Casket For Sale

Chapter Ten

Helen's Side

IT'S FINALLY MY turn.

My name is Helen Mayhem. I've been marrie d to Andrew for a decade now, and I've had to put up with a lot. But you already knew that.

While I don't feel I've necessarily been misrepresented on these pages, give or take a few misquotes, I do think having only one point of view makes me appear less sympathetic than I actually am. I'm not going to dwell on this, because I'm primarily referring to my husband's first two books and not this one, but I did want to suggest that if you've ever found me to be overly grouchy, demanding, and/or overbearing, that you stop to consider whether that attitude may have been justified.

The fact is, if you were married to Andrew, you'd think such an attitude was essential to your very survival.

I could probably go on for a couple of books of my own presenting my side of these adventures, but I don't want to interrupt the forward momentum any more than absolutely necessary. So I'll pick up where we left off, with me kicking Ogre in the testicles and fleeing into the woods.

I knew right away that simply running for our lives wasn't going to work, not with a seven- and a nine-year-old in tow. We had to find a place to hide as quickly as possible. As we ran I looked for large overturned tree trunks, piles of branches, anyplace I could conceal my children.

A shotgun fired. I'm not sure what it hit, but it wasn't me or my kids.

I grabbed Theresa and Kyle's hands and screamed for them to run faster. I heard somebody following only steps behind us, so we ran with every ounce of energy we could muster.

He had to have a gun. All of them did, didn't they?

As far as I knew, we were only still alive at this moment because our pursuer had an aversion to shooting a woman and her children in the back.

The man behind us was gaining, and as close as he was he didn't have much more to gain. So I let go of my children's hands and came to a sudden stop, almost in the style of a Warner Brothers cartoon character.

I spun around and swung my fist. I didn't punch him so much as he ran into my fist with his jaw.

You know, it doesn't look that way on television, but it hurts to slam your fist into somebody's face. It hurts like you wouldn't believe. There's not a whole lot of cushioning in the jaw area, and I've got tiny little hands. For a second I almost thought my hand had popped off from the impact.

The man (not much more than a kid, actually) was knocked off his feet and his gun flew into the air.

I'd like to say I caught it in the dramatic fashion of an action movie star, but I didn't. It hit the ground next to him. I scooped it up.

The kid grabbed my arm.

I shot him in the chest.

I'd never killed anybody before. Never even injured anybody. Thus far in my life, I'd never delivered physical trauma more severe than a spanking, and I felt guilty for weeks over the spanking, even though Andrew deserved it.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't make a joke in the middle of this. I'm not as good at being witty as my husband, so I'm going to stick to a more or less straightforward telling of this narrative as much as possible. It's just that I feel somewhat compelled to use a lighthearted tone to help get me through this.

Because this time… well, things got really bad.

Blood splattered against my face.

I knew I'd have some hard times dealing with this later, but for now I was a pregnant woman defending her children and I was glad to shoot the son of a bitch.

His fingers tightened around my arm. I yanked away. His arm flopped to the ground.

Ogre, whose five hundred or so pounds had apparently recovered from the groin kick, came into view. He looked absolutely horrified.

I took a shot at him and missed.

I turned around. Kyle and Theresa were standing there, silent, almost in shock.

"Run!" I screamed at them, and then I followed.

We raced through the woods. I prayed to God that Andrew was still alive, but I had to protect my children first.

Behind us, Ogre howled in grief.

We'd only been running for a couple of minutes before Kyle fell. I pulled him to his feet and tried to get him moving, but he fell again.

"Sweetheart, you have to get up," I insisted. "Do it for Mommy!"

Theresa looked over her shoulder. "I hear Joe!"

I listened. I heard the dog barking, too. "Joe's going to be fine," I said. "We have to keep running. Theresa, keep going!"

Theresa ran. I suddenly caught a reflection of light. My stomach gave a lurch, and I screamed: "Theresa, stop!"

She stopped.

I hurried to her. A fishing line ran between two trees, about six inches above the ground. I looked up in the tree and saw something metallic that was mostly hidden by the branches. I couldn't be sure what it was, but this whole thing definitely had the appearance of a booby trap.

I held out my hand and called Theresa back. "I'm going to hide you two, okay? I'm going to put you up in a tree where it's safe, and I'll be right here if anything happens, but I need you to be completely quiet, no matter what. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mommy," said Theresa. Kyle nodded.

I watched the ground, now paranoid there might be traps lurking everywhere, and hurried to a nice-sized tree with a low first branch. I hoisted Kyle up.

"Climb up a couple of branches and hide. I'll let you know if I can see you or not."

As Kyle climbed, I took Theresa to another tree about ten feet away and instructed her to do the same.

I walked to Kyle's tree and looked up. He was slightly visible, but only if you knew where to look. Once Theresa was equally well-hidden, I climbed a tree in the middle of the two and hid myself.

I didn't feel safe having myself and my kids trapped like this, with no way to escape, but I felt even less safe about running through booby-trapped wilderness.

Please let Andrew be okay.

And Roger.

And Samantha.

At least I knew Joe was doing okay. I heard the dog barking as it ran toward our location.

What if Joe triggered a trap?

Worse, what he if gave away our position?

"Kyle, Theresa, no matter what, do not say anything! Not a word! Not a noise!"

Joe's barking sounded far away. He must've been going in the wrong direction. Not much of a tracker dog.

I was very proud of Theresa and Kyle. I couldn't hear a peep out of them. I desperately hoped they'd get to meet their new little brother or sister.

I fidgeted with the gun in my hand. I wished I knew how many bullets I had left, but I wasn't exactly sure how to expel the clip and I didn't want to risk messing anything up.

I'd just have to make sure every shot counted.

I wasn't wearing a watch, so I couldn't be sure how long we waited, but it was at least fifteen minutes and probably more.

Then I saw Ogre.

He was doing a strange half-walk, half-run. He looked more insanely pissed than anybody I have ever seen, in real life or in the movies. And he was coming our way.

How come the dog was off-course but the human was walking right toward us?

I carefully aimed the revolver at him. I didn't like the idea of being a sniper, but I could do it.

Mentally, that is. In terms of gun skills… well, I had none. I knew you pulled the trigger to fire and not much else. Yeah, I could shoot somebody in the chest when they were lying on the ground right in front of me, but beyond that my marksmanship skills were questionable.

I'd only shoot if absolutely necessary. The last thing I wanted to do was fire, miss, and discover I was out of bullets.

I held my breath as Ogre lumbered into our general area.

Maybe we'd get lucky and he'd walk right through the booby trap. That would be nice.

I wished I'd climbed higher into the tree, but it was too late now.

He kept moving, belly jiggling with each step. His breathing was labored.

Then he slowed down, eyeing the trap. He gave the fishing line a wide berth, and picked up his pace, heading right for the gap between my tree and Kyle's.

He stopped right between them.

I hadn't heard a peep from Kyle. Maybe Ogre was just taking a break at an outrageously inconvenient location.

He looked up into the tree.

I stifled a whimper.

Ogre walked around to get a better look.

That was it. The big guy had to die. I pointed the gun at him and willed my arms to quit shaking so I could be absolutely, positively certain not to miss.

I held my aim steady. He was going to get it in the back of the head.

I squeezed the trigger.

The click sounded so loud that I was positive it had echoed throughout the entire forest.

Ogre spun around and looked up into my tree. Even though I was mostly hidden in the branches, I knew he saw me.

Especially after he waved.

The gesture was lighthearted, but Ogre looked no less furious.

I pulled the trigger several more times, hoping it had been a weapon malfunction, but more clicks, not bullets, issued from the gun.

While it seemed like a guy his size was unlikely to be up to the task of climbing trees, he could certainly call for reinforcements.

He removed the walkie-talkie from his belt and put it to his lips.

I leapt down from the tree.

He wasn't expecting my attack, but he moved faster than I anticipated, and I landed feet-first on the ground instead of on his skull. The impact from the ground made my ankles ache and my legs tremble.

Then he punched me in the stomach so hard I thought his fist was going to rip through my back.

My baby! Mouth open, unable to catch a breath, pain and fear radiating from the center of my being, I doubled over but somehow sustained my footing.

"That is for the kick to the crotch," Ogre said. He clamped his enormous hand around my neck and forced me into a standing position. "This is for Ghoul."

He threw me into the air. I struck the ground and lay there, tasting blood, not sure if I'd ever be able to take a breath again.

"Where are your kiddies, Momma Bear?" Ogre asked, looking up in the trees. "It's been a while since breakfast, and I'm famished."

I tried to sit up, but I couldn't move. My body was paralyzed.

Ogre circled Kyle's tree. "I see you, little boy! Do you want to know why they call me Ogre? Because I eat little boys just like you!"

I tried to scream for Kyle to climb higher, but I couldn't get my voice to work. I felt like I was going to suffocate right there.

"Why don't you come on down, little boy, and be my lunch? You know what the best part is? The nose. Yeah, I'll bite your wee little nose right off."

I saw movement in the branches. Kyle was climbing.

"Oh, now, don't run away, little boy! It'll only make the fall hurt all that much worse."

With that, Ogre flung the walkie-talkie up into the tree. Kyle cried out and I saw the leaves flutter as he fell.

He grabbed onto the lowest branch and swung there, legs dangling.

With a powerful intake of breath, I sat up.

Kyle struggled mightily to pull himself out of harm's way, but Ogre grabbed his leg.

"Leave him alone!" Theresa shrieked.

Kyle kicked Ogre in the face with his free foot. Ogre didn't flinch.

He yanked my son free of the branch. Kyle fell into Ogre's arms, screaming in terror.

I got to my feet.

My vision was blurred, but it shot into sharp focus as Ogre opened his mouth, leaned his head down toward Kyle's upper arm, and took a bite.