John Burley - The Absence of Mercy

Wow, he thought. Girls are so weird . Nevertheless, he considered her question carefully for a moment. Develop a process? Organize your thoughts? That sounded like a lot of work. It might even take more than one night to complete. Maybe even several ! No, no—that wasn’t for him. “How do you write a paper? ” she’d asked. The answer had always seemed so obvious to him.

“I just fuel up on Mountain Dew and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” he responded seriously, to which Monica smiled, shaking her head.

They crossed the bridge over Route 22 on foot and followed the road to the left onto Ross Ridge Road. Here the lane cut through heavy foliage, and trees hugged the pavement closely on both sides. Three hundred yards ahead, a black mailbox stood sentry at the entrance to a dirt driveway leading to Brian’s house. They stopped here for a few more minutes to talk, then Brian proceeded down the driveway and Monica continued on along Ross Ridge. Her family lived in a cluster of homes off Bluck Drive, less than a half mile ahead.

She walked along, listening to the soft sound of her tennis shoes slapping and scuffing themselves across the wet asphalt. She thought of the party, of the swarm of teenagers spilling out onto the front lawn at the end of the night, of the sense of isolation she sometimes experienced even while among her friends, of the feel of Thomas’s hand on her shoulder and the way her heartbeat had accelerated at his touch. The rain had stopped falling at least an hour ago, and the sky had cleared, revealing the depth of space above her. She looked up into the heavens, realizing that what she was seeing were not the stars themselves exactly, but merely the arrival of light from those celestial bodies after a long journey through time and space. The vastness of that distance made the light of her own brief existence seem almost inconsequential.

She stopped walking in order to push herself up onto her tiptoes and stretch her arms out toward the sky, watching the shimmer of starlight as it played through her fingers like tiny grains of sand. That was when she heard a step. One single step, and then nothing.

She listened.

Silence played out as if it had something to hide.

A single step that had not been her own. It had been faint, but she’d heard it. She stood there quietly, listening now more intently to the night sounds all around her.

She was cautious now, holding her emotions at bay. She did not run. She did not look around. She pretended that she hadn’t heard, and began to walk again—just a little faster. Up ahead, she could see light cresting the hill, and she knew that on the far side of that hill was the community in which she lived. It lay maybe two hundred yards ahead. It was a tangible thing.

She stopped again, quickly. This time there were two steps before the silence. She heard them distinctly. Step-step . Silence.

She stood there in the middle of the street and tried to think. She told herself to remain calm. But all she could think about was the sound of those stealthy footsteps— step-step, silence—and what it meant. Someone was following her. Stalking her. They didn’t want to be heard, but they were taking two steps for her one, trying to close the distance.

Should I run?

She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her, but her legs felt wobbly and she didn’t trust them to do what needed to be done.

Should I scream?

It was almost 3 A.M., and the night was very quiet. Her scream would be heard. But how much time would pass before help arrived? Five, maybe ten minutes? That would be too late. And if she screamed now, she thought that whoever was following her would waste no time in trying to overtake her. In a way, she would be beckoning him to either cut loose or finish the job. Some primitive instinct told her that he would not cut loose. Not now. He was too close. She could feel it.

Step-step, silence.

There it was again. But where was it coming from? She glanced behind herself into the darkness, along the route she had just traveled. The road seemed to disappear into the forest on either side, as if it were being swallowed whole. She could see perhaps sixty feet in that direction. Beyond that was blackness. She looked at the trees to her left and right—tried to look past them into the shadows—but the foliage was thick here and it was impossible to see beyond the edge of the woods. Besides, the footsteps were not coming from the woods; she was certain of that. The sound they had made was flat and crisp, like the sound of her own footsteps on the asphalt. Whoever accompanied her tonight was either lurking in the shadows of the road behind her, or…

Step-step-step . Again, silence.

Her follower seemed less concerned now about being heard, which meant it wasn’t crucial for him to close the distance unnoticed. Because he had her now. He was close enough. And even if she ran, he must feel certain that he could overtake her. But the crest of the hill was so close now: a hundred yards, if that. Maybe he was underestimating her. She could run fast if she needed to. She knew she could. Her legs no longer felt wobbly and untrustworthy; they felt strong and prepared for whatever was to come next. But it was either now or never. She had a choice to make. If she faltered, it might be too late. She paused only long enough to draw in a deep breath and set her sights on the horizon the road ahead of her made as it topped the small hill. If she could reach that, she would stand a good chance of making it the rest of the way. She could hear the drum of her heartbeat strong and steady as it coursed through the frame of her young body. I am strong. I can do this, she thought to herself. Then she ran.

She ran with a dogged intensity of purpose—her legs pumping up and down, propelling her forward with all the force she could muster. She covered half of the remaining distance between her initial position and the top of the hill in perhaps eight seconds. She listened as she ran, anticipating the sound of pursuit, but behind her there was only silence. She had time to think that perhaps there was no one there at all, that the footsteps she’d heard had been nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination combined with a touch of alcohol. The image of her hauling ass up the hill at top speed, running only from her own imagination, made her feel stupid and more than a little embarrassed. She allowed herself to slow slightly, listening more intently for any more footsteps except her own. There were none. She stopped and looked back. Most of the road was still shrouded in shadows. Nothing moved or uttered a sound. Even the insects had been startled into silence by her unexpected fifty-yard dash. She placed her hands on her hips, breathing heavily, and she let out an uneasy laugh. I’m such a moron, she thought.

Then she heard it again: footsteps, coming quickly—running this time! They grew distinctly louder, and still she could detect no movement along the roadway behind her. Doesn’t matter, she told herself. Get the hell out of here! She once again turned to run.

That was when he crested the hill ahead of her, blocking off her only route of escape—her only plan. The distance between them was only fifty yards, and he closed it quickly. To her credit, she wasted no time, for there was really none to waste. She followed the only course of action that occurred to her as she turned left and barreled into the woods like a panicked animal. The branches slashed at her face and the bramble tore through the legs of her pants, leaving thin red marks on her ankles. She cut a jagged path through the scrub, trying desperately to lose him.

For a moment, the tactic seemed to be working, for she could hear him floundering behind her as he tried to push his way through the thorny undergrowth. A single thought raced around in circles inside her head as if it were a dog on a track: If I can put some distance between us, I can find a place to hide! I can lie low and quiet in the darkness! Cover myself with leaves! He’ll run right by me! If I can put some distance between us, I can find a place to hide—lie low and quiet in the darkness! Cover myself with leaves! He’ll run right by me! Low and quiet… cover myself with leaves… distance between us… run right by me…