Chapter Thirty Six

 

It took another moment before Amber, Wat and Mary Ann realized we were not alone. When they did, the man fanned the barrel of the gun and grinned. A quarter-inch gap separated his two front teeth.

“Looks like we caught ourselves more than one fish today.”

I raised my hands and pressed back against the truck. The man with the shotgun was tall and dressed exactly like his partner. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” I asked.

Their laughter sounded maniacal and the big man said, “Taking whatever you might have, that's what. He fanned the barrel of the shotgun. “Strip.”

Amber gripped my hand, sensing dire trouble. She still had her pistol in the pocket of her jacket and she slowly reached for it. A painful mistake. One Eye reacted wildly, slamming the barrel against the side of her head. I grabbed her as she sank to her knees in the dirt.

“Let her go,” One Eye said.

When I failed to react to his command quickly enough, he nailed me in the side of the head with the butt of the shotgun. My ears rang but I somehow remained conscious. I could hear Mary Ann's loud stream of invectives and I was subliminally aware that Wat had bolted toward the mules.

Despite his size, One Eye had the reflexes of a cat. Tossing his partner the shotgun, he sprinted after Wat, made a flying leap, and tackled him from behind, but not before Wat had untied Ol' Flame and slapped him across the rump.

Ol’ Flame rose up on his hind legs to show his disgust. Before One Eye could subdue him, the mule knocked him off his feet with a well-placed kick. I watched the beast disappeared down the forest trail.

With Amber out cold and me in a stupor, our assailants didn't bother requiring us to strip. They quickly went through our pockets, retrieving Bill's diamond and Amber's pistol.

“This one's from the Valley,” One Eye said, looking at Wat. We may have to skin him alive but he'll tell us how to get down there.”

***

I regained consciousness on the floor of a musty cabin with my hands tied behind my back. Bailing twine secured my ankles and my right shoulder was red with blood that had dripped from the side of my head. For a moment, I almost faded back into unconsciousness.

Like Zekiel's shack, cardboard and yellowing newspaper covered the flimsy walls. Amber and Mary Ann were beside me on the floor and I struggled to remember exactly what had happened. Amber managed a weak smile when she noticed my rapid blinking as I attempted to clear my blurry vision.

“We're in trouble, Troop?”

“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to rub the egg-sized knot on the side of my head.

“I just sustained a glancing blow but they got my pistol. Mary Ann's fine but they have Wat outside.”

Bailing twine also bound Amber and Mary Ann. Mary Ann remained silent and I shifted my weight to get a look in her eyes. She was lost in thought and her desperate expression seemed painted on her face.

“Are you okay, kid?”

Mary Ann didn't answer but nodded pathetically. Her face contorted and her eyes red and cheeks wet with tears. “They're killing Wat,” she said in a whisper.

I edged closer until our shoulders touched. I could barely keep nervousness from pervading my own voice. “No they're not. Just keep thinking positive thoughts.”

Amber strained against her bindings but succeeded only in toppling over, onto the floor. “We've got to do something,” she said, trying to regain her composure.

“Shit!” I said, having no better luck with my own bindings.

I stopped struggling and looked around the disheveled room, hoping for an inspiration. It was not forthcoming and I sank back against the wall. Mary Ann stopped crying and stared at me with accusing eyes.

“Those men killed Bill. The rest of his journal is over on the floor. Now they're killing Wat.”

A dozen loose-leaf sheets lay crumpled in a corner and vibrated in the draft wafting through the blazing fireplace.

“No one is going to hurt us,” I said a bit too loudly to inspire much confidence.

“Yes they will and there's nothing we can do,” she said, surrendering herself to another crying jag.

“I'll think of something.”

“What can you do?” she said between sobs. “You're as passive as a moonbeam.”

Her words stung me to the marrow of my soul although I could do nothing to stem her sobs of anguish, or convince her otherwise. “They probably found Bill's journal on the trail. It doesn't mean anything.”

Mary Ann took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. In a minute, her sobbing ceased and she said, “One of them is wearing his boots.”

She continued to cry and I glanced at Amber who seemed composed. “Listen,” she said. Unmistakable sounds of someone taking a vicious beating came from just outside the open window.

“We've got to do something or they will kill him. And then us.”

I searched my mind for a plan then saw the means of our escape in the flames of the fire. Without explaining, I inched across the dirty floor and thrust my wrists into the fireplace, hoping the rope would catch fire and pull apart before my skin did.

Amber and Mary Ann watched helplessly as I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain. My temples and the veins in my forehead throbbed from the effort required to keep my wrists in the flames. Slowly, fire ignited the twine and burned through it. With wrists free, I dived forward and rolled through the dirt on the floor to extinguish the fire.

Sounds of violence outside the shack had ceased. I quickly untied my ankles and rushed to Amber's side, fumbling with her bindings. As Amber's wrists pulled free the shack, the door creaked open and One Eye entered. When he saw my hands were loose, he pointed the shotgun at me. I didn't wait for the resultant blast.

Many years had passed since I had broken a leg playing high school football. There are some things you don't forget and blocking a tackler was one of them. I slammed into the giant's knees with the full weight of my rolling body. When he bounced off the wall and fell back on top of me, I realized I had done him no serious damage. He hoisted me bodily off the floor and slammed me down, headfirst.

Amber wasn't watching the fight. Instead, she fumbled with Mary Ann's bindings. As One Eye pummeled me with his meaty fists, I saw she was not going to make it.

“No time, Amber. Run. Get the hell out of here. Get help.” She seemed frozen in place. Still in One Eye's grasp I drew myself board straight and screamed, “Run, damn it!”

By now Mary Ann had become hysterical and began screaming and kicking the wall with her feet. The smaller man heard the commotion from outside the cabin and came limping through the door. The diversion was all Amber needed. She dived through the opening between us and made it out the door—not before cat-quick One Eye grabbed the collar of her blouse. She didn't stop as he ripped it off her back.

The moon was full and yellow and cast a golden glow on the clearing outside the shack. Amber stopped and looked back at the struggle still going on inside before sprinting away into the forest's darkness. I could only hope she was running the race of her life.

Pain, even more excruciating than my blistered hands, ripped through my shoulder like a red-hot shell fragment. One Eye had clamped his teeth on my shoulder and was attempting to bite through my arm. His partner tried to grab my flailing feet and I kicked him in the face. One Eye lost his footing in the dirt and we both rolled across the floor.

Somehow, I managed to scramble to my hands and knees and crawl toward the blazing fireplace. One Eye had my ankle, trying to pull me into his grasp, but I kicked free and grabbed the remains of Bill's journal, thrusting my hand into the fire until the flames engulfed dry paper. When I plunged the burning ball of paper beneath the ragged curtain on the shack's lone window the tattered cloth exploded into flame that raced up the cardboard and newspaper walls of the shack. Quickly, a roaring fire engulfed the tiny structure.

Through swelling lips I screamed, “That's for what you did to my brother, you dirty bastards!”

It was all I had time to say before One Eye slammed my face into the wall. Mary Ann was still in the corner, rocking back and forth, unable to escape.

“The girl,” I said. “Help the girl.”

I tried to crawl to her but One Eye bounced my face off the floor. His little partner grabbed my ankle and pulled me toward the door. I fought away the dark cloak of unconsciousness and continued clawing my way across the floor. Around us, the shack's dry old wood was now in full flame. When the roof ignited, it all but blew the structure apart.

One Eye grabbed a handful of Mary Ann's hair and dragged her through the door. Little Man kicked me in the ribs and rushed after him. I managed to crawl through the opening as the incendiary structure burst into a giant ball of flame and heat licked at my backbone.

Amber was away down the road and Little Man and One Eye went behind the burning cabin to the dog pen. Their dozen terrified coon hounds were raising holy hell, trying to get out of the pen. One Eye opened the door, grabbed a frightened hound, dragged her out by the collar, and held Amber's blouse to her nose. When she had the scent, he pointed her toward the dirt road leading to the shack. After one long mournful bay at the moon, she raced away down the hill. One Eye opened the pen and held the door as the remaining hounds hurried after her. I could still hear their howls long after they had disappeared into the night.

One Eye said, “She won't get far. Let's take care of these three then we'll go after her.”

Wat was unconscious against a tree and One Eye tossed Mary Ann on top of him. One Eye's hands seemed larger than the base of a skillet and about as rough. I was almost out for the count and the giant had no problem dragging me to the tree beside Wat and Mary Ann. He went to a well near the burning shack and lifted a wooden bucket of water with one effortless yank on the rope. He tossed half the bucket over Wat's head and the rest over mine. Wat regained consciousness. Beaten nearly senseless, he groaned and clutched his ribs. Mary Ann could do nothing except draw close to him and continue to sob.

Wat's face looked like raw hamburger but I could not help him as I struggled to maintain my own consciousness. I could only stare up like a downed fighter into the face of the massive, pig-eyed man. For my troubles, he imparted a vicious boot to my kidney. I slumped against the tree. My body ached and raw blisters were popping on my hands and arms but my mind kept repeating one set of repetitious childhood sentences: Run Spot run. See Spot run. Run Amber . . .

“Get your ass up,” One Eye said, not waiting for me to obey as he lifted me bodily with his left arm. “Herd them two out and get the rope.”

Little Man cut the rope binding Mary Ann's ankles and wrists then nudged her with the barrel of the shotgun until she moved forward, a blank expression of mindless grief melded to her face. Her eyes were red but her tears had finally dried. Little Man yanked Wat from the ground and shoved him forward. He jammed the gun barrel into Mary Ann's ribs, directing the young couple toward a dark hole in the ground.

I glanced around for some evidence of Amber's capture but saw none. As I faded in and out of consciousness, something deep within the marrow of my being told me we had a chance to survive. A slim chance at that.