Gingerbread Man

door handle.
    "No." Grabbing Amanda's hand, Holly dug the nails of her free hand into the car's upholstery. "I don't think so. We're in the shadow of the pines. Just wait."
    They sat there, frozen, and Holly swore she could hear both their heartbeats pounding in her ears. He kept coming, kept coming, all the way to the back end of the truck. And then he turned away from them to open the truck's rear door. It slid upward when he yanked on it.
    "He's going after Bethany," Amanda whispered. "She's in the back of the truck—just like I was. Only when I was in there, he didn't know it."
    "He probably still doesn't know what ever happened to you," Holly said softly.
    "We can't let him hurt that little girl."
    "I know."
    Marty grabbed a handhold, stepped up onto the back of the truck, and was swallowed up by the darker shadows within. Holly grabbed her door handle.
    Amanda touched her shoulder. "Wait." Then she pulled the keys from the switch.
    Holly sighed with relief that she hadn't opened the door and caused the car's "door ajar" tone to sound in the silence of this deserted place. "Good thinking, Amanda." As an afterthought she reached above their heads, moved the switch on the overhead light to off, so it wouldn't come on when she opened the door and give them away.
    "That, too." Amanda clasped Holly's hand once. Then she pushed something into it. The hammer she'd taken from the garage. The implication made Holly's stomach lurch. But she closed her hand around the thing anyway. "Ready?" Amanda asked.
    "No, but I don't see that it matters. Let's go."
    Holly opened her door, and Amanda opened hers. They stepped out of the car, and pushed the doors closed again so gently they didn't catch, or make a sound.
    It wasn't raining as hard. The trees that lined the road on both sides grew so thick and lush that they formed a canopy overhead. Driving this stretch was like driving through a tunnel. Earlier in the fall, it was a stunning ride, with the colors bright and fiery. Now, the canopy was intact only where the evergreens grew. In between, the hard maples, the white-skinned birches, and the gangly poplars were bare. Skeleton hands joined above the road as if shaking to seal some macabre bargain. It was in such a spot Marty had stopped his truck, so a meager amount of light touched it. It wasn't much, but it allowed them to see shape and shadow.
    Holly's feet made soft squishing sounds in the mud of the road. She clutched the hammer tighter, tried to walk more softly. The car was behind them now. They were maybe two hundred feet from the back of the truck when they heard the soft crying. The plaintive voice. They were too far away to make out the words, but the child was obviously begging. Pleading.
    Holly went stiff, and some kind of heat rose up from somewhere deep inside her. It suffused her chest, then crept up her neck into her face. Her scalp prickled with it, as if it were trying to burst through. She didn't feel the cold kiss of the wet night wind anymore. Her shivering stopped. Her hand closed more tightly around the hammer.
    Then Uncle Marty appeared in the open back door of the truck, with the child tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Bethany hung oddly, and in a moment Holly realized her arms and legs must be bound. Marty leaped down, turned to the left, and stalked off into the woods.
    "She was still wearing clothes," Amanda whispered, moving closer to Holly as the two of them hurried to the spot where he'd vanished amid the trees.
    "The Halloween costume I made for her," Holly murmured.
    "Maybe he hasn't..." Amanda didn't finish the sentence. Her eyes said enough, and Holly read them clearly and hoped to God she was right.
    They got to the truck, crept to the edge of the woods. Holly could hear the crashing sounds of Uncle Marty stomping through the brush. "He's making so much noise he won't hear us coming. God, where is he taking her?"
    "Is Vince coming?" Amanda asked.
    "I don't know. The phone died. I don't know how much of the message he got." She jumped the small ditch on the roadside, and reached back to help Amanda across.
    "We'd better make sure he can find us if he does come." Amanda reached behind her head, and yanked the snaps that attached the yellow hood to her raincoat. They were noisy as they popped apart, but Holly didn't think Marty could hear. Then Amanda hung the hood from a branch, gave a nod. "At least he'll know which way we went."
    "Come on." Holly led the way, and they moved quickly,