Authors: D.A. Serra
“Four.”
“Where are they?”
“There!” She points behind him. He whirls around ready to
attack. He peers out from the shed. Alison leaps forward and with what she is
sure will be the last move of her life, and with all the force that she can
rally, for her husband, for her son, she plunges her knife up to the handle
into Gravel’s back. She lets go and steps back expecting him to fall. He does
not fall. He does not yell in pain. He turns his crazed eyes to her realizing.
With manic rage and sudden speed, he jumps on top of her and they go down.
“Bitch. I’m going to strip your face from your skull while
you’re still alive.”
He punches her in the face shattering her cheekbone. She reaches
the knife in his back and twists. He rears up painfully. She pulls the handgun
from her pants and flat on her back, screaming, she fires into his stomach, and
again, and again, and again. He doubles over on top of her. He manages to point
his gun at her and she shoots him in the forehead.
The shots echoed! In the lodge, Ben is instantly on his
feet.
In Curtis’ cabin, he knows what this means. Engagement. The
end. He sweeps his arm across the table throwing everything to the floor.
“Damn!” Maybe someone is alive. Maybe her boy is still alive. Maybe someone
escaped. What have I become here? What am I?
Gravel lies dead and hemorrhaging on top of her. His shocked
and staring eyeballs are inches from her face. Her breaths are coming in short
convulsive gasps. Off! Ah—off! She pulls herself out from under him. He
is heavy but she slides because of the pooling blood. She continues to aim at
his dead body and uses her feet to push away on her back. She sits. She is
covered in blood and sweat. Her right cheek is turning deep purple and her eye
swells. She struggles to her feet.
Ben slides up next to the front door and yells out,
“Gravel?” “Kent?” No response. Wild-eyed, he walks to the hostages. “Who is out
there?” No response from the terrified group. Ben grabs Bruce, jerks him to his
feet, and shoots him dead. Agonizing screams from the hostages! “Again, who is
out there?”
Alison hears the gunshot from inside the lodge. She grabs
Gravel’s gun from his dead wet hand. Suddenly, she feels so oddly calm; the
lights have been turned off inside of her and she is at peace in the dark. She
is not confused. She is not scared. Everything that hurt has stopped hurting.
* * *
On the floor of the forest, approaching the lodge, hands are
digging into the mud, a pair of strong hands, pulling through the dirt,
grabbing the exposed tree roots and using them to propel his body. Moving at a
powerful speed. Closing the distance. Released from a nihilistic void, Curtis
crawls into violence.
Alison kneels down, gets some leverage, and wrenches her
knife from Gravel’s back. She meticulously wipes it on his jacket and slips it
back into her pants. Abruptly, a blast of static and then, loudly over the camp
P.A. system, Ben’s voice.
“Listen carefully,” Ben’s voice fills the air.
Alison slinks from the tin shack and drops to the ground
behind a rock between the shed and the lodge.
In the lodge over by the bookcase, Ben holds the microphone
for the P.A. system. His tone carries the sureness that comes naturally from
being the smartest one in the room. His chilling authority is implicit in every
word. “I’m going to kill one hostage every five minutes until you come on in
here so we can chat. And for everyone’s sake, my brothers had better not be
hurt. You have four minutes.”
Alison considers her options. She could rush the main room
shooting. But Jimmy or Hank could be easily killed that way. Think.
Meanwhile, those arms, muscular and gnarled, pull, pull,
over the ground and approach the lodge because Curtis is no longer numb. He feels
it. He can’t help but feel it. His breathing is thick and labored but he is not
slowing down. He is almost there. To do what? He doesn’t know. He knows only
that doing nothing is no longer his life.
Alison analyzes in eerie stillness. She scans the area
around the lodge, the path, the shed - all areas she knows thoroughly now. She
sees with different eyes. The connections in her mind have been rearranged.
What is left of her grip on humanity is screaming at her not to allow another
hostage death. Rationally, she knows giving up kills everyone. She knots her
fingers in her hair and it looks like she might yank it out by the roots and
not even notice.
Over the P.A., “Three minutes.”
And she lets loose! Alison utters a long loud wail, a wail
that has been waiting, that has been gathering inside of her since that very
first moment. It is an aberrant sound: not recognizably human yet not
resembling any animal. The plaintiff yowl echoes through the camp with a
searing rawness. Ben hears it and finds it exciting. It stirs the ugly stew at
the core of him. He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, but if it sent his
brothers into hiding, it must be powerful and cunning. The possibility that
someone could have killed both his brothers is unthinkable. He considers what
tools are at his disposal. He knows he is missing something. Something has been
bothering him. And then, what he can only attribute to divine intervention, as
a gift from God it comes to him. A small grin crawls across his face. He locks
eyes with Hank. Hank holds his stare defiantly, but he sees it: the shift, the
twinkle of delight from a puzzle solved. Ben begins talking directly to Hank
and walking over, “I think the lady wants to be left alone. That’s what you
said to my brother. I think
the lady
wants to be left alone. Like you didn’t know her. Odd words for a husband.”
Hank does not give in to the force of Ben’s gaze. He holds his eyes with
strength and says nothing. Bella’s stomach cramps and she fights a wave of
nausea. Julie hasn’t lifted her head for an hour and Ed fears she is in deep
shock.
“Aw,” Ben continues, “but this is easy.” He takes the muzzle
of his weapon and points directly at Hank’s head. Hank does not flinch. He will
not cringe in front of his son. He maintains. Jimmy begins to quiver. Without
taking his gaze from Hank, Ben asks Jimmy. “So, kid, that’s not your mother
there, is it?”
Jimmy is petrified and can barely form a word, “Ah…”
“Your mother’s out there isn’t she?” Ben moves the muzzle of
the gun to rest on Hank’s left eye socket.
Jimmy cries out, “Don’t please. Yes. Yes. Please”
Ben always feels such a pleasant thrill when he’s calculated
correctly. He loves that rush of superiority. He lowers the gun. He savors a
moment of triumph face-to-face with Hank. Then, he bends down and grabs Jimmy
by his arms, which are still tied behind his back. He drags him across the
lodge floor as all of the hostages beg for him. Hank dives out after his son.
With his ankles tied, his arms secured behind his back, all he can do is crawl
on his knees and face. He saw the menace in Ben’s eyes. He knows pleading is
worthless.
Hank explodes, “I’ll kill you! Let him go.” Hank crawls.
“I’ll come back from the grave if I have to.”
Ben responds coolly, “You’ll have to.” He stands Jimmy on
his feet, opens the lodge door, and pushes him out onto the porch. Ben steps
out and ducks behind using Jimmy as a shield. He slams the door leaving Hank
flailing around on the wood.
“Bitch! I’ve got your brat.”
Alison lying flat in some brush within sight of the lodge sees
Jimmy. She sees his terrified expression and the tears on his face. She feels
his fear and it feeds her fury.
Ben shoves Jimmy to the edge of the porch. “Woman, I am not
a patient man.”
Something catches her glance. Underneath the lodge, in the
crawl space, Curtis is dragging himself through the sludge. He is now directly
below Ben and Jimmy. Ben is unaware.
Alison yells to distract, “I have your brother. Trade?”
Hank is riveted to hear her voice. That’s Alison. She’s
alive. He shimmies his body up to the window to try to see. The other hostages
are chewing on each other’s ties and making progress.
“I don’t like trades. Get out here with my brother at the
count of three or I’ll start by shooting out this kid’s knee and then work my
way up excruciatingly slowly.”
Hank lies flat out on the floor as Ed bites at his binding
to free him.
Underneath the porch, Curtis sees the tips of Jimmy’s
sneakers. He rolls onto his back so both his hands are free.
Ben begins, “One...two...”
Alison stands revealing herself fifteen yards away. For the
first time, Ben and Alison lay eyes on each other. They connect
animal-to-animal. Jimmy gasps at the sight of his mother: battered, bloodied,
armed. Ben reviews this skinny beaten up woman.
Curtis’ strong hands dart up suddenly, unexpectedly, from
under the porch; grabbing Jimmy by his shins, with all his might he pulls! He
propels Jimmy off the porch and face down into the mud. Alison opens fire on
Ben now exposed! Ben dives for cover rolling off the porch.
Inside the lodge, Hank yells wild with anguish. Bullets
strafe the cabin: breaking windows, gouging chunks out of the bookcase. Hank
crawls, staying low, to the door.
Ben returns fire as he takes cover. Alison darts into the
woods reloading her handgun. Ben races to the shed and looks inside. Kent hangs
limp harpooned to the wall. Gravel is dead on the floor. Ben’s whole family is
gone because of her. He takes off after her. He is enraged! He will hunt her
until she’s dead, and then, he will hunt her into hell.
Hank bursts out onto the porch in time to see Curtis untying
Jimmy. He falls on the ground and hugs his son.
“Dad.”
“Who are you?” Hank asks.
Jimmy says, “He helped me.”
Curtis says, “Get back inside.” Jimmy and Hank grab Curtis,
haul him up the two porch steps and inside the lodge. All of the other hostages
are free now. They are moving furniture, covering the windows, and setting up a
barricade.
Jimmy is crying hard for the first time, “Dad.”
Hank holds him, “Yes. Okay.”
“I saw mom. She’s…she’s…” There are no words to describe his
mom.
As they fortify the room Curtis tells them, “I got through
to 911. They’re sending helicopters. There’s been some kind of manhunt for
these guys.”
Hank heads for the door as he asks Jimmy. “Where’d she go?’
Curtis answers, “She’s out to get the last guy.”
Hank finds this information hard to process. Why? What does
he mean? On purpose? In the distance, shots are fired. Hank sprints for the
door. Dan emerges from the kitchen with an ax and several butcher knives. Dan
and Grant, both suffering from heartbreaking loss, are unwilling to sit and
wait.
“Let’s go get this motherfucker,” Dan says.
Bella asks, “Are you sure you should go out there?”
Jimmy implores, “Dad, don’t. Please don’t go.”
Hank looks into his son’s face, “Jimmy, she’s alone.”
“Dad!” Jimmy’s confused, “She didn’t look…normal.”
Hank kisses his son on the top of his head and turns for the
door. Bella steps forward and puts her arm around Jimmy. The three men head for
the door.
Grant yells back, “Barricade after we’re gone.”
“Hey,” Curtis yells after them, “Don’t sneak up on her.
Really.”
Dan, Grant, and Hank run into the woods.
* * *
Alison glides surefooted away from camp, purposefully
drawing Ben away from her family. Ben pursues. He will get her. He will
absolutely get her. His rage is cold. Now, it is just the woods and them.
Alison slows her pace. Where should she lead him? Ben listens for the break of
a branch, the swish of a twig. He studies her tracks; deeper, closer footprints
in the mud indicate she is walking now - strategizing. They begin a deadly mime
dance for survival. She has one goal: to draw him as far away from Jimmy as she
can and the farther she travels into the woods the safer she now feels. It is
no longer her enemy, but her cover, her friend. The sky lightens. A red
watercolor dawn spreads out along the horizon. The storm has ended. She dreads
the light having come to rely on the erasure of night.
Adeptly, Alison uses a few rocks as steps and propels
herself up to a tree branch where she can climb a little higher and look
around. During last night, long buried animal instincts crept to the surface of
her, and she knows now that Ben is there, just as he knows she is near. A
mighty cord has formed attaching them, bonding them. When they caught each other’s
eyes, it was clear that both of them would not, could not survive: one of them
will come to the end - and they must play it out - to that end - until it’s
over. They are joined in an epic fight: eye for eye, family for family, one
winner. Perched on this tree limb, she begins to feel the ache in her bones.
Her head swims and she starts to break down. She tells herself that even if I
die now they will have had time to prepare back at the camp. They will be okay.
She could give in, let go, and suddenly that is exactly what she wants. What if
she just lies down in the brush? Maybe he finds her, maybe he doesn’t. What if
she just lies down still? She wants to lie down; she aches to lie down, please
can she lie down and let be what will be. She is suddenly so tired. Her head
falls forward. Her beaten body wavers on the branch. Her arms are too heavy to
lift. Her legs throb. Emotion crawls up her parched throat. She’s done enough.
Hasn’t she done enough? Two dark spots form in her mind’s eye. Slowly, the
illusion takes shape - they are the eyes of Ben. The eyes she saw right before
she ran. Then, she knows. He’ll go back. She knows this is the truth: he will
go back and kill her family. He will drag back her body, show it to her son,
and then kill them slowly. They do not understand him. She doesn’t know why she
understands him; she just knows that she does - deep in the core of her she
knows who he is, what he will do. She opens her eyes. Something moves! Over to
the left. She strains to see through the wall of green. Yes, a body, Ben’s body
moving cautiously because he senses her too, but he does not think to look up.
This will end it. Her eyes clear and her hand steadies. She aims at his head.
Confident. She will hit him. She pulls the trigger. Instead of the explosive
bang she is expecting, a small clicking sound. She pulls again. It’s empty. She
pulls and pulls. The gun is empty. She thought she reloaded. She looks down at
the weapon confused. Ben heard it. Was it a cricket? No, the sound of an empty
gun. He looks up and catches sight of her as she drops from the tree and
disappears. Ben accelerates through the forest after her.