Page 30 of Deadly Obsession

TWENTY-FOUR

SERA

Sitting in the passenger seat of James’s truck, all I could smell was him. The warm and comforting mix of cedar, tobacco, and pine. It had my thoughts jumping from demanding we go back and get him, to wanting to just get on the first plane for home.

A sudden bump in the road brought my mind back to the here and now, and the seemingly endless forest surrounding us.

“Wait, flashing lights! You see those red-and-blue flashes? Just up there, around this bend— what the fuck? ” Danielle might as well have read my mind because that was exactly what I was going to say.

The truck slowly came to a stop, and she put it in park as we stared blankly at the scene in front of us.

“Ladies, what’s the trouble? Why have we stopped?” Brian called out to us, the sound of shuffling telling me he was turning around. “Oh, God.”

“That’s Robert’s car… and the sheriff’s truck. Oh, fuck! Is that…?” Danielle opened her door, and before I could protest, she was out and slowly walking towards the other two vehicles.

Not about to let her go anywhere without me, I threw open my door and went after her. “Brian, stay here! We’re just going to check it out!”

“Ladies! Be quick! And don’t go too far!” I could hear the panic in his voice as he scrambled to push himself up, his makeshift splint banging against the metal.

We didn’t get more than a few steps before we saw it.

Just past where Robert clearly ran off the road and wrapped the front of his car around a tree was another body.

A portly man in a well-kept uniform. Aside from the collar of the blouse, which was tinged red at the spot where his head should be.

A large, similarly-colored stain covering the front of his truck, expanding outward from the winch situated on the grill.

My eyes scanned over the man’s uniform. Evidently, Danielle was doing the same thing. Because, at the same time I noticed it, she gasped. “His gun is missing. Whoever did this for sure has the gun. Oh my god! We’re going to die!”

She was on the verge of becoming hysterical. So I did what any friend would do. I grabbed her shoulder with one hand and slapped her right across the face with the other. “Snap out of it!”

Her eyes went wide and she froze. “Ouch…”

“Danielle, where is our gun?” I asked calmly.

She pulled out of my grip and sprinted back. I turned to follow her, but a thought occurred to me as soon as my eyes fell on our vehicle.

“We’re blocked!” I spun towards the constable’s truck, rushing to the driver’s side and yanking the door open.

“Damn it!” I cursed when I realized it was in fact not the driver’s side again.

Instead of wasting more time, I climbed up into the truck and crawled over.

“Fuck!” I punched the steering wheel in front of me.

“What’s wrong?” Danielle panted from behind me with the weapon now in her hands.

“The key’s missing. We can’t move it,” I huffed.

“What about the radio? We can call for help!” she cried out in a tone that could have been mistaken for joy as she jumped in beside me.

She grabbed a coiled cable hanging from a small box under the dashboard.

“Fucking fuck! It’s cut off!” She picked up a palm-sized microphone before tossing it over my head and into the woods.

“Ladies! Ladies! Run back! Now!” Brian’s panicked screams had us hopping down from the constable’s vehicle and looking back towards the truck, where he was struggling to stand while frantically gesturing behind us. “RUN!”

Bang! There was a deafening boom, followed by the shattering of glass as the headlight to Danielle’s left erupted.

“Run, run, run!” Brian continued to scream as Danielle turned around and raised her weapon.

“Run, girl!” she shouted as she fired at something or someone beyond me.

Pain erupted in my shoulder and sliced through the top of my ear, throwing me off balance and causing me to spin to the ground.

“Fuck, Sera! Who the fuck puts buckshot in first! Fuck, girl!” Danielle cried out as I tried to process the growing warm, wet sensation dripping down the side of my neck.

“You fucking shot her! I thought you Americans were born with guns in your hands! Get her in the truck! He’s coming!” Brian’s screams were frantic and, at the moment, dizzying too.

“Sera! I’m so sorry, girl. Come on! I got you. Please hurry,” Danielle said low under her breath as she heaved me up to my feet and draped my arm over her shoulder. Just as we took a staggering step, another bang sounded and the windshield spider-webbed out and shattered.

Danielle propelled me forward, the shotgun in her hand beating against me as I dared to look back.

My eyes honing in on a tall figure standing a few yards away from the constable’s truck.

Dressed in all black, he appeared thin but muscular and he wore the standard Ghost-skull face mask over his entire head while above it rested a stonewashed bone crown.

The tactical vest was decorated with an assortment of glow sticks over the belly, a Union Jack emblem on his sternum.

It was all terrifyingly familiar. Yet the most alarming thing about him was the gun he had aimed in our direction.

Before he could take another shot, Danielle was shoving me into the truck. “Scoot over! Quick!”

I did as I was told, whimpering as my arm grazed the seat. I glanced over to Danielle just in time to see her raise the shotgun and fire.

“Is that KingArthur?” I gasped at the realization.

Callsign: KingArthur was a masktoker who’d been in and out of our group more times than I could keep count of at this point.

One moment, he was saying something extremely outlandish in our Discord server about one of the women.

More often than not, though, his focus was on me or attacking any of the men who responded to my photos in the NSFW section of the chat.

Yet somehow, every time he got kicked from the server, the majority would bring him back in after some half-assed apology and threat of suicide.

When this trip was first being planned, he was meant to attend.

He’d even contributed to the cost of the cabin for the week.

Then, just a month prior to our arrival, he’d backed out.

In an @everyone message, he’d stated that he was taking a break from social media for his mental health and wished us all the best.

A week or two later, he was practically forgotten about. Till now.

I got no reply. The booming thunder of the shotgun pierced my ears but offered comfort at the same time. Just as I raised my head to look through the shattered windshield, Danielle slammed the driver’s side door shut and started the engine.

“Did you hit him?” I asked, easily spotting the panic in my own voice.

“I don’t think so! But I think you’re right! I think that was him!” she yelled out as a loud bang cut through the air and the rest of the windshield fell in on us.

“Reverse, ladies!” Brian screamed.

Danielle changed gears and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal, dirt and rocks kicking up around the truck as it raced backwards at a concerning speed. I glanced over to find Danielle peering over a shoulder while steering the vehicle and somehow keeping us on the road.

“How the fuck are you doing that?” I asked.

“I’m from the country. Grew up off-roading. Driving backwards is second nature,” she answered, but her tone told me I should stop distracting her.

So I focused on the space where the windshield was meant to be, my eyes widening when I saw the figure waving at us. No, at me . His glare was locked directly on me, and judging from the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, I could tell he was smiling.