From the dirt road, Gunner had taken a cross trail that finally opened up into a clearing. The shed was supposed to be here, but he found instead an open spot. Moving in, he noticed the ash field where that building should have been. Its coals were dark, though still warm and smoldering. He had to quiet the welling fears telling him Greg might have been inside when it burned.
Greg was alive he assured himself. The killer had not kept him alive to let him die here. He had to figure out where his brother could be. If this was part of the killer’s game, he had to guess the next move.
As he glanced around the opening for some inspiration, he noticed a small mound off to the side. It warranted a closer look. Gunner couldn’t remember there being a dirt pile, or a large rock, or even a log. Nor could he imagine finding Reese’s decapitated body.
All three of his friends had lost their life because of him – because of the decision he made a few weeks ago to leave his brother behind. His friends trusted him, and they had paid for his cowardice. Even Raymond, a stranger he didn’t even know, offered his life to buy Gunner’s escape. If there was any fortune to be had, the old man might have prevailed and the killer was a threat no more.
But the killer stepped into the clearing. Gunner knew he could not depend on fortune. His brother had only him to depend on now, and the killer was the obstacle standing in his way. The battered man had recovered his ax and began swinging it at Gunner who could only step backwards to keep out of its range.
A few more steps, and Gunner’s foot landed awkwardly onto the edge of the coal field. A charred fragment of board crumbled beneath his foot as he leaned back to dodge the ax. His balance failed, and Gunner tumbled onto the smoldering pile. Some of the embers sprang to life burning through his clothes, and searing his skin. With the killer readying for another strike, the pain had to wait as his only move was to roll over and out of the ax’s path.
His shirt sleeve contacted a secretly active hot spot and ignited. Other portions followed, soon engulfing much of his shirt. Gunner pushed against the searing coals, bringing himself to his feet once again. As the killer readied his ax, Gunner ripped his shirt off, flinging the flaming cloth at his attacker. The killer only ducked out of its way, but it stalled him just long enough for Gunner to take a lead once again into the forest.
Gunner’s body stung head to toe with burns. The cool, nighttime air gave no relief. But still he had to push on. The killer was close behind. Thoughts of his friends and their spilt blood kept him going, ignoring his burns, hiding the fatigue in his overworked legs, driving out the drops of doubt drowning his mind. The mixture of adrenaline and fear kept him running, and hoping that this path led to some salvation.
What Zach and Reese had previously discovered, Gunner was about to uncover himself. He didn’t have the benefit of a flashlight as they had, so when he reached the river bank, he remained unaware until he had already tumbled into the waters. The killer knew better than to make the same mistake. He had stopped at the water’s edge to gauge Gunner’s next move.
Gunner fumbled to get his footing and his bearings. His momentum had taken him far enough out where the current tugged him even further into the stream. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go back to where he fell in. Though he couldn’t see across the darkness to the other side, it seemed the better option. He tried to swim, but the current picked up speed and strength. His arms failed him. Gunner had to settle for staying afloat and allowing the current to carry him away from the killer.
He had been pulled far enough into the water where even the first bank had disappeared into the darkness. If the killer were following him along the bank, he couldn’t tell. But the icy cold water felt good on his burned body. Gunner couldn’t complain about this predicament. He accepted the current, glad to let it take him where it intended.
It couldn’t last forever though. Greg was still in the woods somewhere, still in danger. Gunner feared the killer might refocus attention on his brother. He began swimming with the current, angling his body to let the river itself guide him to shore. As his feet found the river bottom and the bank once again became visible, he detected no sign of the killer. It was safe to pull himself out.
Gunner searched his surroundings, nervously trying to figure where the camp was. All he needed was the general direction. If he missed it, he would eventually hit that dirt road. Any doubt about the location would disappear at the point.
But fortune would grant him one victory, placing the campsite squarely into his path. He crouched beside Kimberly’s body, finding it colder than the near dead fire in the stone ring. Any magic in this forest was too late to resurrect her this time.
He searched around and retrieved the gun he had lost in the bush. Then hid thoughts turned to Raymond. He wondered if he would find the old man in a similar state as his friends, or if the killer was more concerned with him to finish the job. A crack in the woods, would not allow him to find out just yet.
Gunner readied his gun as the crack heralded fresh footsteps. Soon the killer presented himself, his ax hanging proudly in his hand. They stood on opposite sides of the fire pit sizing each other up. If it was a contest over who would make the first move, the killer took the initiative. He swung the ax upward over his head, and started towards Gunner, almost as if he planned to march right through the fire itself.
Gunner would not let him get even that close. He fired off a round, connecting with the killer’s head. The monster dropped his ax and crumpled to the ground. Gunner drew closer, keeping aim. When he was satisfied, he emptied the remaining rounds into the killer’s head. There would be no resurrection for him either.