Primal (10 page)

Her voice is steady, “Do you have a gun? Yes or no.”

“I do. But you’d have to come and get it.”

“How do I find you?”

* * *

Inside the lodge, the Burne brothers have nailed a few
pieces of cardboard and some pillows over the broken window. The glass has been
kicked into a pile. Ben is back to working on the carburetor. Gravel is in an
armchair with his eyes closed and feet up. Kent plays solitaire.

The hostages sit in the far corner of the room in two rows.
Hank, Jimmy, Mike, and Dan are in front; Julie, Ed, Bella, Grant and Bruce are
in line behind them. Hank whispers. They speak without moving their lips in a
very low voice, “We’ve got to try something.”

“Yes, while they’re missing one,” Dan adds.

Grant leans in and says, “This is six-pound test line. We
can bite through it.”

“Julie, can you bite through Mike’s line?” Hank asks.

She is directly behind Mike. She looks to her husband. Ed
nods. She should try. She lies down. It looks like she has just put her head
down in Ed’s lap to rest. She rolls a little forward. Behind his back, Mike
pulls his wrists as far out from his body as he can. Julie begins to chew feverishly.

Ben glances over. Mike drops his wrists. Julie freezes. Ben
glares at them. Hank wonders what made him look. There was no sound. He has a
freakish intuition. Ben turns back to work. Julie leans back in and chews.
After a minute, snap! Mike’s hands are free. He doesn’t budge but a thrill of
hope tumbles through the group.

Gravel jumps up, “This is boring. Who plays poker? Ben?”

“Gravel, I’m busy.”

Gravel points to Hank and Dan. “You and you. We’re playing
poker.”

“I don’t know how to play poker,” Hank says.

“No shit? What are you a fuckin’ pussy? Listen, kid…” Every
time one of the Burne boys addresses his son, Hank has to suppress a surging
rage. He stays calm only with great effort. Gravel continues to Jimmy, “If your
dad can’t teach you to play poker find someone who can.” Gravel looks at Bella,
“Maybe your mom. My mom taught us.” Jimmy starts to say something and stops. He
looks at Bella, turns away, and buries is head in his dad’s lap. Ben sees this.
Ben and Hank make eye contact. They hold for a moment. Even with his attention
buried inside this carburetor Ben can tell something isn’t right over there.
Something is off with this little family. He will have to figure that out soon
as he is done with this.

Gravel says frustrated, “Where the hell is Theo? He plays a
good game.”

Kent agrees, “No one can bluff like Theo.”

Ben says to Kent, “Go check on him. Maybe he needs a hand.”

“Not as if he can yell if he needs help.” Gravel finds
himself funny.

“Hey, yeah,” Kent adds excited to show off his knowledge,
“if a mute yells in the forest and no one hears him, did he still yell? Wasn’t
that a Zen thing? I don’t know if you noticed Ben, but I’m very well read since
you were gone.”

“Yeah, I did. And obviously saving time by reading every
other word. Go check on your brother.” Kent throws on his trench coat. “And
take the flashlight.” Kent takes the light from the table. He walks to the door
buttoning his coat and leaves. Over in the corner, the hostages recognize their
advantage. Only two Burne brothers at the moment and Mike’s hands are free.
Now. Now is the time. Hank whispers to Bella behind him. “Can you get him
closer?” He indicates a totem statue he can kick with his foot. She gets it.
They are instantly primed, encouraged to try something. The helplessness of
waiting and the fear of what’s coming are eating away at them.

Mike whispers to Hank. “I’m gonna go for the automatic on
the chair.” The large weapon lies on the wooden rocking chair not far from the
hearth.

Bella makes a little humming noise. Gravel looks. Slowly,
seductively, she licks her lips. Gravel doesn’t need much encouragement; he is
rock hard in his pants day and night. He grins and starts over to the group.
She eggs him on with a look and a small knowing grin.

He stands near the group. “You know,” he says to her, “I
could be extra nice...”

Hank’s leg juts out kicking the base of the totem. It
crashes down on Gravel’s left shoulder! Mike is instantly on his feet. He leaps
over Jimmy and goes for the weapon on the rocking chair. Ben dives for his
weapon on the floor not far from where he is working on the carburetor. Gravel
throws off the totem, which hit him hard. Ben is too quick. Mike is in midair
lunging for the gun when Ben fires one shot nailing Mike between the eyes and
Mike is dead before he hits the floor.

Ben turns the gun on the group with an eerie calm, “Who’s
next?”

The hostages huddle closer together. Julie closes her eyes.
Bruce and Grant drop their heads and wait, not knowing what will come now.
Gravel removes his gun from his belt and as he points, “They’re all next!”

“Gravel, a moment.” Ben’s voice stops him. Gravel whips his
angry face back toward his brother. Ben asks politely, “Please.” Gravel drops
his aim, walks quickly over to Ben and a quiet exchange ensues. Ben speaks slowly
with a hint of condescension. “So this is the deal. We don’t know who else is
on the island, or who else might show up here. At present, these people are our
insurance, our chips in the game so to speak. Understand?”

“Of course, I understand. I’m not stupid. I risked my ass to
get you out of the pen. It was my brains, my plan!”

“And full of your usual subtlety.”

Gravel hates it when he talks to him this way. “We could’ve
left you there.”

Ben grabs his shoulder affectionately, “No, you couldn’t.”
They grin at each other. No, he couldn’t. Breaking through the rivalry is their
affection. Ben acquiesces to satisfy his brother. “Okay, tell you what, go
ahead and waste…” he looks over to choose.

Kent throws open the lodge door, “Theo’s dead!”

Ben and Gravel ask in distress, “What? What happened?”

Kent is visibly upset. “I found some tracks and followed
them. Looks like he slipped off a drop into some rocks. I almost went over
myself except I was walking really slow with the light.”

“Did you check him?” Ben demands.

“Can’t get down there.”

“Give me the light.” Ben and Gravel rush for the door. “Make
sure they’re tied. Tied sufficiently this time. And keep your gun on you.” Left
behind, Kent kicks one of the chairs. He cannot believe his brother is gone. He
pushes and kicks each of the hostages around as he checks their ties.

Bella says sympathetically, “I’m so really sorry about your
brother.” Kent looks at her unsure of her meaning. “I had a little brother. He
was hit by a drunk driver.”

“Whenever we got drunk Theo always drove. He didn’t drink
because he was afraid it would blur is speech.” Kent chuckles sadly, “Yeah, he
was really funny.”

She smiles warmly trying to engage him, “Yes, I could tell
that about him.”

“Awfully good thing Mother isn’t here.”

“Mother’s do have special feelings for their sons.”

“Mom was the best, most of the time. She didn’t want to get
old so we suffocated her.”

Bella swallows hard, “Oh, how thoughtful.”

“Mom would want us to pray. Yes. We should all pray. All say
a prayer to Jesus for Theo right the fuck now!” Everyone bows their heads.
Every time Hank thinks he’s getting some kind of useful profile on the Burne
boys something like this throws him off. He begins to wonder if there is a way
to get inside Kent’s head if he’s religious. Maybe he’s the weak link in the
Burne chain. And each of them on the floor realizes they again have an
advantage alone with only Kent there, but their last advantage is lying with
blood dripping out of the hole between his eyes.

* * *

Running with precise footfalls Alison’s breathing has fallen
into a heavy rhythm. She has followed the directions Curtis gave and sees the
log cabin up ahead. She runs to it, bounds up the steps, opens the door, and
steps inside.

Curtis sits at the table in front of the shortwave with a
pile of books, and a mess of dirty plates. He levels his gaze on the woman in
the doorway, muddied hair, ragged clothing, with various cuts and bruises,
Alison stands gulping air and shivering.

“Well, well, Barbie goes commando.”

She thinks are there only animals on this island? “Where’s
the gun?’

“Coffee?” He offers her a steaming cup. She looks at it not
wanting to give in. “Come on, looks like you need it. No charge.” She grabs the
cup and drinks down the hot liquid feeling it like a warm palm running down the
inside of her throat. She did need it, but she refuses to feel grateful. Not to
him. Not to this guy. She looks at this strong able man, unwilling to get off
his ass to help, and her mind goes icy. She would hate him but that takes
energy and time, neither of which she has.

“The gun?”

“You look about ready to collapse there, lady.”

“I don’t have that luxury. Whatever it is you want, can we
just get on with it quickly?” There is an implicit sexual connotation hidden in
the words, assuming he is the lowest life has to offer. She challenges his hard
gaze and a tear rolls down the side of her nose. It is peculiar because she
doesn’t feel like crying, or like she is crying, she feels like the whole
inside of her is shut down. She would be surprised to learn tears are on her
cheeks. Tears are so useless. There is no time for useless.

Curtis eyes her. She is about what he expected some
middle-aged crazy chick hoping someone else will fight her battles. She pays
her taxes and expects the cavalry on call. What could he possibly want from
her? “I don’t want anything from you.” His tone suddenly tinged with ire, “I
don’t want anything from anyone. I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“I could use some help,” she demands.

“My hero days are over.” He points to the footlocker. “Gun’s
in there. Help yourself. Just bring it back.” Alison kneels down and rummages
through the footlocker. She finds a small caliber handgun.

She asks, “Is this big enough to kill someone?”

“If you’ve been taught to aim.”

“I was absent that day.”

“You’ll have to dig around in there for the ammo.”

She begins to haul things out of the trunk and onto the
floor.

“I’m not a particularly neat person.”

“What are you some kind of hermit?”

“Hell, no. I talk to people all over the world. It’s the way
I like it. Connected and yet blissfully uninvolved in the tribulations of
others.”

Every second she is away from the lodge, she is wondering if
her family is still alive. She begins to feel panicky. “I can’t find ‘em! Where
are the bullets?”

“They’re in there.”

She turns on him with palpable vitriol, “Look, I don’t know
if you’re a psycho, an asshole, or just a damn coward, but I need bullets and
some clue how to load and fire this thing.” He feels slapped; it is jarring.
Alison’s strength is born from quaking desperation. It impresses him. She walks
over to where he sits. She puts her hands on the table so they are
face-to-face. She drops the battle-edged energy and lets her voice come
through, a voice that has the quality of all mothers in pain. Leaning in, “They
are going to shoot my little boy.” She reaches through the cobwebs draping
Curtis’ long capitulated conscience. “His name is Jimmy. He’s nine years old.”
Curtis hears these words as though he were his old self, before it all. After a
pause of connection, Curtis swings his chair around and cautiously lowers
himself to the cabin floor revealing the utter uselessness of his legs. Alison
stands aside as his arms pull him over to the footlocker. In another time, in
another place, she would have felt genuine sympathy, but there is no room for
that now. She is becoming a hunter; the aperture of a once expansive mind has
closed down to a single focus. She feels no pain from her scratches and
bruises. She doesn’t notice the blood dripping down her cheek. All she thinks
now when she watches Curtis crawl is that he will not be as useful as she’d
hoped.

Moments later, on Curtis’ dilapidated porch, Alison loads
the gun. He remarks, “Hope this old thing works. Haven’t tried it in years.”
Alison raises the weapon and aims. “Wait!” he stops her.

“What?”

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“The sound will carry. Might as well announce you’re here
over Hobbs’ P.A.”

“Thunder. I can use the thunder as cover.”

“Good you’re smart. You’ll need it.”

“I need the SEALS.”

“You will have to separate these guys to have a chance. Take
them out one at a time.” She nods her head. Her chin shakes a little. It is the
only visual evidence that she is holding back emotion. Curtis continues,
“Course, they are stronger and better armed.” A flash of lightning and she
counts.

“One banana, two banana, three banana, four…”

Crash thunder.

She confirms “Four and a half.”

“Storm’s moving away.”

“So I go on five.”

“On five.” And they wait. She stares into the night and
waits for lightning. She waits for it. She wills it.

* * *

Back at the lodge, Kent has been left behind with the
hostages. In frustrated moves of callous disrespect, he drags and kicks Mike’s
body out the back door. Hank exchanges a look of condolence with Dan who is
dazed having just witnessed the murder of his best friend. Julie cries
soundlessly with only her shoulders moving up and down slightly. Ed looks
powerlessly at his weeping wife and wonders just how short their new lives
together are going to be. Bruce and Grant who are sitting cross-legged have
leaned all the way forward until their heads rest on their knees. Bella manages
to stroke Dan with one of her tied hands.

This swimming feeling in Hank’s head is counterproductive.
He knows he must manhandle it and achieve rationality. He needs order and calm
to function. Control. Review: Gravel seems to be the most violent and
unpredictable. Kent could probably be talked into anything, he seems a little
bit like a lap dog: easy to command and eager to please. Ben is a mystery,
although he seems the most reasonable. He might be convinced to let Jimmy live.
He’s only a kid. They are clearly heading for Canada. Jimmy can’t hurt them.
Perhaps with the right words he can at least save his son, which could be okay
since Alison is still out there and with this thought his head swims again. His
wife. His tender wife who did not want to come. Who came for him. She is surely
in shock, frozen in the icy rain, watching terrified and alone. He knows there
is no help coming. This is his fault. This trip was his idea. Guilt begins to
bury him and he stops it - no, not constructive, stop. He must do. Now is not
the time to accept, but to keep trying. His last try killed Mike. These men
didn’t even flinch before gunning down Hobbs and Mike. It was as ordinary to
them as tossing a ball. Hank’s eyes drift out the window. Are you there? My
darling, can you see me? Can you hear me? Forgive me for not being able to help
you. Stay hidden. Stay safe. As he sinks into worry over Alison, he feels heavy
and exhausted.