It didn’t seem physically possible that a guy that rotund could move as fast as he did.
“I was going to let you live,” he hissed outside my ear, as his fingers encircled my neck, “but that was before that comment.” His fingers left my neck and went to my head. I already knew what he was prepping to do, so I braced myself for it, but expecting the pain didn’t dim the pain when he yanked my hair so hard I was certain he’d unrooted half of it.
“You’ve got pretty hair,” he said, as a vaguely familiar flicking sound came from behind. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
The pungent smell was instant, more instant than my mind processing and accepting that this guy was torching my hair.
Finally, I screamed.
“Cover her mouth, Zeke,” Vince ordered, shoving one of the twins. “Dammit. The two of you are worthless.”
By now, I could feel the heat from the fire creeping towards me, incinerating my hair in its journey. I knew I wouldn’t get out of this with my hair, but there was still a chance, remote as it was, I could fight my way out of this with my life. That’s what I clung to when I bit down on the inside of Zeke’s finger so hard I tasted blood, and that’s what I believed in when I stomped down with all my five foot four might on the other twin’s foot.
That’s what I hoped for when I realized no more hands were attached to me and a trio of gasps and grunts hummed around me. I felt the fire licking at my neck, and now, instead of burnt hair perfuming the air, something that smelt an awful lot like what I’d imagine burning flesh to smell like permeated the ozone.
I sprinted for the lake. Of course stop, drop, and roll was the preferred method for extinguishing fire, I knew that somewhere up in the wrinkly, gray matter, but when you’re actually on fire and a cool body of water rests less than twenty feet away, you don’t think. You run like hell and throw yourself into that water, preferring a cold drowning over death by fire if you have to choose.
The water stung in a euphoric and painful way. I don’t know how long I stayed submerged, but I wanted to stay under longer. There was peace and calm and quiet and no unpleasant smells drifting up my nose under the water. It was such a relief, floating there flame-free, that I thought to myself drowning might not be such a bad way to go.
That was, until a pair of hands encased my neck and held me under. The lake went from being a place of refuge to an enemy with its teeth bared.
The last of my breath was bubbling to the surface when Vince pulled me up, his hands still wound tight around my neck. “If I was a good guy, I’d just drown you and be done with it,” he said, dragging me out of the water. “But I’m not a good guy.” I stumbled up the beach, eyes shifting from the engulfed kennel, to Jude’s silent cabin. “You’re going to burn, bitch.”
It was this moment that everything felt acutely real. Like I’d somehow convinced myself everything up to this point was just some nightmare, but now I’d woken up and knew my lifespan only spread minutes into the future.
“Colton, get the gas,” Vince said, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a strip of cloth, a wet piece of cloth, that he pulled tight. “Don’t want to wake the neighbors.” He had me gagged so quickly and tightly it was obvious this wasn’t the first, second, or tenth time he’d done this. He’d become a gagging expert somewhere along the way. Jude was right, these delinquents were the real thing.
Tears started then. I hated to cry. Actually, I loathed it with a passion. But something about knowing I was about to become a human torch at the not-even-legal age of seventeen had a way of bringing on a bawl fest.
My eyes frantically scanned Jude’s house again, desperate to find him blazing across the beach to save the day.
“He’s not coming, sweetie,” Vince said, snatching the gas can out of Colton’s hands. “You are—correction,” he said, lifting his index finger, “you were nothing more than a piece of ass. A piece of ass that didn’t pan out. Jude’s off making some other girl holler, so quit looking like Superman’s going to come from the sky and save the day.”
Upending the can, Vince lifted it over my head and began pouring out the gas, letting it trickle down me until a small pool puddled at my toes.
I vomited. As if my current situation couldn’t get any worse. The unfortunate thing about puking when you’re gagged is that there’s nowhere for that substance to go but back down again.
For the first time in my life, I was ready to die. In fact, I wanted it to hurry up and catch me. Fate had finally caught up to me, ready to make me pay the price I’d dodged years back.
Flicking a lighter to life, Vince grinned down at me. “Something tells me it’s going to be a closed casket,” he said, stepping away because, judging from the gallon of gas he’d poured on me, I was going to ignite so brightly a satellite would be able to pick me out.
I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer I’d said every night as a child before I got into bed, and then, when I expected to hear the scream of fire crawling up my body, I heard another kind of scream. One that was so desperate and enraged at the same time, it sounded like the devil himself had decided to pay Sapphire Lake a visit.
Opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was Vince’s face eclipsing from domination to dread, right before something small nailed him straight between the eyes. He staggered back, grabbing at his head, right before he fell backwards. The lighter died and fell free from his hand.
And then Jude was on top of him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, landing fist after fist into any part of Vince he could get to. “You’re going to have to tie me up better than that next time, you sick son of a bitch!” Each word followed by a punch, each punch landing like a clap of thunder.
I stood there, still in shock from narrowly missing death, still in shock from being faced with death in the first place, and now, also in shock watching Jude beat another man with such hate he didn’t seem to care if he killed him or not.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved he was on my side or terrified that a person like this existed out there.
Stalling suddenly, Jude looked back at me. “Luce,” he said, his voice even, not showing any of the signs of being winded as you’d expect him to be, “go inside and call 911.”
When I stayed frozen in place, he added, “I’ve got this. I won’t let them hurt you.” Just then, the cowering in the corner twins decided to unite forces and come at Jude. Or at me, I wasn’t sure. “Go, Luce,” he begged, motioning back at the cabin. “I’ll protect you.”
This time, when I tried to put one foot in front of the other, I was able to do it. Striding up the beach felt like I was trying to run a marathon in under an hour, my lungs and body were so fatigued, but I pressed on, glancing back every other step to make sure Jude was holding his own against the threesome.
Holding his own would have been the modest term for saying he wasn’t taking any prisoners. How and wherever that man had learned to fight like that, I didn’t want to know, but I couldn’t help but be thankful for it tonight.
I was just staggering around the corner of the cabin when I noticed the red and blue lights, followed by the cop glaring a flashlight into my face.
“We’re responding to a report that someone across the lake noticed a large fire burning in this general area,” he said, walking towards me as his partner came up behind him. “You see anything, miss?”
“Here,” I said, breathing heavily from my jaunt up the beach. “The fire’s here.” Pointing down the beach, the officer looked at me again, this time really seeing me. His eyes widened.
“Miss, are you in need of medical care?” he asked, walking slowly towards me like I was mentally unstable, which, at this point in time, wasn’t that far off the mark.
“Maybe?” I answered, not sure. Adrenaline was still firing through me so intensely I couldn’t feel any of my injuries, or ascertain if I had any.
“Hal, call for a paramedic.”
His partner nodded and jogged back to the cruiser.
“Okay, miss,” he said, stopping in front of me. “I’m Officer Murphy. What’s your name?”
“Lucy,” I said, clearing my throat. “Lucy Larson.”
“Good, Miss Larson,” Officer Murphy said, his eyes darting over me, trying without success to look at me like something wasn’t very wrong. “Is anyone else down there?”
“Yes,” I said, grabbing his forearm and pulling him towards the beach. “There are four others and my dog.” Although if Rambo was still alive and smile-panting, that meant miracles were real and I’d learned the hard way that believing in miracles was the work of fools.
“What are their names?” Murphy asked, striding ahead of me in a hurry.
“I only know the first names of three of them.” Three first names I wasn’t sure we’d find still alive, and first names who’d wanted me dead for no good reason other than why not.
“And the fourth?” Murphy stopped, looking back at me.
I swallowed. “Jude,” I said. “Jude Ryder.”
“Wait,” Murphy said, his face changing. “Jude Ryder’s down there?”
I nodded, my forehead lining.
“Shit,” he said under his breath before tearing his walkie from his pocket. “Hal,” he sighed into it, “call for back-up. Jude Ryder’s here.”
Hal muttered another curse back before answering, “Copy that. I’m calling for back-up now.”
CHAPTER FIVE
One of my favorite places in the cabin was the screened in porch. I loved taking in the view, curled into old wicker chair with a blanket twisted around me.
That had changed tonight.
Something about watching the guy you hoped would kiss the wits out of you every night until forever shoved away in cuffs, followed by three more guys who were more stumbling than walking thanks to Jude’s handiwork, all while what was left of the kennel and the remains of a dog you were responsible for smoldered, had a way of knocking your whole worldview on its ass.
The paramedics had left because, other than a smattering of heat blisters on the back of my neck, there was nothing in their arsenal that could fix singed hair. My parents finally woke up once three more squad cars arrived with sirens blaring. Mom was still hung over from her double dose of sleeping pills and dad had been such a wreck when he found out what happened he had to be given a tranquilizer. So now, both parents sat as far apart as they could on the wicker loveseat, eyes glazed over, glancing between the beach to me to the police cars as if trying to decide if this was all real.
“Mr. and Mrs. Larson?” Officer Murphy tapped once on the screen door before stepping onto the porch. “We’re all finished up here. Here’s my card if you have any questions.” He slid it into my mom’s hand, looking between the three of us like we were the saddest thing he’d seen tonight. He might have been right. “Otherwise, I’ll keep you updated. Now, Lucy,” he said, turning to face me, “I’ll need you to come down to the station and give your report first thing in the morning. Will you need a squad car to pick you up or can you get there on your own?”