CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Bennie lay on her back, her feet pushing against the bottom part of the door. She ignored her rib pain, her will to survive in charge. She wished she could kick the door open, but she was too weak and she worried about making noise. The bottom of the door was the weakest, it must have rotted where rain had collected and snow had piled up.
She kept pressing and pressing, making isometric pulses, like killer lunges against the door, one after the next. She had been an elite rower in her younger days, almost making the Olympic team, and her thunder thighs were coming in handy.
She grunted with pain, pushing against the bottom of the door, feeling the boards weaken and finally begin to creak beneath her feet. She kept the pressure on and heard them splinter, then pressed harder, listening for the tiny breaks in the wood fibers as they gave way, her sense of hearing more acute because she couldn’t see anything.
Bennie’s feet burst through the door, sticking out the other side, then she shifted down, breaking through the hole with her calves, then her knees, and finally her whole body, sliding out of the smokehouse on her back.
Bennie rolled over on her side, then partway up, and staggered to her feet, blindfolded and handcuffed behind her back with the duct tape. She was finally outside, breathing in a deep lungful of fresh night air, ignoring the aches and pains, masked by another surge of adrenaline. She had to get going.
She hurried forward, hearing twigs and old leaves under her feet. Thorns scratched her ankles. She was in some kind of underbrush, and sooner or later, she knew she would hit a tree. In fact, she needed a tree. She turned around, walking backwards to mitigate any injury to her face, and she finally walked into a tree, from behind.
She had to hurry. She rubbed her duct-taped wrist up and down against the tree, feeling its rough bark scratch and tear her skin. The duct tape was on tight. The only way to get it off was remove it along with her skin.
She rubbed and rubbed, ignoring the pain and the blood, flaying her own skin until she finally rubbed off a section of the duct tape and broke her hands free. Her fingers flew to her blindfold and she ripped it off, whirling around to get the lay of the land.
The smokehouse was behind her at the top of the hill, but down in the valley she could see a small clapboard cabin with a peaked roof. It had a yellow bug light out front, and the wood looked as weathered as the smokehouse. Some of the windows were open, and she heard voices coming from within, Ernie and Ray shouting.
Suddenly she heard a fusillade of gunfire, pop pop pop pop!
The horrific noise rattled her teeth and jolted her senses, galvanizing her into action. She hustled down the hill toward the cabin, darting from tree to tree to keep from view. She prayed that they hadn’t shot Mary.
Bennie scanned the area as she ran. The woods were dark, and there were no lights from phones or flashlights. She didn’t know if the shooting had been outside or inside. Ray and Ernie could be outside. She didn’t know where Mo was. She hadn’t heard any cars but she wouldn’t have necessarily.
She hurried downhill to the cabin, her head wheeling around the entire time. The cabin was small, maybe two-bedroom, with the front door on the far right side of the front wall under a rickety shed roof and a window. The bedrooms must have been to the left. Lights were on inside, and the ambient light lit the area around the house.
Bennie veered left as she scurried down the hill. She knew at some level that she was in pain from her ribs, but she didn’t feel a thing. Two cars were parked to the right on a dirt driveway, Mary’s and a dark sedan that Bennie must have been brought in.
She scurried around the bedroom side of the cabin, using the trees as cover, her heart in her throat. She gave the cabin a wide berth and got level with the window in the front bedroom, which was lit from within. Bennie looked inside. The bedroom was empty and the door was open.
Bennie kept running around the cabin and came to the second bedroom, which was also lit. The bed was empty but the door was closed, which told her that Mary must be inside. They wouldn’t leave Mary in the bedroom with the door open. Bennie prayed she was still alive.
She wished she had a weapon, but there was nothing. She looked around for a rock but there wasn’t one. None of the tree limbs was small enough for her to break off for a club. She was racking her brain when a pickup appeared, approaching the cabin from the driveway side. She jumped behind a tree just as the truck’s high beams raced over her tree.
She held her breath, her heart thundering. The high beams swept away, leaving her in darkness. It had to be Mo. The pickup drove up the driveway and parked next to the other cars. The ignition shut off, and the big engine rattled into silence.
The driver’s-side door opened and the interior dome light went on, illuminating the driver as he climbed out of the truck. He was a slim blond man who Bennie didn’t recognize, probably Mo.
Mo walked around the cabin to the front, and Bennie lost sight of him, which was when she realized something. She had a weapon. It had just arrived. She scurried around the back of the cabin and raced for Mo’s pickup. It was a big black one with a massive engine.
She reached the truck and crept to the passenger side, then around the back bumper so she wouldn’t be seen from the cabin. She hustled to the driver’s side, opening the door quietly. She slid into the driver’s seat, relieved to see the keys were still in the ignition.
Straight ahead lay the sidewall of the cabin, which had two windows into the living room. She could see that Ernie had been shot to death in a chair. His chest leaked blood. His head hung backwards at a hideously unnatural angle.
Ray and Mo stood next to him, talking. Bennie didn’t wait to hear what they were saying. Ray stood on the left and Mo on the right. She could get them both, with any luck. Mary’s bedroom door was closed. If Mary wasn’t dead already, she was going to be in the next five minutes.
Bennie slipped on the seat belt, visualizing the steps in her mind. She had to do it all at once before Ray and Mo had time to realize what was happening. If they got out of the cabin, she’d never be able to get them. They’d shoot her and Mary.
She twisted on the ignition and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck zoomed forward instantly, its high-volume engine roaring to life and its back tires spitting gravel and dirt. Bennie hung on tight, powered ahead, and drove the truck directly into the cabin.
The truck exploded through the wall with a deafening crash. Bennie rocked but the seat belt held her. Clapboard busted. Windows shattered. Glass flew. Electrical wires got yanked out.