Survivor: 1 (38 page)

Animal's grip on her hair tightened, the pain in her
scalp exploded. He was gathering fistfuls of her hair in
his hands as he moved her head close to his, his eyes
narrowed slits. "I asked you a fucking question, bitch! Answer me!"

All she was aware of was that blinding pain in her
scalp along the back of her head. She could barely feel
the presence of his body over hers, didn't even know if
he had entered her with that vile thing that hung between his legs. She wasn't aware of anything except that
loathsome face in front of her, that loathsome face that
probably made women swoon. It was an inch from hers,
leering at her. "You fucking listening to me, cunt?"

Lisa answered him the only way she could. She
reached out and grabbed ahold of his nose ... with her
teeth.

And she bit down as hard as she could.

Animal screamed and instantly jumped back, dislodging his position over her. She held on, pulled up by his
flailings, and she could feel her teeth slice through skin
and cartilage. He bellowed and swung with his fists, striking her side, her back, but she refused to let go. She felt
her energy surge, felt that she could run a thousand
miles with all this energy, so she used it to her advantage.
She brought her hands up to his head and moved her
thumbs over his eyes, pushing them in.

This time, Animal howled.

She pushed Animal's eyes as hard as she could, and
now she was actually on her feet; he had pulled her into
a standing position in his flight to get away from her. She
concentrated on one thing: killing this sadistic sonofa bitch who had given her nightmares and made her
afraid. She focused her mind on trying to hurt him, using
her rage and hate to propel her past the pain from the
blows he was raining down on her body. She moved into
position, still clutching his nose with her- teeth, her
thumbs still pressing his eyeballs in their sockets, and
then she blindly brought her knee up into where she
hoped his crotch was.

It connected.

Lisa felt her teeth rip the flesh of his nose as he was
driven to the ground from the blow. She tasted blood and
snot. She stumbled, almost fell back, but fought to catch
her ground. Animal was doubled over, howling in pain,
and the adrenaline was running through her, prompting
her to rush him and hurt him again, when she felt strong
arms grab her from behind and pin them to her sides.

She yelled and twisted her body, trying to throw her attacker to the ground. She fought so wildly, so ferociously,
that she caught him off guard. She sensed his surprise
and didn't even hesitate to proclaim victory. She used
her weight to offset his balance, and they fell to the
ground. She landed on top of him. His grip on her loosened a little, and she slithered away. A grasping hand
reached out and grabbed her. She kicked back with one
bare foot, the heel hitting the side of his chest. She
jumped to her feet, eyes darting around, trying to collect
her bearings. Tim Murray was getting to his feet, his features twisted in an angry grimace. Animal was on his
side, doubled over, writhing in pain, still howling and
yelling. And the old woman was hobbling toward her, a
large knife in her hands, her face twisted in madness.

Lisa turned and ran, scrambling up the incline, her
bare feet slapping the rocks and hard sand. The highly
agitated state she was in helped propel her forward, and
she ran like she had never run before, quickly leaving Tim Murray and the old woman behind her. She didn't
look back even when she reached the top of the incline.
She simply continued running, heading down the hill toward the SW.

"You bitch!" Tim Murray yelled behind her, and she
heard his pounding footsteps as he gave chase. She
pressed on, flying over rocks and foliage as she reached
the desert floor. She paused, looked over her shoulder,
saw that Tim was twenty yards behind her and quickly
gaining, and she pressed on.

When she reached the SUV she fumbled with the door,
got it open. The keys weren't in the ignition, nor anywhere she could see. Her panic rising, she slammed the
door shut and checked Tim's progress. He was ten yards
away and gaining. She darted around the side, keeping
the vehicle between herself and Tim.

"I'm going to kill you, you fucking bitch!" Tim huffed.
He was five yards from her, circling around the other side
of the SUV She could hear his labored breathing dearly.
Her own breathing was rapid, her heart still hammering
in her chest. Her energy level was high, her senses incredibly sensitive. She felt warm. She moved to the right,
trying to see where he was. She caught a glimpse of him
through the windows. He glared at her. "You're going to
wish you had never done that " he said. "You are going to
suffer."

She quickly dropped to the ground in a sudden burst
of inspiration and scooped up a handful of sand, coming
back up in a flash. Tim dashed to the rear of the SUV and
she ran around the front. They pinioned off each other.
The incline was at her back now. Something scratched at
her ankle and she glanced down: a bundle of twigs,
blown by the rising winds.

Footsteps around the side of the SW.

She backed up, heart pounding. A moving cloud blocked the sun, plunging the desert in shadow. Tim appeared at the end of the SW, his features a twisted grimace. Bitch!"

And then she plunged forward, throwing her arm back
and pitching the fistful of sand she clutched in her right
hand the way a baseball pitcher throws a curveball..She
threw the sand directly at Tim's face.

Tim flinched and howled, hands shooting up to his
face, doubling over. "You bitch!" he screamed. "You threw
sand in my eyes!"

She stopped, torn between rushing him again and
beating him and turning to run. She glanced around. The
SUV was still there, as was a four-door Saturn parked
nearby. Both vehicles were useless without keys. And
since she was pretty certain she had been transported in
the SUV, Tim probably had the keys on his person.

She took a step forward and heard a scream. It didn't
come from Tim Murray.

She looked up.

Animal was standing at the crest of the incline. He
looked terrifying, larger than life, more monstrous somehow than she had ever seen him before. His left hand was
covering his left eye. He was screaming and moaning in
pain and anger.

His right hand clutched a huge butcher knife.

Lisa rushed forward, knocking Tim to the ground. He
went sprawling, landing on his back, hands still covering his face. She fell beside him and her left hand
grabbed a rock.

The sound of footsteps and falling stones to her left as
Animal ran down the hill toward them. His footsteps
were erratic, his voice tinged with pain.

She shifted the rock to her right hand, brought her
arm up.

Tim Murray, as if sensing the blow, raised his left arm to
protect himself.

Scurrying footsteps growing loser, accompanied by
Animal's voice. "Fucking bitch, I'm gonna kill you ...
fucked up my eye.. "

She shifted her position over Tim, grappling with him.

The sand she had thrown in his face had helped her
more than she had thought it would. His eyes were fluttering, tearing profusely; he was fighting disorientation
and irritation.

It made it easier for her to get the upper hand and get
a good aim.

And bring the rock down on his head.

Tim crumpled like a limp doll, and she hit him again
for good measure. Both blows to Tim's head sounded like
a watermelon being split open.

The running footsteps were growing loser, along with
Animal's yell of rage.

Another burst of adrenaline exploded in Lisa's system.
She rose to her feet.

And met the challenge head-on.

Despite the fact that William Grecko was completely shitfaced drunk, he was thinking very dearly.

Learning shocking news probably helped keep his
mind operating in a more-or-less sober manner.

William Grecko sat behind his desk, nursing a bottle of
151. No use drinking out of the flask now. Why hide it?
His staff knew he was an alcoholic. He'd been in rehabil itation centers six times for his alcoholism in the past
twenty years. He'd lost two wives, three partnerships, and
most of his friends to the disease. He'd been pulled over
ten times for DUI, arrested once. When he began gaining
notoriety as a high-profile criminal defense attorney, the
cops who pulled him over usually let him off with a warning for some strange reason. But one thing he hadn't lost
was his ability to reason when it came to protecting his
clients. And right now he had to use his mind to the best
of his ability to think and strategize this latest tragedy.

What the hell am I going to tell him? William thought,
running a hand through his greasy hair. What the hell am
I going to tell him?

It was two P.M. Lisa Miller had been missing for five
hours. The last report he had gotten from the Las Vegas
PD was a whole lot of nothing. The feds were at least doing somewhat better. A team of detectives had questioned Rick Shectman very casually, and naturally Rick
Shectman had maintained his innocence. Mr. Shectman
not only didn't know the Millers, he had never seen the
people in the photographs the agents showed him. 'Best
picture we had was the one with that guy at the bank, the
good-lookin' dude who escorted Mrs. Miller inside,"
William's FBI contact, Phil Krider, reported. "Shectman
takes one look at him, says he never saw him before."

That was the official story. Phil related that he was
pretty confident that Rick Shectman had been lying
when he denied knowing the men in the photographs. "l
could tell by the way he looked at those photos. He
didn't even give them a real look. Just glanced at them,
looked back at us, and said, 'Nope, don't know these
guys. The man didn't even give the pictures the time of
day, like he knew what they were of. That tells me he
knows something."

Besides, as Phil Krider and the feds reported, Rick
Shectman had ties with the underground pornography
market. One of his associates had been busted for producing bestiality films, and Rick's father had an illustrious history that stretched back to the early seventies. Old
man Shectman was even rumored to have been involved
in the production of a snuff film, so it stood to reason that
his son was following in Dad's footsteps. After all, the
print shop the younger Shectman now operated had
been run by his father. And Boris Shectman had been
convicted twice of producing child pornography out of
that very shop. Talk among the underground porn world
was that the younger Shectman had his hands in the
business, despite a lack of hard evidence. "The print
shop's been raided at least three times that I know of and
we never found anything," Phil told William. "He hasn't
been raided in five years because of lawsuits. Also, Rick
Shectman has been contributing to various political figures lately and that's helped keep the heat off of him, if
you know what I mean."

William Grecko knew what Phil meant, but that wasn't
what was worrying him this afternoon. Not by a long
shot.

He took another sip from the bottle. He had sent Marilyn, his secretary, home at lunch. He couldn't stand hearing her outside his office. It wasn't as if she was
particularly annoying, it was just that hearing her perform her normal duties was distressing to him. Listening
to her was reminding him of Lisa. And Lisa was reminding him of Brad, and Brad was reminding him of-

He gulped down another shot-and sighed as it spread
through his system. The warmth flooded through him.
He dosed his eyes. First things first. Sift through what
you've just been told, then make an educated decision based on the evidence. No need in getting Brad worried
and riled up now.

Shortly after noon, while Marilyn had still been in the
office, William had taken a call from one of the detectives working on the Golgotha angle. They had finally
questioned all of the board members of the Golgotha
Multimedia Corporation and all their alibis and backgrounds had checked out.

William had been expecting that, but he still had to
ask the detective a little more about the board members
themselves. What had they been like?

Rich country-club executive types, the detective had
said. Smug, pampered bastards. Oh, not smug in the
sense that any of them were suspicious-they all really
did check out fine. No criminal records, their stories and
alibis checked out, the whole nine yards. But you know
they've got money. ft's like they all had fucking Teflon
coated to their skins, y'know?

William had nodded, feeling a little dejected at the
news. Yeah, so what else is new?

The detective had given him the rundown. The cabin
was used as a retreat for business functions, usually
meetings. Sometimes they had weekend retreats, where
they drove up for the weekend, went skiing, talked shop,
the usual bullshit. The cabin was primarily a tax write-off.
Did they ever go up for personal use? Billy had asked.

Oh yeah, all the time was the reply. They all had keys to
the place. It's just that the weekend your clients went missing, all twelve board members were at other locations;
none of them were within a hundred miles of the cabin.
We checked. Their alibis are tight.

Billy had just been about to ask if the men had family
members that perhaps used the cabin when the detective beat him to it. Of course we questioned friends and family members. That s only following the logical nnil, you
know? And everybody's story corroborated. Each man
had only one key to the place. That key was on that member's person, and since each member was away that particular weekend, far from Big Bear Lake, it makes it
impossible that any of them could have been involved

The detective had been rambling, and Billy had had to
steer him back to the question he wanted to ask. Did family members have their own keys? Was it possible a family
member had used the cabin that weekend?