Cambria Hebert - Text

Please, Lord, don’t let him look at the call history or the texts.

I knew the second he saw one or the other. His hand gripped my tender flesh and squeezed until I almost cried out. I knocked at his hand, dislodging the worst of his grip.

“You called 9-1-1?” he said, his voice low and flat.

Fear skittered along my nerve endings and the hair on the back of my neck stood tall.

“What did you tell them?” he said, looking at me over the phone.

I remained silent. My hand was lightly feeling around for a rock or another stick.

He gripped the front of my shirt and yanked me up so his face was inches from mine. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing.” I lied. “I couldn’t get through. Your phone is a piece of shit.”

He shoved me back onto the ground. My ears rang when my head recoiled off the ground. He was doing something on the phone again… I knew I needed to distract him.

Using all the energy I could muster, I twisted my entire body like I was rolling over. I knocked him over a bit and I jerked up, trying to get out from under him.

He leaned down, lying on top of me, using his entire body as a weight. His breath was hot against my ear. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he began. “I’m already very angry.”

I froze beneath him. Feeling his entire body against mine was disgusting. I was pinned down, completely at his will, and it made me sick.

He stoked my hair as he scrolled through the phone. Every once in a while, he would lick my ear. After a few minutes, his body went rigid.

I knew he found the texts.

Why hadn’t I deleted them after I sent them?

His teeth closed over the sensitive flesh of my ear and he bit down. Hard.

I let loose a scream before I could stop myself. I felt my skin break and blood begin to ooze.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he shouted, rearing up.

He scrambled up and yanked me to my feet. I tried to run, but he pulled me back.

“You just sealed your fate,” he spat. “What a pity too. I was so looking forward to getting to know that body of yours.”

He hit me again, sending me flying backward onto the ground. I reached out for a stick, a rock, or something, but he leaped on me. He straddled my middle and then threw the phone behind my head. It hit a tree, and I heard it break.

The shattering of that phone took away any last hope of survival I had.

He reached behind him and pulled out something.

A very long, very sharp-looking knife.

“This is going to hurt,” he promised.

My arms were pinned at my sides beneath his legs and my hands dug into the earth as he dragged the blade down the center of my chest.

I kicked up my legs, trying to bring them high enough to kick him in the back of the head. He laughed and pushed the blade against me harder.

I swallowed thickly and squeezed my eyes shut.

Death was here.

The sound of her scream had me spinning away from the direction I was heading and sent me running.

She was here. She was close. She screamed for a reason.

I prayed I wasn’t too late and I moved stealthily over the uneven ground, dodging trees and branches as I ran. My heart rate wasn’t erratic. My breathing was steady.

I was trained for this. I was trained to search through the woods, to find my way. I was trained to keep cool in bad situations. I was trained to run toward the danger and not away.

I heard Lex yell, his voice sounding more maniacal than I ever thought he was capable of, and I drew up, stopping my mad dash. I crept through the night, keeping my eyes peeled for a flash of movement, for the outline of a man.

Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the sky, and it reflected off the wicked-looking blade of a knife.

In that split second, my brain processed the scene before me and sketched it out in my head as the sky went dark once more.

Lex had her pinned to the ground as she kicked her legs to no avail. He produced a knife, one that I had no doubt he had nefarious plans for. I thought about pulling out my pistol and taking a shot.

But the girl was wiggling too much; she was kicking too hard. What if I accidentally shot her? She was already wounded enough. I left my gun tucked in the waistband of my jeans and rushed forward. I had the element of surprise and the fact he was distracted immensely on my side.

I was on him before he realized his mistake. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him off her, tossing him onto the ground and then driving my fist into his jaw. It felt really good to punch this sick bastard in the face.

I got in another really good hit before Lex recovered and realized what was happening. With a great roar, he swiped at me with the knife. I pulled back in time to avoid the blade, and he leapt to his feet.

I heard movement behind me and I knew it was Honor, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I kept my eyes trained on Lex and his knife.

“You should have stayed out of it,” he spat.

“It’s over. Just put the knife down.”

In response, he lunged forward, swinging the blade. I spun away, but not before the edge caught on the sleeve of my jacket. The fabric made a sharp ripping sound.

I moved quickly, slamming my arm down across his elbow and making the knife drop to the ground. Then I kicked him in the kneecap and he stumbled.

Both of us pulled out a pistol at the same time. I trained mine on his chest. He trained his on Honor.

“Drop the gun,” I demanded.

“I’ll shoot her before you even pull the trigger,” he said around a sick smile.

“Run,” I told Honor.

When I didn’t hear the scuffle of rushing feet, I yelled, “Run!”

I heard her then, retreating away from us.

Lex pulled the trigger. The sound of a bullet discharging from his weapon filled the air around us. Then he swung the gun at me and squeezed off a shot. I dove to the side and shot off a bullet of my own.

He went down at the same time I did. His bullet missed me, but I prayed to God mine hit him. He didn’t move, and I hoped that meant he was injured.

I heard Honor yell my name, and I pushed off the ground and ran toward her yell. The chances of her being shot were high. If she was injured, I would need to get her out of here stat.

I saw the flash of her white shirt just ahead, and I dropped to my knees beside her.

“Are you hit?”

“Shot?” she asked, her breath coming in short spurts.

“Yes. Are you shot?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

I pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her waist. I started leading her away from Lex. We would have to take the long way around.

We made it about three steps.

Then she shocked the shit out of me by yanking the gun out of my hand and rushing away—back toward Lex.

“Honor!” I yelled, thinking this chick must be out of her mind.

I ran behind her and she tore through the woods, skidding to a stop beside the manmade hole that was dug into the ground.

“Where is he!” she demanded, holding the gun out in front of her like she meant business.

My eyes went to the spot where he fell.

It was empty.

“Come on you sick bastard!” she challenged. “Not so tough when the playing field is even!”

She stole my gun and ran back to where she was being held captive with the intention of shooting her captor?

She was one crazy bitch.

It was awesome.

Nothing around us moved and as awesome as her kickass attitude was, it was also kind of stupid. He had a gun. He could be lining up a shot right that minute.

My gut told me he ran off, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I approached Honor like a cowboy approaching a nervous filly. “Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay now. He ran off.”