Jill Sorenson - Set The Dark On Fire

Terrified by the idea that Betty would come back to finish her off, she stumbled out of the truck, and fell facedown in the dirt. Her head throbbed as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her stomach rebelled, threatening to send its contents hurling back up.

She was vaguely aware that she was no longer in the parking lot behind the café. The ground beneath her was too soft; earth filled her grasping hands. Panting from fear and nausea, she pushed the passenger door shut and let the night envelop her.

As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she outlined her choices. Stay here and die. Crawl away and find help.

That last one sounded best. She lifted her head again, moving gingerly, studying the gloom around her. Fuzzy shapes began to take focus. Hills and trees and a dirt road. A long fence and lonely mailbox. It all looked kind of familiar.

Oh, shit. She turned to see Betty’s ranch-style house, looming behind her like something from a nightmare.

They were out in the middle of nowhere. She could crawl for hours before she found a friendly neighbor in this neck of the woods.

Woods. That was it! She could hide in the woods until the pain in her head subsided. There wasn’t much around here but sagebrush and rocks, but the nearby hills offered plenty of cover for a person lying down. At the very least, she should get away from the front yard, and out of sight of the road.

Betty hadn’t brought her home for a game of Monopoly, after all. And any moment, she’d be back looking for her.

Decision made, Shay pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. When no vomiting or head-exploding pain ensued, she struggled to her feet, holding on to the side of the truck for balance.

The wild rabbits were still there, dead, bodies stiff, eyes black in the moonlight.

Everything came rushing back to her. Her strange, foreboding dream. The suspicion that Betty had a pet lion. The blackout blow.

In the close distance, an ear-splitting shriek rang out, shrill and high-pitched, as haunting as a woman’s scream. It was the unmistakable sound of an angered lion.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, feeling her knees shake. What was Betty doing? Letting the lion out to hunt?

She shrank away from the truck, worried that the scent of rabbit would call the lion closer. Then she lifted her hand to her head in horror, aware that the smell of her own blood also filled the air. She couldn’t hide from a hungry lion. And if it came after her, there was no way she could outrun it.

For a moment, she was tempted to crawl back inside the cab of the truck and lock the doors. Betty could still get to her, but the lion couldn’t.

Another set of screams filled the night, causing goose bumps to break out on her skin. This time, the yowl didn’t merely sound like a woman. It was a woman. What if Betty wasn’t letting the lion loose? What if she was… offering it a victim?

Shay shuddered where she stood, chilled to the bone. Then, still reeling from the blow to her head, she staggered forward, toward the sound.

Along the side of the main house there was an old red barn, open and filled with rusty farming equipment. If Betty had a caged enclosure, it would be out back. On unsteady legs, she passed the barn, moving quietly over the dry earth.

As soon as she rounded the corner, she saw it. A large chain-link enclosure, bathed in the glow of fluorescent light.

The enclosure stretched from the back of the house all the way to the fence line. Camouflaged netting covered the links on top and wooden slats added privacy along the sides. To a casual observer, the enclosure might appear to be nothing more sinister than an extra-large dog run, but Shay recognized the signs of a big cat.

The concrete floors looked clean but smelled of territorial markings. An intact male lion definitely lived here. There was a kiddie pool filled with fresh water in one corner and she could see a number of “toys” scattered about. A couple of scarred wooden logs, some sturdy rubber balls, and a few old tires were visible through the slats.

Pulse racing, mouth dry, Shay crept along the edge of the enclosure, trying to catch a glimpse of its inhabitant. Her eyes were drawn to a square-shaped flap covering the lower half of the house’s back door.

Good God. The beast had the run of the house, too!

When the cat came into her line of sight, Shay froze in place, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in awareness. He was at least as big as Hamlet, if not bigger. Muscles bunched beneath his dun-colored coat. The cage seemed to shrink in his presence.

Betty was standing on the other side of the chain-link fence. The entrance to the enclosure and the back gate were both wide open. “Run, you stupid cat!” Screaming her frustration, she prodded him with a steel bar while he spat and hissed. “Run!”

Holy hell . Betty was trying to free him. Shay studied the barren landscape beyond the fence line, seeing nothing but dark underbrush and pale rocks the size of headstones.

“Don’t,” she said, finding her voice. “Don’t do this, Betty!”

With another sinister howl, the lion turned his massive head in Shay’s direction. When his gray-green eyes met hers, she gulped and took a step back, her heart beating so fast she could hear it thundering in her ears.

“I won’t let you take him,” Betty said, her face ravaged by grief. “He didn’t mean to kill Yesenia. We were only trying to scare her, but Kato got too excited. She started screaming and he pounced. By the time I pried his jaw open, it was too late.”

Shay didn’t know what to say. Betty seemed on the cusp of madness. She had, after all, just bashed her over the head.

“He’s never hurt anyone before,” Betty said. “He was only playing.”

Shay realized that the woman was trying to save the lion’s life, not send him out on another rampage, and she felt a pang of sympathy for her. Shay knew what it was like to lose a beloved friend. Hamlet had been sacrificed unnecessarily, and now Kato would have to be put down as well.

She hated it when animals suffered because of human carelessness.

The circumstances were sad, but Shay couldn’t let Betty free a killer lion. “He can go to a rescue facility,” she lied. Kato wouldn’t be allowed to live, not even in captivity. “He’ll be put somewhere safe and secure.”

Betty let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. “He can take his chances in the desert.”

Shay scrambled forward, trying to avert a disaster of epic proportions. “No, Betty,” she said. “He’ll never survive-”

But she was too late. Betty had already entered the cage.

Gasping, Shay stopped in her tracks. No telling what the lion would do.

When he didn’t do anything, Betty pointed at the chaparral-covered hills in the distance and waved her hands in frustration. “Go on,” she said, gripping the chain links and rattling the fence. “Be free!”

Shay’s eyes darted from the open gate to the stationary lion. She knew better than to make any sudden moves around a predatory cat. But what else could she do?

Betty grabbed the animal by the scruff of his neck, trying to force him out. He roared a protest. She didn’t listen.

“Oh, Jesus,” Shay whimpered, almost too afraid to watch. The cat was going to attack Betty and there was nothing Shay could do about it. With trembling fingers, she reached into her front pocket, closing her fingers around Dylan’s hunting knife.

When Betty yelled and pulled on the cat’s scruff again, he snapped. In a flash, Betty was stretched out on the ground with the lion’s jaws closed around her neck. There was a sickening sound, like a wet crunch, as he applied pressure. Horrified, Shay stumbled toward the gate. Now that the cat was preoccupied, she had the chance to shut him in.