Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,52

puts up his arms in surrender and says, “Richard, you need to think this through. You don’t want my murder on your hands. Who will take care of Ember when you go to jail? You think she can survive out in that world without you and me? Think of Ember right now.” He glances out the window and then back at the gun. “You know the police are coming. You know this. So, think about the bigger picture. Think about what happens if you kill me. What happens to your daughter?”

“Both of you walk,” he demands as he points toward the front door of the schoolhouse. “Don’t try anything stupid, son,” he warns. “I’ll shoot your dick off before I kill you. I won’t make your death quick. Listen to every command I say or else.”

“Papa, you have this all wrong,” I try to lie again, but I walk beside Christopher toward the door as I do.

“Out,” Papa demands as we exit into the snow. “To the mill,” he says, stabbing the gun into Christopher’s back.

The mill?

No!

He’s going to push Christopher into the pits! That’s the consequence. That’s what we get for trying to escape. Even if the couple reaches the police, it will be too late. Christopher will be burned alive by the acid. He’ll be dead! No!

The chain rattling between our ankles remind me that there is no chance of running. The gun stabbing Christopher’s back as we shuffle our way through the snow brings me to a reality I can’t face. There’s no hope. No hope. I also know that once Papa Rich has his mind set on something, there is no convincing him otherwise.

Christopher has failed him.

Consequences must be given.

Blood must be shed.

The Devil must be conquered.

No!

I reach out and hold Christopher’s hand. My last connection. My last touch of the man I have grown to love. He doesn’t deserve this and yet… he will pay for his act. I know there is no way out. No way will Papa allow this crime to go unpunished.

“Papa,” I begin, but then stop speaking as we enter the mill. I know my breath is wasted. I’ve been here before. I know what happens.

“In the garden of evil, someone must pay,” Papa says as he leads us to the dangerous acid pit that sits in the middle of the mill.

We walk past the warning signs and even yellow caution tape. We maneuver around the broken planks that hang all around us. It’s Hell we have entered.

It’s dark.

It’s cold.

And as we approach the pit closer, I see what the Devil has waiting for us.

“You son of a bitch,” Christopher says, as he sees what I do. “You’re sick. You’re evil.”

“I’m merely the messenger of God. Someone must pay for our sins,” Papa Rich says.

On the other side of the pit is the couple we met tied at the ankles and wrists. They are also tied to a wooden beam, helpless and afraid. Their mouths are gagged though I don’t see the point in that. No one is around who can hear their screams. When they see us, they both try to struggle against their binds with absolute terror in their eyes. It’s almost as if they hope we can save them.

We can’t save you.

“Trespassers must be punished,” Papa Rich begins like he has in the past when he’s about to push guilty tourists to their death.

“No!” Christopher shouts. “Let them go! They did nothing.”

Papa Rich gives a slanted grin. “Did you think you would get away with it? Did you think I didn’t know they were here? Did you think I’d allow for you to steal my daughter and drive away in that Jeep?” He shakes his head. “No. Amazing how fast you can disable a vehicle with a few pulls of some cables. And shocking how trusting the two were when I pulled up beside them in my ranger’s truck. They thought I was there to help.” He laughs. “You all underestimated your opponent, and now must pay the price.”

He reaches down to a bunch of bags by his feet with the gun still pointing at Christopher. Pulling out rope, he begins to wrap it around our ankle chain and then ties us to another beam directly across from the couple.

“Put out your wrists,” Papa demands.

Christopher, who appears stunned as his eyes remain pinned on the innocent couple across the way, puts out his wrists. I do the same and Papa ties us both with the rope. It’s tight