On the structure’s third floor, a very agitated and disoriented Nathan Edwards, bashed his shoulder against yet another locked door. The frame splintered but did not give way. Over the past several hours he’d done the same thing to numerous entries, the act further infuriating him rather than dissuading the compulsion to seek the women out. At either end of a long hall, light trickled in through narrow, slatted windows. He’d ripped cheap coverings away to enhance his vision, but still had to feel his way along the interior. Periodically the Husker had stopped and listened, but the utter silence angered him more.
The first floor had gone relatively fast, busting through door after door until he’d found the stairwell. Then, unlike now, he had been well rested and strong but standing in front of the condo unit directly under Rave and Bobi he ached, his shoulder bruised from the onslaught. It had been only by sheer chance that Nathan had skipped the second story and wandered misdirected and aimless into the third floor hallway. The windowless stairwell offered no assistance in maneuvering its cold steel and unforgiving concrete, forcing Edwards to climb blindly from step to step. As he’d rounded an angle leading to the final tier, the Husker’s hip had struck something hard and protruding. The long, cylindrical bar had been the door latch admitting him to the floor where he now stood.
He’d gone from room to room, finding nothing. A weaker, less intelligent Husker would have given up by now, finding security and comfort in a warm bed but Nathan was no ordinary Husker. His inner workings knew no retreat or surrender, demanding complete obedience to his instinct’s drive for fulfillment. However, the satiation rarely came, and if it did it was fleeting – a full stomach or spent sexual surge was always soon forgotten.
With one more powerful lunge he cracked the door’s frame from top to bottom, swinging the door inward and granting him entrance. He breathed heavily, sweat rolling into the corners of his mouth, carrying with it the acrid, metallic taste of stale blood trapped at the base of each stiff whisker. His tongue tingled, the sensation fueling his frantic search. At a large window, moonlight bathed him in a ghostly hue of blues and ambers. For a moment he paused, appreciating the ability to see, before storming through the rest of the unit seeking his prey. Finding it empty, as he had each of the rooms he’d thus far explored, Nathan stumbled, throwing chairs and other objects from his path, until he found himself back in the smelly, dank stairwell, headed up.
Separated by mere inches of wood, plaster and flooring, Bobi jumped each time she heard the intruder crash into a door or unknown object. She shrieked only once, drawing a quick, angry glare from Raven. The lab tech had shrugged her shoulders, as if to say sorry, but instantly regretted doing so when a sharp pain rocketed down her injured arm. Surprisingly, the banging and jarring below them suddenly stopped, replaced by fading footsteps. They both sighed deeply, finally able to completely fill their lungs with fresh air. Bobi leaned close enough to make out Raven’s features and mouthed, “Maybe they’re gone.”
Raven shook her head slowly, negating her friend’s wishful thinking. The young woman was suddenly overcome with fear. Had she made the proper decision to stay where they were? Would they be safer making their way to the ground? Perhaps they could . . . The audible click and release of the stairwell’s door helped to make up her mind. “Bobi,” she whispered. “The floors below us are clear. We need to try and get down there.”
“How?” Bobi asked incredulously.
Raven pointed toward the landing and the coil of knotted rope. In return, Bobi lifted her damaged arm and fired a look at Raven, which should have been interpreted as, Are you kidding me?
In reply, the Falconer woman stood, placed her weapon on the nearby table and crept to the sliding glass door. She gently tried to ease the stubborn, plate glass open but it remained fixed, as if it were cemented in place. Exasperated, she looked over her shoulder for a bit of moral support before yanking the handle and freeing the mechanism. A loud screech sent shivers up her spine, the noise echoing in her mind much longer and louder than it really was. Spontaneously both women shot their attention to the entryway and the only thing separating them from a certain evil. For a moment Raven’s gaze rested on the AK-47 but not for long. There was no turning back now. If needed, she could acquire the weapon and rain down a storm of lead on their attackers in a matter of seconds, but the uncertainty drove her on. Bit-by-bit she lifted, pushed and pulled the heavy door open, halting each time the metal whined against her advance.
When the gap finally appeared wide enough for the two women to squeeze through Raven motioned for Bobi to join her. “You first,” Raven suggested, stepping back just enough to give her friend access. The shorter woman turned sideways and lead with the pistol, squeezing through the opened space. She paused briefly, her full bust wedging and immobilizing her until Raven pushed her through.
“How do you propose we do this? I’m not going to be able to climb down that rope.”
“Can you hold on with your good hand?” Rave asked, quietly.
“I think so.”
“Good. I’ll hook it around your waist and ease you over the side. You can stand on one of the knots for support. I’ll lower you to the ground and then climb down myself. We can use the Escalade to get away.”
“Thinking on your feet?” Bobi asked, not entirely happy with the thought of dropping over the edge of a railing four stories up.
“You have a better idea?”
“No. Let’s do this.”
Bobi stuffed the pistol into the waistband of her pants and watched Raven secure the rope around her torso. The distal end of the rope had previously been attached to the railing’s supportive base, giving Raven some assurance. As Bobi dropped a meter of rope over the edge, Rave wrapped the lashing around her waist and braced herself against the weight. Suddenly she had her, the woman’s full load in her hands. Bobi dangled over the brink, her left hand clutching above a knot and her feet supported below as she began to inch lower, jerking slightly each time a knot cleared the railing above.
It was then, as the Egyptian hung well above the earth’s surface that they heard the first loud thud of someone forcing their way inside. Raven held fast, trying to focus on the task at hand. The door will hold, she wished, slipping another few centimeters of rope through her hands. Again the door behind her shuddered and refused the unseen assailants’ entrance.
“Bobi, swing,” she ordered, speaking with urgency to get her point across.
“What? Swing?”
“Yeah! Swing for the patio. There’s no time.” Raven continued to ease the rope through her fingers, sensing the rocking motion of her friend at the other end. Suddenly, the door’s wooden frame gave way, shattering at the bolt and sending debris flying. Raven looked over her shoulder to see her rifle lying uselessly between her and the outline of a single, huge figure standing in the entryway. She screamed and released the rope, dropping Bobi as she jumped through the narrow gap and reached for the rifle.
Against the backdrop of a moonlit sky, Nathan caught the movement of a single woman bounding from the porch to the room before him. He charged her position, hungry and overcome with need. The object he’d carried throughout the day reflexively came to his shoulder, but not before muzzle flashes of light burst ahead of him. Sound, flame, and a stinging impact dropped him to the floor. A grazing flesh wound marred his right forearm, but the burning was promptly forgotten, replaced with the thrill of the hunt. Furniture, and the absence of any meaningful light, prevented him from seeing his adversary, but he knew where she was and could sense her fear.
“Bobi, you okay? I think I hit him,” she shouted, fearful she’d dropped her smaller friend to her death. She heard no reply. “Bobi!” she shouted again. This time the call brought forth a response she had not expected or wanted. The stalker suddenly rose to his knees and with his own weapon fired two quick rounds at her position. She ducked and rolled behind the couch, swinging her rifle over the back and shooting blindly into the entry hall. This is no Husker, her mind screamed, as she weighed her next move. She could hear him, sliding and crawling toward her, his shallow grunts and moans adding to her panic.
How many, she thought, trying to estimate how many rounds the clip still held. There were more but getting to them would be nearly impossible. What to do? She answered herself in less than a heartbeat. Get to the rope!
Raven paused and prepared, knowing he was close, dangerously close. It’s now or never. She bolted upright, the AK-47’s barrel bouncing with perfect timing each time Rave pulled the trigger. The blasts lit up the room, and for a critical few seconds the explosive brightness dulled her vision. She fired indiscriminately, filling every corner with lead until she saw him lunge, unspeakably fast. Instinctively, she swung the rifle to protect herself, pumping shells as fast as she was able. A single round appeared to hit the stout attacker but the momentum of something he swung, carried through and ripped the rifle from her hands.
Stunned and injured, Nathan waited for his prey to bolt. He was anxious to further the chase, the act stoking his sense of power and need. Raven remained still, confusing the Husker and drawing him into a moment of calm.
For a second they stood face-to-face, his pale blue eyes catching the moon’s dim light. He was filthy; clothing stained with blood, dirt and putrid human sweat. Raven was surprised he was standing, she was sure she’d hit him, and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw fresh blood spreading out and running from his upper chest and shoulder. What’s he waiting for? Her rifle had fallen to the floor at his feet but he made no attempt to retrieve it. The growing tide of red washed down his left arm and dripped freely from his fingertips, but he appeared to feel no pain. In his right hand he gripped a hatchet, the very object he’d used to disarm her seconds before. Awkward seconds passed, causing Raven to question, Husker? She looked into his emotionless eyes, sensing little more than an evil hunger, but the frightened woman remained unsure.
However, Raven was convinced of one thing, she was no match for this villain, he could easily take her, even with a bullet lodged deep in his shoulder. She faked moving left before making a mad rush for the open sliding door. She heard him grunt and fall in behind her but she did not look back. A sudden swoosh of the axe pitched her hair aside, narrowly missing the softness of her neck. In an instant she was at the door and jumped through the narrow opening. She reached for the rope, clutching it fiercely, but was somehow restrained as she tried to leap over the edge – her head jerked back, nearly throwing her to the platform.
Nathan’s thick chest had prevented him from moving completely through the thin breach but his long, bloody arm had snagged Raven’s hair and yanked her toward him. With his good arm, the hatchet still in hand, he pushed the door completely open, unfazed by the racket it caused. He held her fast, dragging and pulling Raven away from the porch’s rail. She refused to give up, holding onto the rope for dear life until the heavy-ended axe swung down and severed her right index finger. Raven screamed and fell solidly onto her back, the concrete’s unyielding surface taking her breath away. Nathan stood over her, wound his fingers tightly through a bundle of silky locks and jerked her close to him. He bent over and looked into Raven’s face, the look of terror energizing him further.
Not like this, please, she bellowed in her mind. She battled to restore her breath, finally howling when given the chance. “Let me go! Let me go!” She twisted in his grasp, kicking and pivoting to escape, but he was strong and had worked too hard to let such a prize slip away.
Edwards dropped the axe at his feet, freeing himself to feel the smooth texture of her face. She snapped at his hand, gnashing wildly but the brute was undeterred. He continued to explore, sliding the hand down her neck before plunging to the softness of her breasts. Raven writhed beneath him, fighting a losing struggle. Her jousting had little impact until she dug both hands into the wound at his shoulder, twisting the torn, ragged flesh.
Nathan slowed the assault; surprised at having his victim kneed his injured chest. The big Husker was stunned, for only a second, giving Rave a chance to pull away and crawl for the rope, and freedom. Nathan marveled at the challenge, the battle helping him learn . . . and feel. He retrieved his small axe and plunged through the door, the blade elevated and ready to strike. Raven raised her arm to receive or deflect the blow, which was certain to come. She watched, sensing her end, as the shaft began its downward arc when . . .
Blam, Blam, Blam, Blam – four quick shots sounded from within the room, staggering the attacker. The blade continued its path and glanced off Raven’s left arm, cutting the muscle but not breaking the bone. Blood splattered from Edwards, an exit wound showering Raven in the process. Nathan turned to see who had taken him by surprise. In the shadows, a small figure moved toward him holding something outstretched and weaving side-to-side. Blam, Blam, Blam erupted from the object, sending one more slug deep into his chest and knocking him backwards against the iron rail. His height, and the ballistics’ momentum, lifted his feet slightly from the deck and for a few seconds he balanced awkwardly over the edge.
Pain suddenly registered in the shallow recesses of his limited brain. The neurons fired unleashing a torrent of neural activity, awakening and liberating his mind, if only briefly. Where am I? he thought, his surroundings and predicament suddenly very foreign. Through cloudy eyes he saw a female approaching, a hand extended as if beckoning him. The image triggered a distant memory: a woman, and he reached his right hand to take hers.
Raven suddenly stood, supporting his weight temporarily before using her back to lift him the few centimeters needed to send him toppling to the ground below. Unexpectedly he called out, his voice trailing and fading to a resounding, sickening THUMP that lifted skyward, reaching their ears. The rush of stampeding feet and a frightening staccato of shrill screams and primal growls quickly followed the nauseating ‘crunch’. Olympian Nathan Edwards lay broken, a remnant of his former self, limbs lifeless and numb but his mind alert. Shadows, and then gruesome forms surrounded and fell upon him, tearing at him and closing his eyes for the last time. A final thought cried to be shouted into the night but a whisper was all he could manage, bleeding it from his lips as his last earthly deed, “Rita.”