Split. Part 32

Twenty-five paces forward now. Could they still see her through the trees? She had to be out of their sight before she turned off. The woods had to be thick enough to shield her movements. And they would listen for her, too. Forty paces now...

It had been forty seconds. She had to run faster, faster...

Please don't let me trip.

She ran forward, dodging tree trunks and branches as their great shapes threw themselves up in front of her. Fifty paces, now, and she knew she would not have long before they came after her. Turn soon...turn, and run for a few minutes, then another seventy-five paces back towards the road. It had to work.

I can do it. I'm fast enough. I can run in the dark. I can do this.

Sixty paces...They would be after her soon. She looked at her watch-it had almost been a minute-here they come-and then she was falling-NO!-tripping over a great slippery patch of moss and gnarled roots. She slid and hit a tree, her already sore wrist sc.r.a.ping painfully against the coa.r.s.e bark.

No!

They are after you now. Get up! Go!

CHAPTER 65.

Roy watched his brother as he raised his wrist.w.a.tch to his face.

"Okay. Ready?"

Through his green-lensed night-vision goggles, Roy saw the lips move, saw the smile that followed, but somehow it was not his brother.

Roy grabbed him by the arm. "No."

Daniel shook his arm away. "We're in this together now. Trust me, you'll like it."

"You don't understand. You can't do this-"

"Stop wasting time. She's had her sixty seconds. It's time."

Roy held the rifle firmly in one hand, and raised his other, palm up, just as he had done in so many of their confrontations. "You've gone too far, Danny. Let her go," he said softly, trying to placate his brother. "I'll get you some help. It'll be okay."

CHAPTER 66.

Makedde prayed that she had her bearings right, and kept running.

You can do it. Don't give up...

Seventy-five paces, now turn. She made a sharp left and tried to run in a straight line again. If she lost her way, if she miscalculated her direction she'd be deep in the woods with no hope of rescue. Even if she hid from them she'd probably die from the elements. Even if she lasted overnight, she would not know her way back.

Then she heard shouting.

BANG!.

A gunshot in the distance.

Then another.

They echoed through the darkness, corrupting the stillness. One of them had fired. Had they seen her? They were nowhere near her. Were they? Perhaps it was their way of letting her know that the hunt was on?

Just run...

She ran on and on, never slowing, never turning back, and when the time was right, she turned again and headed back to where she thought the road must be.

And then like a miracle the forest gave way to a clearing, and she could see gravel...the gravel road that led to the cabin. Her heart lifted, her breath so hard in her chest, and she was running down the road, which way? There...to the right...she hadn't quite run far enough.

She could see the cabin.

My G.o.d, yes! I can do it...

CHAPTER 67.

Makedde ran up the cabin steps and inside. When she had been trapped in there, she wouldn't have believed she would have voluntarily returned. But it was the only strategy that might work.

Find any weapon, anything...and a phone.

She went to the kitchen first, hoping there'd be a knife. Who knew how long it would take for them to come back? Perhaps they had already seen her turn back this way with their night-vision goggles. She saw unopened cases of beer on the kitchen counter, some leftover bottles, an empty bag of potato chips. She opened the first drawer where she found cutlery, spoons, forks, table knives. Useless.

She looked the other way.

Bingo.

Makedde grabbed a butcher's knife off a magnetic holder on the opposite wall.

Now guns...Do they have any more guns and ammunition? Go to the trophy room and find that door...Find out what they have in there...

Thump.

Movement.

The front door burst open.

She looked frantically around her, knife in her grasp.

d.a.m.n! There was nowhere to hide.

There were footsteps approaching, someone was around the corner, coming. It was one of the twins. Only one of them.

When he saw her he stopped in his tracks. "Oh G.o.d, Makedde. Are you okay?"

What?

He walked towards the kitchen doorway, one palm up in a gesture of surrender, and the other holding the rifle point down.

He had blood on his hands.

"Stop there," she warned, standing steadily and gripping the knife tight. Her heart was pounding.

"Don't worry. It's me...Roy. I was only playing along until I could help you." He shook his head sadly. "Oh, my G.o.d..." he wailed. "I killed him. I killed my own brother! I had to. I had no choice. He was going to kill you!"

He took another step forward.

"Stop there. Don't come any closer. What happened? Where is your brother?"

"You don't understand. It wasn't me who killed Ann. It wasn't me who brought you here. It was Daniel. He went crazy."

"Roy..."

He moved towards her again, the night-vision goggles hanging clumsily around his neck, the rifle still in his hand. "Thank G.o.d you're okay," he said.

"Roy, put the gun down," Makedde said.

Roy was coming through the doorway of the kitchen now. "It's okay, Makedde, I won't hurt you."

"Roy, put the gun down, now."

Roy looked at her with wide, sympathetic eyes. "Okay...Sorry, I'll put it down. I'm so sorry." He bent slowly at the knees, motioning to put the gun down. His eyes never left her, never left the butcher's knife in her hand.

And then she saw it.

The scratch on his right hand.

This is the man who killed Ann, the one I fought with, the one I scratched.

He must have seen her staring, because he looked down at his hand, and realising the scratch gave him away, brought the gun up...

Quick!

Makedde lunged straight at him with all her might, knife extended. She dived across the few feet that had separated them, crashing into him hard. Daniel flew backwards from her impact, knocked off balance, and they hit the linoleum floor of the kitchen, Daniel underneath, the rifle knocked from his grasp. Makedde landed right on top of him, her full weight pushing the knife straight down through his black jumpsuit and into his chest. She screamed as she plunged the knife in, and he let out a loud groan, pinned beneath her. His body convulsed as she held the handle of the knife. It was buried in his chest right up to the hilt.

He grabbed her feebly, clawing at her back with hands that were dirty with his own brother's blood, but it was already too late.

She rolled off him and leapt to her feet, shaking uncontrollably.

Ohhhh Jesus...

"f.u.c.k!" the man at her feet yelled out with rage, blood spluttering from his mouth.

And then with horror Makedde watched him grab the b.u.t.t of the knife and start to pull it out with both hands.

Do something!

She saw the rifle.

She went for the gun, and his eyes followed her. "No..." he groaned, reaching for it, but he was too slow.

She had it.

Makedde brought the 270 Winchester up to her shoulder. She looked down the sights, aimed it at Daniel's head. She c.o.c.ked it.

In the small room the blast was deafening.

EPILOGUE.

One month later...

It was Makedde Vanderwall's favourite day of the year-the day of night, the day when ghouls and witches mixed amicably with mere mortals. On this Halloween night, the sky was illuminated by a bright orange full moon that hung low over Vancouver Island. A full moon on Halloween was a volatile combination. The local cops thought they would be in for a big night, and they were right.

At 7.30 pm Makedde woke from the two-hour nap that had been part of her routine on this day every year for as far back as she could recall. She still liked to sleep away the sunset and wake in the dark, just as her mother had her do as a child.

She woke alone in her old bedroom, still in her T-shirt and jeans, and yawned and stretched, arching her back. She looked around the moonlit room, making out the shape of her bookshelf, still stacked with stories her mother had read to her-Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey and the whole gamut of Dr Seuss, from Green Eggs and Ham to The Cat in the Hat. Her eyes slowly adjusted and she saw her sweater slung over the chair nearby, and her mother's small diamond stud earrings, which she always wore, on the bedside table.

She felt a stab of loneliness.

I miss you, Mom.