Chapter 22 - Poor Places

Brad spat out a mouth full of blood. He struggled before even opening his eyes. He continued to struggle, as one would if they were tied to a chair.

    "Wouldn't recommend that," Lane said evenly, "The drop wouldn't kill you, but the impact won't be pleasant."

    Surprisingly, Brad sighed and relaxed. He opened his eyes to see his chair sitting precariously close to the edge of a table stacked upon another table. The blonde buzz-cut kid licked his lips and nodded, "Fun. I would have gone for more of a pinata situation, but this is fine too if you're afraid of a real fight: man on man."

    "He fought you, one on one," Luna stated dryly, "He handed your ass back to you." Glancing over to her brother, she crinkled her face as if to quietly ask, 'Is that the correct expression?' Lane subtly gestured with his fingers to drop it. Not important.

"Sure, sure he did," Brad continued, "So what now? How would you like to spend your final moments?"

"Enough with the coy bullshit," Lane barked, "First, you're gonna tell us who is running the show, then where they're at."

Brad laughed, "No."

Lane and Luna waited. They let the silence thicken, and the tension boil.

"I see no reason why I should have to cooperate with you," Brad added with a smug, bloody smile, "What are you planning on doing? Torturing me? Punishing me? You really think there's anything you could possibly offer me?" Brad laughed at the two stone faced Twins.

"How about another victory?" Luna suggested.

Brad scoffed, "You gonna untie me and let me beat the shit out of your brother? Sure, but I can't guarantee I'll be any more talkative. How about you let me bang you, Nina, Franki, especially Jordan, Gracie and whoever else you got tagging along with you. Yeah. One last send off orgy and maybe I'll clue you in--"

"No," Lane interrupted, "You get one chance to be the ultimate victor." Lane waited for Brad's attention and his one unswollen eye to focus on him. "Let's say we believe you're telling the truth. There's some doomsday, end of the world event happening, soon. In this scenario, you're not the guy in charge. You're an errand boy protecting whoever's really in power. Let's say you stay silent. You don't tell us who or where and the world ends. You'll die... In second place: the underling of someone who's smarter, stronger, and more powerful than you."

To the average observer, Brad seemed to let this news wash over him to no effect. Luna however, had studied Brad, intimately. She'd seen him experience pleasure by her hand no less. She'd seen how he reacted as his peers, his friends abandoned him on the field. She saw how truly vulnerable he was, begging for a sense of completion. If there was one defining trait, the quantum of who Brad was at his very being, he needed to be victorious.

The subtle clench of the jock's jaw. His thumbs twitching to grasp the rope tighter. Just as he had in the final round of Tiki Tiki Firedrum, the idea that Brad's life would be extinguished without feeling a sense of completion, without victory had burrowed into his mind. When he played his next move, his next words, The Twins knew, they had him: "No. I call bullshit. I'm on the winning team. You're the suckers that came too late to the party: I win."

Denial,  Lane thought as he smiled. He checked his watch, "Somewhere in the back of your mind, you probably had to autocorrect to, 'We Win'. right?"

"Sure," Luna continued, "Your Team may have won, but you're still the pawn the real genius sacrificed so They could win. You really think pawns get to party with the king?" She cackled. "I mean, you're here? You're practically on our team now. The losing team."

"I ate your fat fucking friend, you remember that? How's that for being on the losing team, shithead!" Brad screamed out.

Lane remembered. He wanted to punch Brad and not stop punching him in that stupid, smug, murderous face. Instead, Lane kept his breathing even. He buried his emotions to the farthest reaches of his mind. Stay on task, he reminded himself, stay focused.

"And we don't expect you to feel any remorse for that. You're a sociopath. Your only concern is winning, which we'll remind you, is not what's going on right now. You're at the loser's table, Brad: a pawn, a scapegoat, a road bump in our way to getting what we want."

"No, that's not--" Brad started, "You don't get it. It's not like I really wanted to... You don't have any fucking clue what you're dealing with," Brad's lip trembled.

He's not there, not yet, Luna observed. Perhaps another little push.

"I see no evidence that you have the capacity to care about anyone other than yourself," Luna added, twisting her sharpened words further into his minuscule heart.

"She--" Brad bit his tongue and shook his head. His breathing became more rapid. Brad's muscles strained against the ropes as he whispered, "She didn't give me a choice." At last, the smallest glint of a tear materialized in Brad's bloodshot eyes.

"Who?" Lane asked subtly.

Brad shook his head.

"WHO?!" Luna demanded, kicking the stack of tables The Twins had positioned their captive on top of.

"HER," Brad fumbled. In between increasingly erratic breaths, the Jock whispered, "The Deer Woman." His eyes grew distant. Just as the words left his mouth, Brad realized what he'd said. He let the one piece of information out that was to remain secret for the last few hours left of the plan still unfolding. Panic began to wash over him. Nervous laughter shot out from his blood-stained mouth; "She's like a god, a demon, a THING... Inhuman. You can't stop her. Can't reason with her. Can't beat her," More desperate laughter, followed by his acceptance of the inevitable. This was it, "You lose," Brad said to himself.

With that final failure, the jock rocked his body forward. With one last-minute twist, Brad's head landed at the worst possible angle on the hardwood floor. SNAP.

The Twins observed the body as Jordan stepped out from the kitchen. She stood at the entryway. Her line of sight unobstructed, the acting lead councilor gazed at the floor where Brad's corpse lay.

"Well," Jordan breathed out, "What now?"

"I'm sorry," Lane said, "He just-- We meant to keep him alive;, have Brad pay for-"

Jordan waved the ginger boy off, "Brad was a sick fuck. Don't care. What do we do now?" Behind her, Nina, Franki and Gracie appeared. Nina's anger remained. The life behind Franki's eyes was still absent. Gracie held both her hands to her mouth to keep from screaming. Not that there was any energy left in the girl left to release any sound. After everything that had happened; the beasts, the death, the blood, she was nearly as devoid of feeling as Franki.

Luna took hold of Lane's hand to read his watch, "Now, we wait" Lane nodded in solemn agreement. They had a suspect, but those in harm's way still needed to be removed from the playing field. Not that any of this was a game. That's simply how Luna coped. She could remove herself from the horrors unfolding before her eyes if she simply saw each action as moves between players: protagonist and antagonist, black and white. When she and Lane secured their victory, when all this madness was over, then she'd allow herself to feel again.

---

    Minutes felt like years as the group sat behind a barricade of tables that hid their presence from any one, or anything that might pass by the window. Fortunately, they could still see out, see the sky, and continue to pray to whoever was listening that rescue would soon arrive. They'd covered what was left of Aiden with the sheets that had been draped over the furniture and tables. The man deserved a better burial. He would have been a good friend, Lane thought mournfully.

Brad's body had been left exactly where it was. Still covered, but with significantly less care. The corpse remained where he'd fallen at the long table. While covering the corpse, Luna had observed that in attendance to the blonde buzzcut councilor's last meal, there were at least two other guests. On the left side of the table, a pair of muddy boots prints stained the carpet. Seated at the head a dozen or so pairs of Brad's soil covered sandals marks had been smudged on the floor as well.

"Lane," Luna said quietly, subtly pointing to the ground.

Lane squatted down, hovering over the carpet. There was something else underneath the muddy mess Brad had left, "This wasn't his original seat. There," Lane pointed to the chair pulled out on the right side. "So we had Brad, and Jude here, maybe a few hours ago sharing a meal before we arrived, judging by..." Lane trailed off. He couldn't repress the unholy scene. His friend in agony. He took a breath, and set his jaw, "There, same prints from bathhouse."

Luna raised her invisible bow and played a single silent note; "She was here."

"The Deer Woman," Lane agreed as he studied several pairs of massive hoof prints shaped like upside down hearts, split in half.

"Listen!" Nina said out loud. She covered her mouth and nervously scanned the windows. There were no beasts. Only a dimly lit lake, the St. Helens Mountain Range, and the steady beating of rotary blades somewhere in the distance.

Jordan motioned for the group to crawl toward the southwest patio exit. Together they made their way through the dark dining hall on their hands and knees.

"Can you see it yet?" Gracie whispered, "I don't see it."

"Better question; how is IT going to see us?" Jordan asked Lane without looking.

Lane held up one of the playing cards with that weird writing scaralled along its edges, "I've got that handled."

Jordan rolled her eyes. Of course he had something, some plan, she thought. Maybe this whole thing was Lane's plan? Or, maybe it would be easier if she had someone to blame for all this-- Tragedy. She couldn't waste time thinking about that now. She had her own life, her best friend, and a way out. All they had to do was run a few hundred meters and they'd be free.

On the count of three, that's exactly what happened. While the Twins helped Gracie down the steep sloped path beside the stone amphitheater, the rest of their group that remained ran with abandon. Nina, always the lithe and slender built girl was second only to Franki. The black girl's long athletic legs pushed off the ground at an incredible rate. All the while, Jordan listened to the beating sound of the rotary blades grow louder, and louder. It was actually a relief to see the white and red striped helicopter crest over the mountain range. She could hate Lane and Luna later. Right now, she was genuinely relieved that something, for once, went right.

As they all stepped foot onto the white sand shore, Lane dug his orange lighter out from his pocket and ignited the flame. He carefully set the edge of the card on fire, passed it to Luna, and she flung it up into the air. Seconds later, the playing card ignited into a burst of red phosphorus light and smoke.

Bright light shone upon the survivors as the search and rescue teams helicopter turned its flood light onto the weary councilors. It was low enough to Spirit Lake now that the waters began to ripple outward. Lane could feel the chopping wind pulsing against his face.

Then, inexplicably, off to their left somewhere within the depths of a forest something set against the massive pines, forcing them to bend and creek against the wind of the helicopter. There was a terrible CRACK and violent rustling of branches. Lane's jaw dropped down to the shore. His heart sank with it as he watched an entire pine tree shoot out from the forest like a surface to air missile. He watched in slow motion as the nearly hundred foot tall tree collided into the helicopter. The rotary blades snapped, sparks flew, and a fire burst inside the cabin as the aircraft listed off to the side. The pilot, the rescue team, their screams could just barely be heard over the midair catastrophe.

Down went their hope of rescue, spiraling into a heap of twisted metal into the depths of Spirit Lake.