Brad Thor - The Athena Project

Vicki risked a glance back. There was nothing there. No bear, no nothing. Part of her said she was overreacting. Another part, her primal instinct, screamed at her to run. Run!

Vicki listened to that primal voice and ran like never before. She barreled into the front door of the cabin and sent it exploding inward, almost knocking it off its rusted hinges.

As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door and flattened her back against it. Her eyes scanned the room for something to place against it. Something. Anything. There was nothing. The cabin had been stripped bare.

She knew she’d be no match for any bear that wanted to come through the door. She wouldn’t be able to hold it shut. She simply wasn’t strong enough.

Bolting to the other side of the tiny cabin, she slid to the floor and placed her back against the wall. If it came through the front door, she’d have a clean shot. It could come through one of the broken windows as well, though it would have a much harder time of it.

Sitting there on the floor, her heart thumping and the sound of blood rushing in and out of her ears like the ocean, she knew she had to calm down. She had to get control of herself. Deep breath , she thought. Start with one deep breath.

She took in a long, deep breath and held it for a count of three and then slowly, silently let it out. She counted to five and then repeated the process. From above the dilapidated roof, there was an ear-splitting crack of thunder. The cabin grew dark.

Outside, the wind moved the branches of the heavy trees. It also moved the cabin door. As the door creaked in on its hinges, Vicki Suffolk caught a glimpse of something on the threshold and her heart caught in her throat.

Lying just beyond the open cabin door was a bouquet of Rocky Mountain Irises. Gathering them up, Suffolk stepped outside, her heart beating even faster than before. Where is he? she thought to herself.

With her gun an afterthought as it dangled in her hand, she stepped outside. The trunks of the trees near the cabin were too narrow to hide behind. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was dry.

She spun quickly around, but there was no one behind her. Walking to the corner of the cabin, she peeked around it, but there was no one there either. Her legs were weak and her stomach was churning, but she pressed on. She walked behind the cabin, but saw nothing. Finally, she came the rest of the way around to the front door. As she did, the rain came down in a torrent.

Her heart was pounding against her chest. “Hello?” she called out into the storm. “Hello?”

There was flash of lightning as the bolt struck somewhere close by. Barely a second had passed before thunder rocked the ground. That was the moment she felt the hand on the back of her neck. He had come from behind, from inside the cabin. He must have slipped in while she was walking around the outside.

As his grip tightened on her, his other hand reached down and took away her gun. She didn’t struggle. Slowly, he drew her back inside.

She knew what would happen next and she resigned herself to it. She had no idea if the man was wearing a mask or not. Just in case, she knew it was better to keep her eyes shut tight; to not look at his face.

His backpack lay cast aside. On the floor he had hastily unrolled his sleeping bag. He laid her down and once she was lying flat on her back he raised her arms above her head. He grabbed both her wrists with his powerful left hand as if he knew that she was going to fight him when he began to undress her. And fight she did.

When his right hand slid underneath her jog bra, she brought her left knee up hard into his side. He muttered some sort of curse and threw himself on top of her, straddling her legs. She fought hard and snapped her teeth wildly, hoping to get a piece of him.

When she heard the click of his knife locking into place, she froze. He kept her arms pinned above her head and he waited. Outside the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain poured down.

He drew the flat of the blade along her lithe, tight stomach and then slowly moved it upward. She didn’t fight. She lay still. The entire time she kept her eyes tightly shut, not wanting to risk seeing his face.

He cut the jog bra from her body and cast it to the side, exposing her breasts. He did the same to her running shorts.

She felt him slide out of his trousers and then and only then did she open one of her eyes, but only part way. He was wearing a ski mask. He had remembered.

They lay on the floor of the cabin panting, working to catch their breath as their heart rates came back to normal.

“You can take the mask off now if you want,” said Vicki.

Peter Marcus pulled the mask from his head and tossed it toward his backpack. His hair was drenched with sweat.

“I could have shot you,” she said as she drew herself closer to him.

Marcus smiled. “But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.”

“And that’s what made it exciting,” he said, and then added, “for both of us.”

“Do you remember the first time you gave me Mountain Irises?”

“I do,” he replied. “I also remember showing you how their roasted seeds could be used as a coffee substitute.”

“Ummmm,” she said, closing her eyes.

They lay in silence next to each other, listening to the storm rage outside. The gusts of wind were so strong they shook the little cabin.

Vicki ran her fingers across his chest. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any Power Bars in your pack, do you? I’m starving.”

“Why don’t you go check?”

She gave him a long kiss on the mouth and then pushed herself to standing. Even in the almost pitch-dark he could see how beautiful she was.

She picked up the pack and looked inside. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did I do well?” he asked.

“I love it!” she cooed as she pulled a bottle of wine and a small cooler bag from his backpack. “It’s a little early in the day, but who cares, right?”

“Bring the whole pack over,” he told her. “There’s silverware and dishes and a picnic cloth in there.”

“Picnic blanket,” Vicki corrected.

“Picnic blanket,” Peter repeated dutifully.

Suffolk handed him the bottle of wine along with the corkscrew she had found at the bottom of the pack with a few other items. He laid out some candles and lit them.

“Can you find my cigarettes, please?” he asked.

“You’re smoking again?”

“Victoria, you’re not my mother.”

“Of course not. I’m way too young to be your mother,” she responded. “Seriously, Peter, I thought you had quit.”

“Please, Victoria. May I just have my cigarettes?” he asked.

Suffolk rummaged around in the backpack.

“They’re in the outside pocket,” he said.

When she found the pocket in question, she unzipped it and pulled them out. “I really thought you had quit. You said you were going to do it for me.”

Marcus shrugged.

“You know what? You’re going cold turkey. Right now.”

“What if I get a craving?” he said with a smile.

Vicki smiled back at him and said, “You let me worry about your cravings.” With that, she crushed the cigarettes and pitched them over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said.