I'm telling you, it was a sight I'd thought I would never see, or in this case, hear. It almost made being stuck in this smelly hollow worth it, even if I was certain we would never make it down the mountain with all our fingers and toes. Actually, I'd lost feeling in my feet about an hour ago but until that moment, hadn't had time to think about it.
But like I said, it was almost worth a toe or two to hear Jackson scream like a twelve year old girl who had just seen a mouse. Then it occurred to me that I was having a jolly good time at the expense of another; a bloody, torn and suffering human being. How's that for a mood changer?
"Give him his things back," I said to Jackson as I pulled the jacket off, sad to see that newly acquired warmth go.
By this time, my favorite manager had recovered from his initial shock and after two attempts, the lighter quickly flicked back on. How much juice did that little thing have left, I wondered.
"No," the man whimpered when I tried to cover him, offering up my apologies for having taken his clothing in the first place.
"But you said you wanted help...Jackson, for God's sake, let go of his foot."
He dropped it suddenly, causing the wounded man to grunt and leaving me to realize that until I had pointed it out, he had been completely unaware that he still held the appendage. He was just staring down at the man, surprised and shaken by the strangers continued existence. I'd never seen him like that, so dumfounded, and didn't think it was possible. His typical response to anything out of the ordinary was usually annoyance or outright rage. I wondered what it was that bothered him so. Surely, he'd seen and caused plenty of death and destruction in his day? What made this so different?
"Cold, he just went cold," the stranger began, but I had no idea what he could be referring to. "His eyes, cold and…and, they turned. Please, please don't leave me here like this."
I thought he was delirious; shock, blood loss, something along those lines. What he had said made no sense, but that last part – he was lucid and he looked up, looked right at Jackson when he said it.
"Don't leave me like this. He's coming back."
"Who's coming back?" I asked.
Before he could answer that familiar howl pierced that night. It was close, too close. This thing must be him, but why refer to it in that way, why give it a gender? He had gone cold, his eyes had turned. Turned; as if they'd been different before….
"We have to get him out of here, Jackson." That was true, we needed him, needed all the information we could get.
"Are you nuts?" he asked, regaining his composure with characteristic speed and efficiency; the aloof professional had returned. "We won't last ten minutes out there with him in tow. Think logically for once in your life, would you?"
Oh, was that ever the pot calling the kettle black and if we'd had time, we really could have gotten into it, but as it stood, that thing was getting closer and our much needed debate, clearing of the air, whatever you wanted to call it, would have to wait until later.
"Don't leave me," the man whimpered again, reaching towards Jackson with a trembling hand.
That hand, the mere sight of it, conveyed the message more clearly than spoken words ever could. This was my chance to see what Jackson was really made of. Could he look at a man, listen to him beg as he waved his hand, bloody stumps where the fingers should have been and do nothing. Was Jackson Rippner really that cold?
"Fuck," Jackson hissed under his breath, indicating that he wasn't.
He stepped towards me, then around, handing me the lighter before bending down to lift the man to a sitting position.
"No," the man hollered when Jackson pulled upward.
"What the hell do you want from me then?" Jackson asked, throwing his hands up in the air, overcome by frustration.
"You…the two of you can't take me with you."
"Then what; what do you want?"
"Don't leave me here like…this, not like this."
I watched them look at each other. Jackson understanding the words, the two of them reaching a silent understanding; that one of them was about to meet his end, the other about to become an executioner. I knew that time was not on our side but I didn't dare point that out. Part of me wondered why this man was so calm, seemingly confident and relieved that Jackson was the man to end his suffering, wanting it so badly.
He had never looked at me that way. What did he see in Jackson, I wonder? What had he seen in me for that matter?
"Did you know him; did you know who he was?" I asked even as Jackson cradled the man's head and I knew that time was running out.
"Not really. This was my first year up here. Never much cared for hunting," he laughed. "He wasn't from around here, used to live down south."
I didn't bother asking for a name; didn't see much point in it.
He looked at me one last time, smiling just a little. "Melt that heart of ice," he said before it was done.
It seemed profound, if only I had known what he meant by that. Time would tell, I guess.
Jackson made sure it was quick and painless, snapping the man's neck without any warning. The poor guy had never seen it coming.
Once again, I was thankful that Jackson was here. If called upon to do the same, I don't think I would have been up to the task. All apathy aside, it takes a certain type of objectivity to end the life of another – even if it is a mercy killing.
And I looked at Jackson's face immediately after because I felt it was important I see his expression. It wasn't what I had expected.
To someone who'd never met him, didn't know a thing about him, he would have been a blank slate, and it's true that he donned a convincing, 'what's done is done' expression. But someone who knew him well – that someone being me and quite possibly, only me – would have seen the remorse coupled with a hint of failure that washed over him.
I felt it too.
This had become an all out battle for survival and leaving this man, even though neither of us knew him, was like leaving a fellow soldier behind.
Jackson rolled him over, reaching into his back pocket, taking out his wallet and handing it to me.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"His license; it'll have his name. That way his family…,"
"Have you ever seen a person die?" Is that why he was acting the way he was; solemn, flashing that rarely seen but always heartfelt concern?
"Of course, Leese. You know what I do. What kind of a question is that?"
"I know you arrange things. I know you're an arrogant, money loving bastard with almost no morals, but have you ever actually seen a person die? Had you ever killed anyone before?" Your parents for instance?
The look on his face told me he hadn't and I started to think that I didn't know the real Jackson Rippner at all.
"Receiving a call that the job has been done and doing that job yourself are two completely different things, aren't they, Jack?"
He didn't have time to answer before we heard what sounded like a wild boar, snorting and huffing not too far from the entrance of this very cave. Wild boar…we should be so lucky.
My finger came off that lighter and we were plunged into darkness. We didn't need to speak. There was only one option available to us at that moment, incommodious as it may be. He took my hand and we tip-toed further into the cave, ducking down as the space grew tighter and moving as quickly as we could without making a sound. That last part was difficult to say the least considering the way every footfall seemed to echo throughout the cavern.
When we heard it enter and cry out, we both stopped, hugging the wall and crouching low. My heart stopped. I thought for sure that it knew it wasn't alone; that a couple of guests had stopped by for dinner, but time passed and it didn't come looking for us.
For the time being, Jackson and I had gone unnoticed. Gotta love small miracles!
We weren't far from it, out of smelling range I was willing to bet, especially with that compost heap to mask our scent, but still too close for my liking, and for all we knew this cave could be a dead end.
And we weren't out of hearing range; that was painfully obvious.
I don't think I can ever adequately describe how it felt to cower in the darkness, listening like a coward while that man's body was devoured. I know that no matter how long I live, another forty seconds or forty years, I'll never forget those sounds. God only knows what was running through Jackson's mind at that moment, but for me, it was pure torture. There was just no escaping it; the sound of bones breaking, flesh ripping, the chewing.
One wrong move and we could be next. That was the worst part.
A flash of light, a glimmer in the corner of my eye, caught my attention. When I turned, it was gone.
I stared long and hard, knowing that I saw something. It couldn't have been a trick of the light…there was no light. And it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me; my subconscious keeping the hope alive to stave off despair. I knew I wasn't mad yet.
"Did you see it?' I asked Jackson, pressing my lips to his ear, mouthing the words more than speaking them.
He shook his head no, which meant that either he was blind, or I really was crazy.
But look! There is was again. At what had to be the end of the cave I could see a flame. It looked like a torch, Emmitt's torch maybe…a way out?
I tugged on Jackson's arm trying to pull him along with me.
"Out," I whispered.
"No," he whispered back.
To hell with him, I decided. Let him sit here waiting for that thing to finish dinner, I wanted out.
I tried to be careful. I put my hands out, feeling the wall, trying to find my bearings before I made a move. When I stood up, the backpack scraped against the rock wall alerting the feasting monster to our presence. So strong was my desire to flee, I had forgotten about that heavy weight resting on my shoulders altogether.
It shrieked again. I heard it lumbering towards us, followed by the sound of Jackson stumbling away blindly. This was my fault, all my fault. I prayed that my eyes had not deceived me. I prayed that I was right.
"The lighter, Leese, get the lighter."
I held it in my hand, taking one last look down the pitch black tunnel before the lights came on and the situation became undeniably real.
And this time, I didn't see any light at all; no torch, no Emmitt, nothing.
"Oh, no….,"
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Author's Note: Alright, another update! The writer's block has finally lifted. For those of you who are interested, the latest chapter of "Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Quick," is in the works. I haven't forgotten about that one.
Lot's of suspense in this chapter, I hope. Wonder what she saw at the end of that tunnel, if anything……
Thanks to emptyvoices for her input and suggestions and thank you all for taking the time to read and/or review. It's much appreciated.