Page 1 of The Burning

PROLOGUE

Milan Swanz figured he’d chosen the wrong night to get drunk and walk home. He’d spent the evening at the bar, guzzling drafts and alternating with the occasional shot of Wild Turkey. His drinking buddy had abandoned ship at some point, leaving him without a ride. At the time, Milan hadn’t cared. He had his eye on the redhead in the tight jeans and low-cut sweater. The one that had climbed onto the pool table to make a tricky jump shot that won her the game. Unfortunately for Milan, the redhead had disappeared shortly after his ride and now here he was, horny and shit-faced and wading through ankle-deep snow with another mile and a half to go.

“Uppity bitch,” he muttered as his boots crunched along the gravel shoulder of Dogleg Road.

It was so dark on this lonely stretch that he could barely see the hit-or-miss asphalt beneath his feet. Frickin’ Ohio winters. It had been a comfortable fifty degrees when he’d walked into the bar at six P.M. In the hours since, the temperature had dropped, two inches of snow had fallen, and now he was officially freezing his ass off.

He’d just passed the bridge over Little Paint Creek when headlights flickered against the bare-branched treetops ahead. He turned to look behind him, and sure enough a vehicle was approaching. Milan sidestepped onto the shoulder. The hiss of the tires against pavement sounded and then a car rolled to a stop next to him. The passenger-side window slid down.

“Heck of a night to be out walking,” came a friendly voice from the driver’s seat.

Stopping, Milan bent and looked into the interior, felt a puff of heated air waft over his face. “You ain’t lying.”

“Where you headed?”

“Home.” Hopeful he’d landed a ride, Milan motioned in the direction of his house. “A mile and a half down the road.”

“I’m going that way. Want a lift?”

“Man, that’d be great.”

The door locks snicked as they disengaged. “Hop in.”

Brushing snow from his shoulders, Milan reached for the door handle and slid inside. A sigh eased out of him at the soft embrace of heat, the smell of warm leather. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” The driver glanced in the side-view mirror and pulled back onto the road. “Hate to see anyone out in this kind of weather.”

“Had a ride but he left me.”

“Happens.”

A pleasant song Milan couldn’t name purred from the sound system. He leaned back in the plush seat, soaking in the warmth, a sense of relaxation washing over him. One of these days, he was going to own a vehicle like this. One of these days, he was going to catch a break and—

A shuffle from the back seat startled him. A blur of movement inches from his face. The next thing he knew something slapped against his throat and was yanked tight against his Adam’s apple.

“Hey!” The word burst from his mouth in a garbled chirp as his voice box was crushed.

Instinctively, he raised both hands, tried to jam his fingers beneath the strap. But it was impossibly tight. Cutting off his air and the blood to his head. His fingers dug into his flesh, fingernails scratching his skin, but he couldn’t get them beneath it.

A rise of panic overtook him. His body bucked, hips coming up. He kicked out his feet, pushed against the seatback. Raised a knee, rammed his foot into the dash. Plastic shattered.

The strap was yanked tighter. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Arching his back, he twisted left and then right. He lashed out with his feet. Tried to get his leg up to break the windshield. Not enough room to maneuver. He slung out his left arm, tried to punch the driver. His forearm struck the steering wheel.

Mindless panic descended. He plunged his fingers into the flesh at his throat. His right leg came up. He kicked at the glove box. Once. Twice. Heard the vinyl split. His mouth opened, but the scream was quashed. Tongue sticking out between his teeth. No air. No air.

The lights flickered and dimmed. The music faded to babel. His hands fell to his lap. His bladder released. By the time the warmth spread across his crotch, he could no longer feel.

Milan Swanz woke to darkness, cold, and a headbanger of a headache. An icy breeze cut through his coat and jeans. Confusion swirled in his brain. He was outside, shivering his ass off. He remembered the car picking him up. A strap looped over his head, someone in the back seat trying to strangle him …

He opened his eyes and looked around. A wall of trees surrounded him. Gray night sky above skeletal branches. Snow falling like ash. No one in sight. He tried to get his bearings, but recognized nothing.

Where was he?

What the hell was going on?

He was upright, but not quite standing on his own power. An alarm inside him shrilled when he realized his wrists were bound behind his back. Something solid and rough against his spine, supporting him. He tried to loosen the binds, but his wrists were tightly bound with what felt like wire or stiff cord. He looked down, saw that he was standing on a stack of wood pallets. Someone had also piled what looked like firewood and kindling at his feet.

“What the fuck?” His voice echoed among the trees. The only reply was the tinkle of snow and the hard drum of fear in his chest.