Survivor: 1 (41 page)

The pain in her side had dulled to a slow throb. She
kept her right hand pressed to the gaping wound, trying
to ignore the slickness of her flesh as she felt something
slosh inside. She knew she was probably holding her intestines inside her abdomen, but she didn't look. She
couldn't. If she looked she knew she would faint. And if
she fainted she would lose control of the vehicle and
would either crash it into a cliff or drive herself off one.
The impact might not even kill her outright; she might lie
pinned in the wreckage for as long as it took her to die of
shock and blood loss. That was all there was to it.

So she drove.

The Nevada sky was overcast, dark with rain clouds.
The wind had picked up, blowing through the open windows. It blew Lisa's hair back over her face. She licked
her cracked lips, ignoring the nausea in her belly, the
pain in her lower right abdomen, and concentrated on
driving. Zigzagging between boulders and rocks. Steering the vehicle around cacti. Homing in on her target,
her goal. The road that she could dimly see in front of
her, now a good five hundred yards away. If she could
make that road, she would try the cell phone again.

She should have killed Animal outright. Her mind
raced over that now as she struggled along, one hand
holding her guts inside herself, the other clutching the
steering wheel. Animal had been weakened by her initial
attack on him and he'd charged at her, swinging the knife
wildly. His left hand had been covering his wounded eye,
and it was obvious he was half-blinded. She'd taken advantage of his handicap by ducking and charging him,
barreling into his exposed midsection, knocking him
down. She'd still been clutching the rock she'd used to
bash Tim Murray's skull in, and she'd swung the rock
down on the sadist's head. She'd knocked him out cold
first time out.

Her first instinct had been to flee, and she'd almost
started running blindly, when she realized that she could
probably get the keys to one of the vehicles from either
Tim or Animal, who were both lying on the desert floor.
She'd gone back, heart thudding in her chest, her nerves
aware and jumping, anticipating the slightest twitch.
She'd knelt by Tim Murray, noted the shallow rise and fall
of his chest and the blood congealing out of his ears, and
begun rummaging through his pockets, turning up a wallet, a cellular phone, and a set of keys, including one attached to a ring from a car-rental agency in Las Vegas.

Ecstatic, she'd started heading toward the SW, when
she'd realized the cellular phone was still by Tim. She'd
doubled back for the phone, got it turned on, and tried
dialing 911. She'd put the phone to her ear and started
screaming for help, hoping that whoever heard her was
recording her frantic cries for help. She thought she
could hear somebody, but she couldn't be sure if what
she was hearing was a person or static from the rising
wind. Frustrated, she'd hung up and tried again. And
again. Each time, she got nothing.

Then she heard a voice. A thin, reedy voice, floating
from over the incline, coming from the other side. "Tim?
Animal? What's going on?" The old woman.

Lisa didn't know why she did it, but she started trudging up the incline, clutching the cellular phone. She hit a
button that displayed a series of phone numbers and she
hit the first one, not knowing whom she would get, just
trying to get a connection to the outside world. She was
as surprised as shit when somebody picked up on the
other end and his voice came through loud and clear.

"Hello?" She thought she'd heard him reply, but the
connection disintegrated into static again. She kept say-
ing"hello" a few times, thought she heard the man on the
other end asking for Tim, and then a sudden inspiration seized her. A flare of hatred and anger erupted from deep
within her and she screamed. "You motherfucker ... you
want to talk to your pervert buddy. Tim? Listen to this!"
And she held the phone up toward where rim's prone
body lay, then brought the phone back to her ears. "Hear
that? The reason you didn't hear anything is because
Tim's close to being dead. I just bashed his fucking brains
in, motherfucker! How do you like that?'

She didn't know how much of what she said got
through, but some of it must have; the man's response
was immediate. "What's going on? Tim?"

Lisa had reached the pinnacle of the incline now, and
this time she saw the old woman on the other side, standing up and looking around. When the old woman saw
Lisa, she let out a wail of despair. "Listen to this, asshole!"
Lisa yelled into the phone, and held it out toward the old
woman. Were you go granny !Let 'er rip!"

"The eyes! Rick said I could have the eyes!"

Lisa brought the receiver back to her ear as she started
back down toward the SUV "Your two buddies are dead,
and I'm leaving the old woman here for dead too, motherfucker. Now you're fucked! You hear me!"

This time the man heard her. "Who the fuck are you,
bitch? Where's Tim? Where's"

She'd hung up on him, and when she got to the bottom
of the incline she stopped, feeling a burst of triumph and
pride rise within her.

I've fucking got 'em, she thought. Whoever he is, he's
on the run. Lisa didn't know who the man was, but she
had a gut feeling that whoever it was he had something
to do with the illegal hardcore industry that Tim and Animal worked in. The cellular phone Tim was carrying was
a cheap Minolta, and there were only three phone numbers programmed into it, which told Lisa it was a pickup
job, procured probably for the weekend. She had heard of the practice in her law office, of people getting cellular phones for brief periods of time and then ditching
them when they weren't needed anymore. Perhaps the
guy who commissioned this particular snuff film was the
person she'd talked to. If that was the case, she was keeping the cell phone. And once she got to a point where
she received better reception from a cellular tower, she'd
try 911 again.

She had approached the SW and was trying to dial
911 again when she'd seen something out of the corner
of her eye. She had looked up and seen Animal's twisted
visage reflected in the SW's windows a moment before
she felt cold steel slide into her right side, spilling warm
blood down her belly and thighs.

She didn't even know she was fighting him until she
heard him scream and lean forward, clamping his jaws
on her left shoulder. She screamed, trying to knee him in
the groin again. She felt the knife slide into her again and
she fell back against the vehicle, his bulk bearing her
down. Her right fist rose and fell over his left eye, pulping
it as he loosened his jaws from her shoulder to scream.
The knife slid out of her and adrenaline burst through
her system, propelling her fight instinct to a level that was
beyond fury. She felt his grip on her weaken slightly, and
she took advantage of it by driving her fist into his exposed
throat. He'd fallen back, gagging, left hand clutched at his
throat. He'd dropped the knife and she had pounced on
it, grabbing it by the blade, feeling it slice through her
hand and fingers. She'd grabbed at the blade with her
right hand and lunged, driving it into Animal's midsection to the hilt. His eyes bugged out and he'd gasped suddenly, as if he'd been shocked. Then he'd fallen
backward, the knife sticking out of his solar plexus, his
one open eye glazing over in death.

She didn't remember how she got into the SUV, but the next thing she remembered she was backing the vehicle
along the terrain. She realized what she was doing, realized she was driving backward, then stopped. The incline
they had parked at was a good hundred yards away, and
she could dimly make out Animal's and Tim's bodies lying there. That's when the pain reeled in, bringing the
stunning reality to everything into clear, sharp focus.

Shed risked only one glance down at her midsection.
That had been enough to tell her that she'd lost a lot of
blood. And that she might not last long.

Somehow she'd grabbed the cell phone when she had
climbed back into the SUV She had tried it again, her fingers slipping on the keypad as she dialed 911. She could
feel herself panicking, and she closed her eyes, repeating
to herself you will not faint, you will not faint, you will not
faint. She'd taken deep, even breaths until she felt herself
calm down. Then she'd placed the phone in the cup
holder above the gearshift, clamped her left hand over
the wound in her side in an attempt to stop the bleeding
(and keep my insides in, she had reasoned. I feel something trying to slide out and I've got to keep them in ... ),
shifted into drive with her left hand, then steered the vehicle around so that it was facing in a direction she felt
safe to go in.

Now she was rolling along, not even sure how far she
should go, knowing only that she had to put some miles
between herself and the fiends she had left behind. And
try to find a spot where she could receive decent reception for the cell phone.

She could feel the wind buffeting the side of the SW
as she piloted it over the rough sand. The clouds in the
distance were getting darker, and she wondered briefly if
she would be swept away if it suddenly rained hard.
She'd heard that sometimes desert thunderstorms were
like that. One minute it would be barren and dry, the next the desert would be transformed into a rushing
river. Whatever. It was best not to think of that now. Concentrate on one thing at a time. Get the fuck out of here.

She drove on, trying to keep the vehicle in a more or
less straight line. She had no idea if she was going north
or south, east or west. Just knowing she had to find a
road, a path. Anything resembling civilization. She wondered how far off the beaten path the incline they had
picked for her murder was. It had to be at least a mile off
the nearest road. Maybe even more. Less chance of finding her body after they were finished. Which meant she
had a few more minutes of driving, if she was lucky.
She'd already been driving for ... what? Ten minutes?
Fifteen?

Her side throbbed and she felt nauseous again. She
fought the urge to throw up and almost brought the SUV
to a halt. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and released her foot off the brake. Move, she thought. Just
drive. Just get the hell out of here.

She thought she could feel her blood coagulating beneath her hand. But then every time this thought entered
her mind she would feel a fresh warm squirt, and her
hand would feel drenched again. She tried to focus back
on the task of driving, looking out the windshield at the
tumbleweed blowing across the desert, watching twigs
and brush blowing as the wind picked up even more,
hearing the wind howl and moan as it raced across the
desert floor. She didn't even bother steering now, just
kept the vehicle on a steady course. The tires bounced
over rocks, rolled over cactus. She felt a shock jar her system and shake her guts, and a fresh wave of pain erupted
in her side. She screamed and took her foot off the accelerator. Something had slapped the underside of the vehicle; it sounded like something had broken off, and now
the vehicle was making a chug-chug-chug sound. The SUV was vibrating, and she had her foot off the gas. She
dosed her eyes, fighting to battle the pain down, feeling
her lifeblood slip away. Haw much blood can a person
bleed out and still live? she thought. A pint? She'd lost at
least that much, maybe more. The seat was drenched
with blood; it was pooling down on the floor of the vehicle, near the pedals. Her back was sticky with it. No
telling how much she had lost outside during her fight
with Animal. She pressed her hand against the wound,
reawakening the pain again, and gritted her teeth. She
opened her eyes, her vision blurry, and gripped the steering wheel tighter. She put her foot back on the accelerator and focused her mind back on driving.

She managed to stay focused on driving for what
seemed like five minutes. But then again, it could have
been five seconds. Five hours. She wasn't counting the
time. The clouds were still dark, the wind was still blowing, and now it was starting to spit rain. She knew some
time had passed because the scenery had changed
somewhat. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and now
she could hardly see the incline. It had receded to a
small thing in the background. How far had she driven?
A mile? Two miles?

Then suddenly the tires rolled over smooth pavement.
She stopped, looked back and forth. It was a narrow
road, roughly paved, but it was a road nonetheless. And
where there were roads there were people.

She took her hand off her side quickly and put the vehicle in park, then reached for the cell phone again. It
slipped from her grasp from the blood that had dampened her hand. She had to hold it with two hands as she
dialed 911, her tongue sticking out in concentration. A
lank of bloodied hair hung over her forehead and she
put the receiver to her ear, hoping and praying that the
call would go through. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease`

Nothing.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She fought
the urge to do both. Instead, she replaced the phone
back in the cup holder, put the vehicle back in drive,
looked both ways, decided to turn right, and started
heading down the road.

She wondered if Animal and Tim were dead now. How
hard had she really hit Tim? Maybe he was only knocked
out. Maybe he just had a really bad concussion. Didn't
people who have concussions bleed out of their ears?
Maybe he'll come out of it, and when he sees Animal's
body lying there he'll realize what's happened. Maybe
hell get Animal's keys and come after me. Maybe he's
driving after me right now, maybe he's coming after me
right this minute and-

She banished the thought completely and gritted her
teeth. Her left hand went back to trying to staunch the
flow of blood from the wound in her side.

And she drove.