drifted off to sleep, mercifully, but awoke with a start. He had no idea what time it was. It could be night or day. It was impossible to tell with no source of light in the cellar. He felt around him in the dirt to try to pick up a potato, a carrot or anything that might feel real in this void. This is what it must feel like to be in the Twilight Zone, he thought. His stomach was clenched tight like a fist, his throat parched. He wondered what would happen if they were to leave him in here to die. Completely powerless to do anything. He was going to kill Stanley. With a knife, just like with the pig. But this time it would be swift. He’d sneak up from behind him and do it, before the man even knew what hit him. Blood would spurt everywhere, and Mike imagined the bloodbath there’d be, as Stanley fell to his knees, hands to his throat as the life drained out of him. His eyes would be pleading for Mike to do something, help him somehow, but Mike wouldn’t. And then his mother would come into the barn, and he’d do the same to her. The both deserved it. A muffled sound jolted him out of his reverie, like a breath inhaled, sharply. Coming from his left. That was impossible. There was no one here. Mike cleared his throat. “Hello?” he said. Nothing. A scream ripped from his throat as he heard knocking from above him, and the sound faded away into the dark void he was in, as if swallowed by the inky blackness. “Mike!” someone whispered loudly. More knocking. “It’s me, Aaron!” With a groan, Mike tried to steady his nerves and stood up as best he could to get closer to the trap door. “What do you want?” he said. “I’m gonna try to get the key to the lock,” Aaron said. “To get you out. Then we can run away, on the train that passes through town. I’ve already packed two backpacks with food and stuff.” Mike sighed. “It’s no use. We’ll never get far, two kids. They’ll find us.” “No,
we can do it!” Aaron said, a little too loudly this time. “I’m
sure we can make it somehow. We’ll head to California, we could
audition for commercials, movies…we could live on the beach. I knew
a kid from there, once. I can find out where he lives. He’ll help
us.” “We’d need money,” he said. “I’ve got some. I took it out of Stanley’s wallet earlier,” Aaron whispered, his face close to the trap door. “Oh…” Mike said, his heart pounding again in panic. He didn’t want to think of the punishment Aaron might get for doing that. “Aaron, go put it back, quick, before he finds out,” he hissed. There was a heavy thump from above. From his mother and Stanley’s bedroom. “S**t…Aaron, get lost. Run back to your room. He’s coming.” What followed what seemed an eternity of his stepfather yelling, running through the house, stomping up the stairs. He must have found out Aaron had taken the money, Mike thought, and pounded the dirt of the cellar floor with his fists in anger. He’d lose the only friend he had now. The house became quiet eventually, and Mike listened for any more sounds of what was happening, but he couldn’t hear anything else. He fell asleep, his face covered in tears and dirt.
The next day Mike’s mother opened the trap door and told him to come upstairs. He squinted in the late morning light that filtered through the windows as he made his way upstairs to the kitchen. It was after 11 a.m., he noticed as he looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. He was famished. His mother and Stanley were eating a late breakfast, his mother with an ugly, purple bruise forming under her right eye. He looked around. “Where’s Aaron?” “Aaron is no longer with us,” Stanley said, shovelling eggs into his mouth. “Sit down and eat your breakfast.” “But…” “I said sit down!” It turned out Aaron had been sent back to the orphanage after his mother and Stanley had packed up his things that morning. They’d called and told the headmistress that Aaron was a thief, among other things. Mike wept silently into his pillow that evening, not wanting his mother or Stanley to hear. As further punishment, he had to sleep in the cellar every night for the next week, for supposedly being in cahoots with Aaron to rob them blind and run away. Mike didn’t bother arguing since his stepfather would have simply yelled over him anyway, without listening. He had noticed that Stanley was always in a better mood after he’d drank a few beers, so on the second night Mike snuck down a bottle of gin he’d seen in a top kitchen cupboard once, hidden behind a variety of other bottles. He needed something to help him get through another night of claustrophobic dread in that dungeon of a cellar. Especially since something else seemed to be in there. Something that came out in the wee hours of the morning, that crept out of the very pores of the place, materializing out of the blackness as if it had been created by it. Maybe it had. He’d heard it whisper last night, but he couldn’t understand what it had said. “Go away,” he’d said, over and over, and it felt like it had left. -------------------------------------------------- By the fourth night, Mike was looking forward to his nightly retreat. He had found another bottle of gin, which kept him good company during his week in the utter darkness of that place. It was a place not only devoid of light, but of any feeling whatsoever, as if it were a black hole that was antithetical to any sort of life at all. His mother and Stanley thought he was tired from not having slept well in the cellar, and that he was being sulky when he complained of a headache and a sick stomach the next day. They didn’t realize he was hung over almost every day after that first night in the cellar. The gin made him sick at first; he’d never really drunk alcohol before. But he forced himself to drink it, wanting to escape this pathetic existence in any way possible. He’d seen Stanley and some of his buddies dancing around like fools, singing and jabbering nonsense after they’d gone through a couple of cases of beer, and concluded that alcohol must make people happy. He waited for the buzz to kick in, and when it did, he felt light and giddy, as if he was floating. All tension left his body and he actually found himself smiling, making bold plans for the future. He was going to take that train Aaron had talked about. He’d grab a knapsack, steal money from Stanley, grab some food and bottled water, and get the hell out of Dodge. He’d find work, somehow. Hell, if they hired illegals, they’d hire him somewhere. A deep sleep overtook him, and sometime in the middle of the night he woke up. Whispering. Someone was whispering. Urgently. Mike groaned and turned from his back onto his side, just wanting to get back to sleep. The movement made him nauseous. “I
want to sleep,” he yelled out to whatever was keeping him awake,
his words slurring from the effects of the gin. “Go
away.” Mike’s eyes flew open and he sat up, his skin prickling as all the hairs stood up on end. “Who are you?” The whispered continued, farther away now, and Mike strained to hear what it was saying. But he couldn’t make it out. It felt like something touched his arm, tentatively. Mike jerked it back instinctively. Although he was terrified, he was also curious. Could there really be someone - something - down here with him? Now he could make out words, although they seemed to be more in his head than spoken aloud. Telling him that the only way to beat Stanley was to become like him. Create a hard shell, that nothing could pierce. Stanley was respected in town; he was an alpha male. He was domineering, controlling, and sometimes violent only because he had to keep everything in order. It was a natural order, like in wolf packs. There is always an alpha male, and all the other wolves submit to him. “F**k Stanley,” he told the voice, and rolled over on his side again to go back to sleep. “You must listen! You must!” “No, go away.” But the words stayed with him the next day, through the hazy, dreamlike remnants of the alcohol-fueled haze of the evening before. He silently chopped wood with Stanley, pushing himself to the limit of his physical capabilities. When Stanley offered him a cigarette, he nodded his gratitude and accepted it. On Friday, Mike stumbled into the kitchen to get some breakfast and stopped short when he saw two boys at the table. One was around ten years old, the other closer to fourteen. The older boy had tattoos up and down the length of both arms, his blonde hair shaved close to the scalp. He was strikingly good-looking, and stared at Mike unblinkingly with light blue eyes, his look defiant. The other boy had dark hair, his bangs so long they grazed the top of his eyelids. He glanced at Mike once, and then away again. “This here’s Robbie,” Stanley patted the younger one on the shoulder, “and Benjamin.” “Just Ben,” the older boy said, his voice deep. He smiled broadly at Mike, who gave a forced smile in return. “They’re going to be staying with us for awhile. Lucy, get the boys some breakfast,” he called upstairs to Mike’s mother, who grumbled a reply. “Whatever,” Mike said, and opened the pantry door to look for some cereal. “Hey!” Stanley yelled, slapping the back of Mike’s head. Mike whipped around, rubbing his head, which now ached from all the gin he’d drunk the night before. “You better welcome them properly, boy,” Stanley said, a hint of a threat in his tone. Then he burst out into laughter, as if trying to put their guests at ease by pretending he’d been joking around with Mike. What an a*****e, Mike thought. He felt a sudden rush of nausea surge in his stomach. “Welcome,” he said, opening his arms as wide as he could. He then gripped his stomach. “Excuse me.” He ran to the bathroom to throw up. The boys were laughing with Stanley when he finally came out, looking green. “Here, have some toast,” Stanley said, pushing Mike into a chair and putting a plate in front of him. “And have some coffee. It’ll help with the headache.” He winked. How did Stanley know he’d found the gin? At this point, Mike didn’t care. He just wanted to feel better. He never wanted to see another gin bottle again, or smell it. Just the thought made him sick. Over the next few days, the boys were put in charge of daily tasks, like cleaning out the pig pen and chicken coops, collecting eggs, helping Stanley chop wood and pile it. One day Stanley told Mike he was going to be in charge from now on. “I want you to be their boss,” he told him. “You’re going to have to learn one day. I’m planning on teaching you how be a businessman, like me. You gotta learn how to be a leader. That’s the only way you’ll ever get ahead in this life. It’s like they say: a dog eat dog world out there, boy. You might as well learn that now.” Mike started punishing the boys when they weren’t fast enough by locking them in the cellar. Seeing their frightened, disbelieving faces as he forced them in gave him a sense of satisfaction, one he had never felt before. “A leader,” Stanley’s words rang in his head, along with the other one from the cellar: “Alpha male…natural order.” Everything was coming together, he could feel it. Finally, things were making sense. Stanley was joking with him, sharing more cigarettes behind the house with him, where his mother couldn’t see. He was now his stepfather’s favourite, and it was Ben and Robbie who were taking the brunt of Stanley’s violent outbursts. In one instance, Stanley had forced Ben to get on his knees in the dirt and beg forgiveness for having eaten the rest of Lucy’s apple pie, leaving none for their dessert. Then he’d forced him to eat dirt. It was a sorry sight, the boy utterly humiliated as he shovelled dirt into his mouth, tears of shame and rage pouring down his face. But it was necessary, Mike thought as he stood nearby, watching, arms crossed. A flicker of a smile crossed his face at the absurdity of Ben’s situation. How ludicrous and stupid the boy looked. Ben’s eyes widened in hurt and fear as he noticed the condescending mockery on Mike’s face. On a hot, July afternoon, Mike was repairing a fence when Ben motioned for him to come behind the shed. “What?” Mike said, out of breath. Sweat poured down his sides, soaking his T-shirt. He used a dry patch at the bottom of his shirt to dry his sweaty face, exposing his flat belly. Ben placed his hand on Mike’s and said, “Let me do that.” His hand grazed Mike’s bare stomach, and Mike felt an intense, unanticipated arousal. His face burned with embarrassment, surprise and other feelings he didn’t want to think about. “What are you doing?” he whispered, and grabbed Ben’s hand to push it away. Instead Ben only smiled and unbuttoned Mike’s pants. After they were finished, Mike felt guilt, fear and anger rising like a tidal wave in his mind, threatening to destroy him and everything he’d worked for. There were no homosexuals in this small town. Not that anyone ever admitted to. And if there were any, they would have been outcasts, shunned from the community. Ben had just buttoned his jeans when Mike grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the shed wall. “Don’t you ever tell anyone about this,” he growled. “It never happened. If you tell anyone, you’re dead. If Stanley ever found out…” Ben smiled, as if he was so used to aggression and threats, it didn’t faze him anymore. “Don’t worry, I know this uptight community, or ones like it.” “It’ll never happen again,” Mike said. Ben nodded. Although he knew Stanley would probably kill him if he ever found out what they were up to, Mike couldn’t stop engaging in more trysts with Ben. Behind the house, once in Mike’s bed when everyone else was outside picking apples, and even in the cellar sometimes. The temptation was too strong to control. After
almost two weeks of it, Stanley began to notice Mike was being more
lenient with Ben. “No, sir, no,” Mike said, and yelled at Ben to get to work cleaning up the barn.
A sharply inhaled breath brought Mike back to the present. Jessica had turned to face a window at the end of a short hallway, and was staring at something outside. Mike’s eyes flicked to the window and he immediately hunched down on the floor. “Get down!” he hissed, nudging Jessica with the shotgun. She did as she was told, and Jana followed suit, crouching in front of the bathtub. “What is it?” Jana mouthed to Jessica. She’d been staring at Mike as he’d been caught up in his childhood memories, wondering how she could get the gun away from him. “Police,” Jessica whispered as quietly as possible. “Shut up!” Mike whispered again. He was hunkered down in a crawlspace between the sink and bathtub, and kept the shotgun trained on the girls. Three loud raps on the front door startled them. Silence. Then three more raps. “Michael Perdue,” a man’s deep voice called out in a formal tone from outside the door. “Vermont State Police. We have you surrounded. We know the girls are inside. Let them go, and things will go more smoothly for you. You don’t want to be hurting them girls, now, Mike,” he added. Mike let out a long, ragged sigh, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand to prevent sweat from dripping into his eyes. The doorknob turned back and forth as the police officer outside tried to see if it would open. Which it didn’t. “Open this door or we’re coming in,” he said, louder this time. “Not a chance,” Mike yelled back. “Get away from the door or I start shooting.” His eyes were wild now, alert and burning with fierce determination. This was a man who was used to being in control. Except that now he was the one at a disadvantage. Jana swallowed hard, heart pounding. He wouldn’t kill them, she thought. He wouldn’t want the extra charge of two murders when they arrested him. But how many people had he killed already? Would another two really make a difference? She was counting on one thing in their favour, one thing she’d thought of… Something hard and light hit her on the arm. A tie wrap. Mike nodded to her and motioned to Jessica with his head. “Tie her hands in front of her,” he said, and Jana just stared at the plastic tie wrap, not touching it. “Do it!” She did as she was told, mouthing “Sorry” to her friend. He then bound Jana’s hands as well, and fell back into the crawlspace between the sink and bathtub, looking angry and defeated. “Why
don’t you just let us go?” Jana asked him, her tone as soft and
maternal as she could manage. “It’ll go better for you in the
long run.” “I am sick of hearing your voice!” he screamed, and shoved the cloth into her mouth. Jana let out a strangled sound, and gagged as she tasted dirt and some kind of bitter chemicals on the rag now stuffed inside her mouth. Her eyes were huge as she looked pleadingly at him. “Take it out!” she tried to say, but all that came out were plaintive sounds. Jessica started crying softly. “I need to think!” he yelled, standing up and pacing around the room, then ducking down again as he remembered he was being watched. “Michael Perdue,” a voice said from a loudspeaker outside. “Come out immediately with your hands up.” Mike crawled to the door and opened it on a crack, peering out. He slammed it shut immediately after surveying the scene outside, his eyes even wilder now. A phone started ringing from somewhere inside the cabin. Mike looked around, trying to locate the source of the sound. Crawling into the hallway, he reached up to grab a cordless phone off its base from a small table. He pushed the button to answer. “Hello?” he said in a low, furtive voice. He sounded like a hunted animal, Jana thought. Which he was. For once, he was the hunted, and not the hunter. His wolf tattoo snarled at her from his bicep, as though challenging her. “No way,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. “I want you to get me a car, and I’m going to come out with the girls. I’ll let one go and bring the other one with me in the car. When I’m far enough away - and not followed, I repeat, not followed - I’ll let the other one go. And I want money, to be left in the car. A couple thousand. At least five thousand. Ten thousand, actually. Ten.” He paused, and the girls could hear nervous laughter from the other person on the phone. “I’m f*****g serious!” he yelled into the phone, so loudly that it hurt the girls’ ears. He then pressed the button to end the call and threw it against a far wall.
The shadows lengthened in the cabin as the girls shifted on the bathroom floor, their legs stiff from hours of being in the same position. Jessica’s back was sore from being pressed up uncomfortably against the bathtub for so long. She cleared her throat and stretched her legs out painfully in front of her. Earlier she’d pulled the rag out of Jana’s mouth when her friend had started gagging on it. Mike had been in the front room, and when he’d come back he hadn’t seemed to notice. Maybe he’d forgotten he put it there, Jessica thought. She’d dropped it on the floor and kicked it under the bathtub. Mike was still sitting the floor, his knees up and his elbows resting on them. The shotgun lay beside him. Jessica was waiting until he fell asleep, and then she planned to go for it. Even though her hands were tied, she thought she could manage to pull the trigger. Shoot the f****r. They hadn’t heard much from outside in a while. The cops seemed to be laying low, giving Mike time to calm down and rethink things. Jessica closed her eyes, pretending to go to sleep. Earlier she’d nudged Jana when Mike looked like he was dozing off. She motioned to the gun with her head, and Jana had shook her head vigorously. “Too risky,” she’d mouthed. “He might kill us,” Jessica had whispered as quietly as possible. Mike’s eyes flew open and he glared at them. After that they’d shut up.
It was dark outside. The only light came from some sort of spotlight the cops had set up outside. Jana had stretched out on her side and had her head propped up on an old towel. Her head ached and she was trying to sleep, at least just for a bit. Jessica opened her eyes now and then to check on Mike.
Mike was in the cellar again, this time at the top of the stairs. The trap door was open, and he smiled down at Ben. A sardonic, condescending smile. Ben shuddered and searched Mike’s eyes pleadingly. He was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back with rope Mike had taken from the barn. Stanley and his mother were in town for groceries, and that left only the boys there. Mike was in charge. Yesterday he’d caught Ben packing a knapsack with some cheese, crackers and soda in the kitchen, and had watched him go into his room and hide it under his bed. He’d continued watching him from his hiding place in the hall closet. Ben even had a map, which he’d pulled out from under his mattress and was studying. Where had he gotten that? He was planning on leaving. After everything Mike had done for him. After everything they had…done. What did it matter that Mike now had a girlfriend? That was mostly for show. Being good-looking and the teacher’s pet, Mike had easily won over Alison, the prettiest girl in his class. When he’d invited her over for dinner last week, Ben’s face had drained of colour, then turned beet red. He’d avoided Mike’s eyes all night, and stared at his food, barely touching it. After dinner he’d left the table abruptly, slamming his plate onto the counter after he’d rinsed it. Jealousy. He was jealous. Mike had smiled to himself that night in his room, pleased that he had more control over Ben than he’d previously thought. Over the next few days he’d ordered Ben around and been more formal than usual with him, enjoying making the boy suffer. But this was too much. How could Ben want to leave? He had to pay. Mike came down the cellar steps, Stanley’s whip in his hand. The very one his stepfather had used to beat him years ago. Ben’s eyes widened in fear. “No…Mike, please, don’t use that. It doesn’t have to be that way. Please, I don’t like it when it’s too rough. You said you wouldn’t be like that anymore.” Mike didn’t reply, but stuffed a rag into Ben’s mouth. Ben whimpered, tears streaming down his face. “What do you expect me to do, Ben?” Mike said, in that tired, reasoning tone of voice that Ben had come to hate. It was always a prelude to a particularly violent side of Mike, he’d come to learn. “You wanted to leave. Why? What is so bad here? And why hide the fact that you want to go? Is it because you wanted to steal from us? Is that is? Rob us blind? Maybe murder us in our sleep first?” Ben moaned, shaking his head, “No…” “You sound so stupid,” Mike laughed, unbuttoning his jeans as he kneeled behind Ben. “I can’t understand you.” He’d already had Ben remove his T-shirt earlier, and now pulled down the boy’s shorts. Ben started crawling away from him, heading for the steps. “Oh, no you don’t,” Mike said, and brought the whip down hard on Ben’s back. The ordeal lasted over an hour, Ben having lost consciousness when Mike had continued penetrating him from behind even though blood was almost gushing from the boy’s backside. He’d helped the boy clean himself up afterwards, somewhat stunned at the extent of his own violence. He’d taken out $250 from a stash of money he’d stolen from Stanley and gave it to the boy wordlessly, helping him pack more food into his knapsack. Ben and Robbie left at dawn the next morning, before Stanley and Lucy were awake.
Jessica was more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. Her knees ached from the position she’d been in for past few minutes. Crouched next to Mike’s right side, crawling closer to the shotgun every few seconds. She was frozen, trying not to breathe. Listening. For any sign that he might wake up. Mike’s face was a few inches from hers, and he was softly snoring. She had to hurry. Hurry! she willed herself, screamed at herself inside her head. As quietly as possible, she closed her hand around the barrel of the shotgun, and started sliding it towards her. Backing away from Mike, she dragged the gun along with her. Tears streamed down her face. She was going to make it. She just had to pick it up, turn it around, point it at him = The phone rang, the sound echoing inside the dark cabin like a shrieking assault. Mike jumped up, his foot hitting the gun, which flew from Jessica’s hand and under the bathtub. A guttural scream let loose from her throat, a sound of terror mixed with anger, with a touch of desperation and hopelessness. He’d woken up from a deep dream, and gazed around him with confusion. Jana shrunk away from him as he gazed at her like a hunted animal, one that had nothing to lose. Jessica took the opportunity to reach under the bathtub to get the shotgun, until he kicked her arm hard. “How dare you!” he shouted, and his eyes had a gleeful, murderous quality about them. Jessica crawled over to join Jana in a far corner, and they huddled together, sobbing. Her arm throbbed as if it had been struck with a piece of iron, the pain reverberating painfully, relentlessly. She wondered if he might have broken it. Mike picked up the gun and walked into the living room, where the phone was ringing off the hook. “What?” he said after picking it up and pressing the on button. He listened for awhile. “I told you, I’m not coming out until I have the money, and the car, obviously. Put the money in the car. It better be unmarked bills. And I’m bringing one of the girls with me.” Silence. “No, I am not giving myself up. These are my demands. Meet them or I start shooting.” He pressed the off button to end the call. For the next few minutes Mike paced around the cabin, his breathing getting louder and his eyes frantic. He seemed to forget about the girls’ existence at times. Jana took the opportunity to get up and look outside a window, moving aside the dusty, heavy curtain. The only light outside was some sort of spotlight the cops had set up. At least five police cars were in the driveway, with cops crouched on either side. A female officer was sipping from a disposable coffee cup from where she sat on a large rock near the woods. They all looked tired and discouraged, but their eyes were hard and determined. “Get away from the window,” Mike said, sounding distracted. She got back down on the floor beside Jessica, and they were silent for awhile. The phone rang. Mike answered, saying nothing this time, just listening. “Fine,” he finally said, and hung up the phone. “They’re bringing the car, and the money,” he said, coming to stand in front of the girls. Jana was surprised to see he didn’t seem all that happy about it. He still had that distracted look, like his mind was somewhere else. “Mike…” he looked up at her from the floor, the sound of his name startling him. “Where are you planning on going? They know what you did…I mean, it’ll be all over the news, the internet by now. You can’t hide. Don’t you think…” “Shut up, or I’ll gag you again!” he yelled at her, but he looked stricken, as if he was seeing the truth of her words. He turned away from them so they wouldn’t see it. But it was too late. Mike shook his head, images of Ben flashing in his mind. Ben happy, when they’d first met. Smiling, excited, their camaraderie as they worked together, and their close friendship developing later into a more intimate relationship. Of course it had been doomed from the start, in that little town. At least he’d helped Ben get out of there. Away from Stanley and that stupid, small-minded town. Away from him…he’d betrayed Ben. He’d hurt him. Why had he done it? Headlights lit up the room as a car pulled in the driveway and came to a stop in front of the cabin. A car door opened and closed, followed by a hushed conversation outside. A palpable silence followed as the cops prepared themselves for the next phase of this drama. “We have the car with the money inside, Mike,” a man’s voiced announced on a loudspeaker. “Let one of the girls go first, and we have retrieved her safe and sound, you can come out with the other girl. Hands up, of course, with no weapons.” Mike looked down at the girls from where he stood in front of them, his 6 foot 2 inch frame towering above them. “Go on, get up,” he told Jessica. “What? No, let Jana go instead, I’ll come with you,” she said, fear making her breath catch in her throat. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She was the one who’d invited Jana to Aunt Marley’s cabin the first place. It should be her who had to go with Mike. “You heard me, get up. You’re going out.” Jessica leaned into Jana, not able to hug her properly since her hands were still bound in front of her. Jana said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I got this. Go on, now.” Nodding, Jessica gave a forced smile, and got up. Mike stood behind the door and opened it, giving her a push so she would walk out. The spotlight was blinding. She couldn’t see. It was dizzying. How could she walk when she couldn’t see? “That’s right, sweetheart,” a woman’s voice said from a loudspeaker, “just keep walking, you can do it. It’s not that far, I promise.” One foot in front of the other, she told herself. She kept walking, or stumbling ahead, realizing she’d lost a shoe somewhere inside, after Mike had kicked her in the arm and she’d scuttled away from him. She looked down and tried to kick the other shoe off, but fell down in the process. Her limbs were so weak, she couldn’t get back up, and started sobbing. The female cop ran over to her, despite the shouts of the other officers. “Take my hand, come on, you can do it!” she told Jessica, who looked up to see a smiling face in uniform hovering above her. She took her hand and was pulled up, then rushed towards the cop cars.
Mike was pacing again, back in forth, from the living room to the bathroom. Now and then he’d stop and look at Jana, not in a menacing way, surprisingly. “Go on out,” he told her, motioning towards the door. “But, I thought we were supposed to go together,” she said slowly, trying not to let her panic manifest itself in her voice. He didn’t reply. “To the car,” she added. “I think you should just go out yourself,” he said. “I’ll come afterwards.” “Um...okay,” she said, trying not to provoke him into changing his mind. She still wasn’t sure what he had up his sleeve. Maybe he was going to shoot her in the back. Swallowing hard, she pushed the thought out of her mind. She turned the door handle with both hands, which were still tie-wrapped together. The door opened, and the spotlight blinded her as it had Jessica. “Okay, walk out with the girl leading the way,” the man’s voice said on the speaker. “I see her hands are bound, so come behind her with your hands up, and no weapons. I repeat, no weapons.” Jana glanced behind her uncertainly, and Mike nodded for her to go on. She started walking, almost falling down the few steps of the cabin’s entrance, and the door slammed shut behind her. The cops looked at each other quizzically, not saying anything until she’d make it to the one who motioned her towards him. He wasn’t dressed in a uniform like the others, but in a dark suit and trench coat. He put an arm around her shoulders when she reached him, and brought her to where Jessica and the female cop sat behind one of the cop cars, sipping coffee from Styrofoam cups. “Is there anyone else in there? Besides him?” the man asked her, staring into her eyes. She was unfocused, overwhelmed by the bright lights and people surrounding her. Shaking her head, she said, “No, no one else. Just him.” The detective and cops looked at each other silently, wondering what Mike’s next move would be. At least he didn’t have any more hostages inside. So they could storm the place. A swat team was in place, snipers placed at strategic locations around the cabin. “Mike Perdue, come out now, with your hands up. If you don’t comply, we’re coming in.” Silence. Then a creak. The door opened. Mike came out, smiling that friendly, grandfatherly smile that had fooled so many people. But his eyes were feverish, wild. He came towards them running, shotgun in his hand. Jessica and Jana covered their ears as gunfire rang out, an endless stream of bullets that hit Mike, who collapsed and fell onto the ground, shotgun falling from his hand. When Jessica opened her eyes and took her hands away from her ears, she saw Mike on the ground in front of the cabin, blood spilling from various wounds on his body. It was over.
Two days later, they stood on Aunt Marley’s porch, watching as the lake was dragged for bodies. So far they’d found the skeletal remains of at least four people buried around the property, under hedges and potted plants. DNA testing would have to be undertaken to confirm the identity of the victims. There was evidence other victims’ bodies had been dissolved in sulphuric acid in the bathtub of the other cabin Mike had taken them to. Jessica watched a cement block being raised on chains from the lake, after scuba divers had come up to the shore, discussing their findings with law enforcement. Three bodies had been found submerged in cement in the lake, and this was only the beginning of the investigation, officials said in a press conference later that week. There were almost thirty missing men who had a link with Mike Perdue, many of whom had ties to the gay village in Vancouver. Others were known to have been members of gay dating sites. “Aunt Marley, thanks to you we are safe!” Jessica said, hugging her aunt. They sat in Jessica’s apartment a week later, her aunt having shut down the cabin for good. It held too many bad memories, and it was a crime scene. Mike had taken many of his victims there, and evidence was still being found in the cabin. “I knew something was up when Mike called me to ask if anyone was going to the cabin this summer,” Aunt Marley said as they sat in Jessica’s kitchen. “And when you told me about those pieces of paper you found, taped to the walls. That gave me an eerie feeling.” She paused. “And of course, I heard about the missing men, from Vancouver. I started to wonder…so I tried to call you, but it just rang and rang. And I remembered some pictures I’d found of Mike’s, of men in odd positions. They seemed to be sleeping, but..something wasn’t right. So I called the authorities, and told them where you were. And they found you, thankfully.” She smiled, and patted her niece’s hand. Jessica had asked Jana many times why he’d let her go, but Jana just shook her head. She didn’t know. No one would ever know. But Jessica knew it had something to do with the things Jana had said to him, when she’d challenged him about having power over them, and asked him to talk to her about what was going on in his head. She’d gotten through to him somehow. Jessica knew it.
© 2019 Caroline L |
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Added on August 13, 2019 Last Updated on August 14, 2019 Tags: horror, suspense, serial killer, thriller, psychological thriller Author
Caroline LCanadaAboutI am interested in a wide variety of genres, such as young adult, fantasy, horror, sci fi, drama. I have self-published a YA novel called The Darkest Part of the Shadow, which can be found on Amazon. more..Writing
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