One Step Ahead

Rage

      As Ashley's tortured cry echoed through the trees, Harris continued to laugh, earning himself several looks of disbelief and disgust from those around him. They were incredulous that even seated on the chilled ground, handcuffed, with an arrow protruding from his arm and a bullet wound in his left calf, he was still cold-blooded enough to find amusement in someone else's pain.

      Ashley went rigid as the sound finally penetrated his consciousness, and he turned his attention from the scene below him to the man who leaned against a tree trunk almost directly behind him. His lip curled back from his teeth in rage, his eyes darted from one side to the other, and then his hand shot out to grasp a broken limb that dangled just a few inches above his head.

       Ashley pivoted on his uninjured leg and smashed the branch into Harris' face, abruptly cutting off the raucous laughter. One of the FBI agents stepped between the two, and said, "Put it down, Mr. Purdy. If you kill him, you'll end up in prison, instead of him."

      Emitting a jagged laugh of his own, Ashley retorted, "I have no intention of killing the gutless cocksucker, I'm not nearly that generous. I just wanted him to shut the fuck up, and to realize that he's not in control of anything anymore."

      He then turned to look at Harris, who was still spitting blood and tooth fragments into his lap, a stunned expression on his face. "Look at me, asshole!" Ashley snarled. 

      Surprisingly, Harris obeyed the command, staring at the smaller man in astonishment. "Like I told him, I have no interest in killing you," Ashley informed him, in a frighteningly calm, measured tone. "You said awhile ago that you'd rather die than go to jail, so that's exactly where I want you. In a cell, for the rest of your worthless fucking existence, having to live every single second knowing that you have no control over anything, and you never will again. You'll eat when someone feeds you, you'll shower when somebody lets you, and you'll go to sleep when they tell you to. You don't deserve the death penalty, it's too good for trash like you. The only thing that's appropriate for you is for them to take away what matters the most to you, and to make you spend the rest of your life knowing how it feels to be completely and utterly powerless."

      He moved to turn back toward the ravine, but then glanced back at Harris once more, with a mirthless, almost cruel, smile playing across his lips. "Oh, and if I get a chance to make a recommendation in court, I plan to ask them not to put you in solitary. My fondest wish right now is that they put you in with the rest of the lowlifes, and see how long it takes somebody to make you their bitch, and make you suffer just like all the people you've murdered. That's what you deserve."

      He seemed to be thinking about adding to his comments, but then everyone's attention was pulled back to the ravine by Merrifield's voice blaring from Yesenia Pruitt's radio. "Get a chopper in here, stat! She's still breathing!"

      Lew Bremerton tightened his grip on Ashley as the younger man nearly collapsed. Tears began to run down his face as he murmured, almost disbelievingly, "She's still alive? Oh, thank God!"

      At that moment, one of the Highway Patrol officers who had gone to contact the fire crews dashed back into view. Skidding to a stop in front of Pruitt, he wheezed, "We made radio contact with EMS, they estimate another ten to fifteen minutes from their current position. But on our way back we ran into an Army sergeant and a couple of civilians who claim to have medical training. They're on their way up with Knowles."

      Nearly as soon as the words left his mouth, his partner appeared, followed by three other people, one of whom Ashley immediately recognized as Liz's son, Kevin, who moved toward Wiley as soon as he saw him.