Aliens vs. Predators--Ultimate Prey by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

Author:Bryan Thomas Schmidt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags:  
Publisher: Titan

ABUSE, INTERRUPTED

BY YVONNE NAVARRO

Jazz stood at the window in the cabin’s main room and stared outside, where everything was gray, brown, and damp. After a few minutes, she pulled the heavy drapes closed, hoping to block some of the drafts and hide the depressing outdoor scene. The view might be okay if she could see the mountains, but what so many people never seemed to recognize—duh— was that if you were in the mountains, you couldn’t see them. She wondered if Marc had realized that, then dismissed the thought. That wouldn’t have mattered. He had wanted a cabin in the Colorado Mountains, and that’s what he’d gotten.

A place where she couldn’t escape.

How many times had Marc brought her up here? Going on a dozen, surely. It was his way of making sure she hadn’t hit her limit—and the road—after he’d given her what he called “a good lighting up.”

“Your fault, Jazzy. You know what happens when you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Your fault, Jazzy. You know what happens when you leave a mess in the bathroom.”

“Your fault, Jazzy. You know what happens when you buy shit we don’t need.”

The wind gusted outside and rattled the windows. Jazz frowned when it was followed by a hard spattering of rain. Marc was out there somewhere, geared up for a couple of days of camping and fishing. He wouldn’t care about a little snow, but a rainstorm would bring him back early, which was the last thing she wanted.

“Your fault, Jazzy…”

In the bathroom, she examined her face in the mirror, a stupid thing in a frame made of deer antlers. There was a blue bruise along the left side of her jaw, and her right eye was a horror of purple and red puffiness; if there was a blessing to be had at all, this morning the swelling had gone down enough so that she could see out of it again. A painful scab had formed where her upper lip had split, but at least none of her teeth were loose.

This time.

“I guess the nurse in the emergency room was right,” she said to her reflection. “You just fucking never learn.”

Or did she?

There was no landline, and even if a signal was possible out here, Marc had busted her phone months ago. His battered 1995 Ford Bronco was parked in front of the cabin, like he always left it. Locked up tight, plenty of gas, good tires, five-speed that was good on wet mountain roads. He left it to mock her, a reminder that escape was so close yet impossible.

But not this time.

Today, tucked into the watch pocket of her jeans was the Bronco’s extra key.

Jazz had found it a couple of weeks ago, in an old tin can that had once held a belt but was now almost full of change Marc had been collecting for who knew how long. For almost as long, she’d been going through his things and pinching a little cash here and there—not enough for him to notice—and hiding it away for… someday.

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