Chapter 1

Everyone in town knew better than to encroach on Jake Marlin’s property. Too many whispered legends.

Jake had been there as long as anyone could remember. Some said he had drifted into Durango as a prospector in his youth. For sure, the Pine River in those parts had been a navigable waterway then, hardly the white-water entrapment it had become since. Others insisted Jake had been run out of Silverton in the high country, following the unsolved murders of two drinking partners and the disappearance of the elder man’s teenage daughter.

Jake’s spread was on the edge of town, a poorly fenced ten acres dotted with trees - mostly in their final death throes. Half a dozen rusted-out autos from the fifties and sixties, plus a couple of terminally disabled pick-ups were clustered around the decaying barn whilst the remnants of an ancient harvester sat across from them beneath the gnarled boughs of the old cottonwood. Other than a handful of prairie dogs catching the early morning sun, squatted atop their burrows in the field to the left of the barn, one that had played host to a swaying corn-field decades earlier, the property was seemingly bereft of life. If Jake was inside the main cabin, no one knew ... or cared!

Once in a while, school-kids would ride their bikes along the old dirt road that skirted Jake’s property to the west, either heading up to the bluff or further out towards Canyon Lake for a couple of hours fishing. Approaching Halloween it was common to see small groups of girls and boys pause at the dilapidated front gate, daring one another to go knock at the front door. To date, there had been no takers!

Caleb and Jessie Whitfield were hopelessly lost.

“What road is this Caleb?”

His young wife was smoothing down the edges of the crinkled map in her lap as she tried to make some directional sense of just how they had strayed so far from Highway 160. The dim light overhead was no champion of her immediate cause.

“I got no idea Jess,” he replied. “Last sign was back a ways. I figure though we must be less than fifty miles out of Silverton.

“Well hey, we’re real low on gas hun, maybe we should turn round and head back the way we came?”

“It’s cool Jess, reckon there must be at least twenty miles left in this here tank,” he reassured her.

“Yeah? might want to rethink that one,” Jessie groaned not ten seconds later as the Saturn’s motor spluttered into a comatose silence.

“That’s great,” Caleb muttered inclining his head towards the steering wheel. Getting out and walking around the car, he looked backwoods and forwards along the darkened road.

“Guess we’re gonna hafta call triple A,” he said, leaning in Jessie’s passenger-side window.

“Not on our cell,” she told him just a few moments later. “We got no reception here.”

“Then we’ll have to ask for help nearby – maybe use their phone,” Caleb responded.

“Don’t look like the ‘burbs exactly,” Jessie giggled, “Can’t even see a house?”

He peered into the darkness.

“Looks to me like there’s some old place just across the road smarty-pants,” he replied. “I think it’s some kinda homestead.”

Glancing through the rear window, she was just able to make out the vague silhouette of a farmhouse some fifty yards or so back from the roadway. The moonlight was reflecting off the roof of some old truck parked near an outbuilding.

“Stay here Jessie, I’ll see if anyone’s home,” he called out to her, walking now towards the property.

“No way Caleb,” she yelled. “I’m coming with you!” She caught him up and seized his hand as they neared the front gate.

“Looks pretty run-down,” she muttered. “You think someone’s home?”

“I can see a light on somewhere in the house,” he replied. “You can just see it through the drapes across those front windows.”

Although little more than a dull glow, Jessie could just make out the vague illumination.

After the second knock produced no response, Caleb turned to leave.

“Is anyone there?” Jessie cried out shrilly, rapping at the door a third time.

“Let’s go see if we can find another place further down the road?”Caleb offered wearily.

Just then the sound of a large bolt being withdrawn was clearly audible.

Even allowing for the unlit porch, the dimensions of the figure now standing in the doorway were impressive. Jessie let out a soft gasp.

“Excuse us for bothering you so late mister.” Caleb was holding his wife’s hand unusually tightly. “We ran outta gas just down the road there.” He waved his hand in the direction of the Saturn.

“I was wondering maybe if we could use your house phone to call for roadside assistance? Our cells have no reception out here?” he added meekly.

“Ain’t got no phone,” came the gruff reply. “Got no use for modern conveniences son ... ah live real simple.”

Thanking him for his time, Caleb turned to leave.

“Might have somethin’ out back you could use though,” he mumbled. Caleb and his wife looked around.

“Close to three hunnerd gallons of gas. Ain’t got no truck with city folk - prefers to git it delivered by them local contractors. Five gallons would getcha on yer way ya reckon?”

Caleb looked at his wife. “Well yeah, that’d be just great Mr. er?...”

“Jake” replied the shadowy hulk, “Jus’ call me Jake,” he paused momentarily.

“Say, why doncha two young ‘uns come inside. I’ll boil up a cuppa coffee or mebbe some hot cocoa to drink while I fills up that jerry-can out back?”

Jessie glanced at her husband questioningly before he took her hand and pulled her close.

“Sure Jake,” he replied, “Coffee’s good ... much obliged thanks.”

As Jake led the couple back along the dingy hallway, the man’s huge shadow unnerved the girl. The house smelt old and musty. She really didn’t fancy spending any more time there than was necessary to get them on their way.

Ushered into the kitchen area where he invited both to sit at a small table, the feeling intensified. Lit incredibly by only a couple of old oil lamps, it was still sufficient to make out their host’s features. So gnarled and weathered, his face betrayed considerable age but whether fifty-five or seventy-five she was unable to determine. Overshadowing everything else however, was the man’s size. Easily mid-sixties, Jake’s arms and legs were hewn from oak, his girth was astounding and he was possessed additionally of a pair of hands that might give an enraged grizzly cause to back-off! White hair, but still with a few dark flecks here and there, hung raggedly about his ears and neck, giving one the impression it was years since his last visit to a professional barber.

She watched as he ferreted about, pulling down from an overhead cupboard, a couple of old mugs that may or may not have been washed the past decade. An old steam kettle was filled from a discolored tap whose ultimately slow-flowing contents might be of interest to the Department of Health she pondered. Placing the kettle on the rusted-out propane gas rink, he turned to his guests.

“Coffee, the pair of ye? Both nodded their acquiescence.

Turning his back to them, he reached up and pulled down what looked like a three-quarters empty coffee jar, spooning then a little into each mug.

“Fraid I ain’t got no milk,” he muttered as both Caleb and his wife insisted that was really no problem. Moments later, he placed a mug before each of them. The plastic tablecloth had inarguably seen better days she noted.

“Take your time with that there coffee, while I go pump the gas.” Jake drawled, as he let himself out the door the far side of the kitchen. Jessie’s gaze fell upon the old double-gauge shotgun that rested just above the lintel.

“Coffee’s hot at least,” Caleb muttered, equally aware of the foreboding surroundings but grateful for the imminent assistance. “C’mon Jess, have some, it’ll warm you up. We got a long drive ahead of us.”

Bringing the mug to her lips with both hands, she took a sip. Not a recognized caffeine junkie by anyone’s standards, she nevertheless had to agree the warmth was invigorating. To her though it tasted a mite bitter but there again she was no coffee connoisseur.

For a while they remained silent. Sounds from the rear of the property suggested that Jake was busying himself in their cause.

“Isn’t coffee supposed to wake you up Caleb?” she asked him a few minutes later. “I’m feeling really tired.”

Her husband would have answered, but for the fact he was now slumped forward across the table.

“Caleb,” she cried out, “Caleb, what’s wrong?”

She made it almost to his chair before crumpling to the floor, fully out to the world.

Caleb woke first. Any way you cut it, the prognosis was not good!

Fully restricted in movement, both arms and legs being bound tightly to the chair in which he was sitting, he could see that Jessie, propped up right across from him, was faring little better. Still out cold, she was trussed up in similar fashion, her head drooped forward on to her chest. Strewn across the small table were the contents of the girl’s purse. Even as he watched, the huge figure standing directly behind the chair, slipped his hands past the girl’s shoulders cupping her breasts lewdly as he looked across at Caleb.

“I’m thinkin’ you have yourself a heap o’ fun playin’ with these boy?” he grinned.

Were he able to vocalize the words “Fuck you” there is no doubt Caleb would have. Unfortunately the duct tape across his mouth prevented any such verbal recourse. He could but shake his head in disbelief as Jake tore one further strip of tape, holding the girl’s head up and applying it clear across her mouth.

Jessie came round but moments later, taking in her husband’s restrictive aspect, momentarily before noticing her own. The panic in her expression was heartrending.

Jake was holding center stage.

“Ain’t no point either of you strugglin’ ... ah bin tyin’ knots since I was knee high to my daddy’s britches”. Moving in closer he once again began to gratuitously fondle Jessie’s breasts through her top. Unable to prevent his unwanted attentions, she strained against her bonds but resistance proved useless.

“Sit back and enjoy the show son,” Jake growled. “Gonna have us a real party with little Missy here.”