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My arms are pinned underneath me and I’m unable to move from under his weight. He sits up suddenly, straddling the backs of my thighs, and my stomach sinks.
“I’m gonna teach you a lesson ‘bout running from us, girl,” he slurs in my ear from behind me, making me buck harder against him. I try to escape but all I manage to do is thrash my face into the dirt.
“No, no, no!” I scream out, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. I claw my fingers into the leaves and dirt underneath me, trying to crawl out from under him. I don’t want him to touch me, I won’t let him.
I feel a sharp stinging between my wrists, reminding me of the knife still tucked between the heels of my hands.
Bub grabs the elastic waistband of my pants and starts yanking them down my hips as I’m still fighting to free my arms. If I can just get the knife out and face outward again, maybe I can fend him off. I struggle for a little more room, but he’s too heavy. He feels like dead weight on top of me.
“What’s this?” He asks as he pulls the screwdriver out of my pocket, “A weapon? Naughty, naughty. Tony’s going to be very angry about you stealing from us.” He chuckles to himself menacingly.
Bub grabs both of my bare butt cheeks in his hands squeezing painfully hard, grunting in appreciation. I think I’m going to vomit. I can’t let him rape me, the way he’s touching me is violating enough.
“Tony isn’t as nice as me, he’d probably shove this handle right in your ass,” he laughs while I whimper at his cross words.
“But I’m nice, aren’t I nice?” He asks. “I just want a little piece of ya for myself.”
He grabs my thong, but before he can pull it down, I use all of my strength to twist my torso in a last-ditch effort, slashing the box cutter across his face.
“Ahhhgg,” he yelps, falling to the ground beside me, flinging his body around in the dirt.
I crawl away from him, struggling to pull my pants back up with my wrists still bound. God dammit, I still needed to get my hands free, but the knife went flying out of my hands with the momentum of striking his face. He took the screwdriver, so I have no more weapons, I’m on my own.
I get up, steadying myself on a tree next to me, my legs feeling like gelatine. I don’t know how much longer I can make it, but I have to keep going.
The tree next to me explodes. Bark sprays all over my face, just as I hear the loud “POW!” of a gunshot.
“Don’t fucking move, bitch, I won’t miss the next time!” Tony yells from about 15 feet away.
“She cut me, Tony, she fuckin’ cut me, kill her!!” Bub yells, still on the ground where he fell.
“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot worse than kill her, brother,” Tony slurs in my direction, making his intentions clear.
He told me not to move, but I think I’d rather risk dying than be caught by these evil men. Ducking my head, I dodge and sprint away as fast as my legs will take me, I just hope I’m fast enough.
Chapter Four
Nathan
Still lost in my thoughts, I glance periodically down into the valley below me. I haven’t seen any sign of deer or anything else this whole time, but at least there’s a great view. The trees line the field along the right side, the leaves varying shades of orange, red, or yellow. The browning grass is tall, probably knee-high, and it’s riddled with wildflowers, though a couple of nights of frost have been too much for the blooms to survive.
The crisp fall weather, with its changing leaves, is the perfect way to experience the mountains, but I’m curious about how harsh the winter will be. The air up here is thin and bitterly cold already. I imagine snow flurries will come any week now.
The entire valley below me spans less than a quarter mile across. A shallow river runs parallel to the trees along the left side. I can tell it’s shallow because of how light the color of the water is, and the way the sun shines on it almost makes it sparkle. The banks of the river on either side are rocky, and the side closest to the field of grass is a steep embankment. The 12-foot incline of eroded rock means the river most likely floods in the spring, once the snow melts up in the mountains. On the farther side of the river away from me, there are more trees, the thick forest going on for miles.
The sun is high in the sky, it’s only about midday, but I left my cabin early this morning before sunrise. I’ve spent hours already stuck inside my head, the clarity I’ve been seeking with a hunt is no use today. After one final sweep of the area, I decide to head home. I’ll get back to my cabin, make dinner, wake up tomorrow, and repeat. I need something else to occupy my time, I am not ready for this unemployed shit.
Standing up from my perch, I sling my rifle over my shoulder and knock the dirt off my camouflage pants. I’m getting used to wearing hunting camo now, and not the digital camo I lived in for so long in the army. I also don’t mind not needing to be clean-shaven every day. My five o’clock shadow has turned into a few days of stubble. My usual high and tight crew cut has also grown out, the dark hair on my head is starting to look unruly per my usual standards.
As I turn to head down from the top of the ridge, I hear a gunshot echo through the trees and it makes me pause. It normally wouldn’t concern me since I’m on public land, but that shot sounded close by, it also didn’t sound like a hunting rifle. Still, it’s none of my business. I’m about 8 miles from my cabin and there are access roads all throughout these woods. It could be one of the “neighbors” that live on this mountain or any Joe schmoe from town.
I keep heading down the hill, not quite shaking the feeling that I should be on the alert right now. That’s ridiculous, I’m not in the Middle East, I’m not in enemy territory, I’m no longer in the United States Army.
Yet, halfway down the hill my feet stay rooted in their spot. A prickling feeling on the back of my neck forces me to kneel and pull my rifle back off my shoulder. I brace my elbow on my knee for support and aim my rifle back into the field before me. I’m at a slightly lower vantage point now but I’m still able to see most of the area through my scope. I scan the field, left to right, right to left. Nothing. The field is empty, with no signs of life.
I look up from my scope. The prickling is still pulling at the back of my neck, but there’s nothing there. My brain is so fucking bored that it’s playing games with me. Even as I tell myself that it’s a waste of time, I continue monitoring the area. Slowly, back and forth.
Screw it, I’m getting out of here. As I start to stand up to leave, I catch a glimpse of something in my peripheral vision. So far to the left of me I almost can’t see it, something is coming out of the tree line. I watch as it immediately drops a few feet to the river bank. The embankment on that side isn’t as steep as the side that is closest to me, and it’s not as rocky. The dirt spans about 20 feet before reaching the river’s edge.
