Number Seventy-Five Read Free Page B

Mandy. Really, you did. Just as pretty as a picture.”
    His voice was tender, just like his fingers that smoothed my hair back, which allowed me to take in a full view of my prison for the first time. Once the white stars of pain disappeared from my vision, I followed the dim light and glanced around. My heart nearly stopped beating when full cognizance settled in—I was in a cave. One full of shallow grave mounds too numerous to count. My stare was locked onto the newest one that Jacob’s crooked frame rested upon, his body not yet deposited into its final resting place.
    Tears leaked out in response to excruciating pain of being moved.
    “Now Mandy, don’t cry. At least not for that evil vermin over there. He ain’t worth it,” Samuel said, his eyes settling upon the same spot as my own. “You should be thankin’ me that I pulled up when I did. I stopped him before he did to you what he did with all the others. He was just loadin’ you in his truck when I arrived. Had he taken you to his place…well, you don’t want to know.” His tone switched from tenderness to irritation as his hand swept the expanse of the endless shallow graves in front of us. “That’s all his doin’, not mine. Damn but he was a cruel, vicious bastard.”
    The tears flowed freely down my face, but not for the reasons my best friend’s brother thought. They raced down and melded into the dirty cotton of my once white shirt and made a montage of patterns from the caked-on dirt. No, these tears were produced by stark reality. I was in hell and my means of escape were nil.
    Confirmation of broken ribs, a dislocated kneecap, and three busted fingers on my right hand was made when Sam moved me. The dull throb increased in intensity from my left ankle. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious. The throbbing in my temple and the memory of Jacob coming at me with the tire iron sped by, which meant I had a mild concussion. I prayed silently that my skull wasn’t fractured.
    I had no idea where I was, and neither did anyone else. The only thing I knew for sure was that Sam was digging my grave even though he didn’t really seem to want to. But he wasn’t stopping, either.
    Something deep inside me reached invisible fingers up to my heart, and like the tentacles of an octopus, wrapped around it like a crushing vice. The tightness shut off all my emotional connections to the outside world. All of my attention needed to focus on Samuel, or as I had always called him, Sambo. My mind had always seen him as the quiet, shy boy who had tagged along with me and Shawna ever since I could remember. The loner who worshipped me from afar, his heart saddened when I got married and broken when I rejected his advances after my divorce. I needed to use those feelings to my advantage against him.
    My best-friend’s little brother who went from playing cops and robbers in their backyard to actually becoming a well-decorated and respected deputy. The quick smile and bland face that I knew so well now held me hostage and was about to bury me .
    I refused to beg for my life. No way would I go out blubbering like some pathetic, half-clothed horror movie victim.
    Not me.
    Not Mandy Russell.
    If this was to be my final stand, I would battle, tooth and nail, for every last breath.
    I needed to keep him talking.
    I needed to keep myself out of that fucking hole.
     

     
    “MAY I?” I asked. I nodded my head and darted my eyes to the opened pack of cigarettes in Samuel’s pocket.
    “But Mandy, you quit,” Samuel replied with a look of repugnance mixed with disapproval. His shocked expression nearly made me laugh. I stared at my childhood friend and waited in silence. The dark blue eyes that looked back at me were a strange conglomeration of agony and anger at our current situation. I could see the conflict raging behind them.
    “Please?” I begged. My raspy voice garbled and sold the urgency of my request.
    He took in a deep, disapproving breath. A faint