If It Were Done: A Shakespeare Mystery Series Novel
April 23
3:23 AM
Her feet pounded the sodden earth as the leaves and spring growth tore at the edges of her dress.
“Get back here!” Emily heard from behind her. Not as far as the last time she thought. Not as far.
Tears already streaked her face where now a fresh cut was slowly, but steadily, bleeding onto her sweaty face. Her stomach felt ready to leap out of her throat, which, given the amount it was burning, did not sound so bad. Anything would be better than that maniac catching her, she thought.
In the near-total darkness of the early morning it was almost impossible for her to see where she was going. Every way she turned was the same looking tree, the same looking moss, the same looking fresh growth. Frankly, she didn’t care where she was going so long as it was away. Far away. Far away from him. She was not familiar with the arboretum at all and, at this exact moment, she could not think of anywhere she’d rather not be more than exactly where she was.
She could not suppress the thought that she had somehow stumbled into one of those horrible B-rated horror movies. She figured at any moment a branch or a root would catch her foot and then it would be all over. Of the latter part there was no doubt. He had made that much clear. What she could not understand was why. Why? Everything had been going fine. Then a few wrong turns of phrase, a little too much alcohol. Who knows.
But right now none of that mattered. Precisely none of it. Now, all that mattered was staying ahead. Ahead. Just a little ahead. Ten feet. Five feet. It honestly didn’t matter she just needed to get to someone else, anyone else, before he got to her.
Her feet skidded to a stop in the spring mud. She had lost her shoes a long time ago and thank God for that as she would have stood no chance, is there such a thing as a negative chance she thought, of getting away. In front of her now the path went two different directions. She had no idea which was the one that would take her back towards the sorority house and which would take her deeper into the woods like some sick fairy tale. Hansel and Gretel. Something like that. Except this time, she thought, there is no gingerbread house. Nope. Just a crazy person who was, at least, eighty pounds heavier than she was and a hell of a lot stronger.
“Emily!!!!!!!” The angry cry came again. Closer again, she thought. Much closer.
Ok, I’ll go right. Why not? She thought to herself and then tore down the right path as fast as she could. Maybe he’d go left, she thought. Maybe. Then again tonight had not exactly been her lucky night, had it. She thought about screaming again. But she’d already done that. Many, many times. And no one came. Maybe no one could hear her. I mean, she wondered, who would be out in the middle of the arboretum at three in the morning? Other than serial rapists. Not a good thought. She could feel her legs burning now. Emily was no track star but she had run every other day since she was a junior in high school so it wasn’t inconceivable she might get away. Especially if he went left. God, she prayed, please say he went left.
“Awwwww… come back please? Just for a second.” She heard as though he were only steps behind her.
Guess he didn’t go left. And, again, she felt the hot tears come into her eyes. More branches struck out at her now from all directions. She was well off the path now.
That can’t be good, she thought. I’ll just keep going. I’ll just keep running straight and keep going until I run straight through the woods and back out onto one of the quads. I’ll just keep -
At that moment the ground gave out underneath her and, in its place, there was only water. And mud. Plenty of mud. Mud so thick and black she swore it was tar. Suddenly, she had an image from the natural history museum that her elementary school insisted on taking her to every year: of a giant wooly mammoth trapped in the tar pit while wild dogs waited around the edge for the inevitable.
Emily quickly realized that she had run directly into one of the many ponds that dot the arboretum. She plunged her hands and arms into the water, groping at the mud and fighting to gain some sort of a foothold. She fought her way to her knees successfully, her torn and disheveled dress now completely soaked and covered from the knees down with a thick, black mud.
None of that mattered right now though. All that mattered was getting away and she still had time, she knew that. Somewhere deep down she knew it. He had been behind her for certain. She did not know how far but he had been behind. There were hundreds of paths through the arboretum and there was no way he could have known which direction she went. Emily sloshed her way back to the bank, used both hands to press back the cattails at the edge of the pond, and was punched directly in the face.
A pain so searing that she thought nothing could be worse exploded in her nose. She stumbled backward, completely dazed and unable to think. She hit the water a second time - this time back-first. She sat down hard in the mud as though she were throwing herself onto her sofa after a particularly long and boring lecture or difficult exam. She sat up gasping for air. Her lungs felt as though they might just burn away. That she might just cease to exist because it hurt so much for them to go on working.
But, then Emily realized how badly she needed them. He reached out and wrapped his hands around her throat and Emily struggled to scream. For the first time, Emily believed she was going to die.
She opened her eyes in spite of the water and mud to try and look at him. All she could see was a shadow. A shadow amongst the darkened woods behind. She tried to reach out to the trees, to anything.
“I’m sorry,” she heard him say.
Then, with both hands, he thrust her head below the water and everything went dark.
If It Were Done: A Shakespeare Mystery is available for purchase on Amazon.