Disclaimer: I only own Emily
Warning: Rated M, for abuse and adult content.
Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice. For my new readers, I hope you enjoy and for those of you who read the old version, I do hope you like this one better. Please let me know.
**This takes place before Red Canyon because otherwise things get far too confusing. So, Enjoy!
The door behind her was two inches of solid wood, secured with a mastercraft bold lock and thick steel hinges. Although her logical conscious mind knew that it would take some serious force to break that door from its foundations, she could not get the rest of her body to understand these facts. As adrenaline and oxytocin continued to burn through her bloodstream, the poison of fear that now ate away at her mental facilities became terminal. There were slow symptoms of paranoia beginning to rear their ugly head. It was not impossible to tell the difference between illusion of a tired mind and the reality of a nightmare come to life. Her body was reacting in ways that were some what foreign to her. A noticeable coating of sweat covered most of her sand kissed flesh, creating a disgusting muddy mixture. Now she understood the warnings her body had given her earlier. Emily knew with complete certainty that she had been a big part in the creation of the past and current events. There were fingers to be pointed at the guilty parties of this predicament and she realized had to point one at herself. She could have left Caineville after Mac accosted her in the bar. Of course there was the risk of falling asleep at the wheel. But she could have pulled over just outside of the city limits and took a short nap before continuing home. Would he really come that far to ascertain her? That was a risky question that she dare not even consider.
Emily shook her head in an effort to snap her thoughts back to reality. One question was still cycling her inner thoughts, was he really outside watching her? It was a question she really did not want to answer. There were two separate reasons for this, first, if the answer was no, then she had completely lost her sanity. And second, if the answer was yen, then she was in more danger than she originally realized. The predator was pursuing the object of his obsession even more forcefully than she had anticipated and he was more deadly than any other creature in the desert. This man was worse than the Anthony she had created. They were both sexually aggressive demons who had no compassion or comprehension of the word No. But one of them had an element to him that terrified her and paralyzed her logical thought process. One of them was not only real but also could drive her into an uncontrollable lust filled frenzy. It was the one thing she had never even considered would be possible and it was the thing that scared her the most. The way his voice could turn her into a terror-filled and lust-filled, paralytic being, was sickening.
There was nothing about Mac that should even remotely arouse her but he did. Her body had become poisoned by his venomous touch and violent nature. Although she did not want anything to do with him, there was some internal part of her that did. In that moment, Emily made a decision, no matter how her body reacted to him, she would fight him every single time. He was that forbidden fruit that should never be plucked from the branch because one bite would be a death sentence. She had not tasted the toxic fruit of Utah but she had inhaled the volatile aroma that radiated from him and she had felt his flesh press into hers. Their brief interaction had been more than enough, even that was almost too much. Mac was the over dose of every sensation imaginable. He was the only drug in existence that was highly dangerous, addictive and one hit would instantly kill her. At the same time, he was as poetic as he was raw. Any longer in Satan's playground and Emily knew she would disappear with this demon.
As she attempted to calm the torrent of raging emotions, she thought back to his black, rotted teeth and the assaulting smell of his unwashed mouth. Then she recalled the the sight of his scabbed over sores that decorated the underside of his forearms. In the process of attempting to calm her raging hormones, she ended up causing herself more emotional turmoil. The way he acted so casual over a shotgun being pointed at him and how he never flinched when it was cocked. He apparently was unafraid of guns or of having his head blown from his shoulders. Even after the incident, he had followed her out to her car and now he was or was not prowling around outside. It would make sense though for him to be stalking around the house. The housed were too close together for her comfort and he had seen her come this way. Mac already knew where she was headed before she even arrived. As the realization suddenly hit her, a feeling of being trapped began to blanket her entire anatomy. The very structure that was meant to protect her, had suddenly turned into her prison.
Emily fought to hold back the tears of hopelessness that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Everything that she was afraid would happen, had happened and now there was no way out of here. She knew that she was fat too exhausted to even attempt to drive back home. At the same time, she was too afraid to sleep and she was worried that if she did try to sleep, he might come after her then. It had been a good ten minuted since she had slammed the door shut and she realized that she was still leaning on it for stability. Her breathing had nearly ceased entirely. When she finally inhaled, it was a shaky intake of air that coaxed two tears to spill from her eyes. They ran down her dusty cheeks, leaving streak marks where they traveled and then fell to the wooden floor beneath her. She ignored them. The humidity of the desert had left her terribly sweaty and sticky. But the incident with Mac, which should have never happened, left her sticky in other places that should not have become that way. But again, she was afraid that if she did attempt to shower, he might come after her. Either way she knew that he was going to be coming for her but she in no way was going to make it easy for him. The bastard would have to fight if he wanted to get his rough, uncleaned fingers on her delicate flesh. Without knowing it, she was now gripping the dagger with both hands and praying to whoever might listen.
"Please god. If you're there, if you can hear me, help me. I know I haven't spoken to you before. But please, get me out of this."
Too bad no one had informed Emily that there is no god in this land. Her prayers would never be heard, not this far into hell. This was the place that god did not even dare to tread. Emily swallowed hard again before finally pushing herself up from the door and standing on her own two feet. As much as she feared him coming after her, like a monster from a horror movie, she knew she needed sleep. Even if she only slept for a couple of hours, she had to get some rest. Her mind and body were so exhausted that she could no longer process the last few minutes events. Was he really outside? Or was she paranoid? Those questions could not be dealt with by a tired mind. So with that, she grabbed her bag from the floor beside her and with dagger in hand, headed slowly toward her bed room.
The bad she was holding, now drug across the floor as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Her lack of energy was beginning to effect her judgement in the worst possible way. As she stepped into the darkness of the living room, she forgot to reach for the light switch and nearly tripped over the couch in the process. At least her collision with the furniture was enough to snap her back into reality and remind her of the ever present danger that surrounded her. Emily shook her head before looking around the darkness, in which she was now standing. Cautiously, she crouched down and unzipped the large pocked of her bag. She was fishing for the three cell maglite she had shoved into the bottom of her bag in her paranoia. Perhaps her mental psychosis would come to serve her well for once in her life, instead of crippling her. The cold textured metal brushed the back of her hand and she quickly grabbed it. Even the light felt heavy in her palm as she pressed it's black rubber button and it flared to life. It's bright white beam pierced through the shadows, highlighting the dust covered furniture of the room around her. Emily slowly stood from her place on the floor and scanned the area with the flashlight. There was no sign of any other human presence in this portion of the house, so she headed toward the stairs. With every step, the floor beneath her protested with a groan or a creak. That was a good thing though because it might alert her if someone else did decide to come into the house.
The flashlight beam lead her way to the top of the stairs and into the tiny bedroom. In one corner of the room, there was a wooden chair and against the wall closest to the door, was a small twin bed. Aside from those couple of items, there was little else in her room. That was alright with her, she would not be staying very long. Her bag slid from her shoulder and dropped to the floor with a thud. Then she let herself fall to the dusty mattress. A cloud of dust puffed up around her as she plopped down onto the bed. Emily was too tired to even notice or care. She had just enough energy left to remember to shut off her light, sit it next to the bed and then wedge the blade of the knife between two floor boards for just in case. Emily considered wedging the back of the wood chair under the door handle of her bedroom door but sleep blanketed her when her head hit the pillow. At least with the door open she could hear someone coming into the house and that knowledge might buy her enough time to get out the window. She should have glanced out her bedroom window before passing out. Just off in the distance she could have seen the faint glow of a lit cigarette as it burned in the distance. This information might have served her well.
At first all she noticed was the familiar mixture of smells and then the feeling of eyes raping her body as she lay there half conscious. She slowly began to open her eyes, before she could even try to move, she was yanked from the bed and thrown on the floor. Her body immediately kicked into fight or flight mode as butterflies began to encircle her diaphragm. Emily tried to dive for the knife but he snatched her up by her hair and slammed her face into the floor. The sound of her teeth snapping together, echoed in her head as her vision danced with stars. There was a distinct taste of warm liquid copper in her mouth and she spit in an attempt to rid her taste buds of the unpleasant sensation. She could hear his boots thud against the hollow wooden floor as he encircled her, watching her struggle to regain her bearings. A rough hand entwined in her hair and then she was being drug toward the bedroom door. Emily beat at the hand pulling her and clawed at his flesh in a desperate attempt to get free. Without warning she was flung like a rag doll and send rolling down the stairs. Her head collided several times with the steps before she finally slammed into the wall at the very bottom of them. She pressed her hand up against the wall as she tried to steady herself and pull up from the floor. But there was blood on her hand, so she slipped down the wall and fell back to the floor. There was no way to tell if it was her blood or if she had clawed him bad enough to make him bleed. The details at this moment were unimportant and besides that, a little fuzzy. Emily heard his boots as he descended the stairs and she willed her body to crawl, move or anything except sit there. Mac was too quick for her unsteady frame, he picked her up by her hair once more and shoved her out the front door. The flood lights from his truck lit up most of the yard and nearly blinded her in the process. What ever head trauma she had endured was effecting her vision. A sharp pain was now shooting from her skull, down the back of her neck and it only added to the throbbing in her head.
"Mac...please."
He said nothing. But shoved her forward and bent her over the tailgate of the truck as her feet were kicked awkwardly apart. Then she felt the cold metal of his buck knife, slicing through the fabric of her cargos and cotton panties in one pass. As she heard the sound of his zipper...
Emily shot straight up off the mattress. She was panting heavily, her body was soaked with sweat and her head was throbbing as if she had encountered him. All of it had been a horrific nightmare but it felt entirely too real for her liking. Or it was a warning to get out of Caineville while she still could. It did not take her long to pull herself back down to reality and become fully aware of her surroundings. Still she needed to reassure herself that it was only a dream, she glanced around the room to make sure everything was where she left it when she fell asleep. The knife was still stuck in the floor and the light was wedged in the floor boards, next to it. Aside from her heart racing a mile a minute and the butterflies ever present in her stomach, she was alright.
As she was taking one final calming breath, Emily heard the distinctive sound of the floor creaking downstairs. 'Get out' She thought to herself. It it was him though, she needed to buy herself some time to get out of the house. Those fear clouded blues glanced from the doorway to the chair and then to her knife on the floor. With one final encouraging breath, she slid quietly onto the floor, slithered her way to her weapons and grabbed them as silently as possible. The next couple moves would have to be executed with precision and stealth. Emily glanced once more at the darkness where she now heard the bottom step groan under the weight of her stalker. Then she slid the knife in its' sheath and bolted from her crouched position on the floor. She yanked the chair from its' corner and as she slammed the door-shoving the back of the chair under its' handle-the sound of footsteps quickened. Before she knew it, Mac was ramming his entire body against the door, causing the chair to slide with every hit. If she did not more in time, he would be on her. Emily flung her bag on her back and shoved open the window. There was a little bit of rooftop below this window, just enough for her to drop from. As she was climbing out the window, she heard the chair fly across the room and hit the wall with force.
"Shit."
The sound of it colliding with the wall made her jump and run for the edge of the roof. She jumped down with her light still in hand and sprinted for the car. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears that she barely heard Mac descending the stairs to come after her. Everything around her seemed to slow as time turned against her. Emily knew things were moving at normal pace but her mind failed to register the fact. A dose of adrenaline hit her again and she could feel bile climbing her esophagus. Her breathing virtually stopped when she caught sight of the buck knife shoved in her rear driver's side tire. There was no time to think of a solution, she glanced back at Mac and then took off running into the desert. It was that one more he would not expect her to make because it was foolish and she knew it. Still, she preferred to risk finding off wild animals, over dealing with him. Although she had no idea where she was headed or even how she would get out of here, she did not care at the moment. Anywhere away from him was the best place to be.
The sound of a truck engine roaring to life, could be heard off in the distance and the glow of mounted flood lights were visible from where she stood. Emily dropped down in the sand, lying flat so she was out of the line of sight. Sand puffed away from her face with every fearful exhale. For a few minutes she just listened for the sound of the truck to pass, its' warring hum drowning out all symphony of the desert around her. It seemed like an eternity before the truck finally roared on down the road, from the sound of his acceleration, she could tell he was pissed. Apparently it did not take much to outsmart him, she just had to ignore her emotions and physical state. She pushed to her feet and tore ass through the wasteland of Utah as fast as she could. There was one possible place she could go to find some help, the Luna Mesa. Maybe that bartender could help save her again or at least call their sheriff. Despite the never ending darkness before her, she still refused to use the light because she did not want to draw attention to herself. So she ran stumbling in the direction of town or whatever was in this direction.
Several times along the way, she would hear coyotes mocking her from a distance. They cackled and yelped in frenzied excitement as she fought back the bile climbing up again. Her exhaustion was slowly creeping into her bloodstream and at some point she tripped over a rock. The ground greeted her with a hard smack and jolted her awake a bolt of pain. She contemplated just lying there in the sand and not getting up ever again. However, her mind had other plans and it promptly reminded her of her nightmare. Emily groaned in frustration, she was beyond tired, covered in dirt and sweat, on top of that it had dropped in temperature. So now she was cold. 'Get your ass up' She yelled at herself to move before Mac returned to look for her. As she pushed up from the desert floor, every muscle shook in protest but she ignored it. There would be no rest for her until things were taken care of by the proper authorities. Or she was miles away from here. Her boots felt as if they weighed a ton and with every exhausted step she kicked up sand.
On the horizon, the faint glow of the Luna Mesa finally came into view. It was enough to give her a burst of energy and she ran toward it like it was her salvation. Out here it was the closest thing to sanctuary she might find. At least it was something.
The cool desert air burned her lungs as she ran across the dark pavement of the main drag in Caineville. Her boots slapped heavily against the ground as she forced her body to keep moving. When she reached the front porch of the bar, her fists pounded on the wooden storm door. Although the lot surrounding the small shack, was empty and there was not a car for miles, she still felt the sudden prickle of gooseflesh on her neck. In one hand she gripped her light and waited for an answer from inside. A single light in the rear of the bar flicked on and she sighed with relief. Ever so slowly the older man made his way toward the front door. Emily stepped back from the door slightly when she realized she had woken him. There was, she noted, a large tattoo of a spider that spanned the length of his chest. The legs ended at the very edge of his arms. His long ponytail was now a mat of tangled hair that hung down his back and the crows feet beneath his dark eyes, were highlighted by dark circles. Before he even opened the door, she started apologizing.
"I'm sorry. I just had no where to go. Mac-"
Without warning he raised his head and cut her off.
"Mh-ac? Wh-at about Mh-ac?" He asked with one brow lifted.
"He snuck into my house-"
The strange mexican opened the door and practically pulled her inside.
"Sh-ay no more. Come inside."
"I tried to drive away but he slashed my tire."
Emily fought back tears that wanted to spill forward in a torrent of emotion. He must have noticed because his face softened and he spoke.
"Ca-hlm down. You're safe here, remember?"
She swallowed hard and nodded.
"Ok den. I will call da sheriff for you. In da meantime," He moved around the bar and grabbed a clean rag, wetting it. "You clean yourself up and relax ok?" He handed her the rag.
"Yeah, ok."
"Dat's better."
The feelings of utter helplessness had begun to slowly fade as she sat at one of the tables, wiping the dirt from her skin. She could hear him in the other room on the phone with the local police.
"Yes, dis is Wh-alter at da Luna Mesa. I need someone out here now. Dere is a gh-irl who says Mh-ac attacked her...uh huh...thank you."
She could hear the phone settle in the cradle and then the sound of mattress springs releasing as weight was lifted from them. Walter's feet shuffled across the wooden floor as he made his way back to her. The once tangled length of hair down his back had been pulled into a ponytail and he had thrown on a hole covered t-shirt. At least she no longer would have to stare at his sagging pecks, beer belly or the spider tattoo. He seemed like a nice enough guy but she was still uncomfortable seeing him that way. Still she faked a smile when he headed back into the main seating area. Walter pulled a chair opposite hers, at the table and then sat down.
"Da police are on their way. Don't you worry, wh-e will get to da bottom of dis."
"Thank you for uh helping em, twice now."
Walter nodded before cocking his head and looking into her eyes.
"Wh-at's you're name sh-weetie?"
"Emily."
"Wh-y wh-ould you come here, of all places?"
"This was-I was supposed to be on vacation. Try to get out of the city."
"Hmmm...nh-ext time I suggest Florida. Ah-ll da sand but much safer."
That last statement bothered her. Even he knew this place was not some where a city girl like her should be. So why did her publisher not understand such things? Had he even bothered to look at the house and the surrounding land? As she analyzed the situation, a sense of betrayl and unease came over her. Then an over-whelming sense of anger, the desk lamp would be meeting Jack's face when she returned. The two strangers sat in uncomfortable silence as they waited for police to arrive. Emily stared at the worn tabletop in an effort to avoid conversation but Walter was somewhat insistent.
"How long wh-ere you in da sun sweetie?"
"I don't know. A while I guess. Why?"
Walter furrowed his brow before leaning back in the chair and looking at her.
"A while is too long."
The chair creaked under his weight as he stood and headed toward the bar. When he returned, he set a cool bottle of water in front.
"Drink dat."
"What do I own you?"
Walter shook his head No.
"On da house."
Emily wrapped one dusty hand around the bottle, twisting the cap off with a small cracking noise before bringing the neck to her lips. It was not until the water touched her tongue, then she realized how dry her mouth had become. The cool liquid washed miles of desert heat from her throat and seemed to rejuvenate her a little. There they sat, her drinking, him watching, and waited for the cops. When at last they arrived, she felt a little hope began to spark. It imbued her with a dangerous, false sense of security. That would not serve her well.