Sara (21 page)

thirty-five

Sara moved slowly along the deer trail toward the sound of a small brook. She was sure this was the same creek she had followed four days earlier toward the cabin. If she traveled upstream this time, then she would be moving away from the men who were looking for her. Trouble was, the cabin and the men were now between her and the route she had planned to follow out of these mountains. Since the tow truck driver had mentioned reading the note she had left for the cabin’s owner, that plan was now impractical.

             
The horizon to her left was beginning to show signs of daylight which confirmed that she was heading in the direction she intended. South would eventually lead her to the trail from the quarry where she was raped, and beyond that, to the road that brought her to this damn place. Sara wasn’t completely sure how she felt about following that road out of these mountains. It left her vulnerable; open to discovery by the three men who were looking for her.

             
Sara stopped for a moment. She had heard a distant voice behind her. Someone had hollered. A call to muster. Discovery.

             
She moved a little faster now. Her body shook from cold and weakness brought on by the loss of blood from her reopened knife wound. Her thin blouse was now in tatters and thirst threatened to close her throat, but she dare not stop to make repairs or drink from the stream. Judging by the sounds she had just heard, the men were only minutes behind her.

“Here!” Jordan yelled. “I found something.”

              Hunter Barnes and Pop stepped from the trees to where Jordan was holding a strip of white cotton.

             
“Isn’t this from the girl’s shirt?” he asked Gary Popineau.

             
Pop took the cloth from Jordan and turned it in his fingers. “It is covered in fresh blood, so logic would dictate that it belongs to the girl.”

             
Sheriff Barnes took the cloth. “It looks like she is losing a fair amount of blood. She can’t be moving very fast, but if she reaches the vehicles before we do, then all bets are off.”

             
“Yes,” Pop replied. “It would be best if we were to find her quickly and deliver her to God’s loving arms before the sun rises.”

             
Barnes stared at Pop and shook his head. “You can cut the bullshit, Gary. Your piety has no credibility in my company.”

             
The two men stared at each other for an extended time.

             
“Fine,” Popineau finally broke the silence. “If we don’t find the little whore before she stumbles across some wayward hunter with a Good Samaritan complex, then all three of us are in for a world of trouble.”

             
Jordan finally spoke up. “It looks like she is headed for Pendergrass Creek. If she’s smart, then she will be at the quarry in a couple of hours.”

             
“She’s smart,” Sheriff Barnes replied. “She has outsmarted you two dumbasses every step of the way. I’m going to cut across White Rock Mountain and get to the quarry before she does. The two of you need to keep following her. If we work this right, we will have her in the ground before breakfast.”

thirty-six

Mike stopped just long enough to throw the Jeep into four wheel drive. Flowers Road was no road at all. It was a steep, well rutted dirt track snaking along a heavily forested mountain side. The Jeep rocked and bounced hard, threatening to overturn. Mike slowed to a manageable speed and the evergreens slipped by, one by one.

             
Haller wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find at the quarry. The fact that Sheriff Barnes and his step-son, Jordan, were somewhere in these mountains, coupled with the disturbing dream Mike had suffered through, gave him a sense of urgency that threatened to end his life in a mass of wreckage at the bottom of some steep ravine.

             
His headlights threw a cast of shadows among the timber that could be easily interpreted as some grand stampede of the hunter and the hunted in a desperate struggle for life. The Jeep bounced again, lifting Mike from his seat, removing his foot from the pedal, and bringing everything to a sudden jarring halt.

             
“Dammit!” he yelled. Mike started the Jeep again, straightened the wheel, and brought the four wheel drive back to its snaillike crawl up the steepening mountain.

Just as daylight was breaking, two vehicles came into view, parked in a small meadow near the base of a mountain. Mike immediately recognized one as a Ford Explorer
belonging to the Red Feather County Sheriff’s Department. “Barnes!” Mike thought to himself. The other vehicle was an old Bronco that had seen better days. Mike pulled in behind the sheriff’s vehicle, effectively blocking any escape. He silenced the engine, then sat listening to the creaks and groans of the settling Jeep. He knew the sheriff would be armed; maybe even Jordan, though he highly doubted it.

             
Mike looked around the Jeep for any type of weapon. Nothing caught his interest so he opened the glove box and felt relief when he spotted a hard case for a small handgun. Stenciled across the top was the name, Trina Lang. He quickly unzipped the case and pulled out a chrome plated Smith & Wesson Model 30. “Trina Lang,” he said out loud, “I could kiss you.” He opened the cylinder and found it loaded with six rounds of .32 long ammunition. Flipping the cylinder shut, Mike stepped from the Jeep and tucked the pistol into the small of his back.

thirty-seven

Sara stumbled along the trail as fast as she could. She had debated with herself the pros and cons of leaving the trail and striking out through the forest. The deer trail offered a quicker pace, but she was easily followed by the men trying to catch her. She finally admitted to herself that the only possible chance she had of surviving was to run into a backpacker or maybe a forest ranger. The deer trail increased the likelihood of that, if only by a tiny amount.

             
Unable to bear her thirst any longer, Sara stopped and slowly dropped to her knees beside the creek. Placing all her weight on her right hand, she bent and gulped mouthfuls of water until she choked a bit. She sat back on her haunches, coughing and heaving to catch her breath. A sharp pain shot through her back, and Sara sprawled into the stream.

             
“Kick her again, Pop!” Jordan screamed then laughed hysterically. “We got her! We got the little bitch!”

             
“Shut up and pull her out of there,” Pop replied.

             
Jordan grabbed a fist full of Sara’s hair and pulled her out of the water.

Sara
screamed and fought wildly to break free of the tow truck driver’s grasp. She felt her hair being ripped by its roots as he tried to stand her up. Sara was kicked again from behind and her body swung like a pendulum, finally coming to rest on her knees at Jordan’s side.

             
“Sara?” Pop asked deviously. “Is that your name, sweetie?”

             
Sara failed to answer. Instead, she screamed again and clawed at Jordan’s hand with her broken fingernails.

             
“Your daddy is all in a fuss looking for you, sweetheart.” Pop bent down to look Sara in the eyes. “But we know that he is never going to find you, now don’t we?”

             
Sara wanted to spit in the man’s face but her mouth was dry as cotton. All she could muster was, “Fuck you!” She took a breath. “You are the devil,” she yelled through a raspy throat.

             
Pop laughed quietly. “The Devil wants your soul, Sara, but I have prayed to God to accept you into his arms. He is waiting for you, sweetie.”

             
Sara broke down and cried loudly. “You know nothing of God,” she cried. “God will never allow you to stand.”

Jordan pulled Sara to her feet. “What are we going to do with her, Pop?”

              Gary Popineau stepped around the two and brought his fingers to his chin. “Well,” he said, “she’s already been deflowered so I don’t have much interest in having her again.” He stood for a moment. “But,” he continued, “if you would like to be alone with her for a moment and have your way with her, I will walk up the trail a bit and wait.”

             
Jordan smiled and looked embarrassed. “Awe geeze, Pop, I’ve got a girlfriend and all.” He let go of Sara’s hair and held her tightly by the shoulder. “I don’t want to do nothing like that. Let’s just kill her and get back to town.”

             
Pop stared at Jordan and shook his head. “You are a simple son of a gun, Jordan.” He started walking down the trail toward the quarry. “Bring her along. We will need to find a place away from the river to hide her body.”

Sara’s mind was racing. As hard as she tried she could not see a way out of this situation. Her body was too broken
. Her energy was gone. She was going to die at the hands of these two men and no one would ever know what happened to her. She was scared, but all she could think of was the sorrow her mother and father would feel. Her heart broke for them.

             
The men led her along the trail to the small meadow where Sara had encountered the mountain lion.

             
“This will do just fine,” the fat one said.

             
Sara was repulsed by this man. Her outrage grew and all she could think about was removing his genitals with her bare hands. She wanted to tear his eyes from his sockets. The sun had risen now and she could see her attackers clearly. Pop had removed a large hunting knife from his boot. Light glinted off the freshly sharpened edge.

             
“Are you going to do this, Jordan?” the fat one asked. “Or am I going to have to show you how?”

             
The driver turned Sara to face him and held her by both shoulders. He smiled sweetly. “By this time tomorrow, your pretty face is going to be filled with maggots.”

             
The rage in Sara boiled and she kicked Jordan in the groin with all the force she could amass. He growled loudly, hunched over and fell to the ground, gasping for air that would not fill his lungs.

             
As Sara turned to deliver the same to the man called Pop, his fist caught her square in the forehead and light instantly turned to darkness.

“Good Lord, son, she really tuned your ukulele,” Pop said as he bent to h
elp Jordan to his feet. Jordan wouldn’t respond. His face was bright red and he couldn’t stand straight. Pop held him up for a bit, then eased him back to the ground. “Well,” he said after a moment. “I don’t see you being much use for the next hour.”

             
Pop scratched his head then flopped Sara’s broken arm about with his foot. “She’s out cold for awhile.” He looked to Jordan, then back to Sara, then back to Jordan. “I’m going to go to the Bronco and get the tools we’ll need to cut this girl up and bury her parts.” He looked to Sara again. “I kind of want her awake for that part. She will be happy to run into the Lord’s arms after you and I have finished with her.”

             
Gary Popineau started down the trail. “I’ll only be about an hour. I’ll send your daddy home so you and I can do this in peace.” He stopped and looked back at Jordan. “If she wakes up,” he said, pointing at Sara, “go ahead and bash her head in with that rock there.”

             
Jordan looked at the rock, then looked at Sara with fury in his eyes.