You Only Die Twice Read Free Page A

was because her body had been
through so much physical abuse and was still healing, or because news of the
pregnancy had caused her great emotional stress, Cheryl Dunning miscarried in
the shower.
    When she
began to hemorrhage, she was taken to the hospital again, where she remained
for four additional days before leaving the place a harder, wiser, different
person.

 
 
 
    CHAPTER SIX

 
    The
movement was off to her left.  
    She
looked over and all she could see was a vast landscape of woods, some of which
were so thick, she couldn’t see beyond the trees, especially the fir and spruce
trees, which grew into each other in such a way, it was as if they were
conspiring against her.   Whoever
brought her here was likely just beyond them, watching her and waiting for her
to make her move.
    She got
her feet under herself and stood.   The pain was there, drumming for attention, but what was happening to
her now snuffed it.   Her own
survival trumped everything.
    She
stood still and listened.   It was
quiet, not silent.   Leaves fell to
the forest floor from the surrounding maples, oaks, elms and birches.   Birds flew above her, navigating seamlessly
through the maze of foliage as if doing so was nothing to them.   She could hear the sound of her own
breath, the cool breeze at her back, and the undeniable sound of the occasional
footstep as it rested softly on the wet pine needles that worked to betray it.
    Even in
these boots with their thick high heels, Cheryl Dunning didn’t question whether
she could run, but whether she could ou trun him―whoever he was.   She didn’t question whether she had
fight within her, because she did, but whether it was enough if he had
something that could drop her, like a gun.   She didn’t think about the pain that threatened to consume her if she
allowed i t to, because if she did, she knew he would win.   All she thought about was how best to
get through this.   She wasn’t a
fool.   She knew the odds were
against her.   But if she listened to
her gut, she sensed that if he had wanted to kill her, he already would have
done so.
    For
whatever reason, he wanted her alive.   At least for the moment.   She
assumed it was because he wanted to toy with her before he killed her.
    Before
he tries to kill me.
    It was
the only thing that made sense.   Otherwise, why would he have strapped the phone to her hand?   Why had he stopped beating her when a
few more kicks to her chest, legs, stomach and head would have ended her
life?   He wanted her alive for a
reason, and as far as she was concerned that reason was because he was here to
hunt.   She was his game.   On some twisted level she’d never
comprehend or understand, he wanted her to live because with her alive, she was
his to play with until he grew tired of the game and he could finish her
forever.
    She
needed to think.   Strategize.   She looked around her, but all she saw
was forest.   There was no sound of
traffic, which meant he had planted her deep into the woods, which also made
sense.   When he killed her―if,
for instance, he planned to shoot her―it was unlikely that anyone would hear the
shot or the passing of her own life.   And even if they did, the shot would be ignored.   Right now, after all, it was hunting
season.
    Again,
movement to her left.   A gentle
press of a footstep that was meant to go unnoticed, but the sound of which
carried with it the weight of danger.
    She
wanted to call out to him, make a deal with him and end this, but those were
the thoughts of a fool, and after what she’d been through in her life, Cheryl
Dunning was no fool.  
    After
being murdered and raped and losing a child she never meant to carry defined
who she was today.   Even with the
faint ring of the scar that carved around her throat, which caused many to
stare but not to question because most in this town knew what once happened to
her, she was tougher than people knew.   Beneath the smiling, agreeable