The Weekend

By Traci Hayden

Five average, middle-age friends take a girls-only weekend vacation together once a year. Leaving the traditional vacations behind for the first time, they decide to tackle camping and head for a beautiful park preserve in the Pennsylvania wilderness. On their first night, things take a turn for the worse when they encounter three mysterious mountain men who abduct them and bring them to their cabin with the intent to rape and torture them.
Hell-bent on surviving and making it back to their loved ones, the women quickly cease to be victims and make unrelenting war on the men. Relying on instincts they never knew they possessed, the women resort to brutal and savage tactics, and soon turn the tide on their attackers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465371096

Traci Hayden

Traci Hayden is a proud mother of four beautiful girls and one adorable granddaughter. She has always had a passion for reading, but recently the obsession for writing has taken over.As a Nova Scotian native now living in British Columbia, Traci has traveled across Canada, fueling her imagination from coast to coast.Along with two dogs and one cat, Traci's home is shared with her partner of 16 years. He is her rock and constant support.Traci loves all genres of writing, but currently is exploring the world of romance.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Traci Hayden.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011917359

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-7108-9

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-7107-2

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-7109-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

CHAPTER ONE

WHY, CINDA COMPLAINED, just as she did almost every day she and her friends lunched at Manici’s, do we always eat at this restaurant? You guys act like it’s the only one in town.

Oh, stop complaining, girl, Valerie told her friend, not for the first time. Being the oldest of the group, she oftentimes felt more like the women’s mother instead of their good friend. But she loved them just the same, even after they branded her a prude. Although she was not a wild party girl—and had never been one—neither was she a killjoy; and she felt that the title was a little undeserved. She couldn’t help it that she simply liked doing the right thing—it made her feel good about herself. This is a nice restaurant with a nice atmosphere and good food.

I’m not saying it isn’t, Cinda snapped back. But we’ve been coming here every day for the past two months. Cinda loved trying new things; in fact, she craved excitement. She had told her friends on numerous occasions that it was due to her fiery Argentine blood. It’s getting boring and I want to try someplace else. What do the rest of you think?"

Karen, taking Cinda’s words as the best opportunity for telling her friends about their up and coming vacation, spoke up before the others had a chance to answer Cinda’s question.

I feel you, Cinda, she said casually. She paused to take a sip of her mocha cappuccino. This place is getting a little monotonous. Kind of like the vacations we take every year. That’s why I decided that we should do something … hmm … a little out of the ordinary—to spice things up a bit.

Oh, no, groaned Stephanie. I can’t wait to hear this.

I don’t even think it’s your turn to choose, Rhonda added with a smile.

That’s right, Valerie joined in on the teasing. I recall you choosing the vacation last year.

Yep, Cinda said as she nodded her head. Me, too.

Don’t you heifers even try to skip over me! Karen hollered. You know damn well it’s my turn to choose! For the last few days, she had been extremely apprehensive about telling her friends the type of vacation she had chosen. She had no doubt that it was going to be a hard sell but it didn’t matter; she was going to stand her ground. She was tired of going to the same type of tropical resort or major city, year after year, where they tirelessly visit art museums, famous attractions, or eat at restaurants owned by celebrities or well-known athletes. Mainly, the last was done in anticipation of taking a picture with one or, at least, getting an autograph. So far, they’ve never gotten either one; and it was about time they all tried something different, something they’re not used, something not so … safe. No near-death experiences such as bungee-jumping or parachuting—those were definitely not for her, even rollercoasters were too much for her to handle.

Karen was in no way an adrenalin junkie, not at all; it’s just that with these vacations, she knew what to expect … always. She wanted to experience the unexpected. Each year, she packed the same items: bathing suit, the proverbial little black dress, and a lot of makeup. The vacations were unmistakably girly and Karen felt that it was time to catch up with the twenty-first century where women were experiencing things that were more … daring.

Cinda hung her head and said, We were hoping that you wouldn’t remember. I don’t think any of us can forget the last place you picked. It was a disaster. Remember?

Hey now! Karen said in a pouty voice. How was I supposed to know that there was going to be a bikers’ convention going on?! Actually, she had known but chose to ignore that minor detail. This is one secret that she will never share with her friends—they’d kill her if they ever found out. At the time, Karen had thought it would be the perfect solution for livening up yet another of their uninteresting vacations, and she had been right. It’s not so much that their vacations are chock-filled with nothing but boredom, but that they’re so … predictable. She had absolutely no regrets about what she had done.

You know the rules! Valerie interrupted. You’re supposed to find out everything that’s going on before you book the vacation. Obviously you didn’t do that.

Obviously, Rhonda added while crossing her arms in mock anger.

It was so loud we couldn’t close our eyes for the entire weekend! said Stephanie. After we got back, it took me a whole week to catch up on my sleep! And Stephanie had always been adamant about getting a good night’s sleep. Proper food and proper rest equals a sound mind and body—that was her motto. Following this philosophy, she claims, is what keeps her aim straight and true at the firing range. But besides firearms, she’s a pro with a bow and arrow as well as throwing knives.

I was so mad at you for that, bitch Said Cinda.

Me, too! Bitch yelled Rhonda. Her favorite word had always been ‘bitch’ and she loved the way it rolled off her tongue. I wasn’t too happy about getting hit on by a bunch of hairy, toothless Neanderthals who had more tattoos than skin.

Oh, don’t even get me started on that one, Valerie added. It was a fucking nightmare. How bout it?

It’s still my turn to pick, Karen stated as she gave them all one of her menacing stares. They never seemed to have the effect she wanted. … and I’m picking!

After too long of a pause, Stephanie finally said, Pick then."

Still, Karen wasn’t forthcoming with her proposal. Well, asked Cinda, what’s it gonna be?

I know you guys are going to be real excited about this one, Karen said as she dug the brochure out of her purse. And we don’t have to worry about any loud-ass bikers.

What the hell is it! both Rhonda and Valerie screamed simultaneously.

Quit being so mean, Karen said. I was just about to tell you … it’s …

Karennnn! Cinda said as she annoyingly swung her crossed leg. If you don’t—

Camping! Karen yelled excitedly.

The friends all looked at one other in total disbelief and one by one, said, Camping?

Camping, Karen said with confidence.

Camping?

Camping, Karen repeated with a grin.

You?

No—us, said Karen.

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR EVER-LOVING MIND, GIRL? Valerie screeched, but quickly lowered her voice as people at nearby tables began to look at her. I mean, what the hell do you know about camping?

Not a damn thing, Rhonda stated. Not a got damn thing!

Crazy heifer, Stephanie said. Black people don’t go camping; don’t you know that?

Oh, Hell no! Valerie interjected. I am not going camping!

Oh yes you are, Karen said. You know the rules. One of us chooses and we all go. End of discussion.

Camping is kind of fun, Cinda said quietly. I used to go camping all the time when I was a k—

Shut up, Cinda! Valerie, Rhonda, and Stephanie said at once. You don’t count. You’re Mexican—uh, excuse me—Argentine— and therefore used to sleeping outside, Rhonda added with a grin.

Oh no you didn’t, started Cinda.

Yeah, I did, Rhonda retorted, giving her friend some attitude. She liked nothing better than riling her friends, bringing them to the brink of anger and then laughing off whatever insult she had bestowed. On the inside, though, Rhonda is overly kindhearted and hates seeing the little people of the world—people of so called no consequence—get stepped on by low-down, greedy, backstabbing individuals. More than once in her life, she has defended those—including animals—who could not—or would not—fight back, especially during her high school years. She is a no-nonsense type of woman and she doesn’t take shit from anyone—except Valerie.

Bitch.

Bitch.

Ladies! Please. This is some serious shit here! Valerie said. Now, Karen, what in the world possessed you to choose camping? None us, besides Cinda here, have any experience camping. We’ll have to buy equipment—expensive equipment. There’s no refrigerator, no stove, no bed, and no GOT DAMN BATHROOM! Have you thought about that?! And … what if one of us starts her period?

Oooh, girl, that’s a good one, Stephanie interrupted. I bet she didn’t think about that.

Look, you guys, Karen started. I’ve done a much better job researching this vacation than I’ve ever done in the past. Camping is allowed in the Pennsylvania Park Forest Preserve and it’s less than four hours from here. I even found a shop that rents out camping equipment and gear at a good price, including a porta-potty.

A porta who? asked Rhonda.

A portable toilet, you idiot, Cinda replied. Don’t you know anything?

Check yourself, Rhonda replied back.

I’m just thinking about wild animals and all those bugs. What if something gets in our tent? What are we going to do then, Valerie asked in a whining voice. Besides, I don’t even know if Satchel would want me going on a camping trip without him.

Fuck you, bitch, Karen said accusingly. You’re just trying to use him as an excuse to renege.

Uh-uh—no I’m not, denied Valerie. It’s the truth.

Quit lying, girl, said Cinda. You know damn well all our men have no problem with our yearly vacations.

So, everybody, questioned Rhonda, are we going or not?

You know you are, Karen said with a smile as she spread the brochure out on the table, making everyone move their drinks out of the way. All for one and one for all! We’re going to have so much fun.

Please, Stephanie said, you don’t even know how to pitch a tent.

Ha! Karen replied. If I can pitch a ball, I sure as hell can pitch a tent.

CHAPTER TWO

AT THE HOUSE of Stephanie and her husband Kevin, the two are in the middle of packing Stephanie’s clothes and toiletries. Kevin is a little apprehensive about a girls-only camping trip and Stephanie is trying to ease his fears.

Look, honey, none of us really wanted to go at first but the more Karen talked about it, the more we kind of …

Kind of what? Got excited about it? Kevin asked.

Well, yeah.

You really can’t be serious about this, baby. I mean … well, camping is a little dangerous, especially for five women alone.

What did you just say, Stephanie asked with a slight oh-no-you-didn’t-just-say-what-I-thought-you-said attitude. "Never mind ‘cause it doesn’t matter. We’re bringing a few guys with us, anyway.

The hell you are! Kevin said angrily.

Yes—baby, we are. But don’t get upset; you know them, she explained.

I do?

Yep.

What are their names?

Smith, Wesson, Glock, Luger, and Señor Beretta. She said the last name with a provocative Spanish accent. I just can’t make up my mind which ones to bring.

Baby, you can’t take all those guns to a forest preserve.

Oh yes I can. Who’s gonna know? Pausing in the middle of folding her clothes, Stephanie glares at Kevin and asks, Who’s gonna tell?

At Cinda’s home, her two young boys are playing in the living room and her husband, Martin, has just placed her luggage near the front door. She had finished packing some time ago but is busy writing down some instructions for her husband. He is steady looking over her shoulder and rolling his eyes at most everything on the list.

… and you remember what happened last time I came back from vacationing with the girls. Fernando was puking his guts outs because you let him eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with syrup and guacamole on it—not to mention the chocolate milk he drank with it.

I did tell him to drink regular milk, though, Martin said in defense.

Oh, so the gross sandwich he ate was all right?

I didn’t know—

That’s just it, Martin; you’re the parent, and you should know. I don’t want to be worrying about the boys while I’m gone—I want to enjoy myself. ¿Comprendes, mi amor? I love you, Papi, but you’ve got to focus, focus, Cinda said as she pointed both fingers at her eyes and then at her husband. As long as we have cell phone reception, expect a call from me once in the morning and once at night. If not, then I’ll try to call from the ranger’s station. The number is on the fridge, okay, baby?

Don’t worry, babe, I’ve got everything covered. How many times a day do I give Adam his medicine again? Instinctively ducking from the shoe he knew was coming toward his head, Martin eases Cinda’s mind by saying, Just kidding, babe."

At the home of Rhonda and her husband, Carl, and their two Rots, her bag has been packed, emptied, and packed again. She can’t seem to make up her mind as to what constitutes appropriate camping attire. While puffing on a grape-flavored cigarillo, she decides that the two pairs of jeans have to stay, but she’s in a dilemma whether to wear thongs or more serviceable panties. In the end, she chooses the thongs, thinking that no one will see them anyway.

So, are you girls going camping camping, or are you going to a sissy campground? Carl asked his wife.

For your information, Mr. Smart-ass, we’re going on a bona fide, honest-to-goodness camping trip.

That just doesn’t make any sense, Rhonda. You’re not honest-to-goodness camping material. You don’t know a thing about camping, plus you girls are liable to get yourselves lost, or worse.

Hon, she said as a light whiff of smoke left her lips, can you give us a little credit, please. We’re not really going to be roughing it, you know. Karen’s bringing a television with a built-in DVD player; we’re bringing lighters and lighter fluid to make the fire; all of the food is ready-made, except for the eggs and bacon; we have the porta-potty—thank goodness—and the tent pops into place on its own in under a minute. I think we have everything covered. C’mon, hon, what can go wrong? The best part is that we will be camped less than two miles from the ranger’s station. Does that make you feel any better?

Loads, Carl answered sarcastically.

Valerie again checked the time and then verified that anything and everything she could possibly need was packed and secured in her bags, including the five Snickers she had hidden in the inside lining of her duffle bag. Satisfied that all is ready, she walked toward the bathroom, completely prepared for the yearly fit Satchel throws every time she goes vacationing with the girls. Her husband just finished checking his penis for a previous burn scar, and Valerie calmly waits outside the bathroom for the whining to commence.

Hey, babe, Satchel called from the bathroom, you remember when I burned my johnson last week?

How could I forget that? answered Valerie. You screamed like a little bitch for damn near an hour.

Quit exaggerating. I was just gonna tell you that he’s all healed—like it never even happened.

Oh yeah? Who fixed it? Serve-Pro?

You got jokes, huh? Satchel said as walked into the bedroom. On the real side, babe, this is a really bad time for you to be leaving me.

I’m not leaving you, Satchel, and it’s a bad time every year.

I know, baby, but this time I’m serious. I don’t feel too good; I might be coming down with the flu.

You came down with the flu last year, Satchel; and the year before that, it was malaria.

It wasn’t malaria; it was the swine flu, Satchel said defensively.

Whatever. I’m still going and you’re still going to be all right. Have you seen my hair growth stimulator? I thought it was on the sink.

Grabbing the ointment from his dresser and handing it to Valerie in a childish way, he says, I can’t believe you can’t go 2 days without using this stuff.

Valerie looked at Satchel in astonishment and asked, What the hell are you using it for, as long as your hair—. Glancing at his forehead, which had a lot less hair than the back, Valerie did not finish her question but instead muttered, Oh.

Oh? Oh? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Nothing, baby. But you’re right. I don’t need to take it with me. I’ll leave it here.

Oh, now you want to leave it behind. Why? You think I need it or something? Satchel wailed.

No, baby, Valerie sighed while rolling her eyes. But I’m still not taking it with me. No doubt I’ll be way too busy to have time to put that crap in my hair, so I’m just gonna leave it here, okay?

Pretending as if he didn’t care about the ointment, Satchel shrugged his shoulders and answered, Do whatcha want; it doesn’t matter to me.

With a hidden—and knowing—smile, Valerie placed the ointment back on his dresser.

In the home of Karen and her long love Davie, the two are saying their good-byes in bed after just finishing a lusty bout of amazing sex.

Damn, baby, Davie gasped in an exhausted breath, I do love how you gimme me that good-bye loving. That will definitely keep me until you get back from camping. But I will miss your ass!

I know you will, Karen stated confidently. I’m gonna miss you, too, sweetie. Just don’t let me come home to a messed up house or you won’t be getting any hello loving. Ya hear me?

Loud and clear, baby. A clean house. Gotcha!

Karen kissed Davie once more, then left the bed and headed to the bathroom. When Davie was sure that she was in the shower, he lifted up his side of the mattress and took out a velvet, maroon jewelry box. He opened it to again admire his choice of engagement rings. He headed toward the bathroom with the intention of proposing to Karen this very moment, but changed his mind and turned around. He was about to put the ring away but instead, walked up to the bathroom door and lifted his hand to knock. Again, something made him pause and he muttered to himself, No. It’s not the right time. I’ll wait until she gets back. This time, he resolved to put the ring back in its hiding place.

CHAPTER THREE

THE WEATHER IS wonderful and the skies are blue, with no hint of rain in the air. All five women are in their second hour of driving after leaving Scranton. They are in Karen’s car and she has just let Rhonda take over the driving. Karen is sitting next to Rhonda, who has her feet propped up on the dash, with Stephanie, Valerie, and Cinda in the back—Cinda pulled the short straw and had to sit in the middle. A verbal fight is ensuing because Cinda feels that it is her turn to listen to her type of music, but the other women aren’t going for it because they do not want to hear any Latina music. At the moment, they are listening to I’m a Plumber Man by Charles Wilson.

Oh, so you guys are just going to act like it’s not my turn. How are you gonna do me like that? We’re all supposed to get 30 minutes of our choice of music and got damn it, it’s my turn, shouted Cinda.

Girl, you can listen to your funky music after we set up camp, said Rhonda.

I want to listen to my music now—not later!

Is it that serious, girl? I mean, c’mon now, Valerie intervened.

Yes! Cinda answered immediately as she slumped back in the seat and crossed her arms. It’s that serious. You guys are a bunch of bitches!

Oh, now we’re bitches, huh?

Yeah—bitches. Fat ugly bitches, Cinda retorted.

Well, it’s my car, Karen interrupted, and I was just about to agree with you that it is your turn. But now this bitch has changed her mind. You ain’t listening to shit but what we let your ass listen to. Hah!

Unbelievable, Cinda said as she shook her head.

Believe it, biotch! All four women said at the same time. After a brief moment of looking at one another, everyone burst out laughing.

Gimme that damn CD, girl, Karen tells Cinda while holding her hand out. Cinda complied and as