Page 18 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When the world stopped spinning, Nat assessed his current situation: stuck in the woods, hunted by a sadistic lunatic, hands tied, and his sense of panic and imminent demise was slowly overtaking his ability to think. He’d passed out in a thicket of evergreen shrubs that scratched his bare skin, and his lower back screamed for some reason. He couldn’t feel around, but he’d probably landed on a rock.

He was panting again by the time he’d rolled onto his knees. Austin was still shouting, the noise bouncing around, but he swore it was getting closer. Nat stumbled to his feet and lurched against a tree to maintain balance. God, he wanted a drink. He was parched and bleeding, his tenuous grip on lucidity stretched thin. An hour ago, he was sipping soda in a safe, cool home; now he was on an episode of Naked and Afraid: North Carolina .

He needed a hiding place, but this area wasn’t well known for its caves. Nat started walking away from the sound of Austin’s angry shouts, careful not to trip or make noise, passing trees new and old, fallen logs and piles of decaying leaves, signs of an undisturbed wilderness. He had no idea if this part of the mountain was privately owned or maintained by the state. It wasn’t deer season, but that didn’t mean hunters weren’t out there looking for something, right?

No idea. Nat hated guns and couldn’t imagine killing an innocent animal, unless he was starving in the wilderness.

A bit farther ahead, an old tree had fallen forward and been caught by another tree’s split trunk, close to the ground, creating a kind of lean-to shape. The fallen tree was long dead, its bark dry and gray, but vegetation had grown up around it, creating what looked like a shelter beneath. It wasn’t high, maybe four feet off the ground at its tallest point, but it was something.

Nat surged forward, his heart skipping with relief that he was right. Thick bushes had grown around the two trees, like a magical gnome house hidden by the forest floor. Nat poked around until he found a spot wide enough to crawl through without disturbing the brush too much.

The air beneath the fallen tree was humid and thick with the odors of dirt and rot, and he ignored the bugs that were probably skittering all around him. He crouched there and listened. Austin was still shouting, but the volume was impossible to tell now. Eventually, Austin would have to give up, especially when the sun started going down. It had been a little after three when Nat was kidnapped. The drive here took at least thirty minutes, if not closer to forty. They only had a few hours of daylight left.

Nat would sleep out here all night if it meant surviving. Sooner or later, Zack would come home, find Chase—in whatever state Chase was, and God, he hoped Chase was okay—and call the police. The cameras would show Austin kidnapping him. Eventually, someone would find Chase’s car. They’d send search and rescue. Nat just had to fucking survive until then.

The knife was too awkward to use on the ruined t-shirt, so Nat carefully put the knife on a piece of moss and started attacking the knots with his teeth. They weren’t double-knotted and began to give. His front teeth hurt from all the pulling and ripping, but he got the shirt loose. It still hung around his wrists, but it wasn’t blocking the tape so tightly.

One step at a time. One moment at a time. With his hands free, his survival odds went way up.

He wiped his sweaty fingers on his shorts, dismayed by the blood smears on the left side. But he couldn’t make himself look at his shoulder again. The constant sting-throb would not let him forget the wound.

“Come on, you can do this,” he whispered as he picked up the knife. Positioned it as before, the blade against the underside of the tape. Still a lot of layers, still not much of an angle for pressure, but he began to saw at it anyway. He sawed bit by bit, ignoring the ache in his wrists and the cramps in his fingers. An insect buzzed by his ear, and he barely flinched. He’d rather face a hornet’s nest than allow Austin to touch him ever again.

A millimeter at a time, the layers of tape began to fray and give way. The knife slipped once, piercing Nat’s left palm nearly an inch deep, and he stifled the urgent need to scream. He wiped the blade on his shorts, ignored the blood streaming from his hand, and resumed sawing at the tape.

Austin’s shout got closer.

He sawed faster, slipped and stabbed himself again, wiped the blade, and kept on going. His entire world was that tape. The blood running down his wrist didn’t matter; pain wouldn’t matter if he was killed. When the blade reached halfway, he dropped the knife and began twisting, yanking, twisting. He used his teeth and ripped more. It was giving…

The tape tore in half. Nat’s whole body jerked with joy, and he bumped his head on the fallen tree. Skull pounding, Nat finally freed his hands from the duct tape and his mangled t-shirt. He finished ripping the shirt completely in half and wound it around his left hand to stanch the bleeding from those two gouges. Felt his back where it still hurt from his fall against a rock and felt another wound; his fingers returned with blood on them.

Fuck, he was a mess. An alive mess, though, and that was everything. He’d fight until his last goddamn breath to get home to Zack.

The pocketknife was his only weapon, but it was better than nothing. Not much against Austin and that gun, though. Now that his hands were free, he could try running again. Maybe try circling back south so he could pass Austin and find the creek. If Austin was this deep in the woods, too, then no one was near the car or the road. He couldn’t drive the car without keys, but the road meant possible rescue.

No one was going to find him in the woods tonight—except maybe Austin.

He had a good hiding spot with thick coverage. Everything in him wanted to lay down and sleep for a while, especially his throbbing head. Even if he had to stay out all night with the creepy crawlies, owls, and whatever else lived in the North Carolina mountains, it was safer than wandering out there with the world’s most dangerous predator: a pissed-off human sociopath.

“Nathaniel!”

The proximity of Austin’s voice sent Nat’s head into the log again, and he dropped to the damp earth, clutching his throbbing skull. His entire body coiled up tight when he heard a branch snap way too close for comfort. He peered out through the grass and debris and brush hiding his little Hobbit hole. The view didn’t show much, just a few tree trunks and the underbrush.

A bird screeched high in the trees.

“Nat! Where the fuck are you?”

Nat held his breath. Even his heartbeat sounded too loud against the rush of blood in his ears. Austin was close. Nat wanted to bolt, to get as far away from the man as possible. But maybe this was the time to freeze, to remain hidden and hope. The wrong choice would get him dead.

Please, please, please.

Booted feet and jeans stepped into his line of sight. Ice landed in Nat’s gut. He stared at those boots, willing them to keep walking, to ignore the fallen tree and keep searching far beyond this precious hiding place. Austin dropped to one knee, the hand holding the gun coming into view. Nat’s chest ached with the need to breathe. Adrenaline surged, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth.

The gun hand jerked upward, and it seemed like Austin’s torso twisted in another direction. “The fuck?” he said.

The fuck what?

Austin stood, feet shuffling in the dirt as he turned, facing away from Nat, and Nat couldn’t stop it. He released the breath he was holding, and sweet oxygen filled his lungs. He held that in, though, confused and so far beyond terrified they needed to invent a new word for it.

“Hello?” Austin shouted in a fake, high-pitched voice.

Either Austin was banking on Nat being stupid enough to run toward a friendly-sounding voice, or someone else was in the woods with them. Nat didn’t dare to hope for the latter.

“Help! Hello!” That same fake voice. Nat strained to listen, and he was almost certain he heard an answering shout. But from who? A hiker? Austin darted over to the nearest thick tree trunk and pressed close. Nat had a slightly better view of him that cut off around mid-chest. The gun hand was out of sight, which meant he was holding it up.

Ready to aim?

Some innocent hiker was about to walk into a dangerous trap. Surely, Austin wouldn’t murder a stranger to hide the fact that he was out here with a gun, hunting his ex through the wilderness. He wouldn’t…would he?

Yes. Austin would. He was a dangerous animal, and when cornered, dangerous animals fought back, no matter who was in front of them. Austin proved it by crouching again, using both hands to brace the gun, aiming somewhere beyond Nat’s view. Then Nat heard it. The other person’s voice.

Clearly shouting Nat’s name.

Zack.

Zack had found him, by some miracle, but now he was walking into an ambush. Nat looked out the other side of his hiding place. Another pair of shoes, shiny work shoes, moving his way. He wasn’t being careful, he was running, because he thought Austin’s modified shouts were coming from Nat.

Austin was going to kill Zack.

Fuck!

“Zack, stop!” Nat screamed as loudly as he could with his raw throat.

A gunshot echoed in the quiet, and the dirt erupted by Nat’s hand. He yelped and jerked away. Then two men shouted, thudded, and the scuffle boomed like thunder in Nat’s ringing ears. He scrambled out of his hiding spot. Zack and Austin were tumbling around on the ground, snarling and grunting, trading furious punches. Neither of them seemed to have the gun, and they were struggling for control of a baseball bat.

Nat cast about for the gun, which wasn’t easy to spot, all black in the darkening forest, its ground covered in last year’s leaf fall and broken branches. The knife. He reached back under the log, feeling for the knife he’d left. His fingers closed around the handle, and he sat up. Turned. Austin drove the bat into Zack’s stomach. Zack gasped and bent. Nat screamed when Austin clipped the side of Zack’s head with the bat.

Zack hit the ground with a sickening thud.

A brand-new, sweeping rage filled Nat, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He barreled toward Austin, who wasn’t prepared for Nat to slam his shoulder right into Austin’s gut, sending them both sprawling to the forest floor. Something snapped where they landed. Nat rolled left, right on top of Austin’s arm. Austin screamed and released the bat. Nat twisted his upper body and raised his right hand, prepared to plunge the pocketknife into Austin’s throat.

Austin’s lower body lurched, and Nat couldn’t avoid the solid kick to his back from Austin’s booted foot. It must have connected with his existing wound, because the jolt of agony that tore up Nat’s spine made his vision blur. He lurched sideways, away, and fell on his left side. Austin was immediately on him, prying the knife from his hand. Nat’s left hand was trapped awkwardly beneath his own body. Austin punched Nat with his own left hand, the blow grazing his chin, but Nat fought.

He fought for his life.

Austin punched him again, right in the ear, and Nat shrieked. “Zack!”

Nat was losing. Austin ripped the knife from him. The silver blade glinted in a small shaft of sunlight for a fraction of a second before Austin plunged it at Nat’s chest. Intense pressure stunned Nat into relaxing all limbs. He stared stupidly up at Austin’s wild-eyed, open-mouthed face, unsure. Until Austin pulled and the white-hot agony of the blade sliding back out tore another shriek from Nat.

“Goddamn you!” Zack.

Austin moved out of sight. Shouts, thuds, threats. Zack made a distressed sound.

No.

Nat wanted to crawl under a pile of leaves and sleep, but not yet. Not until Zack was safe. He skimmed his fingers through the brush, seeking, hoping. Maybe it was nearby. He had to try. He rolled and crawled, desperate to find it, uncaring of his body’s overwhelming exhaustion. The battle continued nearby, like two gladiators fighting to the death. He couldn’t let Zack die, not for him.

He brushed something smooth and metal. Closed his fingers around the butt. All except the finger he slid into the trigger guard. Rested over the trigger. With more energy than he thought he possessed, Nat sat up. Focused.

Zack was on his back, using both hands to fend off Austin’s downward attack, that bloody knife pointed at Zack’s throat. Nat had only fired a gun one time, when Zack took him to a gun range two weeks ago. He’d hated it then, and he hadn’t been a great shot. Today, he didn’t have a choice.

He used his bandaged left hand to steady his right, did his best to aim with slightly blurred vision, and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Zack had panicked, and it was about to cost him his life.

He’d searched the woods with no real sense of direction, other than following the distant voice that came intermittently. The acoustics of the forest made it difficult to be sure if he was heading the right way, but Nat was out there. His gut was screaming at him that Nat was in trouble, and if he waited for the sheriff, Nat would die.

Then a shaft of sunlight glinted off something red, and Zack froze. A smear of fresh blood on the leaves of a waist-tall bush sent his adrenaline into overdrive. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from yelling, “Nat!” The lone word bounced around him, the forest mocking him for his stupidity.

The forest surprised him by answering back. The word was indecipherable, and he strained to hear more. Another shout, higher pitched, yelling for help. “Nat! Where are you?” He started running in what he hoped was the right direction

“Nat!”

“Zack, stop!

Yeah, he’d fucked up. The gunshot had startled him into freezing, and Austin had tackled him. Gotten control of the bat, and before Zack could reach for the pepper spray or Taser, he’d been clocked in the head. Zack had been too stunned to move, until he’d heard Nat scream his name. He’d sat up in time to see Austin stab Nat in the chest.

Zack used to pride himself on being logical, on thinking his actions through, and never reacting in anger.

All those traits flew out the door.

He didn’t know what he hollered as he tackled Austin to the ground. His mind twisted into a storm of black fury, his other weapons were forgotten, and nothing mattered except gaining control of that knife. Plunging it into Austin’s throat and twisting. Then maybe into his dick for good measure.

But Zack wasn’t a fighter. Self-defense wasn’t the same as down-and-dirty, backyard brawling, which was exactly what Austin was dishing out. Austin had Zack on his back, the bloody knife a violent push-pull between them. The Taser was in his pocket, but Zack needed both hands to keep that knife at bay.

Zack made the mistake of looking into Austin’s black, empty eyes. Eyes that radiated coldness and determination and Zack’s looming death.

His entire body jolted from the sound of the gunshot, as much from the noise as the sheer shock. Who was shooting? The sheriff? Austin stopped trying to stab him, and a second shot sent Austin careening sideways, taking the knife with him. Zack lurched in the opposite direction and crabbed a few feet away. Austin had blood on his bare chest, and he wasn’t moving.

“Zack?”

Nat.

“Nat?” He twisted onto his hands and knees, and his stunned brain took a moment to catch up with his eyes. Nat was sitting straight up, blood and dirt covering his bare chest and soaking into his khaki shorts. He held a black handgun straight out, arms shaking from the effort, wild-eyed and pale. His shoulder was bleeding, his left hand was wrapped in ripped, bloody fabric, and Zack was sure he saw bruising on Nat’s throat, too. “Christ, Nat.”

“Is he dead?” Zack saw the question more than he heard it, Nat’s voice was stretch so thin.

“Um.” The last thing Zack wanted to do right now was touch Austin, but he crawled over to the man. Pulled the knife from his limp fingers and tossed it toward his feet. Austin’s eyes were closed, his chest still. Zack pressed his fingers first to Austin’s wrist, then to his neck. “I think so. No pulse.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Nat’s soul-deep wail chilled Zack to the bone, and his heart seized up when Nat collapsed. He hit the ground in a heap and didn’t move.

“Nat!” Zack’s cell began vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it as he scrambled over to Nat. Nat stared up at the sky with wide, wet eyes, his throat working without producing words. Zack yanked his own shirt off and pressed it over the wound on Nat’s chest, the skin cris-crossed with dozens of red welts. Zack’s own fear and panic tried to override his better senses. “Fuck, what did he do to you?”

Nat blinked twice, then raised a trembling hand to wrap around Zack’s wrist. “How are you here?”

“Chase called me.”

“Chase. Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine.” The utter relief in Nat’s eyes added even more fuel to Zack’s already blazing hatred for Austin, who’d obviously tortured Nat with not knowing what he’d done to Chase. “He called and said you guys heard a car alarm going off, but it wasn’t his car. You went outside to check out the noise. After a while, it stopped, but you never came back. When Chase finally got to the door, the car was gone, so he called me.”

“He snuck up on me. Choked me out. Woke up in the car.”

Zack snarled. He stroked Nat’s forehead and cheek with his free hand, careful of the red, damaged skin around his cracked lips. “I am so goddamn sorry, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t do this.”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t stop him from hurting you.”

“Never will again.” Tears spilled from both eyes and down the sides of his face. “Hurts.”

“I know.” Zack pulled out his phone, ignored the texts and voice message, and called the deputy’s number. “Yes, it’s Zack Matteson. I found Nathaniel and Austin. I don’t know our exact direction from the creek, but I think I walked north.”

“All right, Mr. Matteson, are either parties injured?” the deputy asked.

“Yes, they’re both injured.” Zack couldn’t bring himself to say Austin was dead. That was technically for a coroner to declare, and Nat was barely keeping himself together. “I can’t wait for you to find us. I’m going to carry Nat out of here.”

“What about the other person? Can he walk out?”

“No. I don’t give a shit what happens to him.”

“Mr. Matteson, can you leave some sort of marker for search and rescue to find? Something in one of the trees.”

“I’ll find something.”

“All right. You know, it really is safer for you to stay put and let us come to you. When you’re lost in the woods?—”

“I’ll leave something.” Zack ended the call then cast about, but all he saw were trees, branches, brush, grass, and nothing very colorful. Austin and Nat were both shirtless, and Zack wasn’t going to steal a dead man’s jeans. In the end, he took off his undershirt and tied it as high up in a tree as he could, wiped some blood on it, and made the display as obvious as possible. If rescue didn’t find Austin before the wildlife did…well, not Zack’s problem.

“Come on, up we go.” Zack tried to be gentle as he gathered Nat into his arms, but Nat still screamed and openly sobbed as Zack stood and got him situated. Nat wasn’t heavy, exactly, but he was upset, shaking, and they were on very uneven ground. Nat buried his face in Zack’s neck and cried loud, wrenching sobs that seemed to come from a deep, dark place. So much deeper than just today’s assault.

“I’ve got you, we’re okay,” became Zack’s whispered mantra on the hike back. He did his best to use the setting sun for guidance. Dusk was settling in, and Nat had fallen silent by the time they finally reached the creek.

And heard voices.

“Here! We’re here!” he shouted. “Please!”

More voices, louder. Zack waded across the creek, which came up to his knees at one point, but he didn’t care. The cold water felt amazing, and it got them a few steps closer to safety and medical attention. But his strength was waning. His head throbbed from multiple blows. Zack stumbled and nearly dropped Nat. “I’m here, please!”

Unwilling to risk hurting Nat further by falling, Zack knelt as carefully as he could and cradled Nat close, while continuing to call for help. Help eventually came. Men and women in uniforms, Zack didn’t care who or what. Someone had a stretcher, and they insisted on taking Nat from him. Nat whined but didn’t protest. Zack tried to tell them what had happened, but his concentration was fraying.

He could have been shot, stabbed, killed any number of ways today.

Things tunneled out briefly, and then he was in the backseat of a car, a thin blanket over his shoulders. Nat wasn’t there. Someone was seated next to him, and a blood pressure cuff was around his upper arm. Paramedic. Said something about shock.

Is that what this is? Shock over the last few hours?

“Nat,” he finally said, as he reclaimed control of his addled brain. “Where’s Nat?”

“On his way to the hospital,” the medic replied. “He was injured pretty badly. Sir, do you have any injuries we can’t see?”

“No.” Other than some punches and scrapes, and that bat to the head, Zack wasn’t hurt. “Did they find Austin?”

“A few minutes ago.”

Zack didn’t ask; he knew the bastard was dead. “There’s a camera down by the creek. Did they find it, too? It’s probably got evidence.” If it had been recording whatever happened on that blanket…fuck. No, he couldn’t think about that right now, or he’d explode with rage.

“The deputies are processing the scene as we speak. How’s your head?”

“It’s fine.” It hurt like hell but was nothing a few ibuprofen and a long nap couldn’t fix. “Can I go to the hospital? I need to see Nat.”

“Soon, I think. They need to get a brief statement from you first.” He tilted his head at the various sheriffs and other uniformed folks outside the car.

Zack stared at them, annoyed but also relieved that this part of the nightmare was drawing to a close. “I’ll answer their questions. First, I need to make a phone call. Please?”

“A lawyer?”

“No.” Zack had nothing to hide. “A friend.”