Fiends

    And she knew what the Butcher did to his victims: how he raped them, sodomized them, tortured them with knives and sticks and fire.

    The panic came back. She was whimpering and trembling again by the time the car stopped.

    She heard the engine quit. A door thudded shut. Seconds later, a muffled jangle of keys came from behind her. She heard the quiet clicks of a key sliding into the trunk lock. The clack of a latch. Then, the trunk lid swung up, squeaking on its hinges.

    A hand pushed under her armpit. Another thrust between her legs and grabbed her thigh. She was lifted out of the trunk, swung clear of the car, and thrown to the ground. The forest floor was damp, springy with fallen pine needles. Sticks and cones dug against her as she rolled onto her back. She stared up at the dark shape of the man. He was a blur through her tears.

    ‘Get up,’ he said.

    Kim struggled to her feet. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. She lifted the front of her torn T-shirt, covering her right breast and holding the fabric to her shoulder.

    ‘What’s your name?’ the man asked.

    Kim straightened her back. ‘Fuck you,’ she said.

    A corner of his mouth curled up. ‘Look around.’

    She turned slowly and found that she stood in a clearing surrounded by heavy timber. There was no sign of a road, though she suspected they couldn’t be far from one. The car couldn’t have traveled any great distance through the underbrush and trees. She faced the Butcher. ‘Yeah?’

    ‘Do you know where you are?’

    ‘Got a pretty good guess.’

    ‘You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you?’

    ‘What’ve I got to lose?’

    ‘Not a thing, bitch. Look to your right. There’s a trail sign.’

    She looked. She spotted a small wooden sign on a post at the edge of the clearing.

    ‘Stick to the trail,’ he said. ‘You’ll make better time.’

    ‘What are you talking about?’

    ‘You’ve got a five-minute headstart.’ He raised an arm close to his face. With the other hand, he pushed a button to light the numbers on his wrist watch. ‘Go.’

    ‘What is this?’

    ‘The hunt. And your time is running.’

    Kim swung around and dashed away from the man. She didn’t head toward the trail sign. Instead, she ran for the end of the clearing. This was the way the car had come. She might reach a road.

    He’s not going to let me get away, she thought. This is just part of it. A goddamn game. I’m not going to get out of here alive. That’s what he thinks.

    I haven’t got a chance.

    Oh yes I do, oh yes I do.

    She dodged a bush, raced through the gap between two trees, and shortened her strides when she met a downslope.

    Car couldn’t have come this way, she realized. The bastard must’ve turned it around before he stopped. Knew I’d try this.

    I’m running away from the road.

    She wondered how much time had passed. Her five minutes couldn’t be up yet.

    He won’t give me five, she thought. He’s probably already after me.

    But she couldn’t hear anything back there. She heard only her huffing breath, her heartbeat, her shoes crunching pine needles and mashing cones and snapping twigs.

    I’m making too much noise.

    Then a foot slipped out from under her. She saw her leg fly up. Saw the treetops. Slammed the ground and slid on her back, forest debris raking her shirt up, scraping her skin. When the skid stopped, she lay sprawled and didn’t move except to suck air into her lungs.

    I can’t run from him, Kim told herself. He’ll catch me easy. Gotta sneak. Gotta hide.

    Sitting up, she peered down the slope. It wasn’t heavily wooded. The dense trees were off to the sides. She stood. She glanced toward the top. No sign of him yet. But time had to be running out.

    In a low crouch, she traversed the slope. Soon, she left the moonlight behind. The dark of the forest felt wonderful - a sheltering blanket of night. She walked slowly, trying not to make a sound as she stepped around the trunks of spruce and fir trees, ducked under drooping branches.

    The place smelled like Christmas.

    Play it right, she told herself, and maybe you’ll see another Christmas.

    How good is this guy? she wondered. Is he good enough to track me through all this in the dark?

    He wouldn’t have let me go if he wasn’t sure he’d find me.

    There must be a way. I just have to be smarter than him.

    He’s after me by now, she thought. Even if he did wait the whole five minutes.

    Kim stepped behind a tree, turned around, and scanned the woods. Except for a few milky flecks of moonlight, the area was black and shades of gray. She saw the faint shapes of nearby trees and saplings. Nothing seemed to move.

    You won’t spot him till he’s right on top of you, she realized, recalling his dark clothes and makeup.

    She looked down at herself. Her legs were dim smears, her shorts dark, but her T-shirt almost seemed to glow. Muttering a curse, she pulled it off. She tucked it into the front of her shorts, so it hung from her waist. That was better. She was tanned except for her breasts, and they weren’t nearly as white as the shirt.

    Turning around, Kim made her way toward a deadfall. The roots of the old tree formed a clump nearly as high as her head. Bushes and vines had grown around the trunk. She considered climbing over the dead tree, but decided to bypass it, instead.

    As she neared the mound of dirt-clogged roots, she noticed a space between the trunk and the ground. Kneeling, she peered into the opening. It was exposed, but she would be out of sight if she squirmed to where a thick nest of bushes grew in front of the trunk.

    The idea of being trapped beneath the dead tree didn’t appeal to her. Probably a host of nasty creatures under there - ants, spiders, termites, slugs. They would crawl on her.

    Besides, she told herself, if it looks like a good hiding place to me, it’ll look like one to him. If he comes this way, he’ll check it out. And he’ll have me.

    Forget it.

    She hurried around the root cluster and headed to the right of the deadfall. With the barrier at her back, she broke into a run and didn’t bother moving from tree to tree for concealment. She dashed as fast as she could, staying clear of trees, dodging occasional clusters of rock, circling patches of underbrush. At last, winded and aching, she ducked behind a trunk. She bent over and held her sweaty knees and gasped for air.

    That little burst of speed, she thought, ought to put some ground between us. He can’t run all-out, not if he’s tracking me.

    How can he track someone in the dark? she wondered. It wouldn’t be easy, even in daylight, to follow her signs. What does he look for, anyway? Broken twigs?

    Kim pulled the T-shirt from her waist band and mopped her wet face, her dripping sides, her neck and chest and belly. As she tucked the shirt into her shorts again, she wondered if the Butcher might have a night-vision device. Maybe an infra-red scope, or something.

    That would explain a lot.

    He seemed so sure he’d find me.

    Maybe took it out of his car while he was giving me the headstart.

    How can I hide from something like that?

    They pick up body heat? she wondered.

    What if I bury myself?

    That idea seemed just as bad as hiding under the deadfall.

    Sighing, Kim leaned back against the tree. Its bark felt stiff and scratchy. A quiet scurrying sound made her