G
race was running for her life, October’s approaching Hunter’s Blood Moon spotlighting a trail across the snow-touched forest floor. The trees and brambles, insensitive to her flight, tore at her, tripped her, toyed with her. In her terror, she stumbled and slammed hard into the earth with her shoulder and hip, but she scrambled to her feet and ran forward in blind terror. There was no time to check for bruises or cuts or broken bones. No time to think, no breath to scream.
She could hear them crashing through the trees in pursuit, their wicked laughter and lustful voices flitting toward her like a lash, offering pain, promising death. She had nowhere to go, no way to escape. She was in Northern BC, running through the Boreal Forest. Her strides were not quiet footfalls, they were loud, resonating in the night, leading them to her. The faster she ran, the better they could follow, the bigger the risk of her falling and seriously injuring herself, diminishing any chance to fight back. As if she could anyway.
She was weeping now, sobs catching in her throat, then falling like leeches from her mouth, sucking the breath from her, forcing her to slow. This was not how she thought her night would end. Her panicked mind flitted to her boss, the man she loved, Dr. Eric McConnel, or what was left of him after they beat him to death. She felt bile rise to her throat as her memories riveted on the crunching of bone as they stomped him, the blood that poured from his face, his back bent unnaturally so he could no longer defend himself. And her helpless, flailing against enormous arms attached to a drunk, manic biker, screaming and sobbing, begging them to stop; promising them she would do whatever they wanted if they spared Eric’s life. But it was too late – they kept kicking him even after he was nothing but a stump of bloody sinew and shattered bones. Then the one holding her, his evil filtering through in his stench, ripped her shirt from her back as he threw her to the ground. He stood over her, removing his belt, tapping the leather against the palm of his hand before he lashed it across her stomach.
The pain hit her brain like a shot of caffeine, momentarily jarring her out of her grief and forcing adrenaline through her body. She rolled onto her belly away from him, then bounded to her feet. She didn’t stop to take note of her surroundings as she crashed into the safety screen of the forest and fled. The suddenness of her escape afforded her a head start while the three killers sorted out what had happened. But now, 10 minutes later, she was still running, uphill, the snow under her feet causing her to slip, the roots from the trees fucking with her balance, the goddamned brambles tearing at her flesh. Her tears blinding her, her sobs choking her. There was nothing to do but stop. Then they would be on her. They’d rape and kill her or keep her until she died. She felt another sob rip from her lips as a fresh round of tears burst from her.
She stumbled into a small clearing, bending over at the waist, hands on her knees, trying to quiet her weeping, trying to suck air into her battered lungs. Time to face the nightmare. They were still running, drug-induced stamina overriding any sense they had. Maybe they were so caught up in the chase that they’d forgot what they were chasing. Just as she thought they might run right by her, one of them crashed out of the trees like a strawman on fire. He let out a loud howl as he saw her, then ruthlessly tackled her to the ground before she could run again.
“You stupid bitch,” he bellowed as he sat on her, straddling her hips with his knees, his groin pressed against her pelvis. He pulled her hair with one hand as he viciously slapped her face. Her head snapped back and her teeth sliced the inside of her cheek. Blood seeped from a split lip. Then another voice, one of reason, said, “Whoa Brit, don’t ruin her until we’ve had a go at her.”
Brit swivelled his head toward the speaker, his mouth a ragged gash across his face. “Who the fuck are you to talk to me that way, Critter?” He stood up, tall enough to tower over the smaller man, the snarl on his face grotesque.
“Fuck you too, Brit,” Critter said. “I killed the fucking boyfriend! I get her first!”
The third biker, the one who’d been holding her at the camp, the one who laid his belt to her stomach, stumbled up to the pair. “What I’d miss?”
“Critter seems to think he gets her first.” Brit stared down at the smaller man, who didn’t appear the least bit intimidated.
Grace sat up carefully onto her elbows. She had her breath back, could run again, but she caught the attention of Critter, who moved over her. “How about we do this.” He was talking to his mates but looking at Grace. He fell to his knees as his hands moved to her running shoes and he tugged them off her feet. “How about we all fuck her first. You know – I’ll take the pussy, you take the ass and Louie can fuck her mouth. Grace started to shake and blood roared in her ears as he talked, his eyes on her as he reached to undo her jeans. She twisted away from him, rolling onto her belly and trying to snake away with her arms. Screaming, the only sound she heard now. Her screams. Critter caught her before she could get to her elbows, pulling her to him, dry humping from behind as he unsnapped her bra and then reached around her waist and unbuttoned her jeans. They were all there now, on their knees, like jackals, a hand on her breast, twisting her nipple, another shoved inside her panties, clawing at her pussy and Critter, pulling off her jeans, ripping her panties.
Naked, she was naked now.
One of them leaned down into her face, maybe Brit. “Stop screaming or I’ll fill your mouth with dirt.”
“Not dirt.” It was Critter. “With cock.”
“She’ll fucking bite me if I do that.” Yes Brit. Then she felt the belt across her ass, brutally hard. Then another across her back.
“You stop screaming, I’ll stop hitting you.” That was Louie. The fucker with the belt.
Pain shredded through Grace as the lashes rained down on her, but she managed to clamp her lips together, forcing her screams down, dying to whimpers. Then her shaking, her stomach churning and the rise of her bile, spewing out, and onto Brit, who had been kneeling in front of her, pants around his ass, cock in one hand, her hair in the other. “Fuck,” he shouted as he threw himself backwards away from her. His friends laughed wildly.
Critter grabbed her hair, pulling her up, forcing her to kneel in from of him. “You’re not making this easy on yourself, you stupid cunt.” He eyed her as he pulled a joint from a thin case he had in his back pocket, lit it and inhaled deeply. He handed it over to Louis who was standing next to him.
“Come on Brit, you can have her first.”
Brit took a step towards Grace, but then froze in his tracks, staring beyond her, beyond his mates to the dark shadows in the trees. His hands grabbed at his head as he took a step back, his mouth slackened. “Fuck, run!” he shrieked but as he turned, something big and fast grabbed him from behind, it’s claw tearing through Brit’s back, and pulling his heart from his chest. They all scrambled back. The smell of iron invaded Grace’s nostrils, but didn’t completely block out the smell of fur, of wolf. She screamed again, the back of her mind registering the irony. A wolf, the largest she ever laid eyes on, had just ripped the beating heart from a man, from the back. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold her and she dropped to her knees on the dirt. She heard screaming, hysterical, shrill, unearthly. She covered her ears with her hands trying to block the horrifying sounds, then realized they were coming from her.
Blood arced in the air, a trail that splattered across her torso, her face. Then a ball came towards her, rolling with an odd cadence, before bouncing off her knee and coming to rest inches from her. She gaped at it, into the dead staring eyes of Critter. She thought she’d vomited everything earlier, but it didn’t matter. Her stomach turned inside out as she heaved. She heard her groans, her whimpers, and she heard Louie’s terrified screams just before he was impaled by the branch of a poplar tree, 20 feet up from the ground.
That was three, which left her… next… to die. The shock hit her like a bullet, crashing into her body, running up through her spinal cord and piercing her brain. And darkness, blessed darkness as the shadowed shape of a large wolf burrowed its nose between her legs.