Thorn by Fred Saberhagen (reading like a writer TXT) 📕

functional. They crossed a space of thin tree growth that could hardly be called a clearing, and approached a small, weathered cabin that Mary did not see until it was only twenty feet away.

      “Mary,” Del called after her in a hollow voice. “Chin up. You’ll get out of this.”

      She glanced back at him, but could think of nothing to call out in return. One of her bare feet trod on a patch of hard-frozen snow. They were somewhere high in the mountains, toward Flagstaff. The cabin was almost invisible under the tall pines and fir. Its door squeaked loudly in the still mountain air as the man with Mary yanked it open. Darkness still ruled inside, and when the door shut again behind her, full night had returned. There seemed to be no windows in the rude shack, no openings at all besides the single door. She stumbled ahead across an earthen floor, trying to make her legs start working properly, rubbing her arms. Near one wall her feet found stones suggesting the remnants of a hearth. She bent, groping, to discover a fireplace of sorts, a chimney. The aperture was much to small for her to think of trying to force herself inside.

      Suddenly the door behind her was opened again, letting in some light. One of the masked men, wearing a bolstered pistol and carrying a hunting knife along with some lengths of cord, came in. He said nothing. Repressing an urge to struggle, to scream pointlessly, Mary let him tie her hands behind her back, her ankles firmly together.

      When the job of binding her was done, tightly, the man went out again and vanished from sight somewhere, leaving the door open. Standing in the middle of the cabin floor, she could see just the rear end of the truck, protruding from behind a thick double tree-trunk. Delaunay was standing near the large tree. His robe was open in front, so he must be cold in his pajamas. His hands were still behind his back, and his ankles had been tied now too, so that when he turned toward Mary and the cabin the movement was an awkward shuffle. The second masked demon was still looking over Del’s shoulder from behind.

      “Mary?” Del called again. “Are you all right?” The real concern in his voice was plain.

      “So far,” Mary managed to get out. It seemed that under present conditions such trivia as wrenched joints, numbed limbs, chills, and nervous exhaustion did not deserve notice.

      The man standing behind Del poked him with something, making him sway forward. Then he inched a little closer to the cabin in his bound-ankle shuffle. He cleared his throat. “Mary, they tell me the plan is this. You are to be left here, tied up but unharmed. They’ll phone the police and tell them where you can be found. Returning you safely in this way is meant to show that I’ll be safely returned, too, as soon as the ransom’s paid. Details about the ransom will be passed along soon. Right?” Del turned his head to ask the question; the mask behind him nodded.

      Del went on: “Neither you nor I have seen these men’s faces, Mary. We’ve hardly heard them speak. Neither of us will be able to identify them. So, I believe them when they say they’ll let me go as soon as they’re paid. Now I want you to emphasize that, to everyone, when you’re set free. Will you do that?”

      Set free. Set free. Mary could hardly hear or understand another word beyond those two. Del was staring at her strangely. With a great effort she finally managed to make her brain function, and her tongue. “Tell everyone you believe you will be released. If the ransom’s paid. Yes, yes, I will.”

      “Please do, Mary. They also say they’ll kill me if the ransom isn’t paid, and I believe them about that, too. Is that all?” The two masked men were both standing with Del now; he looked at them, one after the other, and received a single nod.

      Del nodded toward Mary. “You’re going to have to do something to protect her from the cold. It’ll be hours.”

      One of the men moved away, toward the half-visible truck. A truck door opened and closed. He came back, bearing an armload of blankets; rough, brown, army-surplus-looking things. He draped them wordlessly round Mary’s shoulders, front and back. As long as she did not move much, they should remain. Then he went out of the cabin again and with his companion took hold of Del.

      They dragged him off among the concealing trees, out of sight toward the truck. The last words that she heard from Del were: “It’ll be warmer, Mary, when the sun gets up. Hang on. Help will come.”

      Could it be that she had never said goodbye to Del at all? Had never given any last words of encouragement to that old man who had done so much for her. She had heard the truck doors opening and closing, once again. And then, moments later, the totally unexpected blast.

* * *

      Mary had collapsed onto the earth floor, groaning, at the explosion. Something terrible was happening again, though she could not at first grasp what. The brief thudding of debris upon the cabin roof kept her crouched down. One piece hit so hard that dust and fine fragments fell from the inside of the crude roof. She huddled there for an endless time, in a dazed state approaching madness.

      Light grew slowly outside the cabin door, which had been blocked open with a piece of branch. Day had come officially. Birds started to sing at last. Mary could smell the burning, and she could hear the faint crackle if she listened. The woods were wet, almost dripping, branches decked with late spring snow, or else they might have gone right up. Gas burned, rubber burned, other things burned and she could smell them when the breeze blew some of the smoke toward the cabin.

      When finally she