Faint of Heart (16 page)

Her heart gave a jolt, but Rebecca didn't pick up her pace. She couldn't risk tripping. Let him be the one to trip, if he wanted to run in the dark. There were plenty of obstacles on the path.

Something swished past her head.

"Dammit!" Alan shouted.

He'd thrown his knife and missed.

Go for the knife or keep running? Go for the knife or keep running? Choose quick, choose quick, choose quick...

She kept running. The car wasn't that much further away, and Alan would waste valuable seconds finding the knife himself.

A light beam shone across the path in front of her. Stephen was coming after her, too.

He wouldn't blow her away with the shotgun, would he?

Her good foot landed on a thick root, but she didn't stumble. Her lungs burned and it was becoming hard to breathe--she didn't do much running in her daily life--yet she didn't slow her pace. She could do this. She wasn't going to stop.

"Gonna cut your head off!" Alan shouted. "I'm gonna jam my hand up your neck and work you like a goddamn ventriloquist's dummy!"

He was losing it. Good.

Up ahead, she could see the car. She was going to make it, just like Gary had!

Stephen's light continued to shine in front of her, though he didn't emerge from the woods. She had no doubt that he could beat her in an even race, but he was on uneven terrain and if she could only make it another thirty seconds--

"You're dead!" Alan sounded much closer than she'd anticipated. Why the hell couldn't he just trip and break a leg?

She kept running.

Now she could see Stephen, just ahead of her, moving toward the path, shotgun raised.

She wasn't going to let either of them beat her. Not a chance in hell.

How did this even work once she reached the car? Did she just touch it and call "
Base!
" They certainly weren't going to let her get inside and drive away.

Stephen was almost to the path.

It looked like they might even collide.

Rebecca pushed herself into a full-out sprint, the kind she hadn't done since dropping out of soccer in high school. Stephen stepped out onto the path, but he was too late. She rushed out to the clearing and over to Gary's car.

She tugged at the door handle. Locked.

"Very well done," said Stephen, walking out into the clearing. Alan followed a few moments later, looking incredibly pissed. "Gary would be proud."

Rebecca leaned against the car, barely able to catch her breath. "Now what?"

"Now you drop to your knees."

"Why?"

Stephen pointed the shotgun at her. "Because I said so! Do you really want to get this far and make me blow your head off?"

Rebecca got down on her knees. Stephen walked over to her and pressed the barrel of the shotgun against her forehead.

"This is where we were going to murder Gary. But, like I said, he made a plea for his life that managed to touch the heart of even a sociopath like myself. It's time for you to do the same. Make it good."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The shotgun barrel was like frostbite against her forehead.

"Fuck this up," said Alan. "Please, fuck this up so I can use my knife."

"Shut up," Stephen told him. "Go on, Rebecca. Impress me."

Rebecca closed her eyes. If she couldn't see the men, couldn't see the shotgun, she just might be able to get through this. "You can't kill me," she said. "Gary and I need each other. I...I need him to tell me that I don't look fat, and he needs me to rub his shoulders after he gets back from playing racquetball. I need--"

"Do you really think I care if you think you look fat?" Stephen asked. "Try a different angle."

"I love him," Rebecca said. "I don't think I could live without him."

"I think you could live just fine. For all you know, he's been dead all weekend, and you're still alive."

"You're fucking
uuuup
," said Alan.

Rebecca squeezed her eyes even more tightly closed. What did they want from her? What could Gary have said?

"We're soul mates."

"I don't believe in soul mates."

"Please, you can't kill him. I'm begging you." Rebecca's whole body was quivering and she didn't try to stop the tears. "He's everything in my world. I've done everything you've asked so far, and you've got to at least let me see him one last time. One more time. That's all I'm asking. You owe me that."

"No," said Stephen. "I don't owe you a thing. And you're begging for me to spare the wrong life, because right now I feel like showering your hubby with pieces of you. That's what we'll do. Pour a barrel of Rebecca parts over his head. How does that sound?"

"If you want to kill me, then kill me. Just don't hurt him."

"Open your eyes."

Rebecca opened them.

"Say that again."

"If you want to kill me, then kill me. Please don't hurt Gary."

"You look genuine. I'll be damned. You'd actually rather we kill you than your husband?"

"Yes."

Stephen glanced over at Alan. "You believe her?"

"She sounds like she's telling the truth. Which makes her a fucking idiot, because I guarantee you, after three seconds she'd be wishing it was Gary under my knife instead of her. Three seconds. We should test that."

"We should, but we're not." Stephen looked back down at Rebecca. "So you're willing to give up your life for his, huh? Very admirable. Very courageous. Unfortunately, it's not what I'm looking for. You get one more try. If your answer doesn't convince me that you should live, well, you're not going to."

"I--I don't know what you--"

"Think carefully before you speak."

What was she supposed to say? What could change Stephen's mind? What did he want to hear?

"Think carefully but quickly," Stephen said. "You have ten seconds."

As he began the countdown, she suddenly realized what it must be.

"If you kill me, you won't get to end the game."

"Killing you
would
end the game."

"But you planned out an endgame, right? If you kill me here, you'll have wasted the time preparing it."

Stephen considered that. "You have a point. But it's not the point I'm looking for. We'll forget you said that and give you one more chance."

"Oh, c'mon!" said Alan. "I'm getting blue balls here!"

"I said shut up. Don't think I won't turn the gun on you. And, yeah, Rebecca, we do have an endgame planned, but I guarantee you we won't cry ourselves to sleep if we have to abandon it. We'll be just fine. No more free answers. Convince me to let you live."

She had no idea what he wanted. What could she possibly say to make a pair of psychos like Stephen and Alan believe that they shouldn't kill her? What did they value? They didn't care that she and Gary were deeply in love, and they didn't care about the sacrifices they were willing to make for each other. What would a couple of sleazy murdering scumbags feel was lost if she or Gary was killed?

"The sex is unbelievable," she said. "Please don't take it away from us. I'll never get laid like that again."

Stephen pulled the barrel of the shotgun away from her head.

"I can respect that. Alan, unlock the car. Let's take her to see Gary."

* * *

They put a cloth sack over her head and then put her in the back seat of Gary's car. The drive was only about five minutes, but they let her out of the car only to usher her into the trunk of the car that Alan had first used to kidnap her.

This was a much longer, colder drive.

She tried to feel relief, but couldn't. She'd still seen their faces. Still knew their names. And for all she knew, Gary had been murdered hours ago. His body could be facedown in the woods, being devoured by bears.

But...this is where Gary's night had ended, right? Convincing Stephen not to kill him? She'd relived his entire experience, and survived, and if they were playing fairly the only step left was to take her to her husband and set them both free.

Maybe they'd do it. Maybe this was over.

It was difficult to judge the time, but the drive had to be over an hour before the car finally came to a stop. She'd slowly passed much of the time by carefully removing the fishing hooks from her hand. The trunk lid flew open, and she was greeted by the unpleasant yet familiar sight of Stephen's shotgun.

"Get out carefully," he said. "Don't mess it up now."

She climbed out of the trunk. They were still in the woods, and she recognized the cabin--it was the same one they'd been in before.

"Is he inside?" she asked.

"Could be. Could be underneath. Don't make any sudden moves."

She slowly walked toward the cabin. Alan opened the door for her, and then gestured with his hunting knife for her to go inside. She did.

The main room was empty.

"Take off your jacket and then sit down," Alan said, pulling a wooden chair into the center of the room.

"You have to promise me I'll see Gary."

Alan shrugged. "Fine. I promise."

Rebecca took off her jacket, tossed it on the floor, and sat down in the chair. Alan walked over to a small shelf and picked up a roll of duct tape. While Stephen kept the shotgun on her, Alan looped the tape around her ankles, taping them to the legs of the chair, and then did the same to her wrists, taping them to the armrests.

"Your husband," said Stephen, "is in the next room."

"Is he...is he alive?"

Stephen stared at her for a moment with absolutely no expression, and then nodded. "Yes, he is. Congratulations, Rebecca. Gary had a terrible weekend, and you had one that was almost as bad. I'll give Gary the edge because he had more of a personal connection with the people we murdered, and because we beat the shit out of him, but still, you two have a lot of common experiences to talk about."

"So bring him out."

"Can't do that quite yet. Now, I said that you had to relive his experience, see what he saw, do what he did, and survive it. You did that. The only problem is...his experience isn't over yet."

"I don't understand," said Rebecca, even though she did, completely.

"Which one do you want?" Stephen asked Alan.

"The girl."

"No surprise there. So, Rebecca, I've always believed that the best way to bring a couple closer together is for them to be cut up at the same time. We're going to test that theory."