The Remedy (16 page)

Alex squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, waiting for the knife’s edge that would slit her throat and end her life—but then the cellar doors ripped open with a crack.

“Grizzly!”

The voice echoed against the stone walls of the basement. The knife was no longer pressed against her throat, and the giant bear man was standing like a soldier at attention. A long sigh of relief escaped her nostrils, but her breath caught again when she saw who stood at the top of the steps.

It was Bugger: the demon of her nightmares and reality. An unconscious body hung limp, draped over his shoulders. The body had shaggy hair and a drooping shark-tooth necklace: it was Marshall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bugger made his way down the steps, yelling at his companion as he went. Grizzly said nothing in reply, but motioned to Alex with his knife.

Bugger reached a dusty wooden table and slammed Marshall’s body down on top of it. “Oh, no! Don’t you even
think
of touching that one! Not yet!”

Although much smaller than his partner, Bugger pushed Grizzly away with a mighty shove to his chest. Grizzly cowered, intimidated by the smaller man for some reason.

“Just get away from her!” Bugger yelled. “We’re not carving her up until I say so.”

Grizzly grunted.

“Because!” Bugger’s fingers were dug into Alex’s jaw, yanking her face closer to his. “For reasons you wouldn’t understand.”

The hillbilly’s cracked lips parted to reveal his rotten teeth that he licked with a rancid tongue. Alex squeezed her eyes shut again and wished that Grizzly had killed her when he had the chance.

Fortunately, Bugger released his grip and did not stick his vile tongue in her mouth like she feared he might. Instead, he took three powerful strides toward Grizzly and jabbed a finger into the larger man’s chest.

“Now. If you really want to make yourself useful then you can get to work on this one here.” He pointed at Marshall’s unconscious body, then turned and winked at Alex.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

Alex turned away from Bugger’s sadistic smile, her eyes filling with tears. Not knowing where to look to escape this nightmarish scene, she focused on Marshall, who actually looked peaceful in his blacked-out state. She tried to block out everything else and only think about that wonderful mop of hair she’d once run her fingers through. Or the toned, bronzed arms she’d clung to as they walked across campus. Those days seemed to be a lifetime ago. How could they be the same people who were now being held captive in a dank basement by a bunch of psychos? Things weren’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be finishing school, going to parties and having fun. Just last month they were cruising around Champlain on a rented jet boat. She remembered how Marshall wished Vermont had a seashore so he could find some decent waves…

The daydream collapsed with the reappearance of Grizzly, who now stood directly behind Marshall’s head. In his hands he gripped a large double-bladed ax. Grizzly raised it high above his head and Alex shut her eyes, knowing what was to come.

She braced herself for the sound of metal slicing flesh and bone.

“Alex?”

She slowly opened one eye.

Marshall looked at her through groggy, half-open eyes. He seemed oblivious to where he was or that an ax-wielding psychopath towered above him. His eyes showed no fear, but rather puzzled amusement as to why his girlfriend was hung up like a coat in a closet. A crooked half smile pulled up one side of his mouth.

“What’s going on?”

The smile remained on his face even after his head fell to the dirt floor and rolled past her feet. Blood shot from the stump of his neck like an opened fire hydrant, spraying everything that lined the opposite wall. Bugger jumped as the hot liquid splashed the back of his neck.

“Goddammit!” he shouted, leaping out of the way of the bloody torrent. Meanwhile, Marshall’s heels rattled the wood of the table in a spastic, postmortem dance.

Alex watched in morbid fascination, watching her boyfriend’s execution as if it were a scene in a slapstick comedy. When she began to laugh from behind the fabric in her mouth, she knew her sanity had finally snapped.

Bugger reached for a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his neck and face. It smeared across his skin and stubbly facial hair. “Make a bigger mess, why don’t you?” he said, punching Grizzly in his huge bicep and snatching the ax from his hands. “Give me that! You can’t do anything right, can you?”

Meanwhile, Marshall’s legs continued to twitch on the table, heels clattering against the wood.

“Just let me do this,” Bugger said, removing a blood-crusted meat cleaver wedged into the side of the table. “You just get back out there and keep hunting.”

Grizzly grunted and threw his arms up. Somehow understanding Grizzly’s secret language, Bugger tensed his neck and replied through gritted teeth. “Why? I’ll tell you why.”

He pointed a finger directly at Alex’s chest and grinned.

“She’s got friends.”

Without another sound, Grizzly turned and paced over to the storm shelter doors. Grabbing a shotgun resting by the exit, he took the stairs in two giant steps, slammed the doors shut, and disappeared into the darkening evening. Bugger watched him go before returning his attention to Marshall’s decapitated body. He offered Alex one last creepy smile before bringing the cleaver down into Marshall’s left thigh. Even though Alex clenched her eyes shut, she could still hear everything below Marshall’s knee fall to the floor and land in a puddle of coagulating blood.

There was nothing funny about her situation anymore. Alex guessed her mind hadn’t completely snapped after all. Her only chance for mercy was to lose consciousness. She wanted to drown in that ocean of blood and never return.

Thankfully, the walk to the ranger outpost was much shorter than Leigh had expected. After a mere twenty minutes trudging across the soggy forest floor, a cabin, slightly smaller than the one they’d left Rob and Eliza in, came into view. It was designed in the same style as their previous shelter, but this structure boasted a dark green aluminum roof that looked rather new. A reddish-brown US Department of Agriculture sign rested to the left of the front door. This simple symbol of authority brought Leigh instant comfort.

Less comforting, however, was the absence of any vehicles parked in front of the building.

“Damn,” Sam mumbled under his breath, apparently noticing the same thing. “No ATVs. That’s not a good sign.”

Leigh nodded but didn’t say anything in return. No need to add another voice to their mutual mounting despair—the cabin’s darkened windows were enough.

Sam pressed his face against the glass. The sky was now almost as dark as the room within and Leigh knew Sam wouldn’t be able to see much. She regretted that they hadn’t thought to bring along flashlights.

“I don’t see anybody,” Sam said.

“So what do we do now? Head back?”

Sam offered her a hopeful smile. “Not yet.” He headed for the front door, leaving her several paces behind. When Leigh caught up, she found him jiggling the doorknob, another look of complete disappointment overtaking his face.

“Shit!” It had yet to occur to Leigh just how softly they had been speaking to each other until Sam shouted the frustrated obscenity. “It was a long shot, but I was really hoping they didn’t lock this. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with all the equipment they must keep in there.”

A pinprick brought Leigh’s hand smacking down on her right knee. Another mosquito, bringing the total number of bug bites collected on her skin to a casual thousand or so.

“Well, can’t you just work your magic like before?” Leigh tried to ignore the bump she could already feel irritating her skin. “I didn’t think locks were any match for you and your knife.”

Sam threw a sarcastic smile and a glare that could only mean “very funny,” but it was quickly replaced with seriousness.

“This isn’t some flimsy little pin I can slide back like at the other cabin. These guys secured this place pretty well.” Sam pointed to a round, metallic disc that surrounded the keyhole. “That’s a bolt lock. I’d need something way better than my pocket knife to get through it.”

“Then I guess that’s that.” Leigh turned, assuming Sam was right behind her. She’d already taken several paces away from the cabin when the sound of shattering glass stopped her in her tracks.

He didn’t
.

Leigh turned around, knowing exactly what she was about to see: Sam standing sheepishly next to a broken window.

He did
.

“What the hell, Sam?”

Sam shrugged and grinned. “I found something better than my pocket knife.” He carefully reached through the jagged broken glass and found the window’s latch. Once unlocked, he pushed the window up and waved his hand through the open portal.

“Ladies first.”

Leigh was fully aware just how childish it was to be turned on by such a cliché “bad boy” act. And yet, that was exactly what was happening as she took Sam’s hand and carefully made her way through the broken window. She’d been attracted to her new friend since they had first met, that much she could admit to herself. But before it had felt like some kind of deep, strange connection. Now it was purely lust. Leigh could give a shit about like minds and soul mates at a time like this. She just wanted to jump the country boy’s bones.

And all it took was a little breaking and entering.

Leigh wondered if she’d ever again be able to justify looking down on Eliza for dating someone like Rob. You could suppress carnal desires for a long time, sure, but fighting primal instinct was a battle you’d always lose, eventually—and Leigh was losing it right now.

And it felt good.

“All right.” Sam’s voice was directly in her ear. “Let’s see if we can find the light switch.”

Feeling along the wall, Leigh had to catch herself from falling face first when she stubbed her foot on something round and hard. She didn’t need light to know that it was the stone Sam had chucked through the window pane.

Something square shaped and smooth slid its way under her fingers. A protrusion jutted out from the square, pointing down toward the floor.

“I found it!” Leigh announced. Her excitement was quickly extinguished when several vigorous flicks upward and down accomplished nothing.

In the darkness, she heard Sam sigh. “Damn it. Power’s not on.”

“You think there’s a generator or something?”

“Could be one outside, maybe around back.” Sam marched across the room, making his way back to the window.

Leigh flinched at the loud thump paired with a painful
umph!
that came after Sam’s fourth step.

“You okay?” Even in light of their urgent situation, Leigh had to cover a laugh.

“Yeah,” Sam groaned. “I just walked right into a table. Something landed on my foot. Hey, wait…” he trailed off as he reached down to retrieve the object. After a beat of silence, he shouted once again, this time in joy rather than disappointment or frustration.

“Yes! I found the radio! It was the mike that hit my foot. Give me a second. I’ll see if I can find the power switch.”

After a series of shuffling noises and the metallic snaps of switches, a dim green light illuminated the area surrounding the table as well as Sam’s face. His teeth eerily reflected the light as he smiled at the backlit dials springing to life. Leigh had to smile, too, when she heard the comforting sound of static and knew they were in business.

“Thank God it’s battery-powered,” Sam said, taking a seat behind the radio. “Okay, while I try to reach someone, why don’t you try to find us a flashlight or something?”

“What about the generator?”

Sam shook his head. “Finding it and getting it running would be a waste of time. We don’t need it. If you can’t find anything, that’s okay. I think I can manage with what I got here.”

“Well, let me see what I can find.”

While the radio offered very little light, even its dim illumination seemed to double her visibility in the lightless cabin. In one corner of the room, she could make out a short stack of two or three cardboard boxes.

Grabbing the top box, she lugged it over to the swath of green light that bathed the floor around the radio’s table. Amazed to discover another little miracle, Leigh opened the flaps to see not only a book of matches resting on top, but the faded red stick of a flare right beside it.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, not exactly sure to whom she was speaking. Leigh picked up the flare and held it between her teeth while she retrieved the matches and broke one off.

The sandy scrape of the match scratching the flint was the most satisfying sound Leigh had ever heard. And the single flame from the match warmed her like a bonfire.

Leigh dropped the book of matches and pulled the flare from the grip of her teeth.

She was just about to light the end when a cold hand grabbed her wrist.

“
Ahh
!”

Leigh screamed and dropped the flare but managed to keep a hold on the match. She jerked her head back to see Sam standing behind her, still holding her wrist in a death grip. When their eyes met, he finally let go.

“What the hell are you doing?” Leigh said as she tried to regain her breath.

Sam released her wrist and took a step back. “Look at what you were about to light.”

He reached down and picked up the flare from the wooden floor. He brought it up into the lit match’s small glow, rotating it in his fingers until thick, capital letters came into view. Just before Leigh shook the match to avoid burning her fingers, she caught a glimpse of the faded letters:

DYNAMITE
.

“Oh my God! I almost killed us.” Leigh could feel the blood rushing to her face. “Why the hell would they have dynamite just lying around?”

“My guess would be to remove tree stumps.” Sam ducked down to the box and began rummaging around. “I’m not sure.”

His sentence ended with a loud
crack
, and a dim blue light appeared in his hands. Leigh watched as the light’s intensity grew and took the shape of a rod.