We stayed there, huddled together, watching its hulking form move further away until it was enveloped by the rush of heavy snow and seemed to vanish all together.
It was selfish, I know, but I felt relieved. For the first time in hours, I wouldn't have to run and that was unbelievably comforting because I had a feeling that if the thing had turned around and come for us, I wouldn't have had the strength. But I didn't kick my feet up and rest my eyes; the fact that I so desperately wanted to helped keep me awake. Physical and mental fatigue; was this the start of hypothermia?
I started thinking about a lot of things, trying to keep my mind occupied and alert. Again I kept pondering my crazed polar bear theory, wishing it were true but knowing it could never be that simple. But there were similarities. I knew for sure that like a polar bear, this thing had the perfect camouflage and if you weren't constantly on your toes it could literally appear out of nowhere. And I also knew that it could rip a human being to shreds without the slightest degree of difficulty.
Our only advantage was that we knew where it was going...or so we thought.
"Come on, come on," Jackson hissed, looking at the void where the monster had just been, then back to the light of Emmitt's torch.
Suddenly, the light went out and now it was Jackson's turn to sigh in relief.
"We had a deal; wait five minutes, then kill the lights," he said when I nudged him looking for answers.
"Please don't say the word kill, Jackson," I demanded, as if things weren't bleak enough already.
"Sorry…extinguish."
"So that means we're not going to see them again. We're on our own?"
"For now," he said.
I kept telling myself to stay positive, finding it kind of amusing that of the two of us, Jackson was the more upbeat. We had a few things to be happy about, I suppose. I was still in possession of Lindsay's backpack and hopefully, assuming we got the chance, we would find a map, compass, anything that might help us get out of here. And of course, once we made it to the bottom of the mountain, Emmitt and Lindsay would be waiting for us…of course. They were smart, resourceful kids. It was more than likely that they would beat us to civilization and once they did that, they would send help. There, see; hope all around.
But in my current situation, snow covered and wearing only a leather jacket and sneakers, I knew in my heart of hearts that I wouldn't last the night; not like this.
I could see it now; a search party would go into the woods and find both of us standing next to each other or in each other's arms, frozen solid. Ugh, what would my father make of that? Bye-bye optimism: Hello despair. I'm telling you, it seems that every time I start feeling down; life puts on a pair of cleats and kicks me in the ass.
"Why me?" I groaned, drawing a less than concerned glance from Jackson. Not that I was expecting anything more.
"Let's get moving," he said and cautiously, we both rose to our feet looking in all directions incase this thing was even smarter than we thought and was circling around behind us.
But was I really safe with Jackson? He said he hadn't brought me up here to kill me, and he had come looking for me when I took off into the storm, but let's face it; Jackson isn't your everyday, run-of-the-mill kind of guy. Who could guess his motivations? It could be heroism, or little more than a no one's going to kill Lisa but me line of thinking. Circumstances gave me few options, however, so I aired on the side of caution and stayed to his left, never letting him get too far ahead or behind. Kind of strange when you think about it; I didn't want him close by, but I didn't want him far away either. That seemed to be our relationship in a nutshell.
On we went, with Jackson hugging the edge of the hillside as we climbed the steady rise, although I had no idea or presence of mind to ask why he was doing that or where we were going. My legs were so cold they actually burned and I knew he had to be feeling the same. After rolling in the snow, what little body heat we had had managed to melt the fluffy, white stuff. My shoes, socks and pants from the knees down were pretty much soaked and when the wind blew, it was almost painful. No, not almost, it was painful, no sense sugar coating it.
Our only consolation was that the storm, if that's what it had been, was tapering off. Before long, it stopped all together and the stars came out; the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow casting everything in navy and white, it looked eerie, desolate, further proof that we were utterly alone, and it was surprisingly bright.
"Keep your antenna up, Leese, that thing could be anywhere," he warned, still looking to his left.
Always looking at the side of the mountain; I was about to ask him what gives, when I tripped on a shrub, beaver, dead body, whatever may be up here in the woods of New England. Truly, I didn't want to know and I found myself stumbling to the side and back, trying to regain my steps before I tumbled downward and fell to the bottom of the hill. I knew that if that happened, if I rolled all the way down, I wouldn't be able to start back up again. But I couldn't stop myself. I kept falling backward; going and going until I landed on my butt in a cave that smelled like…rot. It's a simple word, rot, but there's no other way to describe it and once again, I was plunged into total darkness. In my quest to stay optimistic, I did note that I'd rather be in a dark cave with a rotting carcass than a living monster, and whatever was in here was giving off some form of heat. Nasty as it was, I needed that warmth desperately.
"Leese," Jackson whispered and the frightened little girl in me got up and ran to him, which was an embarrassment of the highest order. Man, I hated to do it, but once the thought hit me that this cave was more a lair or possibly a dumping ground, I wanted to get the hell out.
To my surprise, when I ran into him he didn't budge. He pushed me further in, actually wanting to stay in this dark, smelly pit.
"Jackson," I began. Are you nuts, I wanted to ask but thought better of it.
"Shh, keep it down, Leese. Do you still have that lighter I gave you?"
"Yeah," I answered, fishing it out of my pocket and handing it to him. His voice sounded funny, breathy and kind of herky-jerky. It made me wonder if he was breathing through his mouth to combat the stench and if taking in that unfiltered air was really such a good idea.
When that dim light went on, I immediately wished it hadn't and I was even more thankful that I hadn't followed Jackson's mouth breathing ways.
"Oh, Jesus," I said, gagging when I got a look at It. And I thought I should address It properly because It was so damn vile that it deserved to have a name. It consisted of vegetation, candy wrappers and other garbage, but it was mostly the remains of various animals and as bad as it smelled, it looked even more appalling for a number of reasons. It made me think of possible fates and the thought of my remains rotting in a pile, never to be found...
"I'm going to be sick."
I stepped away from that mass, thankful that I hadn't stumbled just a little further and landed in it. It was Jackson, mouth hanging open, looking like a guppy that took a step forward.
"Is that…?" he asked but stopped mid sentence, shining that dull light behind the pile.
"Oh my God," we both said when the light fell on the body of a grown man, bloody and torn.
Jackson grabbed his hands and pulled him away from that makeshift compost heap, "He's cold," he whispered as if that were supposed to make me feel better.
"And now you're taking his things?" I asked as Jackson began stripping the poor man, who was probably being stored here until he became a midnight snack, intent on taking his coat and boots. For a minute there, I thought he was trying to be a Good Samaritan, checking for vitals, covering the body, or something a little less cold hearted then taking the clothes off a dead man's back.
"Do you want to die out here?" he asked matter-of-factly. "You're not going to last another hour with what you're wearing. Take his clothes or freeze to death, Leese. It's up to you."
Can't argue that logic and I found the fact that he was grave robbing to save my life a bit endearing; the oddest sort of chivalry I'd ever seen.
"What about you?" I asked and he immediately responded in typical male fashion that he would be fine. I get it; circumstances had brought out his inner caveman. Big-strong-man-build-fire-save-little-woman; what's wrong with men?
I set the backpack down, playing with the zipper for a moment before I looked up at him, still working away at the poor man's boots. "Should I open it?" I asked.
"Yeah, see if you can find a map," he answered throwing one boot in my direction. "It's not going to fit, but wear it anyway."
I looked down at the man as Jackson began tugging at the next boot with one hand while he held the lighter in the other. With the low ceiling and curtain of vines and moss that covered the entrance, the light reflected pretty well, illuminating every nook and cranny of this tight space and I hated the way the flicker of that tiny flame made the walls seemingly undulate.
Who could this be, I wondered, a fourth hunter? I couldn't be sure. All I knew what that I had never seen him before. He wasn't the man from the photo, of that I was certain.
"We won't be able to stay here," Jackson continued and I felt the urge to reply 'no shit' but held my tongue. "But if we can find a map and I can find north, we'll be on our way."
"How will you find north?"
"The North Star, Leese, how else?"
"What are you, a Boy Scout?" I asked with the utmost sarcasm.
"No…I was an Eagle Scout. If you're going to do something, you should always be the best."
Merit badges, helping old ladies cross the street; now that really shocked me and I was about to challenge him when he spoke.
"I know what you think of me, Leese," he started, feathers clearly ruffled, "but I'm not like that."
"Like what?" I asked, wondering why my psychic friend always presumed to know what I was thinking. Had he ever been right? I don't think so.
"On the plane, after you told me about the parking lot…you said it would never happen again."
And then he just stared at me as though telling him about the rape had been deeply offensive.
"I'm not following you, Jack."
"When you said that it would never happen again, you put me at the same level as him, Leese. So, like I said, I already know what you think of me."
I think a flippant 'whatever' would have been an appropriate response to the child standing in front of me, the one who was so hurt because I didn't hold him in high regard, but no, he pissed me off; I'd give him more than that.
"You're a piece of work, you know that? Only a man like you could take my rape, twist it around and make it all about him," I said, taking a challenging step forward. "I don't think you're like him at all."
He went back to the task at hand and I watched him working, finding a small measure of comfort when he refused to meet my withering glare.
"You're not like him at all," I repeated, causing him to look up in surprise. "You're worse, Jack, because you know better. You followed me back to my father's house and you chose to come after me with a knife, which is pretty damn sleazy no matter how you look at it."
I paused for a minute, catching my breath and letting the words sink in before I went on. To be honest, I didn't want to go too far. Part of me didn't like to see him looking so anguished, but I just couldn't stop. "And I also know that if you didn't have feelings for me, twisted and obsessive as they are, we wouldn't be here right now. So don't even try to say that I manipulated you just like you manipulated me. Don't try to say that we're the same. I'm not going to listen to that crap."
He sighed, his shoulders dropped and he looked at me as if to say, 'It's not easy being Jackson Rippner,' and maybe he and I were alike on some level, it was possible. It would explain the strange attraction/repulsion we shared, but that didn't matter really. I just knew I had him right where I wanted him. He had no further points to argue. From now on, he would have to be real.
Just as we were on the verge of a breakthrough, a genuine clearing of the air, a groan echoed through the cave. We both froze, Jackson still holding the dead man's foot in his hand, but killing, pardon me, extinguishing the lighter, and we waited for a sound, any sign that something was coming either from the front or rear of the cave before we decided which direction to run.
I only wish I could have seen the look on Jackson's face when the man, you know, the supposedly dead man, jerked his foot away and whimpered, "Help me."
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Author's Note: At last, I have updated something. Sorry for the delayed absence. Real life keeps getting in the way.
Thanks to emptyvoices for her encouragement and feedback and thanks to everyone else for taking the time to read and/or review.