Authors: Lee Cockburn
She was a little embarrassed by her radio message but she couldn’t help it; she was scared stiff and was losing a little self control. She’d watched her stronger and more physical colleague get snuffed out with relative ease; he hadn’t stood a chance.
Susan had spotted two sets of torch lights up ahead. They were still far away but she decided to try and make her way towards them; she had decided that they were allies and not foes and was going to take a chance. Her foot ached more than ever and her skin was weeping with blood from hundreds of cuts and scrapes, none of which she could feel, as there were so many other, more damaged things taking up her pain receptors.
John flicked on his torch and sniggered to himself. “Come and find me, if you dare.” He wanted Fran to try and get him.
Taylor kept checking Fran’s GPS; she was a mile away. Marcus moved in Fran’s direction, slightly quicker than Taylor and she told him to wait up, fearing that any distance apart could be a fatal mistake after what had happened.
The police dog moved through the undergrowth, barking loudly through the night. It was tethered to the handler by a long lead and was practically dragging him forward with it. The dog had been round the lodge and could smell three of the occupants so it was tracking Susan, Andrew and John. The chopper was on its way up from Glasgow, thirty minutes ETA.
John moved forward. He was brimming with confidence due to the ease of his last kill and the terror he had placed within the female cop in doing so. He had heard her on the radio and was feeding off her fear, having so much more fun than he thought he would and not even remotely concerned about his welfare.
He stopped and listened again; he heard her up ahead. Fran had changed direction a little to try and trace the torchlight of the others, unaware he now had his torch on. He sped up in her direction, decision made: Susan could wait. He listened for a few moments and went in a direction that would cut her off. She would run right into him. Excitement fuelled his speed as he manoeuvred through the undergrowth, thinking of the prize at the other end.
Fran could barely breathe as she battled her way through the thick foliage, her eyes focused on the sporadic flashes of
torchlight
a fair distance away. She could hear a faint bark a couple of miles away too. Her heart raced, her clothes soaked with
sweat and fear. She felt she was really losing it. She had lost her self-control and was more scared now than she ever imagined she could be. “Fuck you, fuck you! Leave me alone, you hideous fucking bastard. You’re not going to beat me,” she said aloud over and over but she also whispered, “Save me Taylor, please save me! Don’t let him kill me. Please don’t let him touch me. Please, please let me find you.”
Fran could see torch lights over to her left, right and straight ahead, all a distance away although the light to the left seemed to be travelling parallel to her and moving with her. Her throat was aching with the effort of running. She wanted to call out but also didn’t want to give her position away.
Taylor watched Fran’s progress on GPS. It was very staggered, both in speed and direction. She was worried for her as she too could see torch light ahead to the left and to the right. She didn’t want to call over the radio and let him hear their progress but she didn’t want Fran running headlong into danger either. Taylor decided to transmit, text only: “GPS, what’s your position? I think we have an extra firefly out there and I think Fran’s the target. Sorry Fran, but I think that prick has a torch on and you’re his target. Stop moving and turn your light on and the radio. Make sure your volume is right down and ear piece in. He’s flanking you, 800 metres to your right. We’ll head towards him. Drop in the long grass, get your breathing sorted and hide. NOW!”
Fran kept on running, totally unaware that her radio had received a text. The torch to her right had slowed down and looked more sedate and that put her mind more at ease. She
decided to head that way, believing that this was one of them, one of her team. There was another light a bit further back too, and if that was him he was blowing too close to the wind if he thought he was safe that close to the cops, arrogant bastard.
¤¤¤
Andrew groaned as the pain in his body let him know things were not as good as he’d hoped; he needed to get to Susan and she needed him, he had to keep moving. He too could see the lights ahead like warm havens in the darkness. He hadn’t even thought that Brennan would be so dumb as to put a torch on and give away his position, or was he?
Taylor was worried. Fran’s GPS was still moving towards the extra torch to the right. “Read your text, god damn it Fran,” she whispered under her breath. Marcus kept going in front, barely out of breath. His hair was no longer perfect and slick but he cared more about others than his appearance. He too wanted to find Fran. She was a nice woman, very popular and witty, small and vulnerable and lost out there, traumatised after the murder of her colleague.
Fran’s heart nearly stopped when she heard Taylor on the radio,
“Read your fucking text.”
“Oh god!”
Fran grappled at her inside pocket for her radio, terrified that it had been heard. She read the words and knew she had to hide and quickly. She had been running like a moth to the flame and it was him she was running to.
God, how could I be that naive?
She knelt down in the longest grass she could find and held her breath. She focused hard but felt a warm stream between her legs and realised that she had wet herself, terror ripping through her as she could see him just metres away, his torch lighting the trees and long grass around him.
Please don’t find me
, she wished. Please let me live.
Save me Taylor, let me feel the warmth of your safe embrace one more time. I’m here! Find me Taylor, help me beat him.
He stopped dead. He knew she was very close. He had heard her up until a moment ago. How did she know to stop? She looked through the grass, silent and gulping down her needy breaths, as she focused on the light in front of her. She could see
him, a large man, strong build, chiselled features. She looked at his eyes and nearly let out a terrified whimper. She had never seen anything like it in her twelve years in the police; the darkness in his eyes was so sinister, so evil, so lifeless and unaffected by normal emotion. This was all so clear to see with just one look into those shark-like dead eyes. She could see the devil in them, every horror film she’d ever watched rolled into one was standing there right in front of her, hunting her, frightening her. She knew she’d lost it and she truly believed he’d be able to smell her fear from where he was. She wanted to crawl backwards, a natural reaction to recoil to get away from him.
He knew she was there so he laughed his sinister laugh, knowing she could hear him, a blood curdling soul crushing laugh, one that sent shivers down her spine. Fran wept silently. She lowered her head into her hands as his head turned her direction.
He growled loudly, “I can smell you, bitch. I can smell your fear. I know you’re here and when I get you I’m going to hurt you so bad that you will beg me to take your life, beg me to stop hurting you, and I will hurt you and you will want to die when I’ve finished with you!”
Marcus and Taylor saw the torch go off. They picked up their pace but both were feeling it a little. They were both cut and bruised with the constant whipping and scraping of the foliage tearing at them as they ran desperately to try and save Fran. They only had her GPS to go on, which was never the easiest thing to follow.
Darkness fell around her, the comfort of light drifting away; the only comfort now was that she didn’t have to look at his hideous face anymore. But unfortunately now she would not know for definite where he was. She was a little confident that he didn’t know where she was either or he surely would have been there by now.
The other two police teams, along with the dog, were homing in on Fran’s GPS as well. Nobody wanted another cop to be hurt in any way, and certainly not in the way that that beast would hurt her.
He’d been here before with Layla and he was brimming with confidence; her fear would lead him right to her, she had already cracked.
Fran could hear him moving around, searching, flattening
grass all around her. She felt like a rabbit, remaining still as a statue, hoping not to be discovered and waiting for her chance to bolt when there was enough distance to escape, fearing that to stay still could also mean certain death. The grass crumpled too close for comfort and she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Shots rang out in the night as he lifted her into the air by her hair. She screamed out as loud as she could before his forearm stifled any further sounds Fran tried to make. He lifted her up and threw her down onto the ground winding her badly. She had never felt pain like it, she could barely breathe. She had dropped her weapon and lay there, weak and helpless. He bent over her and punched her so hard that her head whipped back, rendering her unconscious instantly. He ripped her radio from her belt and threw it as far as he could towards the approaching torchlight, which was still several minutes away. He knew he’d have to be quick so he cut through her belt at the back of her jeans, ripped her panties like a savage, his penis rock hard in his jeans. He stroked over her firm buttocks, bent over and licked her sweet and frightened skin. Gripping his penis, he stroked forcefully until he came over her. He didn’t want to come too quickly when she woke up.
He flopped Fran over onto her back, tugging her jeans down over her knees to her ankles, her perfect pussy exposed in an undignified way. He stared at her.
Weak
, he thought, as he lowered his mouth down onto her. He wanted to taste her, his hand pushed up between her legs as he saw her eyes open.
“Welcome back.”
The pain of his four fingers forced inside her burned as they penetrated her, tearing and stretching her.
“No,” rang out through the night.
Andrew stood up and ran as fast as his pain filled body could manage. He raced straight up behind wielding a thick branch above his head. John was about to rape Fran following his foreplay. Andrew swung the branch as hard as he could at John’s head. The thud was sickening as his head dipped to one side, blood instantly spraying all over Fran. He lurched to the side and fell off Fran to one side, momentarily rendering him unable to hold onto Fran. She kicked out with her legs as best she could with all the strength she could muster, her legs still tethered with the lowered jeans restricting her movement. Andrew didn’t care,
he kicked out blindly at John with all his might, and grabbed Fran by the lapels and heaved her to her feet. Dragging her limping out of her jeans, he pulled her through the trees, both of them running for their lives, every ounce of their strength needed to get distance between them and him. Andrew thought to himself,
fuck, we should’ve stayed there and killed the fucking bastard. It’s just like in the shit movies we watch and scream at them when the people running in terror don’t take the chance to end the crazed killer when they get the chance, but could I kill a man?
Footsteps light like gazelles, or so it felt as they ran joined by their arms, a new strength consuming them, a new lease of life at the exhilaration of escape, the chance to live on Fran’s part and a little redemption for Andrew.
John put his hands up to his bloodied face. He was raging. He could smell the scent of Fran that lingered on his fingers.
So close. Who the fuck was that? If it was a cop, he would have just killed me. Surely, they
’
re not allowed to do that? Don’t tell me that her fucking prick of a lover is still alive. What the fuck do I have to do to fucking kill these people?
He laughed out loud to himself as he thought of clinical checks he’d need to do in future to confirm the death of his victims, and actually make them full blown murders and not attempted murders.
I’m just going to have to put a bullet through their heads next time and stop these futile attempts to use primitive murder methods.
He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked her from them, rock hard and full of vengeance he moved off quickly in the opposite direction of the torchlight, fully aware that the bitch would be able to pinpoint where he’d been. Plus, there was now a fucking trail for the dog and shit loads of blood thanks to whoever that was. “Prick!”
Fran felt the pain of his violation between her legs as they ran together; her jeans had had to be discarded and her pants nearly gone too. She didn’t even know this man that had saved her from the raging demon, but she trusted him with every bit of her ravaged body. They ran and ran and she held onto him with a tight grip, the torchlight getting closer and closer. This time they both knew it wasn’t Brennan and the torches looked like they were also speeding towards them. Fran shouted out into the night, all self-control out of the window, her will to survive superseding everything.
Taylor and Marcus heard Fran’s voice. It wasn’t too far away now. Their guns were drawn and pointed out in front of them as they sped as fast as the trees would let them. Their torches beamed ahead lighting up two figures. “POLICE!” Their words rang out loudly in the night. They pointed their guns straight at Andrew’s central body mass and told him to get on his knees. His face was so bruised, swollen and covered in blood it was unrecognisable to them.
He dropped to the ground immediately, raising his arms, not wanting to be mistaken for Brennan and be shot dead in error, which was a real possibility right now. “Don’t shoot, please! It’s Andrew, Susan’s partner.” They lowered their guns, and moved quickly towards them.
Fran was naked from the waist down apart from a torn pair of pants grasped together by her hand. Her face was swollen and bleeding, tears rolling down her cheeks making clean rivers through her blood stained face. She ran like a child greeting a parent straight into Taylor’s strong arms. Taylor gripped her tightly, the warmth unmistakeable as she held her close, her soft words instantly comforting Fran.
“Thank god you’re okay, thank god. I thought he was going to kill you.”
“He was. He was going to torture me first and then kill me.”
Fran looked at Andrew, their eyes connecting; together they felt strong. Fran mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to him, and then winced at the searing pain all over her body, pain where Brennan had thrown her, hit her and violated her. She broke down and sobbed loudly with her face in her hands. She was totally spent and just wanted to go home. but could they? Who was hunting who? It seemed a very level playing field out there but the darkness and the undergrowth were certainly on his side. He had the upper hand and he wasn’t frightened.
Andrew introduced himself to Fran. She took a sharp intake of breath when she realised he was Susan’s partner, the man from the photos they had in their briefing packs. His facial swelling was grotesquely disfiguring. He turned his head to Taylor, who was on the radio ordering a medical chopper.
She turned to Andrew and Fran and said, “Both of you have to get out of here. There’s nothing more you can do!”
“I’m not leaving her behind. He’s desperate now; there’s nothing
for him to lose and Susan is the reason he’s here. I just hope she can keep away from him.”
Marcus put his hand gently on Andrew’s shoulder. “You have to get out of here. We have more resources coming and we can’t let you get more hurt than you already are. Look at your face, your body, it’s a mess.”
Fran looked up at Marcus. “I’m so sorry, so, so, sorry.” Fran kept on crying; she was broken inside. She could not believe a person could feel so weak and vulnerable, even with a weapon. “I need to leave,” she said with no remorse at all. “I’m no good to anyone, now, no one,” she wept.
Taylor came over and held her round her shoulders, careful not to hurt her but she gave a warm embrace and gently kissed her head. Marcus watched and wondered if this was because of the night’s events or a little more than that. He let it go though. This was certainly not the time to question or challenge anyone. Fran needed her security, needed to feel safe. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she heard a shot ring out in the night. The barking of the dog turned into an ear piercing whine. Then another shot silenced the night.
The radio crackled and the dog handler’s voice came over the airwaves. His tone was one of shock and filled with tension.
“To control, that’s the perpetrator heading north towards the lake, and the bastard has just killed the dog. She was off the lead and she bolted away from me, obviously after something, which certainly wasn’t a fucking rabbit.”
Radio protocol had all gone to pot as fear ripped through everyone on the ground. The specialist units were all still on their way. The spot was so remote and so far north none had been close by and this played right into Brennan’s hands. He had a gun, he had the element of surprise and he had fear on his side. Darkness was also his best friend.