Bad Beat

Chapter 1:

The snow crunched under our boots as we walked out on the ice across the lake. It was freezing this morning, but getting fish for dinner couldn’t wait. The distant sound of John chopping wood broke the silence of the great outdoors. We were in one of the most secluded regions of Canada, just living off the land and trying to survive. The cold air whipped around us, sending chills through my thick winter coat. Even with snow boots on, my feet were already cold. 

Patrick, my son, walked slowly beside me. He’d never gotten over his fear of walking on ice, but at this time of year, the ice was thick and there was nothing to worry about. We were about twenty feet from our fishing hole when I noticed everything had gone silent. I stopped, pressing my hand to Patrick’s shoulder. He stilled beside me, neither of us saying a word. There was no need to. My eyes scanned the trees around the lake, searching for anything that might seem out of place. 

Breathing heavily against the winter mask wrapped around my face, I tried to quiet my breathing so I could hear better. I could feel Patrick’s gaze sweeping the area too. He was well aware of the dangers by now, and knew what to look for, despite being only ten years old. A bird chirped above us and I jerked my head up to see it swoop down, searching for food. Then the sound of chopping returned and I finally took a breath. Patrick visibly exhaled also. Laughing off my paranoia, we started walking across the lake again.

“How much longer are we staying here?” Patrick asked.

He didn’t whine about our constant moving or the fact that he had no real life. He understood what was at stake and did his best to adapt every time we moved. He just wanted to fully understand the plans. It kept the fear at bay.

“We’ll stay until John says it’s time to move on.”

“He hasn’t said anything yet?”

“No,” I sighed. I was tired of the cold also, but I understood why we were here. It was easier to hide. We stayed off the grid, none of us carrying cell phones or any other kind of technology. Sometimes I wished I could just go to a pay phone and dial my parents’ number just to hear them speak. I made that mistake once. I’d never make it again.

We were just feet from our fishing hole when I felt a prickling sensation on my neck. I stilled, pressing my hand to Patrick’s shoulder again. This time, I knew what I was feeling. The forest had gone quiet again. The chopping had ceased. We were being hunted. 

Trying to breathe as calmly as possible, I scanned the surrounding area, quickly trying to find the threat. I spun around, growing more anxious by the moment. Patrick could feel it too. He gripped my hand, pulling his gun out of his holster. Quickly checking the gun, he held it in both hands, just like John had taught him. This wasn’t his first time holding a gun, nor his first time having to fire one. My son had grown up under the worst circumstances, but he knew how to handle himself for his age and height. He couldn’t take on a grown man, but he knew how to survive until help came. 

I kept slowly spinning, trying to find the threat, Patrick at my back doing the same. Where was he? I knew he would come. We’d been waiting for this day. I just didn’t imagine I would be out here on the ice, away from John.

“Mom,” Patrick nudged me. 

I turned in the direction of the cabin and froze. A man stood on the ice just at the edge of the lake. He blocked our path to the cabin, to John. Was he alone? Usually, they came alone, but every once in a while, they came in greater numbers. He blended in well. Anyone that lived up here would assume he was from the area. He wore a bright orange hat with a coat that was camouflaged with orange stripes. It made it easy for hunters to spot you, so they didn’t kill you. And in his hand was an axe, the same axe John had been using to chop wood.

“Oh God,” I breathed out. 

Patrick squeezed my hand. We both knew what this meant. Was John alive? 

“I don’t see a gun,” Patrick whispered. 

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one on him,” I said quietly as we faced off with the man across the lake.

“Should we run?”

I quickly ran through the scenarios in my head. Running across the lake would take us deeper in the forest. There was no transportation to get out. The nearest neighbor was a good hike from us, and if we led this guy to them, they would certainly die. I couldn’t have another death on my conscience. Any direction other than the cabin would have a similar outcome. We were boxed in with nowhere to go. 

I took a step back, pulling Patrick with me as I tried to come up with a solution. If I could buy us time, perhaps we could still figure a way out of this. Maybe John wasn’t dead. He was an ex-Army Ranger. He could handle himself. He could still be alive. 

The man started slowly walking toward us, each step taunting us. He shifted the axe from one hand to the next. I could swear he was laughing, thinking of all the ways he could kill us, but not before he tortured us. My breathing grew choppy as he continued to approach. I gripped Patrick by the shoulder and spoke quietly. 

“You run to the west and you don’t stop. Do you hear me?”

“We need John.”

“We don’t even know if he’s alive. You run and you don’t stop until you know you’re safe. Remember where you stashed your pack. It’ll get you through a few days. You head for town and you lay low until you can find a way out of town.”

“Mom, I’m not leaving without you,” he said firmly, not a hint of fear in his voice. God, he sounded just like his father.

I took another step back, but the splintering sound of ice cracking had both of us freezing in our tracks. There was no way the ice should crack. It was thick out here. John checked it himself. I looked up at the man approaching and swore I saw him grin. My heart beat faster in my chest with every step he took. He would be on us in a matter of minutes. I averted my eyes to the ice, noting the water floating on top. It wouldn’t hold us for long. We needed to get off the broken ice now. 

Patrick had the gun. He would be safe. He could fight off this man. I knew he was a good shot. His survival was all that mattered at this point. The ice cracked again beneath us. I didn’t think twice as I grabbed Patrick by the shoulders of his coat and heaved with all my might, flinging him as far away as possible. I watched as he slid across the ice just as the world dropped out from under me and I plunged into the icy waters below. I was immediately sucked into the swirling vortex of the water, fighting to get to the top. 

The winter mask over my face pressed against my nose and mouth, giving the sensation of suffocating. I tore it over my face so I could concentrate on the task at hand. The sensation of a thousand knives cutting at me made it nearly impossible to move, but I knew I needed to get to the surface. I fought to find the hole I fell through as boots walked slowly above me. With frozen fingers, I grasped onto the ice, only to slip away as my weight dragged me lower. My winter gear was quickly pulling me down. 

The single report of a gun preceded the man falling to the ice, his body lying heavily above me. I pushed away from the ice, almost as if his body would suddenly come to life and reach through the ice for me. I was quickly losing oxygen and my movements were jerky at best. The light was starting to fade around me, but before it did, I saw movement off to my left. A hand. I pushed my arms through the water, desperately trying to reach whoever was there.

Finally, I grasped the hand and gripped the edge of the ice, trying to haul myself up. Gasping for air, I barely noticed being pulled onto the ice and dragged away from the hole. Rolling over, I stared up at the sky, my body stiff and cold. I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep, but I knew from my time here that the longer I stayed in these cold, wet clothes, the worse off I would be. 

Rolling over, my breath caught in my throat as I saw John laying beside me unmoving. I shoved my unwilling body up and crawled over to him. Shaking him slightly, tears pricked my eyes at the sight of his blood pooling all around him. 

“Patrick!” I cried out, searching for him. He was nowhere to be seen. The only other person around was the man that tried to kill us. Pulling my gloves off my frozen fingers with my teeth, I quickly searched for the source of bleeding. This couldn’t be happening. John had been with us for five years, protecting us when we had nobody else. 

“John, you have to wake up!” I shook him. His large body was failing. Finally, after pulling at his coat and shirt, I found the source of the bleeding. He had several wounds on his stomach, all of them bleeding profusely. There was no one close by to help, no way to get him to a hospital in time. His eyes suddenly blinked open and he turned to focus on me. He gasped suddenly, his hand reaching out for mine. I gripped it tightly, my eyes burning with tears.

“You need to leave,” he choked out.

I shook my head furiously. “I can’t do it alone. I need you.”

“You don’t. Remember what I told you.” His voice came out hoarse and raspy, like he was fighting for every breath. He was struggling to stay alive for me, to tell me what I needed to do. “Don’t call anyone. Cash only. No names,” he gasped. He struggled to reach into his pocket. I helped him, pulling out the paper he hid there. Taking my hand, he shoved it in my palm, closing my hand around it. “I found him.” He struggled to sit up, but I pushed on his shoulder. He needed to rest. “This was always our goal. H-he can protect you.”

I knew this and desperately wanted to see him, but John had been my lifeline for so long, I couldn’t imagine life without him. I shook my head again, not believing this was really over.

“Take the SUV,” he breathed out. “Take it and run. You should have a twelve hour head start.”

“John,” I pleaded. 

“Patrick is already getting…everything ready. Promise me…run hard,” he gasped, his eyes closing. I shook him hard, “John!” But he was still. I laid my head against his chest, waiting to feel it rise and fall, but nothing happened. “John!” I cried harder. “Stay with me,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

Tears streamed down my face, mingling with his blood. My hands were coated in it, staining me with the guilt of knowing that I let him down. We were a team. We protected each other, and with his dying breath, he continued to protect me. Kissing him softly on the lips, I remembered his warm hugs, how protected and loved I felt in his arms. Now he was gone.

Sniffling, I wiped the wetness from my face and sucked back the tears. “Goodbye, John. I love you.”

Forgetting how cold and stiff I was, I stood and walked over to the dead man, rifling through his pockets. I pulled out a spare gun, ammunition, and a small black book. Shoving it all in my pockets, I got down on my knees and shoved him across the ice to the hole, pushing him inside. His body slowly sunk in the depths of the lake. Looking back at John, I hated what I had to do. But these were his instructions. No evidence left behind. No one could ever track us. 

Grabbing John’s coat, I started dragging him across the ice. With every step, sobs built in my chest. I slipped, falling to my ass, crying ugly tears as I stared at him. 

You can do this, I heard him whisper.

Setting my feelings aside, I crawled around him and looked at his now-peaceful face one last time. Then I shoved him into the water. His hand floated up, like he was reaching for me, just before he sank into the darkness and was gone forever.

“Mom! We have to go!” Patrick shouted from the cabin. I turned and looked at him. My son, he was my main focus now. Getting up, I refused to look back any longer. It was time to move forward. Every step was stiff. My body was exhausted and I was near passing out, but my son urged me on. Safety was my number one priority. Patrick rushed over to me, propping his shoulder under my arm. As quickly as possible, we made our way into the cabin. I quickly changed out of my wet clothes. A long, jagged cut split open my stomach, and I quickly slapped a bandage on it. I would need stitches, but that would have to wait for another time. I hadn’t even felt the cut with the icy water numbing me. 

I pulled on dry clothes and extra socks. Taking spare snow gear, I pulled it on and grabbed my suitcase that was always ready to go. I grabbed the paper John had given me, along with the items I collected off our would-be assassin. I tucked them into the secret compartment of my suitcase and quickly closed it.

The smell of gasoline filled my nostrils as I rushed to the front door. Patrick was dousing the house in gasoline. I took my suitcase out to the SUV, placing it in the trunk next to Patrick’s. All our essential gear was loaded up and ready to go. There was only one thing left to do. Hurrying back to the house, I called out to Patrick.

“We need to find the bodies.”

He gave a curt nod and followed me outside. It didn’t take us long to do a sweep of the property, finding three other bodies dead and in need of disposal. We worked together, carrying the bodies into the house. Burning the bodies would delay authorities from finding out who they were, but not for long. The better option was to dump the bodies in the lake, but I knew I didn’t have the strength to drag three of them out to where we’d dumped the other body and John’s.

“I’ve got this, Mom. Get the SUV,” Patrick ordered.

Spending five years with John had turned my son into a man way before his time. I nodded and hustled out to the SUV, pulling it around so we could pull out immediately. Within minutes, Patrick had the cabin on fire and our home for the past year was up in flames. Every good memory I had in that cabin was melting away. 

The slamming of the passenger door had me jerking out of my thoughts. Patrick and I locked eyes for a moment and he gave a slight nod, telling me it was time to go. He never asked about John, and I never brought him up again.