The Blackest Crimson

Okay. She needed a coat and shoes...and a weapon.

She surveyed the one-room cabin again. Where she stood was the cot and its bare rusty springs. Next to the rustic table and chair in the middle of the room was the portable kerosene heater. To her left and in the far corner was the only door. The single window was straight across the small space on the opposite wall. Against the rear wall of the cabin, opposite the door, stood a primitive cabinet. The cabinet looked really old, like something found in an antiques shop except it was covered with dust and cobwebs.

She padded over to the cabinet and reached for a wooden knob. The purr of an engine hauled her attention to the window. She rushed across the room, stumbling in her haste. Peering through the soiled glass, she watched an old, black SUV roll into the clearing. All she could see was one side of the front end with its dented fender and the driver’s door. She stood to the side of the window so whoever was behind the wheel wouldn’t see her.

The driver’s door opened and a black boot planted in the snow. A man wearing a dark coat and skullcap emerged. He turned his face toward the cabin.

Bobbie drew back.

It was him.

Chapter Three

Bobbie turned all the way around, frantically scanning the room. She needed a weapon. Anything. She grabbed the kerosene lantern and moved to the door. The lantern wasn’t much of a weapon, but she had the element of surprise on her side. He expected her to be tied to the bed. She had a shot here. Disorient him and get out the door. Run like hell.

She tried to slow her heart, tried to quiet the blood roaring through her veins. Stay steady. Be strong. This might be her only chance to make a run for it.

He will kill me and I cannot die. Jamie needs me!

She tightened her grip on the lantern’s handle and prepared to swing it. Come on, you bastard!

Chains rattled. The door opened with a slow groan, creating a barrier between them.

Wait...wait...wait. Let him get all the way inside. Then strike!

Without moving past the open door he stamped his boots on the floor, and then he scrubbed them back and forth to clear away the packed snow.

The door blocking his view of her and the empty cot, she braced to swing.

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