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Authors: Meghan Ciana Doidge
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frozen in place, and listened.
More gun shots sounded.
“That’s five rounds,” Shep, his voice muted by distance and trees, crowed.
Another scream reverberated through the trees from Karli, this one filled with frustration. The voice was silenced by a harsh thump.
Then … nothing.
Pamela began to hyperventilate.
She scrambled to right herself, but was impeded by the tangled dress. When she finally gained her feet, it was only to throw herself forward again on all fours as she dry retched in fear.
Shep rounded a tree in a light jog. Seeing Pamela, he stopped a few feet away to grin down at her. He spun his knife into the air, deftly catching it by the handle. “That’s all you got? At least Grady died doing something he believed in,” he taunted.
Pamela wiped the spittle off her face, and, eyes locked to Shep, slowly rose to her feet. The dress in no way impeded her, as if it knew that now was not the time. Shep’s grin widened in anticipation. Pamela clenched and unclenched her fists. He flipped the knife again.
Pamela spun and ran.
Shep caught the knife without looking. His disappointment in Pamela’s cowardice was soon assuaged by his anticipation of the hunt renewed.
Pamela fled for her life, her wedding dress streaming after her, even though if she’d been asked, she would have said she had no life left to live. Perhaps it was pure, adrenaline-fueled survival instinct that propelled her through the forest. Perhaps she was just fleeing the pain, no matter what package it was delivered in.
Shep followed in a casual jog. He was in no rush to end anyone’s pain.
•••••••••
Farther through the forest, and ironically just off a path, a couple of hikers were using a fallen tree for a bench while they ate a snack.
Pamela burst through the trees and stumbled into them. The Gore-Tex-clad hikers were momentarily stunned to see a disheveled bride burst out of the woods. The male hiker lost hold of his peanut butter sandwich.
“Please … Please …” Pamela tried to beg, but couldn’t catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” the female hiker asked, and then nudged her male counterpart.
“Yeah, bloody hell.” He stood and crossed to Pamela. “You scared the shit out of me, out of us.”
The woman rummaged around in her backpack and found a bottle of water, which she opened and handed to her companion. He offered the water to the gasping Pamela, who gulped it down between broken sentences. “I need help. Or at least directions. I’m being chased by a psycho … killer, though given the day I’ve been having, I could be wrong about his intentions.”
“Oh, you’re not wrong, baby,” Shep said from behind Pamela. She dropped the bottle of water as she whirled to see him casually wander into the impromptu picnic area. The ground eagerly absorbed the spilled liquid. Rainforest or not, the canopy of trees kept the land dry.
“Listen, buddy,” the male hiker said, as he stepped up to shield Pamela. “You’ve really scared this lady here.”
Shep slowly closed the gap between himself and the others.
“Wait, no!” Pamela cried.
Shep suddenly embedded his knife in the gut of the hiker, then swiftly ripped the blade upward. Pamela stumbled back.
“No!!” the female hiker screamed as she lunged forward. Pamela, in an attempt to stop further carnage, sprung sideways to wrap herself around the woman. The hiker easily fended Pamela off, though, knocking her once again to the ground. Unfortunately for Pamela, blood loss and malnourishment didn’t at all stand up to strength and agility.
Shep, after watching nose to nose as the blood-gurgling man died, allowed the body of the hiker to drop at his feet. He once again held his knife at the ready. The hunting blade dripped blood. The woman flung herself forward across the man’s body, and, though she was obviously terrified and shocked, she did so silently.
Shep held his bloody knife up like a prize for Pamela to see. It was
More gun shots sounded.
“That’s five rounds,” Shep, his voice muted by distance and trees, crowed.
Another scream reverberated through the trees from Karli, this one filled with frustration. The voice was silenced by a harsh thump.
Then … nothing.
Pamela began to hyperventilate.
She scrambled to right herself, but was impeded by the tangled dress. When she finally gained her feet, it was only to throw herself forward again on all fours as she dry retched in fear.
Shep rounded a tree in a light jog. Seeing Pamela, he stopped a few feet away to grin down at her. He spun his knife into the air, deftly catching it by the handle. “That’s all you got? At least Grady died doing something he believed in,” he taunted.
Pamela wiped the spittle off her face, and, eyes locked to Shep, slowly rose to her feet. The dress in no way impeded her, as if it knew that now was not the time. Shep’s grin widened in anticipation. Pamela clenched and unclenched her fists. He flipped the knife again.
Pamela spun and ran.
Shep caught the knife without looking. His disappointment in Pamela’s cowardice was soon assuaged by his anticipation of the hunt renewed.
Pamela fled for her life, her wedding dress streaming after her, even though if she’d been asked, she would have said she had no life left to live. Perhaps it was pure, adrenaline-fueled survival instinct that propelled her through the forest. Perhaps she was just fleeing the pain, no matter what package it was delivered in.
Shep followed in a casual jog. He was in no rush to end anyone’s pain.
•••••••••
Farther through the forest, and ironically just off a path, a couple of hikers were using a fallen tree for a bench while they ate a snack.
Pamela burst through the trees and stumbled into them. The Gore-Tex-clad hikers were momentarily stunned to see a disheveled bride burst out of the woods. The male hiker lost hold of his peanut butter sandwich.
“Please … Please …” Pamela tried to beg, but couldn’t catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” the female hiker asked, and then nudged her male counterpart.
“Yeah, bloody hell.” He stood and crossed to Pamela. “You scared the shit out of me, out of us.”
The woman rummaged around in her backpack and found a bottle of water, which she opened and handed to her companion. He offered the water to the gasping Pamela, who gulped it down between broken sentences. “I need help. Or at least directions. I’m being chased by a psycho … killer, though given the day I’ve been having, I could be wrong about his intentions.”
“Oh, you’re not wrong, baby,” Shep said from behind Pamela. She dropped the bottle of water as she whirled to see him casually wander into the impromptu picnic area. The ground eagerly absorbed the spilled liquid. Rainforest or not, the canopy of trees kept the land dry.
“Listen, buddy,” the male hiker said, as he stepped up to shield Pamela. “You’ve really scared this lady here.”
Shep slowly closed the gap between himself and the others.
“Wait, no!” Pamela cried.
Shep suddenly embedded his knife in the gut of the hiker, then swiftly ripped the blade upward. Pamela stumbled back.
“No!!” the female hiker screamed as she lunged forward. Pamela, in an attempt to stop further carnage, sprung sideways to wrap herself around the woman. The hiker easily fended Pamela off, though, knocking her once again to the ground. Unfortunately for Pamela, blood loss and malnourishment didn’t at all stand up to strength and agility.
Shep, after watching nose to nose as the blood-gurgling man died, allowed the body of the hiker to drop at his feet. He once again held his knife at the ready. The hunting blade dripped blood. The woman flung herself forward across the man’s body, and, though she was obviously terrified and shocked, she did so silently.
Shep held his bloody knife up like a prize for Pamela to see. It was
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