April 24
th
, Eric part 6
The middle of the logging road was still spongy from the
recent weather, so Emily and I walked along the edge where the regrowth of
brambles seemed to be the thinnest. The tall trees along the border of the road
blocked most of the remaining afternoon light, and I kicked up my pace another
notch. I wanted to get back. As long as I kept my strides within the realm of a
leisurely walk my ankle didn’t bother me too much, outside of the expected throbbing.
On the few occasions that I tried to put more weight or pressure on it, I found
myself wincing in discomfort. Emily was mostly silent, taking pictures here and
there as we walked, and Max was trotting about seven feet to my left. I could
tell that he was picking up on my mood by the way his ears shifted and locked
on various sounds from the woods, as if he was examining each one with an
intense scrutiny for possible threats. We had gone about 500 yards from the
Gator when I called a halt.
“Emily,” I said, “we’re going to take a little side trail. Just
through there.” I indicated a line of spruce trees on the right, “we can hook
up with the ridge trail I jog on. It will save us about a quarter mile, and
that should put us back at the cabin just before dark.”
“That’s fine with me.”
“The trail is pretty narrow in a couple spots, so be careful
OK.”
“Lead the way,” she smiled, “and don’t worry about me.”
I pushed my way through a small cluster of saplings, lightly
warning her to stay back in order to avoid getting tree-slapped. After that we
crossed through a serpentine assembly of mature blue spruce before intersecting
the ridge trail. I followed the path as it wound down through another stand of
spruce before breaking out into a large stretch of mixed aspen and oak. Even in
late afternoon, enough of the sky was visible through the missing leaves for me
to easily stay on the trail. Max had moved up in front of me and quickened his
pace, occasionally stopping to let me catch up and put him back within the
acceptable ‘tight‘ radius. Another three minutes of walking and the trail broke
out of the forest and spilled onto a rocky hillside exactly 177 yards from the
front porch of the cabin. I knew the number because I had stepped it off after
making an amazing freehand shot at an eleven point buck several years ago. Max
immediately froze up and I heard a barely audible rumble from his chest as he
sniffed the air. Coming up even with him, I got down on one knee and draped my
left hand over his shoulder. I could feel the deep vibrations intensify as we
stared at the scene below. The fading light and distance hindered my vision, so
I unstrapped my rifle and double checked to make sure the safety was on before
peering through the scope. Uncle Andy’s truck was parked behind mine, and there
was a big yellow pickup in the grass between my truck and the cabin. The
magnification on the scope I was peering through was enough for me to see
Michelle and my uncle, and three people I didn’t recognize. Emily squatted next
to me and switched the stubby black lens on her camera with a long, cream
colored telephoto one. A thin red ring near the front of the zoom lens
indicated that it was one of her top quality, professional grade lenses.
“Who are they?” she asked as she peered through the camera,
twisting and rotating the focus ring.
I raised the scope again and said, “My uncle is on the far
right. The girl with the red hair and plaid shirt is Michelle. I don’t know the
other three.” I scanned a bit to the left and right, dictating as I went. “I
don’t see anybody else. The green truck is mine . . . the old white pickup is
Uncle Andy’s, so I guess the yellow monster belongs to those other guys.”
As we watched, Uncle Andy turned slowly and started walking
away. A growing, hollow sensation in my gut magnified and became talons of ice
clutching at my throat as the scene unfolded. Almost in slow motion, I looked
on as my uncle took a dozen or so more steps before one of the three people I
didn’t know made a motion like they were drawing a gun. I saw a flash of light,
and watched as my uncle slammed to the ground. A few milliseconds later the
reverberating
KRA-BOOM
of the gunshot reached us, followed by a faint
“Nooo . . .“ Momentarily frozen with shock, my heart pounded as the three
distant figures pulled a struggling Michelle toward the cabin.
“No . . .” I echoed softly in disbelief as my stomach flip-flopped
and jaws clenched tightly. I vaguely recalled Emily saying, “Oh no . . . please
God . . . no.” And then I was moving. Fast. A dozen steps into my sprint I both
felt and heard the stitches in my ankle tear and pop. I didn’t care. Max was
easily loping right next to me as I raced down the hill heading for the cabin. I
was still 150 yards out when they pulled Michelle through the front door. Another
shot of freezing cold gripped my heart as I watched the cabin door slam shut. My
breath came in rasps as I plunged faster down the slope, and as I ran the
bitter cold fear that blasted through me began to be replaced by a white hot
fury. The wind whipped through my hair as I covered the remaining distance, and
I slowed my race down only when I was a few steps away from the side wall. I flattened
myself there, sucking in wind as I clicked off the safety. Max was by my side,
looking toward the back of the cabin and growling.
“Easy Max,” I whispered as I patted him, “easy boy.”
My breathing was slowing down as my mind rapidly tried to
sort out priorities. Michelle or Uncle Andy? Where to go first, and what to do
when I got there. In the space of a few heartbeats later, Emily coasted up
beside me, huffing and wheezing with exertion.
“Holy crap, you’re fast!” she puffed out.
I held a finger up to my lip to quiet her as I forced myself
to calm down and focus. Uncle Andy or Michelle first . . .? A muffled scream
from inside the cabin made my decision for me.
“Save the living, the dead
will take care of themselves,” I
heard my uncle’s voice in my head as I
gripped the rifle tightly.
“Max, wait,” I said, reinforcing it with a firm hand on his
chest. He was still angled toward the back of the cabin, his heavy muscles
tensed up and ready to spring. In the semi-darkness I could see his lips
curling and teeth beginning to bare. The rumble in his chest expanded and
spread to his throat.
“Max . . . wait,” I commanded again in a hissed whisper. He
cocked his head briefly towards me before crouching to the ground, flattening
himself out and winding up . . . the perfect picture of a monstrous canine
doomsday clock, momentarily frozen in time at one second ‘till midnight.
I turned towards Emily. “Don’t move.” Without waiting for her
reply I scuttled to the front corner of the porch and peeked around. No one was
there that I could see. The front of the cabin has two small windows about three
feet high and two feet wide each. Both of them have a grid of cast iron lattice
for security bolted to the outside frame. There was no way I was going through
them. Dead center in the middle of the front wall was the door. I quietly
stepped onto the edge of the porch, pressing myself against the wall as I slid
forward toward the closest window. The light from inside the cabin shining
through the security lattice painted a warped picture of two checkerboards on
the porch surface. I slid closer and pressed my cheek against the window. For a
moment my heart sunk with the view and I forced my eyes closed, choking down
the shadow of panic that was beating at the doors of my soul.
Focus Eric . .
. that’s Michelle in there, and you will NOT let this happen to her
. My
eyes snapped open, and as I took a mental picture of the scene inside the
cabin, the tendrils of fear were pummeled into oblivion and replaced with rage.
Michelle was in handcuffs, suspended from a rope thrown over one of the ceiling
beams. She had been gagged, and her jeans and long Johns were around her thighs.
The red flannel shirt was unbuttoned and her thermal top pulled up to just
below her bra line, exposing her bare flat stomach and pale yellow panties. There
were three men that I could see. A tall guy in jeans and a black sweatshirt,
another guy almost as big wearing ripped khakis and a dirty long sleeve shirt
with some type of skull and crossbones on it, and the third guy—short and
stocky with a cowboy hat. I could see several guns, and each of the men held a
liquor bottle of some type.
A bout of harsh laughter came through the window. “What do
you think boys, is she a real redhead?” Cowboy Hat spoke.
“I know a way to find out.” Skull and Crossbones laughed as
he walked up to Michelle and grabbed her hair with his left hand, forcing her
to look at him. His right hand raised the liquor bottle to his mouth and he
took a swig, then poured the remaining liquid onto Michelle’s stomach, soaking
her underwear as it ran down. Tossing the bottle aside with a crash, he moved
his now free hand onto her belly. Jerking her head back again, he said, “It
looks like our little toy had an accident. I better look to see if she needs
changed.” His hand slowly descended as Michelle struggled and screamed through
the gag.
I strained my vision as far as I could angle it, and swore
under my breath with what I saw. Pausing for half a heartbeat to be sure, I
cursed again and padded quickly off the porch and back to Emily.
She must have made out the look on my face. “What’s happening
Eric? Tell me!”
I bit my tongue hard just to feel something besides outrage
and fury. Steeling myself, I choked out the answer. “They have Michelle. Three
of them. And I can’t get in, the bastards have the bear bar across the door,
and the windows have metal grates.”
“Is there a backdoor?” she asked quickly.
I shook my head as I answered. “Yeah, but it’s always locked
from the inside as well.”
“Can we knock it down?”
“We don’t have the time,” I answered . . . “Michelle doesn’t
have the time.”
“Do you have another gun with you?”
“It’s in the cabin, and it wouldn’t do any good anyhow,
because the only angle I have to shoot through is covered by glass and metal. Michelle
wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“What about a knife or something?” Emily asked.
I reached down to my belt and felt the silver-capped black
handle of my old trusty Buck knife. The blade was barely five inches long, but
still held a razor edge. It had been Uncle Andy’s hunting knife for years, and
he had given it to me on the day I got my first deer. Emily’s gaze followed my
hand, but she said nothing for a moment. I tensed up, mentally preparing the
only option left to me. Punch through the window with several rounds, hopefully
catching one of the bastards in a vital area, then move to the next window and
repeat, all the while praying for Michelle’s safety. I reached down and turned
the thumbscrews that held the scope mount onto the rifle. Open sites would be
faster and allow me to shoot instinctively. It only took twenty seconds to
remove the scope, but that was twenty more seconds with Michelle at the mercy
of those barbarians. A millisecond before I got up, Emily reached her hand over
and touched my scruffy face.
“Eric,” she said, “thank you for rescuing me,” her dark eyes
gathered up the early moonlight and condensed it into delicate silver
reflections. She leaned over and kissed me lightly as she got to her feet. “Now
it’s time for you to save Michelle,” she whispered.
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What? . . .”
With a wink Emily said, “If you can’t get in to them, let’s
bring them out to you . . . Get ready.” And then she walked straight out into
the front yard by the yellow truck, taking off my baggy jacket and shirt as she
went. I stood there open mouthed as a now topless Emily opened the driver’s
door of the big pickup, used the drop step to climb halfway into the truck and mashed
on the horn.
“
BRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP……BRAAAAAAPPPPPPP
.”
My momentary stun was lost as I heard footsteps inside the cabin.
Without a pause Emily shouted out “HEY TOMMY, WHAT’S A POOR GIRL HAVE TO DO TO
GET A PIECE OF ASS AROUND HERE . . . AND WHEN DID YOU GET A NEW TRUCK?”
My eyes went wide as Emily beeped the horn again and then hopped
down, moving out into the front yard and yelling as she went. “TOMMY . . . OH
TOMMY, DID YOU FORGET OUR DATE? IT’S FLIPPING COLD OUT HERE, AND IF YOU DON’T
COME OUT NOW I’M GETTING DRESSED AND GOING HOME.”
I heard some hushed voices arguing inside the cabin, followed
by low laughter and the sound of the metal bear bar being lifted. Light spilled
out as the door swung silently inward. I plastered myself against the cabin
side and waited. Several sets of footsteps went onto the porch, followed by a
deep voice.
“I must have been a good boy this year, William . . . it
looks like I get another present.”
I could see Emily from my angle, but not the speaker.
Emily immediately tried to cover herself in embarrassment,
all the while apologizing. “Oh, I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry, I thought Tommy
was home . . . I’m so embarrassed.”
I caught the slight change in shadows as somebody on the
porch moved a bit. “Yeah . . . Tommy’s inside. He says to come on in.”
“No . . . I don’t think so. I’m sorry to have bothered you .
. . I’ve got to go home,” Emily said as she took a step backwards.