You Only Die Twice (19 page)

Ahead of
him was Ted, who now was about twenty feet from the structure, his Glock poised
in front of him, whereas Kenneth was about forty feet away from it, his own gun
held in front of him.
 
The closer he
got to the shelter, the more concerns he had with it.
 
He could see the orange blob inside,
which no longer was moving.
 
Instead, it appeared to be lying in a prone position.
 
And then it came to him that they were
just assuming this was Dunning’s shelter.
 
Why?
 
Because they were so
desperate to find her?
 
Probably.
 
But it was hunting
season.
 
They killed a hunter today
and sent him to hell.
 
What if this
wasn’t Dunning’s shelter?
 
What if
she wasn’t in it?
 

What if
someone else was?

“Ted,”
he whispered.

Ted
turned.

Kenneth
put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to pull back.
 
But Ted looked bewildered at the
suggestion and shrugged at him.
 
Kenneth shook his head hard and pointed a finger at his feet, indicating
that Ted should recede and come to his side.

Reluctantly,
he did.

“What?”

“Back
up.
 
Over here, behind these
trees.
 
Go easy.”

They
walked as quietly as they could away from the shelter.
 
When they thought they were at a
distance where their whispering couldn’t be heard, Ted said, “What’s the problem?”

“Dunning
had nothing to do with building that shelter.
 
It’s too sophisticated.
 
She didn’t have time to build something
like that.”

“Obviously.
 
She’s just using it.”

“How do
we know she’s using it?”

Ted
stared at him.

“We
don’t,” Kenneth said.
 
“Anyone could
be in there.
 
We’re getting ahead of
ourselves.
 
We’re not thinking.
 
When we first saw the shelter, we
couldn’t see what it looked like up close.
 
Now we can.
 
Now we know she
didn’t build it.
 
Now we need to
consider the fact that she might not be in it.
 
It could be someone else.”

“Like
who?”

“You
killed four hunters today, Ted.
 
It’s hunting season.
 
There
could be a hunter in there.
 
Listening.
 
Thinking that
what he’s got outside are a couple of deer.
 
Or that moose you ran from today.
 
Look over there.
 
Whoever is in there was sitting up a
moment ago.
 
Now, they’re lying
down.
 
On their stomach?
 
With a rifle?
 
The problem is that we don’t know who is
in there or what they are doing.
 
I
don’t have a good feeling about this.”

A look
of concern crossed Ted’s face.
 
“We
have to find her,” he said.
 
“We
can’t let her get out alive.
 
You
know that.
 
If that’s not her in
there, our chances of finding her dwindle.”

“You
don’t know that.”

“Wrong.
 
I do, especially since they’ve got a
composite of your face, they’re blasting it on television, it will be in
tomorrow’s newspapers.
 
Right now,
we know the police are searching for you.”

“God
will protect us.”

“God
might be sending us a message.”

“About
what?”

“To get
out while we can.”

“Are you
serious?
 
God
led
us to
her.
 
He doesn’t make mistakes.
 
He will help us find her.
 
Have you lost
your
faith?”

It was
like an affront.
 
“Of course, I
haven’t.”

“You
called me on mine earlier, so stop acting as if
you
have.
 
It might be her in that shelter or it could
be someone else.
 
Maybe a hunter
with a rifle.
 
My point in bringing
you back here is that we need to be ready for either situation.
 
We can’t just assume it’s her.”

“Fine.”

“Whoever
is in there is moving again.”

Ted
turned around.
 
The orange blob was
at a right angle again, as if it was sitting upright.
 
Listening.
 
“I can take out whoever it is from
here,” he said.
 
He lifted his Glock
and pressed gently on the trigger.
 
The laser beam that shot out of it connected with the heart of the heat
source they could see through their goggles.
 
“What do you want me to do, Kenneth?”

“You
sure you got a clean shot?”

“I am.”

“If that’s
not her, she won’t hear it unless she’s close by―your gun has a
silencer.
 
But you need to make sure
you can do this.
 
If that is a
hunter in there, they will shoot back.”

“Then
step behind a tree if you’re worried.”

“I
didn’t say I was worried.
 
I’m
giving you advice.”

Ted
started to walk forward, low and steady, his gun poised in front of him with
both hands, the laser a clean line of red carving the distance between him and
the structure.
 
The obvious
risk?
 
Anyone could see the beam
without infrared goggles.
 
“I got
this,” he said.
 

When he
was twenty feet away, the orange blob appeared to stand.

Kenneth
felt a start.
 
Now, the shape was
more clearly defined.
 
Its broad
shoulders and thick waist suggested that it wasn’t a woman, but a man.
 
A hunter.
 
Probably spending the night so he could
get a quiet, early start to the morning.
 

Ted
froze.

A
whistle came softly from the shelter.
 
Was it the man’s way of communicating with them?
 
Were they supposed to whistle back?
 
Is this what hunters did?
 
Kenneth knew they had to buy time and
this might be a way to do so.
 
He
listened to the voice of his inner calling and felt the best way to alleviate
any tension was to whistle back.
 

And so
he did.

“You can
drop that laser,” came a deep voice from within the shelter.
 
“Nothin’ goin’ on here.
 
Just a fellow hunter waitin’ for
mornin’, that’s all.”
 
A beat
passed.
 
The man’s left arm seemed
to disappear behind himself.
 
“You
two ain’t poachin’, are you?
 
‘Cause
that’s against the law.
 
So is
holdin’ a laser on someone who already has identified himself.
 
So, I’ll ask again.
 
Drop the laser.”

But Ted
didn’t.
 
He seemed confused as how
to handle the situation.

“Put
down your gun, Mike,”
Kenneth said in a raised voice to Ted.
 
“Don’t get freaked out.
 
It’s just another hunter―”

Ted
fired his gun.
 

In the
goggle’s ghostly green light, Kenneth saw splinters of wood burst like
fireworks and pinwheel into the darkness, but the man inside didn’t fall
because he hadn’t been hit.
 

Ted
fired again and the man appeared to drop to his knee and swing his arms around
himself.
 
The shelter was too thick
for a Glock to penetrate it.
 
It was
made of thick logs that could absorb a bullet’s impact, which is what it did.

The man
moved his body in Ted’s direction.

“He’s
got a rifle,” Kenneth said.
 
“Get
down!”

Ted
dropped for cover just as the side of the shelter blew apart, exposing a ragged
hole through which Kenneth now could see the man inside.
 
He was somewhere in his fifties, wore
goggles of his own and rushed the hole with his rifle held in front of
him.
 

He took
aim at Ted, who was scrambling to get to his feet and run, and fired a single
shot.
 
Ted’s head exploded upon
contact.
 
His face caved in on
itself and blew out the back end.
 
Unbelieving, Kenneth watched his longtime partner drop his gun and fall
hard to the ground, his unseeing meatface exposed to the heavens and to the map
of stars that shined down upon him.
 
He was dead.
 
Dead.

Dead.
 
He can’t be dead.

In the
trees that surrounded the shelter, the women appeared again and they started to
move toward Kenneth.
 
They tittered
at him.
 
Others clucked their
tongues at him.
 
Maria Fuentes led
the group forward in such a way that suggested their feet weren’t touching the
forest floor.
 
Like a fog, they
rolled over it and drifted forward while Fuentes, in what was left of her
stripper costume, turned to look at him.

“It’s
all falling apart for you, Kenneth,” she said.
 
Now, her pink feather boa was tied
around her waist.
 
Now, her
bedazzled pasties were removed so her pert, silocone-filled breasts were
revealed to him.
 
“Right now, your
friend is in hell, where he belongs.
 
You’ll be next.
 
This is the natural
order of things.
 
I told you it
would happen.
 
I told you you
couldn’t kill us all and get away with it.”

Kenneth
looked at the hunter, who was turning left and right, searching for him.
 
“You ain’t the only poachers out here,
assholes,” the man said.
 
“Now, come
on.
 
Come on, baby.
 
I know you’re out there.
 
Let’s see what you got.”

Ted is
dead.
 
Ted is dead.
 
Ted is dead.

“Kill
them
!” Kenneth
shouted.
 
“Kill the women!
 
They’re all around you!
 
Don’t you see them?
 
It’s not me you want―it’s them!”

The
hunter shifted his rifle in Kenneth’s direction.

Shaken,
Kenneth raised his gun and fired first.
 
It was a blind shot.
 
A
wasted shot.
 
But the man didn’t
know that.
 
The sound of a gun going
off could render a man useless for a moment.
 
And this man didn’t have the Lord on his
side.
 

(Ted
didn’t, either.)

Instead,
he reeled back, stopped, checked himself, then quickly took aim.
 
Before he could shoot, Kenneth stormed
the shelter in a rage
 

(
Ted
is dead.
 
Ted is dead.
 
Ted is dead)

and
fired in rapid succession until his gun went silent.

The
magazine was empty.
 
He looked
dumbly at the gun, then reached into his pocket for another magazine while all
around him came a caustic chorus of cruel laughter.
 

He
willed himself to ignore them.
 
He
wasn’t sure if the hunter was dead or alive or bleeding out and thus somewhere
in the in between.
 
Feeling exposed,
Kenneth fell flat to the ground, but when he did so, his chin hit the earth and
the force knocked his goggles free.
 

Now it
was pitch dark.

Ted is
dead.
 
Ted is dead.
 
Ted is dead.

He could
hear movement in the shelter.
 

Ted is
dead.
 
Ted is dead.
 
Ted is dead.

He heard
feet start to knock against wood.

Ted is
dead.
 
Ted is dead.
 
Ted is dead.

Kenneth
patted the ground for the goggles, found them, but before he could put them on,
far off in the distance, just to his right, a bright flash of orange light lit
the sky in such a way that Kenneth Berkowitz was certain that Satan himself had
just arrived in these woods.