Lisa Gardner - The killing hour

“It’s her,” she shouted back triumphantly, springing onto the pile. “Hey, hey you! Hello, hello, hello!”

Three sharp whistles sounded behind her. The international call of distress. Kimberly didn’t understand why. They had found the girl. They had saved the day. She had been right to leave the Academy. She had finally done it.

Then the girl came fully into view and any bit of triumph Kimberly had felt burst like a proverbial bubble and left her halted dead in her tracks.

The streak of red was not a piece of brightly dyed cotton, but a pair of white shorts, now stained darkly with dried blood. The sprawling white limbs-not a young girl lying peacefully down to rest, but a bruised and bloated body, twisted beyond recognition. And then, as Kimberly watched in the dusky pall, she swore she saw one of the girl’s limbs suddenly move.

The sound hit her all at once. A constant, building thrum. The deep vibration of dozens upon dozens of rattlesnakes.

“Kimberly,” Mac said quietly from the ground behind her. “For the love of God, please don’t move.”

Kimberly couldn’t even nod. She just stood there, perfectly frozen, while all around her, the shadows of the rocks uncurled into the shapes of snakes.

“The girl’s dead,” Kimberly said finally. Her voice sounded hoarse and faint, the tone of a woman already in shock. Mac eased closer to the boulders. By his third footstep, a fresh round of rattling shook the pile. He stopped instantly.

The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere. Ten, twenty, thirty different vipers. They seemed to be everywhere. Sweet Jesus, Mac thought, and reached back slowly for his gun.

“She must have been tired and dazed,” Kimberly murmured. “Saw the rocks. Climbed up for a better view.”

“I know.”

“My God, I think they bit every inch of her body. I’ve never… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Kimberly, I have my gun out. If something moves, I’m going to shoot it. Don’t flinch.”

“It won’t work, Mac. There are too many of them.”

“Shut up, Kimberly,” he growled.

She turned her head toward him and actually smiled. “Now which one of us is being earnest?”

“Snakes don’t like us any more than we like them. If you just remain calm and don’t move, most of them will disappear back into the rocks. I’ve sounded the whistle; help will be here shortly.”

“I almost died once. Did I ever tell you that? A man I thought I knew well. It turned out he was just using me to get to my father. He cornered Rainie and me in a hotel room. He held a gun to my head. There was nothing Rainie could do. I still remember just how the barrel felt. Not cold, but warm. Like living flesh. It’s strange to feel so helpless. It’s strange to be trapped in the arms of another human being and know he’s going to take your life.”

“You’re not dead, Kimberly.”

“No, my father surprised him. Shot him in the chest. Thirty seconds later, everything had changed and I was the one still alive, wearing his blood in my hair. And my father was telling me everything would be all right. It was nice of him to lie.”

Mac didn’t know what to say. Light was fading fast, the pile of boulders quickly becoming another world, filled with too much black.

“She never stood a chance,” Kimberly murmured, her gaze returning to the girl’s body. “Look at her in her shorts and silk blouse. She was dressed to have fun in a bar, not fend her way in a wilderness. It’s beyond cruel.”

“We’re going to find him.”

“Not until another girl is dead.”

Mac closed his eyes. “Kimberly, the world’s not as bad as you think.”

“Of course not, Mac. It’s worse.”

He swallowed. He was losing her. He could feel Kimberly slide deeper into fatalism, a woman who had escaped death once and didn’t expect to get that lucky again. He wanted to yell at her to buck up. And then he wanted to take her into his arms, and promise her everything would be all right.

She was right: when men tried to protect the people they cared about, they inevitably resorted to lies.

“Do you see the snakes?” he asked shortly.

“There’s not enough light. They blend into the boulders.”

“I don’t hear them.”

“No, they’ve fallen silent. Maybe they’re tired. They’ve had a busy day.”

Mac edged closer. He wasn’t sure how near the old landslide he could get. He didn’t hear any fresh rounds of rattling. He crept to within five feet, then took out his flashlight, flaring it over the pile of boulders. It was difficult to tell. Some rocks seemed clear. Others had bulging outlines that could very well be more rattlers.

“Do you think you can jump to me?” he asked Kimberly.

She was at least twenty feet away, at an awkward angle in the rock pile. Maybe if she bounded quickly from boulder to boulder…

“I’m tired,” Kimberly whispered.

“I know, honey. I’m tired, too. But we need to get you off those rocks. I’ve sort of grown attached to your sunny smile and gentle disposition. Surely you wouldn’t want to disappoint me now.”

No answer.

“Kimberly,” he said more sharply. “I need you to pay attention. You’re strong, you’re bright. Now, focus on how we’re going to get out of this.”

Her gaze went off in the distance. He saw her shoulders tremble. He didn’t know what she thought about but, finally, she turned back to him. “Fire,” she told him quietly.

“Fire?”

“Snakes do hate fire, right? Or have I watched too many Indiana Jones movies? If I make a torch, maybe I can use it to scare them away.”

Mac moved fast. He wasn’t an expert on snakes, but it sounded like a plan to him. He used his flashlight and quickly found a decent-sized fallen limb. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He lofted the branch into the air with an easy underhand. A moment later, he heard the small thump as she caught it in her hands. They both held their breath. A slight buzzing rattle, low and to the right.

“Stay still,” Mac warned.

Kimberly dutifully froze and after several long minutes, the sound faded away.

“You need to get into your pack for the other supplies,” Mac instructed. “If you have an extra pair of wool socks, wrap one around the end of the branch. Then you’ll notice a small film canister in your front pocket. I added that. It contains three cotton balls dipped in Vaseline. They make an excellent fire starter. Just tuck them into the folds of the sock and hit ’em with a match.”

He held the flashlight, illuminating her in its beam of light as she went to work. Her movements were slow and subdued, trying not to call attention to herself.

“I can’t find my extra socks,” she called back at last. “What about a T-shirt?”

“That’ll do.”

She had to set her pack down. Mac briefly lit up the ground beside her. It appeared free of snakes. She gingerly lowered her pack. Another hiss as the snakes sensed the disturbance and voiced their disapproval. She stilled again, straightening at the waist, and now Mac could see the fresh sheen of sweat on her brow.

“You’re almost done,” he told her.

“Sure.” Her hands were shaking. She fumbled the stick briefly, nearly dropped it, and a fresh rattle, close and loud, reverberated through the dark. Mac watched Kimberly squeeze her eyes shut. He wondered if she was now remembering another truth about that day in the hotel room-that when the man had held a gun to her head, her first thought had been that she didn’t want to die.

Come on, Kimberly, he willed her. Come back to me.

She got the T-shirt wrapped around the end of the stick. Then she tucked in the cotton balls. Then she found the matches. Her trembling hand held aloft the first small wooden match. The raspy sound of the tip scratching against the box. The match flared to life, she touched it to the cotton balls, and a torch was born in the night.