explosive bang she is expecting, a small clicking sound. She pulls again. It’s empty. She pulls and pulls. The gun is empty. She thought she reloaded. She looks down at the weapon confused. Ben heard it. Was it a cricket? No, the sound of an empty gun. He looks up and catches sight of her as she drops from the tree and disappears. Ben accelerates through the forest after her.
Darting left, she realizes that with no gun she must hide. Moving around is making too much noise and she looks for a place. Ahead a couple of downed trees and a few rocks form a bit of a covey. She settles into it. Minutes go by. No movement. No noise. Ben learns very quickly, how to place his foot on the center of the rock, as he moves so if it is unsteady it doesn’t buckle. He learns some leaves make crackling sounds when he steps on them and others are silent. He learns, like she learned, and at a staggering speed. Where Alison hides there is a small pool of rainwater in a cup of granite and it looks like life itself to her. Her throat is sticking together. She leans in and puts her lips to the pool. She drinks and it is heavenly as it soothes her. Ben sees a footprint near the fallen logs. Stealthily, he moves around the little cubby. From an angle to the right, he can get a view through some branches and he sees her bent over the water. He puts his weapon in his pants. He moves in. His hands itch. He needs to kill her with his bare hands. He will not deny himself that pleasure. He needs to close his hands around her throat and slowly strangle the breath out of her while she looks him in the eyes knowing what is happening. Alison lifts her head from the pool. The first rays of the rising sun break through the trees behind Ben and cast his shadow across the rock in front of her. He’s right there! She lunges out of the cubby. He dives and grabs her shin. They both go down. She bends at the waist over a log. He goes down hard on the granite. He reaches to grabs her other leg. She clutches a medium-sized stone into her fist. Eyes! Eyes! She whips her hand back and strikes him in the eye. He recoils for a split second. She crawls over the log and stumbles to her feet. She goes! He is right behind her. She breaks out of the woods and stops just short of sheer drop to the beach fifty feet below. Ben emerges from the woods and walks deliberately toward her. Taking his time. Step after slow step, he walks toward her slowly, because she is trapped and he wants her to feel it. She drops her hands to her sides. They stand looking at each other. His family dead. Hers soon to be. The waterlogged ground shifts from Ben’s added weight. She sees what’s happening. In his rage and triumph, flooded with the euphoria of revenge, he sees only her. She jumps with all her might sideways and catches a small limb of a baby tree with one hand as the ground triggered by his added weight gives way to a mudslide that carries Ben down the drop. She pulls herself up to solid ground. On her hands and knees, she crawls to the edge looks down. He stands directly below, his entire body black with mud, his eyes white fire. His hatred sears her skin.
The roar of two helicopters interrupts the force field created by their keen singular concentration. They both look to the sky and see the police choppers zooming in. Then, locked eye-to-eye in a scorching intensity Ben speaks softly and even though his words are too faint to be heard over the roar and the distance, somehow, she hears him as if he were whispering directly into her ear. “It’s not over.” And in an instant, he is gone. Frozen on her hands and knees, she does not move. Her eyes remain glued to the spot where she lost sight of Ben. She waits. She watches. She could not tell you how much time passed before she hears something behind her.
“Alison?” Hank approaches with caution because while he can see it is his wife, something unnamable warns him to be careful. Alison doesn’t move from the edge.