The Face of Earth

THE FACE OF EARTH

BY

KIRSTY WINKLER

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

THE FACE OF EARTH

Copyright 2012 by Kirsty Winkler

All rights reserved, including the right of

reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Cover Photos

Earth by NASA

Background Stars by Rogelio Bernal Andreo

“Karina” by Kirsty Winkler

For Jeannie

CHAPTER 1

The yellow Plymouth Duster sped down the narrow forest road, kicking up rocks and dirt in its wake. Karina’s right elbow rested on the door, her hand and forearm hanging out the open window. She let the wind control her hand, and the warm air flew it like a kite. Fred drove, resting his right hand on his knee and steering the old car with his left.

The road twisted through a dry canyon, oaks and pines crowding its winding path through the forest. It wound for miles, stretching through the wilderness like a gravel river. A creek paralleled its course, the empty bed dusty in the summer heat. Karina stared out the window, watching as the trees rushed by her floating hand. She avoided Fred’s occasional glances, discouraging conversation. As they approached the trailhead, the road ended abruptly in an open parking area.

Fred broke the silence of the last hour as he spun the wheel and backed the car next to the trail sign. “We’re here.”

Karina hid her hate and smiled at him, feigning friendliness. “That’s great! I can’t wait to get above this smog,” she said cheerily.

Fred parked and they got out. He unlocked and opened the trunk, pulling out their backpacks. He handed Karina hers without offering to help her get into it. She appreciated his lack of courtesy, since his touch repulsed her. Sitting next to him in the car for several hours had been strain enough. She hoped the trail was sufficiently narrow to require that they travel single file.

“So, how long to this campsite?” Fred inquired.

“It’s an uphill hike of about ten miles. How long it takes to get there will depend on our pace.” Karina knew why he was anxious to get to the campsite. She had led him to believe that she found him attractive, and then suggested they go away together for the weekend. With the implied promise of sex, it didn’t take much to convince him to go backpacking.

They started up the trail, and Karina was pleased to see that it narrowed just a few steps from the parking area. “Go ahead and take the lead,” she told Fred, “I like the view from back here.” She grinned impishly at him.

Fred laughed and led the way. As soon as he turned, Karina dropped the flirtatious act and glared at his back. Her reason for bringing up the rear wasn’t so she could look at his ass; it was to ensure he wouldn’t stare at hers. She could feel her disgust for him welling up in her chest, and she fought it back down. There would be time to indulge in her hatred later. If she gave into it now, she wouldn’t be able to maintain her pretense.

The trail continued to narrow, shifting into switchbacks as the incline increased. Manzanita hugged the trail, its branches lashing Karina’s arms as she walked. The scratches stung as her sweat rolled into them, but she barely noticed. Her tightly constrained anger made her oblivious to the discomfort. Conversation dwindled as they focused their energy on each upward step, which suited Karina. The less Fred said to her, the better.

Karina fell behind as the trail climbed. Her anger eased in the exertion of the hike, and her soul calmed at the beauty of the mountains. She almost forgot her companion and her agenda as she inhaled the cedar-scented air. It wasn’t until Fred turned and spoke to her that her anger came rushing back.

“Are we getting close?” he panted.

Karina paused and pulled out her canteen as she answered him. “Yes. The campsite is on the edge of a lake just past that ridge.” She pointed to an outcropping of granite silhouetted against the blue sky. Then she unscrewed the lid of her canteen and took a swig. The tepid water washed down her throat, quenching her thirst without cooling her.

The hot sun glinted off the mica, causing the ridge to shimmer. Fred brightened at its proximity. “Good! I’m hungry, and after dinner we can go skinny dipping.” He leered suggestively at Karina and then set off up the trail with renewed vigor.

Karina had worn a docile expression during the exchange, but the disgust reappeared the moment he turned away. She found the pretense of liking him more difficult to endure with each passing minute. Thank god they were close to their destination. She gulped down the rest of her water before putting away her canteen.

By the time she followed, Fred was well ahead of her. Karina walked slowly, deliberately falling farther behind with each step. She wanted to create some distance between them. She dawdled, enjoying the solitude. The sun slid slowly toward the horizon and the air cooled as the altitude increased. The fresh air acted like a balm on Karina’s soul.

When she reached the campsite, Fred had already eaten. His dishes lay haphazardly near his pack, the refuse from his meal strewn among them. He reclined in the shade of a fir tree, worn out from the strenuous hike.

Karina eyed the mess, noticing he hadn’t made any food for her. It didn’t surprise her, and she didn’t really care. She had something else on her mind. A snore emerged from Fred’s slack mouth as he napped. For the first time that day, Karina broke into a genuine grin. She eased her backpack off, setting it down quietly. She scanned the ground, searching for a large rock. Many lay scattered next to the ridge, evidence of spheroidal weathering. She chose the largest that would fit comfortably in her hand, relishing in its hefty weight.

Fred continued to snore as she approached him. She knelt by his head, savoring the moment. Then she lifted the stone and brought it down hard on his forehead. She could hear the cracking of his skull, and he grunted as his sleep became unconsciousness. Standing up, she tossed the rock aside, grabbed one of his wrists, and pulled him by the arm toward a tall pine. His weight and the friction as she dragged him across the uneven ground made it difficult, but she finally reached the tree. She pulled him up and sat him against it.

Going to her pack, she rummaged through it until she found the rope she had brought for this purpose. She tied him tightly to the tree, not caring that the rope bit deep into the flesh of his wrists. She tied his feet together and ran that rope to two trees on either side of him so he couldn’t kick. As a final touch she stuffed a sock in his mouth and secured it with a bandana. She had no interest in hearing anything he had to say. Standing back, she surveyed her work. She nodded, satisfied.

She filled her canteen at the lake, bringing it back and throwing the water in his face. He opened his eyes and moaned. The blood from his wound trickled down into his eyes, making it difficult for him to see clearly. When he tried to wipe his eyes, he discovered he couldn’t move. He blinked away the blood and saw Karina standing over him. His eyes widened in terror as she pulled a knife from the cargo pocket of her khaki pants and opened it, revealing a wickedly sharp blade. She held it under his nose, grinning maliciously. He began to squirm and tried to scream, but his bonds were too tight and the gag muffled his voice.

Karina moved the knife lower down and poked him in the chest with it. He grunted in fear and pain, and his eyes rolled back. Karina slapped his face hard to keep him from fainting. He squealed as she continued poking him with the tip of the knife, leaving small gouges in his skin and soaking his T-shirt in blood. He began to weep uncontrollably, but Karina felt no sympathy for him. He had hurt others far worse many times before, so he deserved what was coming to him.

With each poke her rage grew, until she couldn’t hold back anymore. She took the knife and viciously slashed his thigh just below the hem of his shorts. The cut was shallow, but it severed numerous capillaries and he began to bleed profusely. At the sight of his own blood he fainted, and nothing Karina did could wake him again. She sighed in disappointment and stepped back.

For a moment, the sights and sounds of the forest distracted her from her grisly task. The late summer sun dappled the forest floor, streaming through the pine canopy. Chipmunks chittered as they gathered and buried seeds in preparation for winter. Birds called to one another, flitting from branch to branch. A slight breeze ruffled the lake, rippling its surface and sending tiny waves to slap against the rocky shore. The peaceful setting drained Karina’s animosity.

With great effort she pulled her attention away from the scenery and back to Fred. Looking at his face renewed her anger, and she had to hold back the fist yearning to connect to his jaw. If she beat his face to an unrecognizable pulp, would she feel any less rage? She feared that once she started hitting him, she wouldn’t be able to stop. The pent-up fury of years weighed on her soul. He groaned, slowly coming out of his faint.

Karina felt disgust for the man. He was quick to hurt women and children, but weak when it came to being hurt himself. Pathetic. She felt sickened by him, and was now anxious to end this torture. She had thought it would be justice, but it turned out to be nothing but a waste of time.

Fred was a human without a conscience. He was a human without a soul. He would continue to repeat his transgressions because he didn’t think he was wrong. He felt justified in hurting those who were physically weaker than him just because they were weaker than him. If a woman or child angered him, or made him feel stupid, he lashed out with his fists without even thinking twice. If a man made him angry, he backed down to avoid getting hurt.

Karina realized that Fred was nothing more than an animal following instinct. The same cowardice that caused him to avoid conflict with other males led him to abuse females in order to salve his vanity. He felt impotent in his anger and took it out on those who couldn’t fight back.

Karina’s need for revenge faded with her understanding of her enemy, but she still hated him, and she still had to decide what to do with him. Killing him would serve no purpose, since he didn’t understand how he was wrong. But letting him live would injure others, since he would continue to abuse women and children, not understanding it was wrong.

Karina sighed as she came to a decision, acting without hesitation once it was made. She leaned down and slid the blade across his throat, pressing firmly against the skin of his neck. He never even became fully conscious as he bled out, spraying blood on her with every beat of his black heart.

Karina closed her eyes as the warm blood dripped down her skin, feeling a sense of relief as a useless life left the world. Head tilted to the sky, she spread her arms wide in a gesture of thankfulness. Her hands opened and the knife fell, ringing out against a rock as it hit the ground, like a bell tolling for the dead. The sound brought her out of her reverie, and she reached down to retrieve the knife, absentmindedly wiping its blade against her pants. The action startled her and she stared at the blood-smeared knife in surprise.

She felt extraordinarily calm despite having just committed murder, but Fred’s demise felt right. What society would view as a criminal act Karina viewed as the proper solution to a life that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Murder was wrong, but this wasn’t murder. It was a cure for a harmful disease. She had merely cut out the malignant growth before it could cause any more damage.

Killing Fred had been the right thing to do, but since others wouldn’t understand her reasoning, she would have to hide what she’d done. She untied Fred and washed the bloody rope and makeshift gag in the lake, laying them out on the shore to dry. She washed and dried her knife and set it down next to the rope.

Karina turned her attention to the bloody corpse leaning against the tree, considering her options for its removal. She decided to leave it, as the scent of blood would attract scavengers to consume the flesh and thus eliminate the evidence of foul play. It would appear as if a careless backpacker had been killed and eaten by a predator. She smirked. Careless, indeed, not obtaining a wilderness permit. No one would know you were lost in the backcountry, and no one would know to look for you there when you turned up missing.

She took off her hiking boots and used the damp bandana to wipe the blood off them, rinsing it in the lake when she was done. Then she waded into the water fully clothed, diving under to wash away the rest of the blood. Exiting the lake, she changed her clothes and wrung out the wet ones before depositing them into a plastic bag. She added the rope, sock, and bandana to the bag and stuffed it into her pack. Picking up and closing the knife, she put it in her cargo pocket, feeling its comfortable weight against her knee. She sat and pulled her boots back on, adjusting the toes of her socks so the knot on the seam wouldn’t chafe against her little toe. She tied and double-knotted the laces.

Karina stood up and surveyed the campsite, noticing the drag marks from Fred’s body in the dirt. She picked up a fallen fir branch that still had needles and used it to brush away the marks and her own tracks. Satisfied that all evidence of her was erased, she picked up her pack and set off up the trail.