Free Bleeding Green by Anne James

“You.” He growled his next words, “Stand up, lovely Laurel!”
    Scuttling forward on her belly like a crab, she tried to obey. The momentum of her hair being lifted off her scalp helped place her on her knees as she stood.
    “Now, Ranger, we are going to walk in a proper fashion through that door and around back to the chase. You know where I mean, doncha, doll?” He yanked her head back and forth in a YES nod. “Feel that?” He pushed the point of the knife into the middle of her back.
    She felt the sharp sting and then the trickling sensation of blood running down her back.
    Her thoughts ran wild as a demented greyhound on a racetrack. He knew all the terms. He knew all the places in a state park. Chase was the term used for closet in park vernacular. Ernie intended to lock her in the closet of the bath house. Coaching herself, she tried to focus. What to do?
    Ernie pushed the door open with his shoulder, keeping a tight hold on her hair and the knife in her back.
    Laurel glanced at the bathroom floor. Blood was smeared on the surface. Somebody would connect that with her vehicle parked outside in a campsite. Calm down, Laurel. Focus.
    Ernie peered down the walkway.
    Laurel looked in desperation for any movement. Come on! There had to be a camper somewhere that would see them walk around the outside of the building.
    “March!” The knife pushed her forward.
    Arriving at the back of the bathhouse, he jammed her against the building with his body freeing his hands. He slipped the knife into his pocket, grabbing the keys to unlock the door.
    Laurel knew this was her chance. Ramming her head and knees against the building she thrust backwards arching her back. This movement threw Ernie backward and the keys hit the concrete sidewalk.
    Lurching sideways, Laurel took off in a dead run. Bent backwards like an inverted bow, she was still fast. A thick carpet of pine needles caused her to slip just as she was smashed from behind and thrown to the ground. Both of the phones fell off her waist.
    Ernie grabbed her belt, yanking her upright. “You stupid bitch! I’m bigger than you. Stronger than you and a hell’uv’a lot smarter than a stupid woman that thinks she can be a ranger! Only, men, real men, get to wear green.” He snarled the words like a rabid tiger. He spat a wad in her face and placed a grimy hand on her left breast fingering her badge. “This? This here, badge on your tittie? You have no business desecrating the badge with your female scent. This belongs on a man’s chest, kitten. Not, some hot, sexy little tease that plays at being a ranger!” His voice rose to a shout as he tore the badge off her shirt and shoved it in his back pocket. The rip exposed some black lace from her bra. His eyes glued to the rip.
    Laurel, watched him hyper-focus on the tear. Although, enough adrenaline was coursing through her veins to fuel a football team, she realized that maybe the fact that she was a female ranger was part of the man’s problem. Where in God’s name were the people? Somebody should either hear or see them!
    Balancing on one foot, she leveled a kick at his left kneecap knocking him to the ground. She thought she heard a snap.
    Ernie let out a howl that sounded like a cross between a wounded hyena and a coyote.
    Laurel turned and ran.
    She felt herself falling as a horrible pain high on her left shoulder caused the world to go black. Hitting the ground face first, her mind struggled against the screaming pain.
    The first sound to register was the scraping sound of the pine needles. Opening her eyes, she tried to focus. The hunchback of Notre Dame dragging a leg. Ernie. She couldn’t move.
    Ernie leaned against a pine panting, as his lips drew back in a snarl.
    His blue and black plaid cotton shirt came into focus. Laurel watched his hand stretch toward her. She couldn’t breathe. Air. How she needed air. Sand and pine needles pasted with snot blocked her nose.
    As cold as ice, Ernie yanked the knife