Tickety Tock, page 3
The trees are thick, the moonlight barely penetrates. We’re moving blind, and now I’m wary of the traps he’d suggested could be about. Each step I take, I think of metal teeth closing around my ankle.
But it’s not just a hunter’s traps that worries me. Each step closer to the cabin, I become more and more terrified of the one I’m heading into.
Tickety tock.
It had only taken me minutes to make my panicked exit from the cabin and down through the woods, but the way back is torturously slow, due to my sore feet, and my companion’s limp. But all too soon, I see the familiar clearing appear.
He holds me back. “That it?”
“Yes,” I whisper, keeping my voice low.
His weapon, which he had holstered for our hike, now reappears in his hand. “Stay here,” he says harshly.
I’m torn. I have no desire to set foot in the place ever again, but on the other hand, I’m in too close a proximity to the place that holds such terrors for me to wait here alone. “We need to get the generator running.” Lights are a necessity. “I’ll show you where it is.”
“Just tell me.”
“It’s temperamental—”
“I can get a fuckin’ generator running, woman.”
“Not mine.” Taking the decision out of his hands, I use his instability to push past him. With a growl, he’s hot on my heels as I lead the way toward the outbuildings. I pause at the entrance, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, listening carefully.
It’s dark inside, and I’m grateful that his hand is again clutching at me. Though I know it’s not to offer comfort but to keep his balance, it does help steady me. I’m not alone.
Fumbling, I head for the generator, perform my magic and get it working. The shed fills with the satisfying rhythmic beat of the ancient engine thumping away.
Behind me, he stiffens and shakes his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. As he pulls away from me and faces the doorway, that gun is held out in front of him.
“Keep behind me,” he warns, as he starts to cover the short distance to the door to the cabin.
I grab on to the garment he’s wearing which happens to be a leather vest. He tenses as I touch it, but I’m not letting him loose. If something’s coming for me, I want to be close to him.
I’d left the door open. He pushes it easily, his fingers feeling for the light switch on the wall which he finds in the expected place.
Lighting floods the interior of the main room.
“Christ, it’s bigger than I expected,” he observes, his eyes going right and finding the hallway. Then his face rises, and he notes the stairs. “How many fuckin’ bedrooms has this place got?”
“Six,” I tell him. “Four upstairs, two down.”
Instead of entering, he looks around for a moment, probably noting the old-fashioned furniture which has definitely seen better days. That hole in the couch I’m pretty sure has been a home for mice.
There’s still a glow of embers in the fireplace from the fire I’d lit earlier to cheer and warm up the place.
Now he moves forward. “I’ll check everything out.”
I could tell him there’s nothing here, or nothing human at least, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll settle until he’s seen that for himself. As he moves forward in the direction of the hallway, the light falls on the back of his vest.
It reads Wicked Warriors MC at the top. The middle is a patch of a skull and crossbones surrounded by wings. At the bottom it reads Arizona Chapter.
Oh my God. I’ve not just been knocked off my feet by a biker, but a real one at that. A member of a motorcycle club. I recall reading about them, and that they’re into some shady stuff.
And I invited him into the cabin. Or, more accurately, he invited himself.
Is he going to rape me or kill me? What’s more of a threat? The disembodied voice that continued long after my nightmare, or this man who’s now searching my childhood home?
Chapter Three
Dwarf
Is this night ever going to stop with its surprises?
First the closure of the freeway, then me taking that lonesome road, then crashing into a deer only to find it was nothing of the sort. Then she brings me to this cabin, and I was expecting just one or two rooms. Instead, it’s a fucking mansion.
Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I hadn’t expected something of this size. Granted the two first-floor bedrooms I’ve explored aren’t large, but functional enough, with room for a bed but little else. There are still even bedframes in them, but the bare mattresses haven’t stood up to the ravages of time. Mildew has discoloured them, and I’m certain several creatures have made them their home.
What is this place and why’s she here? It doesn’t look particularly habitable. The main room was warm and dry enough, thanks to the fire she’d had burning.
Still, it’s none of my business. I won’t be here long. I just need a moment to use her phone and then only as long as it takes for help to arrive. But first, given the terror that had led to her running into my path, I need to satisfy myself, if not her, that there’s no threat here. Well, flesh-and-blood ones I can deal with. As I don’t believe in ghosts, if I find no one breathing, I’ll leave it at that.
She probably had a fucking nightmare. Yeah, that was what must have driven her into the night.
She’s still hanging onto my cut as I turn around and retrace my steps, now wanting to check out the rest of the cabin and go upstairs. It’s only because I can feel her trembling that I don’t snarl out for her to take her fucking hand off. My cut is sacred, and no one touches it.
But I bite back my comment, glad that I have when I glance down at the floor to see bloody footsteps on the boards. Looking at her feet, I inwardly curse when I see how cut up they are. She must be in agony. Yet she’s not said a word. My eyes go to her face, examining her properly for the first time in good light.
Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted to let in and out her shallow breaths. Her chest is heaving. She’s showing all the symptoms of being scared out of her wits. That she’s not mentioned the pain she’s in, shows me either she’s so crazy she’s immune to the pain, or that she’s brave.
It makes me wonder again about her mental state. Is she completely out of her head or is her terror greater than physical discomfort? Real or imagined, something has put her in a state.
She doesn’t look mad, though, of course, I’m not quite sure I’d recognise if anyone was certifiably insane. They don’t exactly go around with it tattooed on their foreheads. Except perhaps for Bonkers, my brother, it’s easy to tell he’s completely mad. Just a moment’s conversation will do it.
With the jury still out on whether she’s firing on all cylinders, I check out the rest of the first floor. There’s a rudimentary kitchen with a wood-burning stove, and a hand pump for water.
It’s like the blind leading the blind, or some kind of three-legged race, I muse as I limp my way across to the stairs, and she tiptoes, trying to keep her weight off her feet.
To ease her discomfort, I suggest, “Wait for me down here.”
“I’m coming with you,” she stubbornly replies.
Not bothering to argue, I just proceed up the stairs, taking them carefully one at a time, with her hanging on.
The first bedroom we come to is where she must have slept. The bed has a sleeping bag on it, though open and thrown back as though she left it in a rush. Although I can’t see the mattress underneath, I’m hoping it’s cleaner than the others I’ve seen. A small suitcase is lying open in the corner.
Her eyes must land on it at the same time as mine. “Do you mind if I get dressed?”
Her robe is insubstantial, and I’ve a suspicion she’s wearing nothing underneath, so her request is quite reasonable. No one likes being caught undressed, and however unprotective it is, there’s a comfort being clothed as though it’s armour.
“I’ll check out the—”
“No, stay here.” Her voice is high, and she anchors herself to my back.
As I turn, reflecting getting her to loosen her grip is like trying to remove a limpet from a ship’s hull, I try to persuade her. “I’ll just be out there.”
“Please, don’t go.” Her shrill plea, the way the skin around her eyes tightens, and the sheer look of horror on her face, has me taking the easiest route and complying.
Like a gentleman, I turn my back, fold my arms, and impatiently wait, balanced on one leg as I hear rustling behind me. To give her her due, she doesn’t take long. In moments, I find a woman dressed in jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt in front of me.
She’s got a great figure. Nice tits, and her jeans show off a shapely ass.
Hey, I’m a man, don’t judge me.
“Ready?” My tone is irritable. I just want to make sure I can relax my guard and there aren’t any threats. Then I’ll make that call and as soon as I can, I’ll be out of here.
She gives a little nod. Instead of letting her grab my leather again, I take hold of her hand with my left—the one not holding my gun.
The next bedroom is unused, not even an old bed in sight. The next door reveals a room used for junk, nothing to write home about. I notice she hangs back and doesn’t seem to want to look into the door at the end of the corridor, but I take a glance in and see it’s also unoccupied with nothing to interest me.
“There a bathroom?” I could do with a piss.
“There’s an outhouse.” She snorts. “And a stream. And further up in the woods a pond if you want a better wash.”
Hmm. Like a dog, I’ll be watering the trees. The lack of facilities confirms the conclusion I’d reached seeing the state of the place. “I take it you don’t live here?”
“No.” I think her confirmation is all she’s going to say, but then she adds, “But once I did. When I was a kid.”
As a kid, she probably didn’t notice the lack of amenities. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had.
But I’ll be damned if I’m interested. Why she’s here now, and why she left, it’s of no consequence. “It all checks out.” There’s nothing and no one that could harm her here. My conscience is salved. When my brothers come, I can safely leave her. “Now where’s your phone?”
“In the bedroom I’m using.” A little braver as we’ve discovered nothing amiss in the house, she leads the way into the room where she’s been staying.
I’m close on her heels as she marches in and crouches by the side of the bed. “Here.” As she stands, she taps in a code, then puts a satellite phone into my hands.
Thank fuck she was prepared.
It takes me only a moment to input the prospect’s number, having taken a minute longer to remember it since my phone has died. While I wait for the ring tone to start, with a slight grin, I resurrect my thoughts of getting to my own bed in time to convince a sweet butt to join me. Shifting more weight to my good ankle, it’s only then I note silence is the only sound coming from the device I’m holding to my ear.
I pull the phone away, glare at it, but it still doesn’t work. I stare at it more closely.
“You’ve got no fuckin’ signal. Who’s your carrier?”
“It should work.” She scowls at me as if I’m doing it wrong and takes it away from me.
I watch her face. Her cheeks slowly pale. Her teeth bite her lip. Her jaw clenches. Then she looks up, her eyes dark and troubled. “I don’t understand. I got it only last week, set it up myself. But now there’s no plan for me to connect to.”
“You forget to pay your fuckin’ bill?” I thunder.
The first sign of spirit I get from her is now as she places her hands on her hips. “No, I did not. I paid up front when I got the phone. I knew I was coming here and knew I had to have some way of contacting the outside world. I am not stupid.”
No. Just scared of ghosts. Wanting to keep my balls attached to my body, I keep that to myself.
Jeez… What do I do now? Car. She must have one.
“Where are your car keys?”
Her head tilts to the side as she narrows her eyes. “Car keys?”
I stare at the beamed ceiling for a moment, then back down. Give me strength. “Yeah, the things you stick into the ignition, and boom, start the engine.”
“My car keys are in my purse…” I start looking around for it and find it on the floor next to her suitcase. As I take a step forward, she continues, “But they won’t be much good to you.”
I spin around, grimacing as I’d wrenched my ankle again. “What? That doesn’t work? You forgot to put gas in it?”
“No, Mister…” She approaches, her finger stabbing at my chest. “Because it’s in an airport parking lot in San Francisco. I got a taxi to bring me here and drop me off. I was only going to stay a few days.”
She’s here, all alone? No means of escape?
“So how the fuck were you going to get out of here?”
She gestures toward the useless phone. “I was going to use that to summon a cab.”
I stare at her. She stares at me. Both of us realising we’re fucked. Damnation. I sink onto her bed and drop my head into my hands.
She drops down beside me. “I can call 911 without a plan, can’t I?”
The pigs are the last people I’d approach, even in an emergency. “What the fuck for? You being murdered or robbed?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” She gives a calculating look toward me. “I mean, I don’t know you, except that you’re a biker.”
Yeah. She’d had an upfront and personal look at my cut for the past half hour. I tap at my name badge. “I’m Dwarf.”
“Dwarf?” Her eyes open wide, but she doesn’t ask me to explain.
Instead, she responds in kind. “Raven.” And fuck me if she doesn’t hold out her hand.
Not wanting to appear an oaf, I take it and shake it. I hold my palm against hers for a second longer than necessary, marvelling how small it seems. It’s dwarfed in my large paw. I grin at my own comparison.
Then I sigh heavily. “So, Raven. Seems like we’re stuck here. At least for the night.”
She looks around uneasily. “I don’t want to stay.”
I drop her hand. “You think I fuckin’ want to? I had plans for tonight, woman.”
“You know my name. Use it,” she snaps.
Oh yes. I quite like her spirited rather than scared, but I can’t help but retaliate. “I can call you whatever the fuck I want. Bike wrecker comes to mind.”
She winces and turns her head away.
I glance at the useless phone by my side. The time’s still displayed. It’s two in the morning. Maybe we should both get some rest, then in the daylight, get back to the road again. There might be more chance there will be traffic passing. Or maybe if I climb higher up, I’ll be able to get a signal on my cell, if she’s got a charger but I’m starting to doubt that.
But I won’t be going anywhere if my ankle seizes up overnight.
“You got a first aid kit, babe?”
She turns wide eyes on me and snorts. “Yeah, sure.” She waves her hand around. “This place comes with all the amenities.”
It’s no Airbnb, that’s for certain. I start to wonder what the fuck she’s doing here. I grit my teeth. “I need to find something to strap up my ankle, and you need to wash and clean your feet before you get an infection.”
Wincing, she rises from the bed and goes to her suitcase. She extracts a pair of trainers and is just about to slip her feet into them, when I remind her, “Your feet are bloody. Better clean them first.”
She huffs and swaps them for a pair of socks. Then she starts toward the door, stops, turns, and waves at me. “Come on then, what are you waiting for?”
For you to tell me what the fuck we’re doing.
But I keep that thought to myself as I get to my uninjured foot. Even a couple of moments of sitting makes it more painful to put my weight on the other one. But I wave off her offer of help, and doing that tiptoe step shuffle again, follow her back into the hall and down the stairway.
Chapter Four
Raven
There wasn’t much gas here at the cabin when I arrived, and I should have thought to bring more. So while I should be worried about the amount of fuel we’re wasting, I prefer to keep the lights on all over the cabin, the brightness helping to push the night’s horrors to the back of my mind.
Maybe I wouldn’t have panicked if I’d been able to vanquish my demons by switching on the lights earlier, but I’d turned off the generator before settling to sleep, wary of the low fuel level.
I suppose it would be hard to maintain the level of terror I’ve experienced tonight, but whether it’s the lights, Dwarf’s presence, or that we’ve searched and there’s nothing to be seen, and no noises heard, my heart rate has decreased to an almost acceptable level. As my panic fades, other feelings take precedence.
My feet hurt. They’re cut, bruised and sore. Dwarf—and what kind of name is that anyway? He’s short, yeah, but still taller than me, and I’m no midget—was right to remind me, they need cleaning. God only knows what I might have stepped on.
There’s nothing in the cabin itself, but… as I lead Dwarf back down the stairway, I have a half-grin on my face.
“Got any plans as to what we can use?” he asks me, looking around disdainfully. “Sheets I can tear up, something like that?”
I just might have a plan. “I’ve got some ideas where we might find something.”
His mouth turns down, dubiously. “Hope you’re fuckin’ right. You’ve come up with nothing so far.”
That’s just wrong. I grit my teeth. Whatever he thinks of me, I purchased a good enough plan when I bought that satellite phone. I know only too well how out of the way this place is and didn’t want to be isolated here for a week, with no way of calling for help if I needed any.
Help that it turns out I need.
I pause, causing him to bump into me. I hadn’t questioned why the phone hadn’t worked up to now, just accepted it as one more thing going wrong. Now I start wondering, can ghosts affect phones? Cause them not to work?
