Mary Louise Van Dyke  (1768 words)

In the old cabin Charles Kowalski stared at his three companions’ faces in the glow of the lamp, Bunny still seemed distressed over what’d happened to the inebriated idiot Jimmy (aka Jasper), Jane seemed lost in her own private thoughts, and Peter, who was being his usual annoying self, probably plotting the next chapter in his and Jane’s psycho-thriller romantasy noir series.

He wanted to yell at them. What idiots they were! Lucy and Jasper were getting closer to Pine Tree Lodge where she’d blab everything she’d seen and heard here to Margaux. Definitely Margaux would take swift action against anyone threatening her precious brother. 

Darkness take it all! This mess wasn’t part of the Plan. Letting Lucy go free guaranteed it would flop like a fish. 

If only he could pry Bunny away from Jane so he could talk to her privately. Right now the two women seemed like each others besties. But, she was his girlfriend, he growled under his breath! His despite her cozy interlude with Jasper. 

Bottom line, Charles was an experienced cop with too many years on the beat in New York City. He couldn’t let this opportunity go slip sliding away. Someone had to take action.

He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and stiffened as he found the tools nestled inside. His fingers caressed the pepper spray cannister as he removed it.

Time to act. Pushing back his chair he sprang to his feet in a New York second and aimed the weapon at Jane. Peter. 

Orange spray shot out stinging eyes, noses, throats. “Chuck, what are you doing,” Bunny shrieked over the sounds of their coughs and screams. “Stop it.” She tried to grab the cannister.

Charles swore. Bunniekins shouldn’t have done that. Gritting his teeth he turned the spray on her too, grabbed the lamp and fled the cabin.

Outside, he paused for a moment to fill his lungs with the rain fresh scents of cedar and pine. The three imbeciles in the cabin would be all right in an hour or two. 

Meanwhile, he needed to find Lucy and Jasper and put a stop to their escape. He struggled to shuffle quietly over the pine needle lined trail, grateful for the lamp and a full moon shining through overhead tree branches. He hoped no bears or wild mountain lions were lurking around here tonight. Fortunately, he carried protection. Lodged in his pocket was a dart gun loaded with tranquilizer darts for protection against the wildlife. 

Too bad he’d left his real gun back at the main lodge. But no, he didn’t really want to kill Lucy. That went against his cop honor. He just needed to ensure she was removed far, far away from here so she couldn’t mess things up. 

He peered ahead.  Darkness take it all! Where was she and their drunker than a skunk source of all literary wisdom host?

Ah. He heard thrashing up ahead and a woman’s voice pleading, “Jasper, you have to get up. Jasper!”

He quickly doused the light and eased forward cautiously. The moonlight allowed him to see Lucy who was shivering as she stood over a crumpled figure near the Y in the path. “Jasper. Wake up!”

“Need some Vitamin S—” Jasper slurred. “Got any?”

Good. She was distracted from seeing him. Charles sighed before drawing out his dart gun and aimed it. Zwap. The dart lodged in her arm. An excellent shot, he thought ruefully. Darkness take it. He had to do this. She staggered, shaking her head as if she was befuddled before collapsing on top of Jasper.

Bingo.

“I got you babe. But les do it in bed, k? Too cold out here,” said Jasper.

Charles drew a deep breath. Now he needed to plan his next move and decide where to ditch these two. Maybe he should just stash Lucy somewhere and drag Jasper back to the cabin. That action might save his bacon from his pepper-sprayed compatriots.

Bacon. Ah. He laughed, a rusty sounding noise that hadn’t emerged in years. Bacon. Pig. A perfect solution for the stupid writing prompt given earlier. On the other side of the Y was a property inhabited by Wilbur the pig and its carer Jen.

He couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever name a porker Wilbur but no matter. Pigs lived in pig pens according to the one time his sixth-grade class had been shipped out of the city on a field trip to an actual farm.

That was a strange day for himself and some 30-plus fellow students whose idea of farm animals were derived from plastic wrapped packages of pork cutlets and steaks and milk cartons at the local stores.

Those ideas were plowed under viewing huge snorting pigs and cows with their teats tethered to an automated milking machine. Chickens running around underfoot pooping and looking for invisible bugs in the grass.

And the smell. Major pee-you.

Something crunched on the path behind him and heart racing, Charles whirled around. One of his not so friendly companions? Bear? But the creature staring at him was a deer similar to the ones he’d glimpsed around the Bronx. Must be female. No horns.

Kowalski, get a grip, he reminded himself. Grunting he bent down and managed to heave Lucy over his shoulders. Pain jackknifed through him as he painfully straightened up. Shoot, he was going to tear up his back again. Jane and Peter and Bunny would owe him royally for this.

Had to get this done.

He kicked Jasper’s back. “Get up,” he hissed in his best police sergeant’s voice. “Now.”

Wonder of wonders. The inebriated man managed to lurch himself onto his knees. “You got some Scotch?”

“Yeah sure,” Charles lied and strong fingered the man’s shoulder. “On your feet. You can have some as soon as we get there.”

Somehow Jasper managed to follow as Charles made himself keep walking the path to Jen’s home. No lights glowed in the windows and the car was missing. Was the road open again?

Hopefully the young woman was out for the night. Or longer.

His nose led him to the pig pen, an area of trees and bare ground enclosed by wire fencing and entered through a gate with his captives. He found a shed where Wilbur and another hog were snoring.

Pigs sleeping in a shed with a door? Never mind. It suited his purpose. He groaned as he lowered an unconscious Lucy onto a floor lined with crackly grass or straw or whatever it was and shoved Jasper down beside her. 

Now what? The impact from the dart wouldn’t keep her unconscious much longer. And he would need to move both of them early morning before Jen returned to feed the pigs.  

Would Jane be done thinking by then and see that his way was best.

Could pigs fly? Probably not. He’d have to think up another strategy.

Next prompt, he muttered. Plot things out before doing a kidnapping, not that he’d ever done one. No, his job had entailed helping bring kidnappers to justice.

Sometimes justice really seemed screwed up. 

In the yard, he spotted a sagging homemade clothesline with bedding and sheets attached and yanked the cord free. There was enough to bind Lucy’s hands and feet and the same for Jasper who still whined about Scotch and not burning pages. He gagged each, using damp pillowcases and was pleased with the secure results. Neither one – nor the still slumbering pigs – was going anywhere.

Lucy was shivering. He shook his head hard before going back outside to grab one of the blankets and covering her with it.

Darkness take it all. He was too soft for this kind of activity.

Outside, he closed the pigpen gate and started toward the path. Note to self, he thought. Include this incident in the next book. And he would if his backpain didn’t kill him first and If Bunniekins left him alive long enough to write a new crime thriller.

He wasn’t going to head back to the cabin. Not yet. Maybe never. What did he really owe his three companions? Even Bunny?

Okay Kowalski. Get a move on, he told himself. First thing, check the road and see if the tree was gone. If yes, moving Lucy and Jasper to a new location – and staying in charge of the plan – would be a whole lot easier.

***

Lucy felt something nuzzle her shoulder and she smiled. Paul, she started to say and then froze. She couldn’t get the word out.

Alarm shot through her body like labor pains. Something covered her mouth and her hands and feet were trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

What was going on here? She tried to scream but only managed a shrill howl against rough material.

And what was poking her? She struggled to turn her head and encountered a porcine snout and two small eyes intently regarding her.

She howled again as she recognized the coarse-haired swine. Wilbur. The one who – who had eaten the bone. Was it about to devour her too?

***

Margaux paced up and down the hallway feeling as if she was about to explode like a Fourth of July firecracker. She wanted nothing more than to run out of this gray concrete prison, hop in her car and drive home.

She was so tired of all of this. She sipped wine from a cheap red plastic cup and shuddered before setting it down on a side table.

Where was Jimmy? Why hadn’t he returned? Surely he wasn’t out somewhere having sex with Bunny? 

She was stressed to the tips of her non-manicured toes trying to achieve a180-turn and shift this nightmare into a success. Tired of serving the growing-more-stale-by-the-day Boy Scout leftovers. Wondering what happened to the missing body. Struggling to locate enough bottles of Scotch for Jimmy. Fed up with attempting to prop up his career as an author and pretending everything was going to be all daisies and Frappuccinos. 

No one responded to her writing prompt about pigs and the media.

And why should they? Her idea had seemed so clever – clearly it wasn’t. No, just another desperate grab to hold on and stay sane in a world that clearly didn’t want her insights or her grit.

“Margaux?” Mavis approached her from the main salon. “I need to tell you something really important”

“Not now,” Margaux gasped. “I just can’t . . .”

“But you have to know. That man in Room 28, isn’t Sicard Ficino, he’s an imposter. And I don’t know where the real Ficino is.”