Never Die Alone

There was no moonlight. Clouds blocked some of the stars and snuffed out most of the light.

“We . . . we need to call someone,” Chloe said as they sprinted.

“Good idea. Got your cell?”

“No, but—” The slumbering dog was now awake and barking wildly.

“Neither do I. Just keep moving.”

“But my feet . . .”

“Yeah, I know.” Zoe’s feet hurt, too. They were ru

Every once in a while she glanced over her shoulder, worried that somehow the freak would escape from his own prison and break free, ru

“Good.”

“What? What’s good?” Chloe asked in the darkness, her fingers still clutched in Zoe’s hand.

“Nothing.”

“Oh.” Disappointment. “Shit!” Chloe squealed and ducked as a creature of the night flew by. “Oh, God, was that a bat?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“An owl. That was it. Tell me it was an owl.”

Who cared? “Sure. An owl. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got to find someone to help us.”

“We’re naked!”

“I know. That’s the least of our problems right now.” Zoe kept pressing forward, hoping beyond hope that they would find safety and that the abomination who had captured them was dead. Why the hell had the freak kidnapped them? What was he doing at the workbench, cutting up the wire and ribbon? And why did he sing that stupid birthday song? Nothing made any sense. How did he even know it was their birthday? Who the fuck was he? “Come on,” she stepped up the pace, her mind racing faster than her bare feet. Obviously they’d been targeted because of their birthdays. He had known. How? Had he been following them? Stalking them?

Happy Birthday, dear twinsies . . . Wasn’t that what he’d sung? As if the two of them being twins and sharing a birthday was significant. Holy shit, what was going on? “Hurry, Chloe,” she whispered urgently as the forest seemed to close in on them. It was her twenty-first birthday and, for the first time in her life, Zoe De

Pain screamed through his neck and throat.

An even deeper anguish came from the knowledge that the bitches had escaped.

For the first time ever, he’d lost both victims. He closed his eyes for a second and gathered himself. Willing the fire around his neck to subside, he reached up and felt the blood drying on his throat. He’d been lucky there. That cunt Zoe had tried to kill him with his own damned shears and rope. His lip curled in disgust at his weakness. But he wasn’t dead yet.

Wincing, he rolled over and climbed to his feet. His head was clearing at last. A quick survey and he saw the devastation in the basement, the cracked light, the scattered ribbon, the bloody scissors that had been meant to end his life.

He let out a hard growl as rage engulfed him. Didn’t they know he was doing them a favor? Taking their lives before they turned into adults? Saving them from the horrors of being separated, wrenched apart?

He’d been careless. Complacent.

And Zoe had gotten the drop on him.

Un-fucking-thinkable.

Blood had crusted down his neck, and he knew he was lucky to be alive, but the fury that consumed him didn’t allow him time to give himself a pat on the back. Not when the twins had gotten the better of him, left him for dead and found a way to break free. Fuck. Wait until Myra found out. Shit, he could already hear her taunting him, reminding him of what an idiot he was.

“Son of a bitch!” he roared, but his voice emerged as a whisper, a painful mew. He realized whatever that bitch Zoe had done to him with the rope around his neck and the scissors thrust into his throat was going to keep him from speaking very loudly, at least for a while. Not that it mattered, but it pissed him off.

Furious, his blood pumping, he pounded a heavy fist on his worktable.

She’d get hers.

He’d see to it.

He had to get them. Chase them down. Bring them back. Finish his work. He checked the clock. There was still time.

But a headache pounded behind his eyes and his throat felt as if all the demons in hell were gnawing at his flesh, chewing on him from the inside out. With difficulty, he staggered for the ladder and found it missing. “Goddamn it!” he hissed, then closed his mouth as pain exploded in his neck. With difficulty he peered upward and saw the foot of the ladder visible in the open door of the crawlspace.

How had he let down his guard, letting them escape?

Despite his wounds, he found the stool near his workbench and placed it under the opening in the ceiling. Standing on the stool, he reached up, took aim, and swung his belt over the protruding leg of the ladder. Eventually he was able to hook the buckle over the bottom rung. Slowly he pulled, but the belt slipped, fell back, the clasp nearly hitting him in the face.

“Shit!”

Again he swung the belt upward and hooked it. This time the co

Outside the darkness was thick, no moon glow or starlight. A misting rain filled the air. He closed his eyes and strained to listen to the sounds of the night. Over the pounding of his own damned heartbeat he heard a hoot of an owl and the steady croak of a bullfrog and the rush of wind through the trees. But no frantic footsteps. No hushed voices. Nothing to indicate the twins were nearby.

Fuck!

Frustration burned through him with a savage heat, and even though he was stripped bare, wearing only the damned apron, he began to sweat. Had he lost them? The twin girls who could ID him? His teeth ground together as he searched the darkness. They couldn’t be far. He hadn’t passed out for that long, less than fifteen minutes, and they were both naked and on foot.

He didn’t think twice as he rounded the shed where his dog was going ape-shit, barking and howling loud enough to raise the dead. For a second, he thought about releasing Red, but he didn’t want to take the time and his van would be so much faster. He reached into a deep pocket of his apron and found his keys. There was only one way out of this place, and the lane was long.

“Hurry!” Zoe stage-whispered, still yanking on her twin’s hand. The rain was coming down harder now, fast and furious, so loud that she could barely make out the rush of the river. The sudden noise of a dog barking wildly in the distance alerted her senses. “Come on.” She couldn’t get away from that horrid cabin fast enough. Sure she’d left their captor bleeding out, probably dead already, but the all-consuming fear that they somehow wouldn’t escape kept her racing on the uneven track.

“Ow! Shit!” Chloe stumbled and let out a groan.

“What?”

“I think I cut my foot. Goddamned rock.”

Too bad. “You’ll be all right.” Zoe kept pulling on her sister, forcing her to run.

“I . . . I don’t know.” Chloe’s whiny tone was back. “How did this happen?” she demanded, breathing hard. “Who was that psycho? What did he want from us?”