A Dark Autumn by Kristopher Rufty Page A

pointed at her throat, even that looked to have been a nearly impossible feat.  
    Michelle watched as Lucy’s chest moved up and down, but didn’t hear any air being pulled in. Then it looked as if her chest was starting to bloat.  
    It was her lungs, Michelle realized, about to burst.  
    “There’s nothing we can do,” Helen finally answered.  
    Lucy struggled to breathe another few agonizingly slow moments before her hands slapped the ground. She looked toward the fire, then at Michelle and Helen as if imploring one last time for their help.  
    Then her head canted to the side. She no longer moved, nor did she try to breathe.  
    She was dead.
    Michelle’s legs went weak and stringy. She dropped to her knees, bracing herself up with a hand on the ground. She could hardly breathe. Her heart was beating too fast, and everything around her looked as if she was seeing it through a glass of water.
    She could faintly hear Amanda crying from behind her.  
    “He… He’s gone…”
    Michelle slowly raised her head, looking at Helen to see what she had said. When she saw Helen’s puzzled expression, she realized it wasn’t Helen that had spoken. In unison, they turned around.
    Amanda was standing on top of Ricky.  
    No…not on top of him… She was standing where he should have been, but where his body had landed was now unoccupied.
    Ricky had escaped.  

Chapter Eighteen
    The sun sparkled off the dew-slick trees, casting a golden glow in the light mist as it rose above the clouds. Michelle was on her way back to the campsite with blankets, trash bags and duct tape. She had applied a layer of aloe to the blisters on her burned hand, then wrapped it with gauze from the medicine cabinet. It felt better, but not by much.
    After they’d discovered Ricky had fled, they spent some time searching, but didn’t find him. Helen suggested they wait until sunrise to search again.  
    I don’t understand why she wants to look for him at all.
    Actually, she did know, but had chosen not to ask.  
    Helen wanted to kill him.  
    She hadn’t stated so, but Michelle had known Helen long enough to understand the workings of her mind. Some of the workings, anyway. Ricky had killed Lucy, and if he was man enough to do that, then he was definitely man enough to get the police involved.  
    Let him, thought Michelle. We all deserve to go to jail.  
    Then she thought about Lucy, and how she’d died. It had been painful to watch, and Michelle could only imagine how it had felt. It was a terrible way to go. All of them deserved some kind of punishment, but not to have their throats kicked in. But could she really endure prison? Michelle tried to visualize spending time in a box of a room, barred from her normal life, wearing an orange jumpsuit, and going without makeup and decent soaps and shampoos. Plus, the food would be terrible, and the other inmates might make her time spent there even worse.
    I could end up someone’s whore, she thought.
    Just the idea of having to be someone’s lover made her stomach roll. Guess it wouldn’t be much different than what Helen and I did last night. Her stomach constricted on itself as she remembered Helen’s lips around her nipples, her own hands cupping Helen’s breasts and massaging them.  
    She rubbed her hand across her aching belly. The fabric of her shirt felt dirty and soiled. My stomach could be acting up because I’m hungry. It was odd to her that her appetite was still strong with all that was going on, or with all that might happen. She craved some bacon and eggs, maybe even some grits. Her stomach grumbled in agreement. Michelle pictured the full carton of eggs and unopened pack of bacon waiting for her back at the cabin in the refrigerator.
    She was tempted to turn around.  
    There was a snap in the woods to her right. Michelle’s heart slammed her breath out through her nose. She halted her step, looking toward the woods where the sound had come from.  
    Listening.  
    All