“Where’s the cabin?” Jake shouted.
“Stop! P-p-please stop!” Mary cried.
Jake pulled the knife out and lifted his boot off Mary’s wrist. Each time she tried to move a finger a sharp pain shot up through her arm.
“Stand her up,” Jake said.
Mary pulled the injured hand to her, pressing it against her chest to stop the bleeding. Frankie lifted her from the ground.
“You wanted to see your mom? Let’s go see her,” Jake said.
Frankie pulled her through the sheriff’s office. She looked back at Kalen still lying on the floor of her cell, passed out. Maybe she was dead. No one could take that kind of pain. They had to have killed her. That’s why Kalen never screamed.
Now, they were going to kill her, probably in front of her mother. More torture. Or maybe they’d rape her in front of her mom, make the both of them suffer more before she died.
They were closer to the motel now. The pain in Mary’s hand was replaced by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
When they turned the corner, Mary’s stomach started to sink. They weren’t leading her to one of the rooms. They were taking her to the center of the courtyard. They were taking her to the burnt bodies.
“No,” Mary said.
She didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to hear the truth that was sinking in right now.
“God, no, please don’t, no,” Mary said.
Mary pushed and pulled against Frankie’s grip but she couldn’t break free.
“You wanted to see her?” Jake asked.
Frankie tossed her to the ground in front of the charred bodies, which formed an altar of death. Mary could smell the remnants of flesh no longer covering their bones.
“There she is,” Jake said.
Mary looked up at the corpse, shriveled and still tied with her hands behind her back to the pole. Her mother’s body was rigid, holding her in place.
The woman she knew was gone. She was always told by people that she looked like her mother. They had the same hair, the same eyes. She always wore that compliment like a badge of pride.
Those similarities were gone now. Mary couldn’t prove that she was the daughter of the woman on the pole. She was gone. Completely wiped clean by fire.
Mary fell to her side, sobbing hysterically.
“Mom,” Mary said.
She mouthed the words more than she said them. The spit and tears coming from her face mixed together. Whatever pain they caused her before, whatever pain they would bring her next wouldn’t hurt like this. This was the type of pain that you never came back from. It was the type of pain that you carried forever.
The room was spinning. Kalen’s vision was blurred. The concrete floor felt cool against her skin. She lay there, motionless, trying to get up, but any movement froze her in pain.
Kalen gently lifted her shirt up. Black and blue bruises were blotched along her rib cage. She managed to roll onto her back. Her hands found her face and she ran her fingertips across the lumps and welts, wincing with each touch.
The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was a fist slamming into her cheek and her body hitting the ground. She lasted a long time, and she didn’t break. She didn’t give them anything.
It was hard though. The hardest thing she’d ever done. There were times where she wanted to give them all the answers to the questions they were asking.
When she raised her head from the ground to get a better look at her surroundings, she saw the door to the interrogation room was open and the room empty. The only thing in there was her blood staining the floor.
Kalen flipped to her belly and crawled to the front of the cell. Her neck strained as she looked down the halls, trying to see where they took Mary.
“Mary?” Kalen said.
Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. The exertion of speaking was painful. Her ribs felt razor sharp, stabbing her insides with each breath, word, and movement. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to block the it out.
Kalen focused on figuring out where she saw Mary last. Did she see her when she came out? No. Her last memories before her blackout were still in the room.
The hardware store? No, they were dragged to the sheriff’s office together. The cells. She remembered Mary being thrown into one of the cells as she was taken to the interrogation room.
“Mary?” Kalen repeated.
Another shot of pain went through Kalen’s stomach; guilt. She was the one who convinced Mary to come. She was the one who gave her the gun. Whatever fate Mary had run into was because of her actions.
Kalen rested her back against the wall. She placed her right hand on the cell bars and gripped the metal tight. Her arm started to shake.
Don’t break. Don’t give in. Fight it. Fight it!
She held the tears back. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to show weakness. If the bikers came back in they wouldn’t find a self-pitying girl wallowing in tears. All they would see was her resolve and the lumps across her face.
Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)
Nelson pulled the sheets over Sean. He bent down to kiss his forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He dimmed the candlelight in the lantern and shut the door.
He walked down the hall quietly. When he reached the living room, Ray was on the couch, his leg propped up on a few pillows as he flipped through the pages of a hunting magazine Freddy had brought up for him from the basement.
Nelson leaned back in the armchair across from the couch slowly and let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the cushion behind him.
“Crazy day,” Ray said.
“Yeah,” Nelson answered.
“Any reason you didn’t go with Mike?”
Nelson opened his eyes. Ray had set the magazine down and was looking at him.
“What are you getting at?” Nelson asked.
“Well, I know why I didn’t go,” Ray said, gesturing to his leg.
“We couldn’t send everyone,” Nelson answered.
Ray turned back to his magazine.
“I’m not a coward, Ray.”
The magazine fell to Ray’s lap. He turned on his side, making sure he was looking Nelson full in the face.
“No, I know you’re not a coward, Nelson. But you’re also not a man of action. You let things happen to you. You let things happen to your family. You’re no better than the people who burned down Mike’s house in our neighborhood.”
Nelson shot up out of his chair. He marched over to Ray, his temper rising.
“I don’t know where you were when Mike’s house was getting burned to the ground, but I’m the one who pulled him out of the fire. If I hadn’t been there to pull him out, he would have died.”
The words came out in stinging, harsh whispers. Nelson was right in Ray’s face, and Ray grabbed hold of his collar.
“The only reason you were able to pull him out was because you were tucked away in your house. I saw you out there on the lawn. I saw you walk away,” Ray said.
Nelson grabbed hold of Ray’s shirt. The two men locked together. Ray’s body hit the floor as Nelson pulled him from the couch. The commotion caused Anne to run from the hall into the living room.
“Enough! Stop it, you two!” Anne said.
She peeled them off each other. Ray sat propped up against the couch, his leg lying at an awkward angle.
“Now is not the time to start this. Am I clear?” Anne said.
The two men nodded, looking at one another, each breathing heavily.
“Sorry,” Ray said.
“It’s all right,” Nelson answered.
Then when the door to the cabin opened and Nelson looked up, he didn’t think it was real.