Page 27 of Road Rash

11

Jonesie

Dane is smart enough not to answer into the line. The problem with that? I have no idea if he’s getting the directions or not. I hate not knowing. Eventually fear and curiosity get the better of me and I slip the phone from Slim’s pocket to check in. Okay, so I’m not exactly sure how to check in without Slim knowing I’m doing it. But it doesn’t matter when I glance down at the screen and realize that the call dropped.

Where? When? I have no idea. Did he catch any of it? Is he even coming for me? Shit. My nose burns as I force the tears back. I’m not going to cry. Not now. It won’t help me survive this.

That done, I shove the phone carefully back into his pocket. It’s not worth taking the chance to make another call. I got away with it this long, I don’t think my luck will hold out much longer.

“We getting close?” he asks through the mic.

I look around. It’s hard to turn my head in this bulky helmet. It’s almost black out with the night sky and tree canopy. Truth be told, I’m not a hundred percent sure. The headlight flashes off eyes close to the ground. Possum, raccoon or skunk most likely. Not high enough for a bear, mountain lion or deer.

Riding on a bike this time of night is always tricky. But given my current situation, let’s just say I’m doing my fair share of sweating. Brows. Pits. All the normal places designated to show nervousness.

“We getting close?” he asks again, this time sounding even more irritated than before. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them. I take in slow breaths while concentrating on our surroundings.

That’s when I see it, the glint off the orange metal “No Trespassing” sign. That’s what I’ve been looking for. Only shit—that’s what I’ve been looking for. It means we’re here.

“Slow down,” I say into my mic. “The drive is just past that orange sign.”

Slim eases back on the accelerator to slow us down enough to make the turn safely. The long dirt drive grows darker, eerier the farther down it we travel. I feel the weight of my circumstance pressing in, making it hard to breathe. At this point I’d take the imagined terror of a man in a hockey mask with a machete over this—the thing that goes bump in the night is right here in front of me. The closer we get to the mouth of the clearing where the cabin sits, the more my fear grows.

It’s inevitable. We break through the darkness of the trees to a spot lit by moonlight. The cabin sits dark, as I knew it would this whole time.

“You fucking with me?” Slim barks at me.

I jump from the back of the bike and take off for the front door. It’s locked. I frantically search for the key. No key. There’s no freaking key. Where’s the key? I run, trying each window. Locked. The backdoor, my last hope. I rattle the knob. Locked up tight. Oh god, I feel a panic attack coming on.

“Where you think you’re going?” Slim calls out. His footsteps get closer. If I can’t get inside, then I can’t get to those guns. My whole plan hinges on me getting those guns. “Jonesie. Can’t hide, bitch. You’re dead.”

Hide?

CouldI hide?

I don’t want to die. He’s going to kill me if he gets his hands on me. Despite all the animals roaming the forest at night that wouldn’t mind sinking their teeth into the sweet meat of my arm or thigh, I might be able to survive out there. If I stay, I die.

Not tonight. Crouching down and moving as quietly as possible, I sneak to the wooded property line. “Where are you?” he shouts.

Once it’s dark enough for him not to see my shape, I take off running. At this point I have no idea which direction I’m running or how far I’m getting away from that maniac.

His footsteps follow. Not too close but still too close. Snaps of twigs. Crunching of old leaves having fallen last autumn. But then, there’s the snap of a stick breaking coming from the side, not behind. An animal? What kind? A skunk I can handle. A mountain lion, not so much.

My heart pounds so loud in my chest I feel like people can hear it a mile away. The pulse pounding in my skull causes the pain in my head to throb exponentially. My bandaged feet sting from the pressure. I’m falling apart.

In the distance, growling. Growling? Then another snapping stick. How close is it? I feel lightheaded. Nauseous. I think I might pass out.No, Jonesie. No. You aren’t going to die out here.

I stop running to listen. Where is the growling coming from? Which way to the leaf crunching and twig snapping? When I think I have those locations down, I take off in the opposite direction. It’s hard to be quiet and run in the dark. It’s hard to be quiet and run in the woods during broad daylight. That kind of thinking won’t get me out of here alive.

Then, I think I hear… rumbling. The Harley kind. Oh, sweet Jesus! He’s either leaving or there’s bikers coming up the road. Since the chances of him just leaving me out here are nil, it has to be bikers. Maybe even Dane. Dane wouldn’t have come alone. He’d have brought reinforcements.

I pivot my course to head closer to the rumble. If I can get to them—a figure steps out from behind a tree too late for me to stop. His fist slams against my gut knocking all breath from my lungs and sending me falling against the damn ground, hitting my tailbone hard. Vomit projects from my ravaged stomach onto the hard-packed dirt, thankfully missing my sleepshirt. This can’t be happening. I was so close.

Slim doesn’t speak a word. He doesn’t give me time to recover. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he drags me kicking and softly screaming because I still haven’t found my breath yet. Despite feeling the hair rip from my scalp each time I struggle to get away, I keep right on struggling.

It doesn’t work. Apparently, I’d arced around bringing me back closer to the road and the cabin. The cabin. It’s there. Empty. My tomb. I don’t stand a shot at surviving now. His rage heats the cool space by a good twenty degrees.

He stops us by the closest window to the front door where he picks up a large rock, slinging it through the glass, demolishing it. Tiny shards rain inside and out. He reaches his arm inside, leaning for the door. He wears a face of angry concentration. Then we both hear the click of the lock unlatching and he twists the knob. The door pops. He drags me inside.

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