Page 18 of Fear for Her Life

Wolfe pulled on his backpack and looked at Kane’s unreadable expression. The smoke was getting thick and burning his throat and nose. “I heard a sound earlier but didn’t see anything. Maybe they dropped the wood into the crossbar lock?”

“Seems that way.” Kane glanced around. “It’s almost as if they prepared this cabin for us, to burn us to death. The back door is the same and the windows have been fortified with iron bars.” He turned to the others. “We’ll need to blast our way out of here. With luck whoever is out there will hightail it into the forest.” He looked at Styles. “Jenna mentioned you carry a Magnum. Maybe you need to put that bad boy through its paces.”

“Help me drag those bunkbeds away from the wall.” Carter coughed and then headed toward the beds. “That’s the weakest area.”

“Spread your fire from left to right. We only need a hole big enough to crawl through.” Kane aimed his assault rifle at the wall. He turned to Carter. “You go first. I’ll cover you. Take Duke and Bear with you and get clear. Get the dogs out first.”

“No worries.” Carter picked up his rifle.

Flames licked through the logs above them and the smell of gasoline permeated the smoke. Wolfe picked up his rifle and joined the others in a line. They all aimed their weapons. He looked at Kane as blackened wood rained down on them. His throat and chest burned. “On your command.”

“Fire.”

TWENTY

The prisoners’ mood had become jovial after Romero returned from some type of mission in the forest. They’d spoken in hushed tones and Amy hadn’t heard anything. Later, Margos discovered forty bottles of moonshine neatly stacked in the root cellar, along with a still. They drank from glasses but after a short time decided to drink straight from the bottle. Amy kept out of their way, remaining in the kitchen to wash dishes and appear to be busy. As she moved around, it was as if they’d completely forgotten she existed, and she liked that just fine. Discovering an old backpack hanging in the broom closet, she moved back and forth very carefully to stock it with bottled water and small food items she could carry easily. She found a flashlight and a Zippo. In the passageway, she’d noticed a few old jackets hanging on pegs along with a cowboy hat. Staying as quiet as a mouse, she waited.

“Woman.” A slurred voice came from the sitting room. “Food. Bring us food.”

Frantically searching the pantry, she discovered a few packets of potato chips and hurried into the living room and dropped them on the coffee table in front of the fire. “Do you want me to keep looking to see if there’s anything else?”

“Yeah.” Margos’ red-rimmed eyes flicked over her and then he waved her away before returning to the others. “Do you know what the worst thing about using an ice pick is? It gets stuck in bone. Sometimes it really messes up your rhythm.” He chuckled, raised the bottle in a toast, took a long drink, and thumped his chest. “Drinking sure seems like a better way to die.”

As laughter rang out, Amy escaped back into the kitchen. She found bars of chocolate in a plastic container in the pantry and added them to her backpack. After helping herself to homemade cookies in a jar, she brewed a pot of coffee. The last thing she needed to do was fall asleep at the kitchen table. The conversation in the other room was starting to fade. She could only hope they would fall asleep in front of the fire.

A cool breeze brought the heavy smell of smoke through the open kitchen window. Knowing the devastation a wildfire could inflict on a forest, panic gripped her as she looked outside, horrified to see an orange glow in the night sky. The forest was on fire, and from the direction of the wind, it was heading her way. It was now or never. She must escape. Heart thundering in her chest, she snuck quietly into the passageway, grabbed a jacket and pulled it on. Inside the pockets she discovered a knitted cap and a pair of leather gloves. Snores came from the other room, but too afraid to look around the door, she tiptoed back into the kitchen. After pulling on the backpack, she grabbed a long carving knife from a block on the kitchen counter, pushed it into her backpack, and headed for the back door.

Freezing midstride when a cough came from the other room, she grasped the doorknob and listened for any sounds of movement. Only snuffling and snoring came along the passageway. Knees shaking, she turned the handle and pulled open the door. The grinding squeak as the hinges complained terrified her. She wanted to bolt out of the door and run wildly into the forest, but her attention rested on a key hanging beside the door. Without hesitation, she grabbed the key, eased out through the door, and pushed it shut. As it screamed in protest, she thrust the key into the lock with trembling fingers and turned it. Outside, smoke filled the air and she pulled her T-shirt up over her nose and mouth. It was clear which direction the fire was heading. The cabin sat on a fire road, and it would be easy enough to head in the opposite direction to the blaze. With luck she may encounter a local volunteer fire department, and she could explain who she was and where the prisoners were hiding.

Using the flashlight, she moved as fast as possible, terrified to look behind her in case Margos was creeping up behind her, ice pick in hand. She’d heard so many terrifying stories, told with relish, it had made her sick to her stomach. From the articles she’d read about serial killers, they didn’t hang out together, but these three seemed to really enjoy each other’s company. They all wanted to know exactly how they’d murdered their victims, and each of them gave blow-by-blow descriptions. Then they would look at her as if deciding what her fate would be and which one of them would get the pleasure of murdering her. How she had survived so long she had no idea.

As she ran along the fire road, ahead she made out the headlights of a truck as it turned full circle to head back along the way it had come. As she got closer, she made out a large horse trailer. A woman jumped out, ran to the back of the horse trailer, and opened the doors, pinning them back. She waved her flashlight. “Hey.”

The woman turned and stared at her, and Amy lifted her flashlight. “I need help.”

“I’ll give it to you if you take that darn flashlight out of my eyes.” The woman walked to meet her. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night alone?”

Gasping, Amy grabbed at her arm. “I’m Amy Clark, the prison guard who was kidnapped by the prisoners from the state pen when they escaped in the car wreck. I was able to get away. They murdered the man in the cabin back there.” She indicated behind her. “They found his stash of moonshine and are asleep right now, so I was able to escape.”

“I’ll help you but I need to get my horses before they burn to death in the fire. It’s heading this way.” She indicated frantically toward a cabin set way back into the forest. “Can you help me and then we’ll drive into town and contact the sheriff?”

Staring behind her, Amy wanted to say no because this woman didn’t understand how dangerous the men were who could be following her. Instead, she nodded and ran beside the woman to a corral where two horses were moving around restlessly. “What’s your name?”

“Colleen Troiani.” She swung open the gate. “Grab the Appaloosa. She’s gentle. Just talk nice to her and we’ll load them in the trailer.”

Exhausted and running on pure adrenaline, Amy followed instructions, and in minutes they loaded the horses, but as they closed the doors a shot rang out and thumped into a tree beside Amy’s head. She didn’t look around and just climbed into the truck. “They’re coming.”

“They won’t catch us.” Colleen pushed the truck into drive and they took off along the fire road.

The next moment they were on the highway and going fast. Heart thundering in her chest, Amy burst into tears. Swiping at her face, she looked at Colleen. “Do you have a phone? We need to call the cops?”

“Yeah.” Colleen pressed a button on her steering wheel and the dash lit up. “Call 911.”

As the call went through Amy leaned back in the seat. In the side mirror the glow in the forest was spreading fast. As they headed closer to town, firetrucks flashed past them sirens blaring and lights flashing. It seemed that everyone in the county was heading toward the fire. As they approached the town, she turned to Colleen. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. If those men had caught us, they would have murdered us and stolen your truck.”

“You don’t have to worry about them now.” Colleen smiled at her. “I’m taking you to the sheriff’s office. Maggie, the receptionist, will meet us there as all the deputies have been out hunting down the escaped prisoners.”

As the truck slowed outside the sheriff’s office, an African American woman with a broad smile wearing PJs with a jacket over the top waved at them. Exhausted, Amy practically fell out of the truck and staggered toward her. “Are you Maggie?”

---