It didn't look like anything was going to hold.

Roger looked up at me, his face already covered with perspiration. "When she gets her foot free, pull her out of here."

Samantha gave a couple of hard tugs. "It's not coming loose." She tugged several more times in rapid succession, gasping in pain with each one. "Roger, get out of here! I mean it!"

"You can do it," Roger insisted. "Keep trying!"

"It's not coming free! Damn it, Roger, you're going to die!"

I can't believe I'm going to do this, I thought.

"If I get poked by so much as one solitary spike, I'm kicking both of your asses," I said, dropping into the pit.

I crouched down, scraping my face against one of the spikes. It was the same side that had been cut by the shrapnel from the exploding camper. Nice.

I reached down and grabbed Samantha's lower leg with both hands, trying to ignore the spike poised to gouge out my eye, then pulled as hard as I could.

Her foot popped free.

The board moved back an inch. While none of them broke the skin, spikes poked me in at least four places. To keep a sunny outlook on things, I noted that none of those places were my eye. I stood up and pressed my hands against the board.

"My, this was a splendid idea," I proclaimed, using my foot to try and wedge more branches underneath the board. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if the bad guys showed up right about now?"

There was virtually no room to maneuver, but I managed to turn myself around with only a few nasty scrapes, and pulled myself out of the pit.

"Give me your hands," I told Samantha.

"Go ahead," said Roger. "I've got it." He didn't sound convinced.

Samantha hesitantly lifted her hands. Roger grunted at the additional strain but managed to keep the spikes out of his body. I grabbed Samantha's wrists and pulled her out of the pit.

His girlfriend was safe, but Roger was still in a bit of a pickle.

"These branches aren't going to hold it," Roger said, voice cracking.

I quickly sat down on the edge of the pit. "Maybe we can hold it with our legs." I braced my feet against the board and then tightly gripped the edge of the pit with my hands to hold myself in place.

"Have you got it?" Samantha asked.

"I think so."

"I'll help." She sat down on the other side of Roger and placed both of her feet against the board. Her right shoe was completely red.

"Roger, on the count of three, let go and get out of there," I said. "One… two… three!"

Roger let go of the board and turned around.

I felt my knees begin to bend.

Samantha let out an agonized whimper.

Roger tried to scramble out of the pit.

My grip was beginning to loosen.

Roger was halfway out.

"Hurry up!" I said, as if he'd been lollygagging.

Just as Roger got his legs safely out of the way, I lost my grip. The board hurtled forward, pushing Samantha and I off balance, and slammed into the wall of the pit.

"Whoa!" Roger shouted.

"Whoa," I said in agreement.

Tears streamed down Samantha's face. I couldn't imagine how badly her foot must hurt. Even hellspawn felt pain. "Are you okay?" Roger asked, putting his arms around her.

She nodded then turned her head and spit out some blood. "I bit my tongue trying not to scream."

I stood up, still breathing heavily. "Is there any chance that you can walk?"

"No, but I can hop with the best of them." She suddenly looked horrified. "Helen and the kids! Where are they? Are they okay?"

"I… I'm sure they're fine, but I don't know. Were you able to call the police?"

Samantha shook her head. "I dropped the phone when I got shot. I'm sorry."

"Crap." I should have protested when Helen offered to give her the phone. Of course, I also should have avoided tipping the camper on its side. "I need to go on ahead in case they're already at the store. You two stay here, out of sight." I stripped out of my shirt and handed it to Roger. "Here, use this to help clean up her foot and shoulder."

"What, you're not donating your jeans, too?"

"You're lucky you got the smelly shirt."

"Thanks, Andrew," said Samantha. "You'll find Helen and the kids, I promise."

"Be careful out there," said Roger. "I've heard rumors that there are spiked pits in these woods."

I nodded and turned, running in the direction of the store.

Chapter Eight

I WATCHED THE GROUND carefully as I ran, which caused me to smack into no fewer than three different branches. Fortunately, though, I didn't fall into any spiked pits, get caught in any bear traps, get struck by any poisoned darts, or bash into the gates of Hell.

Finally, the woods thinned and I emerged next to the store. There were still no cars in the parking lot.

I cracked my knuckles nervously. Hopefully Helen and the kids were inside. And hopefully the old guy in there wasn't involved with this whole mess. I had several dozen other "hopefully"s I could think of, including one about machine guns and expensive armor dropping from the sky, but I decided to stick with the first two for right now.

I considered going around back to find a way to sneak in, but I'd already wasted too much time at the pit-o-spikes. I'd just have to be really, really careful.

I walked to the front door, took a deep breath, then opened it and stepped inside.

No hailstorm of bullets ripped my chest apart, which was a promising beginning. The old man still sat behind the counter, reading his magazine. He looked startled to see me.

"Forget something?" he asked. "Like maybe your shirt?"

"Do you have a phone?"

He shook his head. "No need for one."

"No need for one? How can you run a place of business without a phone?"

"Got a wireless modem on my PC in the back room. I can use the Internet to place all of my orders quickly and efficiently."

"Ah. Has anybody else been here since me?"

"Since now or since the first time you were here?"

"The first time."

"Nope."

"Can I borrow your computer for a minute? It's an emergency."

"Nope. It's a fancy piece of equipment and it's not for customer use. You'll be downloading that damn pornography and getting my machine all filled with viruses and I'm not gonna let it happen."

"No, I just need to contact the police."

The old man chuckled. "You went to Wreitzer Park anyway, didn't you? I told you-"

"No, we were taking your advice but we got ambushed. These people in trucks blocked our way and the camper tipped over and I got separated from my wife and kids and I desperately need to use your computer."

The old man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You sure are anxious to look at pornography."

"I'm not interested in pornography! My family is in danger!"

"Now, I'm not saying I don't enjoy a good nudie magazine every now and then, if the breasts are natural," the old man informed me. "I just don't want any of that stuff on my computer."

I gaped at him. He was definitely part of this whole mess. That was their modus operandi, to be as annoying as humanly possible.

I wasn't in the habit of beating information out of old men (I usually just tied them up and threatened them with broken plates), but perhaps I could give it a shot just this once.

A vehicle pulled up outside.

The old man looked me in the eye. "I'm not the kind of fellow to tell somebody their business, but you may want to hide."

I moved away from the counter and ducked into the aisle at the far end of the store. I pushed a box of cereal out of the way, allowing me to peek through the shelf and watch the front counter.

Now I was confused. So, was the old man aware of what was going on, but he was actually a good guy? Or maybe he genuinely was concerned I might use his computer to access pornographic images or videos.