You Only Die Twice

Chapter THIRTY-ONE





The closer Kenneth Berkowitz got to Cheryl Dunning’s shelter, the easier he could see it and the more he wondered how she’d found time to build it.

The shelter was at least five-feet tall, constructed mostly of heavy logs and thick limbs, and looked sturdy enough to withstand the elements for at least a few years, if not several more.

He decided that there was no way she could have made it herself. Instead, he felt that she got lucky, found an abandoned hunting shelter and made it her own for the night, hoping they wouldn’t find her.

Ahead of him was Ted, who now was about twenty feet from the structure, his Glock poised in front of him, whereas Kenneth was about forty feet away from it, his own gun held in front of him. The closer he got to the shelter, the more concerns he had with it. He could see the orange blob inside, which no longer was moving. Instead, it appeared to be lying in a prone position. And then it came to him that they were just assuming this was Dunning’s shelter. Why? Because they were so desperate to find her? Probably. But it was hunting season. They killed a hunter today and sent him to hell. What if this wasn’t Dunning’s shelter? What if she wasn’t in it?

What if someone else was?

“Ted,” he whispered.

Ted turned.

Kenneth put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to pull back. But Ted looked bewildered at the suggestion and shrugged at him. Kenneth shook his head hard and pointed a finger at his feet, indicating that Ted should recede and come to his side.

Reluctantly, he did.

“What?”

“Back up. Over here, behind these trees. Go easy.”

They walked as quietly as they could away from the shelter. When they thought they were at a distance where their whispering couldn’t be heard, Ted said, “What’s the problem?”

“Dunning had nothing to do with building that shelter. It’s too sophisticated. She didn’t have time to build something like that.”

“Obviously. She’s just using it.”

“How do we know she’s using it?”

Ted stared at him.

“We don’t,” Kenneth said. “Anyone could be in there. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’re not thinking. When we first saw the shelter, we couldn’t see what it looked like up close. Now we can. Now we know she didn’t build it. Now we need to consider the fact that she might not be in it. It could be someone else.”

“Like who?”

“You killed four hunters today, Ted. It’s hunting season. There could be a hunter in there. Listening. Thinking that what he’s got outside are a couple of deer. Or that moose you ran from today. Look over there. Whoever is in there was sitting up a moment ago. Now, they’re lying down. On their stomach? With a rifle? The problem is that we don’t know who is in there or what they are doing. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

A look of concern crossed Ted’s face. “We have to find her,” he said. “We can’t let her get out alive. You know that. If that’s not her in there, our chances of finding her dwindle.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Wrong. I do, especially since they’ve got a composite of your face, they’re blasting it on television, it will be in tomorrow’s newspapers. Right now, we know the police are searching for you.”

“God will protect us.”

“God might be sending us a message.”

“About what?”

“To get out while we can.”

“Are you serious? God led us to her. He doesn’t make mistakes. He will help us find her. Have you lost your faith?”

It was like an affront. “Of course, I haven’t.”

“You called me on mine earlier, so stop acting as if you have. It might be her in that shelter or it could be someone else. Maybe a hunter with a rifle. My point in bringing you back here is that we need to be ready for either situation. We can’t just assume it’s her.”

“Fine.”

“Whoever is in there is moving again.”

Ted turned around. The orange blob was at a right angle again, as if it was sitting upright. Listening. “I can take out whoever it is from here,” he said. He lifted his Glock and pressed gently on the trigger. The laser beam that shot out of it connected with the heart of the heat source they could see through their goggles. “What do you want me to do, Kenneth?”

“You sure you got a clean shot?”

“I am.”

“If that’s not her, she won’t hear it unless she’s close by―your gun has a silencer. But you need to make sure you can do this. If that is a hunter in there, they will shoot back.”

“Then step behind a tree if you’re worried.”

“I didn’t say I was worried. I’m giving you advice.”

Ted started to walk forward, low and steady, his gun poised in front of him with both hands, the laser a clean line of red carving the distance between him and the structure. The obvious risk? Anyone could see the beam without infrared goggles. “I got this,” he said.

When he was twenty feet away, the orange blob appeared to stand.

Kenneth felt a start. Now, the shape was more clearly defined. Its broad shoulders and thick waist suggested that it wasn’t a woman, but a man. A hunter. Probably spending the night so he could get a quiet, early start to the morning.

Ted froze.

A whistle came softly from the shelter. Was it the man’s way of communicating with them? Were they supposed to whistle back? Is this what hunters did? Kenneth knew they had to buy time and this might be a way to do so. He listened to the voice of his inner calling and felt the best way to alleviate any tension was to whistle back.

And so he did.

“You can drop that laser,” came a deep voice from within the shelter. “Nothin’ goin’ on here. Just a fellow hunter waitin’ for mornin’, that’s all.” A beat passed. The man’s left arm seemed to disappear behind himself. “You two ain’t poachin’, are you? ‘Cause that’s against the law. So is holdin’ a laser on someone who already has identified himself. So, I’ll ask again. Drop the laser.”

But Ted didn’t. He seemed confused as how to handle the situation.

“Put down your gun, Mike,” Kenneth said in a raised voice to Ted. “Don’t get freaked out. It’s just another hunter―”

Ted fired his gun.

In the goggle’s ghostly green light, Kenneth saw splinters of wood burst like fireworks and pinwheel into the darkness, but the man inside didn’t fall because he hadn’t been hit.

Ted fired again and the man appeared to drop to his knee and swing his arms around himself. The shelter was too thick for a Glock to penetrate it. It was made of thick logs that could absorb a bullet’s impact, which is what it did.

The man moved his body in Ted’s direction.

“He’s got a rifle,” Kenneth said. “Get down!”

Ted dropped for cover just as the side of the shelter blew apart, exposing a ragged hole through which Kenneth now could see the man inside. He was somewhere in his fifties, wore goggles of his own and rushed the hole with his rifle held in front of him.

He took aim at Ted, who was scrambling to get to his feet and run, and fired a single shot. Ted’s head exploded upon contact. His face caved in on itself and blew out the back end. Unbelieving, Kenneth watched his longtime partner drop his gun and fall hard to the ground, his unseeing meatface exposed to the heavens and to the map of stars that shined down upon him. He was dead. Dead.

Dead. He can’t be dead.

In the trees that surrounded the shelter, the women appeared again and they started to move toward Kenneth. They tittered at him. Others clucked their tongues at him. Maria Fuentes led the group forward in such a way that suggested their feet weren’t touching the forest floor. Like a fog, they rolled over it and drifted forward while Fuentes, in what was left of her stripper costume, turned to look at him.

“It’s all falling apart for you, Kenneth,” she said. Now, her pink feather boa was tied around her waist. Now, her bedazzled pasties were removed so her pert, silocone-filled breasts were revealed to him. “Right now, your friend is in hell, where he belongs. You’ll be next. This is the natural order of things. I told you it would happen. I told you you couldn’t kill us all and get away with it.”

Kenneth looked at the hunter, who was turning left and right, searching for him. “You ain’t the only poachers out here, a*sholes,” the man said. “Now, come on. Come on, baby. I know you’re out there. Let’s see what you got.”

Ted is dead. Ted is dead. Ted is dead.

“Kill them!” Kenneth shouted. “Kill the women! They’re all around you! Don’t you see them? It’s not me you want―it’s them!”

The hunter shifted his rifle in Kenneth’s direction.

Shaken, Kenneth raised his gun and fired first. It was a blind shot. A wasted shot. But the man didn’t know that. The sound of a gun going off could render a man useless for a moment. And this man didn’t have the Lord on his side.

(Ted didn’t, either.)

Instead, he reeled back, stopped, checked himself, then quickly took aim. Before he could shoot, Kenneth stormed the shelter in a rage

(Ted is dead. Ted is dead. Ted is dead)

and fired in rapid succession until his gun went silent.

The magazine was empty. He looked dumbly at the gun, then reached into his pocket for another magazine while all around him came a caustic chorus of cruel laughter.

He willed himself to ignore them. He wasn’t sure if the hunter was dead or alive or bleeding out and thus somewhere in the in between. Feeling exposed, Kenneth fell flat to the ground, but when he did so, his chin hit the earth and the force knocked his goggles free.

Now it was pitch dark.

Ted is dead. Ted is dead. Ted is dead.

He could hear movement in the shelter.

Ted is dead. Ted is dead. Ted is dead.

He heard feet start to knock against wood.

Ted is dead. Ted is dead. Ted is dead.

Kenneth patted the ground for the goggles, found them, but before he could put them on, far off in the distance, just to his right, a bright flash of orange light lit the sky in such a way that Kenneth Berkowitz was certain that Satan himself had just arrived in these woods.