Off Season - Jack Ketchum [68]
He released her for a moment and tore off another long, wide piece of tape. He looked back at her lying in a heap on the wet floor and saw that her chest was moving. There was a brief choking sound, then coughing, and then she was breathing regularly again. He grinned and palmed the tape. He reached into her hair again and heard her try to scream. The scream resonated in her nostrils and then a moment later became shrill and far away as he clamped his hand over her face and pushed the tape into her nostrils, then wiped it smooth over her nose and cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, sealing her off.
This time her struggle was tremendous, filled with the power of her blind panic. She tried to stand up but he pulled her back by the hair and pushed down across her shoulders with his free hand. She heaved herself forward and at the same time kicked backward with her legs, pushing them out behind her and scraping them across the floor. Marjie saw the toenails break away. She kicked at him and tried to turn over on her back but he held on tight, on his knees now beside her. Her legs were still free of him so she thrashed and kicked at him wildly. Marjie watched him frown and pull back hard on her hair. Then Laura caught him slightly off balance and managed to get over on her side, facing the cage. Simultaneously Marjie saw the terrible fear and plea in her eyes and saw him release her hair and reach for the knife.
He lifted the knife over his head and brought it down hard in the middle of her back. Marjie heard her muted scream and saw the eyes squint shut in pain. But something had happened, something had gone wrong for the man and she heard him mutter something fierce and crazy and she saw him work the knife loose and raise it again. Laura struggled even harder now. The knife flashed again and Marjie heard the blade scrape sickeningly against bone. He can’t kill her, she thought. He’s hitting her in the backbone, the blade can’t get through
He stabbed her again and there was the same awful sound and she saw him struggling to free the knife. The man was screeching himself now, some wild and unintelligible babble of frustration. He stabbed her a fourth time. This time the blade bit deep into her side. Marjie saw the dark cloth of Laura’s shirt begin to glisten. Laura lurched over on her back and lashed out at him with her knee, still screaming behind the gag. She missed his head by inches. He stabbed her in the stomach.
She rolled over, trying to slide out of the way of the knife, but he stabbed her in the back again and this time the wound was clean. Still the girl wouldn’t die. She tried to push forward with her legs but she slipped and then rolled over on her side. She tried to ward him off with her legs but the awesome reserve of desperate strength that had animated her was fading rapidly. He slashed her calf and she pulled her legs back away from him.
That was the end. The man leaped on top of her and with one hand grabbed her chin and lifted it and with the other slid his knife into her throat just above the collarbone. There was a spray of bright blood and Marjie closed her eyes.
And yet, amazingly, when she opened them again, Laura still lived. There was movement in her eyes. She could see her shallow breathing. The man was gone. He had removed the tape from her mouth and nose. He had disappeared into the inner room of the cave again, and when he returned, there was a hatchet in his hand.
4:17 A.M.
Moving among the great flat slabs of granite, Nick followed the man at a careful distance. He’d found himself a weapon—a good one, a short sturdy piece of smooth driftwood about three feet long and maybe two inches thick. Just about the size of the riot stick which, he remembered, had nearly split open his skull years ago on Moratorium Day in Boston. He had hated cops then. He was wishing for them now. There was every reason to believe the stick would be necessary. There would be only six bullets in the pistol when he broke in on them, and even if every shot found its mark he was still going to