CHAPTER 18 #2
When the wound is dressed, the finca plunges into darkness as we follow Paul’s lead. The air is charged with unease – every creak, every whisper from outside feels amplified.
Rachel works quickly, her hands steady despite the chaos of the moment.
She sterilizes the fishing line with vodka, before threading it through a needle she pulled from her bag.
When she cleans the gash with another splash of vodka, Paul hisses sharply, his body jerking from the sting, but he doesn’t protest.
‘Hold still,’ she murmurs.
We all watch in anxious silence as Rachel stitches the gash in Paul’s arm with steady hands.
The makeshift surgery is grueling, but Rachel’s calm demeanor keeps the other girls grounded.
When she finishes, Rachel instructs Paul to apply light pressure on the wound with one finger for around ten minutes to minimise the bleeding.
She then applies a sterile dressing from the first aid kit.
‘That should stop the bleeding,’ she says, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe.
The place is eerily silent.
Outside, the forest seems to hold its breath, the stillness pressing against my senses as I wait for something to move. And then, a loud pounding shatters the silence, rattling the door handle desperate to get in.
‘Anyone in there or have you all gone to bed?’ the voice asks.
‘Grandpops!’ Paul is on his feet before he registers the pain in his arm, and relief washes over us as John walks inside.
‘Where on earth have you been?’ Paul demands.
‘For a walk,’ he says casually, though his eyes don’t miss the bandage strapped to his arm. ‘What’s happened?’
Paul takes a steady breath as he closes the door. ‘We need to leave. Now. There’s something out there, dangerous.’
‘Oh, my goodness, is everyone all right?’ John asked with concern.
‘Yes, fortunately,’ one of the girls responds, but the room falls into a heavy, uneasy hush. I catch the girls exchanging worried glances.
‘What do you mean, dangerous?’ John inquires.
‘I don’t know, it wasn’t human.’
That’s a relief. I can handle animals.
‘But the rental car’s tyres have been slashed?’ Anna says. ‘What kind of animal would do that?’
That’s true.
‘We have to leave on foot,’ Sarah suggests.
‘No!’ Paul snaps. ‘We’ll wait for daybreak. Then we’ll leave. Best we try and sleep.’
John shrugs, ‘He’s right. If anyone knows how to hot-wire a car, there’s one broken down not far from here. I passed it on my walk.’
The weight of the long day presses down on us, and before long, we’re dragging our sorry arses to the bedrooms. Emma and I claim the first room, its modest charm a temporary solace, while Paul and John each take their own.
Sarah, Rachel, and Anna pile into the largest bed, their laughter softening into whispers before the quiet of exhaustion settles over the house.
But sleep doesn’t last. The events of the day refusing to settle comfortably within me, like lingering shadows in the corners of my mind.
In the dead of night, I jolt awake, my heart thundering in rhythm with the ache in my bladder. I slip out of bed, careful not to stir Emma, her soft breaths steady.
As I near the kitchen, a low murmur cuts through the stillness, faint and urgent. My breath catches as the names “ Tarran” and “Carlos” drift towards me. I freeze, do I run? – Or listen?
I strain to catch more of the conversation, but it’s futile, slipping through my grasp. Frustration prickles at my skin as I creep towards the room where the other girls are sleeping. The door is slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the hallway.
I push it open, and my breath catches, freezing in my chest as the scene before me slams into my senses.
Blood.
So much blood.
It stains the sheets, the walls, the air itself, as if the room is alive with its own macabre heartbeat.
Anna, Sarah, and Rachel lie sprawled across the bed, their bodies unnaturally still, their faces pale and lifeless. Just hours ago, their laughter had filled the house, and now, their eyes stare blankly into the void, their expressions frozen in a silent scream.
No! No, no, no.
A cold shiver slices down my spine, as the scene before me sears itself into my mind.
My breath catches, strangling me. I stagger backwards, my heart hammering so violently it drowns out every other sound, a war drum echoing in my ears.
Terror grips me, its claws sinking deep, twisting and tearing at my insides.
And then came the final betrayal – a warmth cascading down my legs, a humiliating reminder that fear has a hold of me.
A wave of nausea surges within me, bile rising in the back of my throat as the grotesque sight of their mutilation sears through me .
There’s so much blood.
Emma.
Desperate to rouse her, I rush back to her side, shaking her gently,
‘Emma, wake up, we’ve got to go,’ I whisper, my voice tight, the words barely holding together. She doesn’t move. I shake her harder, my voice breaking as I plead, ‘Emma, damnit!’
‘She won’t wake up - not for another hour or so,’ Paul drawls, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. He leans casually against the doorway, a knife glinting in his hand, the sinister grin stretching across his face enough to make my stomach churn.
‘P-please,’ I stammer, as I inch backwards towards the window. My legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath me.
‘Come on, Tarran,’ he taunts, his eyes gleaming with twisted joy. ‘You know this will go so much easier if you come willingly. I don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.’
‘People will be looking for us – the owners,’ I blurt, grasping at anything to stall him.
If I break the window, I can make a run for it. But Emma – what about Emma? I can’t leave her. Then they’ll kill her.
Fuck.
‘The owners?’ Paul chuckles darkly, shaking his head.
‘This is ours. And you walked right into it. I even lit a fire and stocked the fridge,’ he said, a casual shrug accompanying his words.
‘Just had to swing by the airport and pick up Granddad. Voila! Who could ever forget that old face, huh?’ His grin was effortless.
‘Every move you made was part of the plan. Just a few strategically scattered fake brochures, a whisper in your friends’ ears. ’
My breath catches. ‘And them? What did they do to you? And what was that earlier? Part of a game?’ I demand.
‘Sure,’ he replies with a shrug, a faint smirking tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘It can get rather lonely up here, all on my own. Been a while since I’ve played with a woman, or five.’
‘You’re sick. You didn’t need to kill them.’
‘Collateral damage, my dear,’ he answers with a shrug, as if their lives meant nothing. ‘But I’ll make you a deal.’ His grin widens, and the knife glints menacingly in the soft light. ‘I’ll spare her life…if you come with us. Your choice. Choose wisely. Time is ticking.’
Breathe, Tarran.
I repeat the desperate mantra, desperate to keep the bile rising in my throat at bay.
‘Good!’ Paul murmurs, stepping closer, the distance between us shrinking with every deliberate step. In his other hand, a syringe catches the light, its contents glinting ominously. ‘Time to go to sleep.’