The Acadia Killer

Chapter 35

The decrepit old shack looked like it was ready to fall apart. I could see why ghost hunters had a fun time checking it out. It absolutely looked like it could be haunted. Somewhere inside the tiny cabin was my best friend, probably tied up, no doubt scared to death. I had to figure out if I could get inside without tipping off Michael Henry that I was there, but not knowing the layout of the cabin had me unsure how to proceed.

Suddenly, a strong hand with dirt under the nails grasped my shoulder and yanked me back. Another hand covered my mouth so I couldn't scream. I remembered self-defense training I'd taken years ago and did my best to recall the procedure. I used my heel to stomp on one of his feet and kicked backwards with my other foot, kicking him in the shin. He stumbled but didn't let go of me. I knew I couldn't throw him over my shoulder because he weighed more than me, but I still had options.

Using my dominant foot again, I kicked back a second time, hitting him right between the legs. His grip loosened just enough for me to wriggle free. I spun around to see Michael Henry, the same man who had claimed to be a neighbor named Steve, climbing back up off the ground to chase me. In our struggle, the gun had been thrown from my grasp and I was frantically looking for it.

"Not so clever now, are you?" he snarled, a sadistic laugh leaving his lips as he inched towards me.

I heard the muffled screams of a woman inside the cabin, and I knew I was hearing Michelle calling for help.

"You're not going to get away with this, Michael," I said, glancing everywhere for my gun, which was nowhere to be found.

"You don't think so?" he laughed menacingly, coming towards me. "Let's find out."

Just then a glimmer of light shone on the pistol I'd been hunting for. It was lying in the shrubs beside the cabin. I quickly reached down to grab it and Michael launched forward, trying to tackle me.

He stopped dead in his tracks when I pointed the pistol at him. He held his hands halfway up and grinned sadistically.

"What makes you think you can outsmart me, little girl?" he asked. "Look how far I've already gotten. Blake's in jail for what I did. He's going to take the fall for those murders and I'm going to walk away a free man. Isn't that hilarious?"

"I don't find anything you do funny," I told him, pointing the gun at his chest.

"You're not going to shoot me, bitch. You don't have it in you."

"You really want to bet on that?"

I inched my way backwards, trying to get to the cabin door to get to Michelle. For every step I took back, Michael took one step toward me. He wasn't intimidated by the gun at all, which absolutely terrified me.

"How long have you been planning this?" I asked him, referring to framing Blake.

He put his raised hands down and laughed again, a disgusting chuckle that made me want to shoot him right then.

"You see, little girl. This is what happened," he started, still inching closer to me in spite of being held at gunpoint. "Blake testified against me when I went to prison. He's the whole reason I went to prison. If he hadn't been there, I would've been a free man."

"Free to continue killing people," I injected. "Is that what you wanted?"

"What I wanted then and what I want now are the same thing. Revenge. I want revenge for my son's testimony," he snarled. "I want him to see what it's like on the inside."

"And that's why you rigged this whole plan with detective Middleton, isn't it?" I spat, finally turning the corner of the cabin where the front door was.