Murder Mountain (30 page)

“Detective! Stop!” she screamed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. It was getting to her, watching the life get beat out of me, and as I looked at her, covered with grease and honey, I didn’t want to cause her any more grief than she already had coming.

“Ya done now, whore? ’Cause we kin keep this up as long as ya kin!” VanScoy snarled.

I couldn’t respond because both of my lips were cut open and swelling, along with every other part of my face, and I envisioned myself as looking like the elephant man right about then. I saw Big Al grab one of the buckets again, and I pretended to pass out.

“Damn it,” I heard the sheriff yell. “Git some water and throw it on her. I tole y’all I want her awake for the welcomin’. Who the fuck hit her in the head so hard, anyways?”

I didn’t hear anyone answer, but felt the cold water being dumped on my face. Since I’d anticipated it, I did my best not to jump when it was thrown on me, and still lay there with my eyes closed. I heard the sheriff tell someone he had some smelling salts in his Mustang, inside the first-aid kit, and to go get them.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie still when those were put to my nose, but I was at least buying some time.
Some time for what?
I thought.
No one is going to save me; maybe it’s best that I just cooperate and get it over with.

As I’d predicted, I jerked my head back when Eddie broke the salt pack under my nose, unable to keep up my charade.

“There now,” VanScoy ordered, satisfied. “Let’s sit her up and git her ready.”

Tim and Stuart were already pulling me up again, dragging me closer to Andrea, before sitting me upright and grabbing their buckets. When they poured the grease over me, I let out a scream like I’d never let out before. The grease was hot, very hot, and I had open cuts all over my face and head that the grease got into. This time, I honestly had to keep myself from passing out, but I couldn’t keep myself from vomiting.

“Whewee!” laughed Big Al, “I guess ya had ya some bad FBI dick, didn’t ya, whore? Give ya dick poisonin,’ did it?”

They continued to laugh while Tim squirted the honey all over me, which actually helped to ease the pain a little, since the honey was cool. I still couldn’t imagine what part hamburger grease and honey played in this little party of theirs, but I bet it was best that I didn’t know until the last possible minute.

When they were all finished, Big Al and Eddie grabbed my arms while Tim and Stuart grabbed Andrea’s, dragging us both over to the fire pit.
They are going to burn us!,
I thought.

But this still didn’t explain the grease and honey, unless in West Virginia they were both known as crude fire accelerants, which was a distinct possibility. As I neared the edge of the fire pit, I heard a sound coming from the middle of it. I wasn’t close enough to see over the edge yet, but it sounded like squeaking and squirming. What the hell is that?, I wondered as they stopped me, while taking Andrea and placing her on the top piece of plywood, directly on the edge of the fire pit.

Andrea, who had quieted down significantly until then, looked inside the fire pit and began screaming, loud. Every nerve ending in my body came alive. I didn’t want to see what Andrea was screaming at, so I closed my eyes. As soon as they were closed, Eddie smacked me hard on the side of my head.

“Open yer eyes, girlie,” he said, breathing hard. “I’ll be damned if ya miss all this. It’s the best part!”

Eddie and Big Al began dragging me to the opposite side of the pit, where another piece of plywood rested on top, with a small ramp to the side of it.

“Now, walk up there, girlie, and kneel down like the big mouth is doin,” Big Al said, still holding my arm.

My legs felt like rubber, and I was shaking so badly I literally crawled up the ramp and took my place on the plywood. Only when I was ordered to kneel and sit upright, did I look inside the fire pit, which brought forth a scream that was so foreign to me I wasn’t sure came from my own mouth at all.

It wasn’t a fire pit, but a well, one that had been filled in with dirt until it was only about twenty feet deep—seventeen feet deep, if you included the three extra feet that the hundreds of rats took up. The rats were crawling all over each other, shrieking and squirming. These were all extremely large rats, too.

More things came together for me then. They’d planned this long ago, leaving the dead rats at my house, mailing one to me at work, all leading up to this. My mind could barely comprehend what I was looking at, and worse, what they were planning to do with us.

“Welcome to West Virginia, girls,” the sheriff smiled. The other men began clapping.

“Now, Miss Gallagher,” Eddie explained in a horribly pleasant voice, “we’re gonna save ya fer last and let ya watch Andrea get her big welcome first; ready boys?”

“Ready E,” they all said in unison, as Tim and Big Al went to stand directly behind Andrea.

I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t let it happen. As Andrea faced me, screaming her last screams, I tried to think of a last ditch effort to stop it. I could feel my body tingling, my arms were going numb, and I was getting cold. I was going into shock.

“Sheriff, please! Please, don’t do this! I won’t tell anyone, ever, I promise, please don’t do this!” I cried, relinquishing every bit of pride I had—pride that didn’t matter anymore.

“Sorry, detective, but ya had yer chances, One, two, three!” the Sheriff yelled, and Tim and Allen shoved Andrea over the side of the well into the pit of angry, hungry rats.

I screamed again, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover Andrea’s bloodcurdling death screams. I watched as she hit the side of the well first, before falling right into the center of the pile of rats, and in less than a second, they were all over her. The grease and the honey did the job, no doubt, as I watched them bite and gnaw their way into the poor girl, who struggled and screamed for what seemed like forever until the screams lessened to whimpers, and then nothing.

One of the rats must’ve chewed into the jugular vein on her neck, because the sides of the well were splashed with blood. The pile of rats that were on her face moved to the side, and I could see that her eyes were gone. That was all I could take, I could feel myself starting to fade, and leaning backward, until Eddie slapped me again.

“Now it’s yer turn, girlie,” the Sheriff chuckled. “How ’bout some music, boys!”

Big Al went over to the table and turned the radio on full blast before returning to take his place behind me. I was going to die to the sounds of “Cracklin’ Rose”—something I never would have imagined. Of course, I’d never imagined that I would be eaten by rats, either. The men started dancing around, opening more beer, and laughing, making me suffer by waiting.

I looked up into the beautiful blue morning sky, tears rolling down my face, and prayed that my death would be quick. I prayed that Selina and Isabelle would have a good life and never forget me. I prayed that Eric would forgive me, even in death, and I prayed that these men would never get away with this. When people talk about having flashes before death, they are right.

Flashes of my children, Eric, and my parents came across my mind as if I was watching a movie. I knew I was completely in shock then, nevertheless, the images put me at ease. I couldn’t feel any part of my body, and I hoped I would stay that way when I hit the bottom of the well.
This is what it must feel like to be in a plane when you know it’s going to crash,
I thought. Plane crash, cancer, suicide, eaten by rats—it’s all the same when you know death is seconds away.

The longer they made me wait, the further into insanity I went. All the minutes and hours I’d spent in my life worrying about death, and fearing it, were useless. I couldn’t have imagined, not in the darkest part of my mind that it would ever be like this.

When the men were done dancing around, the sheriff walked to the opposite side of the pit where Andrea had been, and faced me.

“Now, I’m gonna give ya somethin’ that I didn’t give the big mouth a chance to do,” he announced. “If ya’d like, I’ll let ya say any last words, or prayers, ya might have.”

“All I ask is you let them find my body, I-I have children, pl-please don’t let them spend their lives wondering what happened to me,” I pleaded.

“Kin’t do it, sorry,” the Sheriff answered. “See that backhoe behind ya? Once yer done gone, we got us a pile of dirt were gonna fill the well in with. Ain’t nobody ever gonna find ya, but maybe, maybe, I’ll drop ’em a postcard from Brazil telling ’em where to look ten years from now.”

Not only is my death occurring in this hellish pit, but it’s going to be my final resting place; me, Andrea, and a hundred rats.

“Sheriff, I have one more thing to say,” I requested.

“What is it, girlie? The rats are hungry!” He laughed, bringing on laughter by all the men who were half-drunk by that time.

“My only request is, when all of you faggots are done bending each other over, and driving it home, I hope you all burn in hell,” I said, calmly.

The sheriff had a look come over his face that, even though I knew I had only seconds to live, scared me. My request stopped the other men’s laughter, and Tim and Big Al again took their places behind me.

“Let’s do this, fellas,” the sheriff began as I closed my eyes and braced myself. “One, two,
three!
”

I heard the shot ring out and felt the shove, throwing me forward into my final resting place in hell.

Falling forward, bracing myself to be eaten alive, I felt my face slam against the side of the well wall. Then I stopped, feeling something heavy leaning against my lower back and legs, preventing me from going the rest of the way down.

Eric, Coop, Kincaid, and Michael had made their way to the clearing just in time to see Big Al walk behind me, ready to push. At the precise moment he was ready to push me into the well, Eric shot him in the back, causing him to fall on my legs as well as push me forward.

I heard several more shots and felt whatever was on my legs begin to move slightly. A couple more inches and the anchor would be off, and I would fall. That was only one of my problems at that particular moment. My long hair, which was hanging down, since I was upside down, was long enough and covered in enough grease to tempt the rats to jump up towards my head.

Two managed to grab hold of my hair and started wriggling around in it. I was screaming, and I continued to feel the anchor on my legs move. The rats that were tangled in my hair were scratching my face and biting my ears, even though I shook my head back and forth rapidly.

Still screaming, I was suddenly jerked upward and out of the well, falling on my back on the ground just below the wall. The rats were still in my hair and my hands were still tied. I continued screaming and flailing myself around until I felt two hands pull one out and Kincaid’s voice cry out urgently, “CeeCee! Stay still! I need to get the other one out!”

I barely heard her, and continued screaming and tossing myself around until she managed to pull the other rat out, a clump of my hair with it. She then turned me over and untied my hands and feet, before being thrown backwards, taking a shot in the right shoulder.

My defenses and sanity coming back, I grabbed Kincaid’s gun out of her hand, and looked for where the shot had come from. Big Al Davis, who was almost dead already, had managed to pull a small handgun out of his waistband while he lay dying on the edge of the well. Seeing him raise the weapon a second time, I fired a shot directly into his head, knocking him over the side of the well. Still hearing shots, I crawled over to Kincaid to see if she was okay. Holding her shoulder, she muttered a yes, and I pulled her over against the well wall for protection, using it for cover myself.

I peered over the edge of the wall and saw Eric beating Tim Carr into oblivion by the edge of the woods. Tim didn’t appear to be moving, but Eric continued bashing him. Coop was behind the red Mustang, engaged in a shoot-out with Stuey and VanScoy, who were behind Eddie’s Blazer. Michael made his way behind them, squeezing off a shot and hitting Stuey in the chest. VanScoy turned and began shooting at Michael, who dove behind a large pine tree for cover.

There was no sign of the sheriff or of Eddie Lewis as I made my way to the Blazer, essentially crawling since I was beat all to hell, but I was determined to take care of VanScoy myself. Coop was crouched down beside the Mustang, reloading, and didn’t see me sneak by and crawl underneath the Blazer.

I waited a few moments, listening to the familiar sounds of a handgun being reloaded, before crawling out the other side and quietly walking around the front to where Captain John VanScoy sat, putting bullets into his magazine. It was too late by the time he saw me, my gun was already to his head.

“Well now, sir; it looks like you and I have a little unfinished business,” I said, still shaking and trying to catch my breath.

Even then, VanScoy showed no fear. He began to laugh, putting down his gun and magazine, and putting his hands up in the air.

“Go ahead and take me to jail, girlie. That’s all ya kin do, ain’t it? I ain’t armed and the fed is watchin’. But remember one thing,” he began to whisper, “ya lucked out this time, but don’t worry, we’ll gitcha when ...” I pulled the trigger, blowing brain matter, bone, and clumps of hair all over the side of the Blazer.

Watching him slump over, I smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Captain. I got you now, didn’t I? Always a pleasure.”

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Eric, Michael and Coop standing there, looking stunned, either from having just watched me kill an unarmed man, or from seeing that I looked the way I did. Eric ran over to me first.

“Oh, my God, CeeCee!” he cried, grabbing a hold of me and causing me to cry out in pain.

It hadn’t dawned on me before now how Eric, Coop, and Kincaid were here, in West Virginia, or how they’d got here so quickly, and why. Regardless, seeing Eric just then and feeling his hands touch me brought on a long overdue breakdown. With the knowledge that I was still alive raining down on me, I fell to the ground, sobbing. I grabbed every part of him that I could. Eric held me tight, covering himself in hardened grease and honey in doing so.