In the Blink of An Eye

by Jerry Baggett

  They didn’t stay long enough to search for me. She heard them leave, driving dangerously fast. She waited another half hour before moving away from protection of the tree. She cautiously worked her way along in the dark, prepared to flee into the heavy growth again if they came back.

  She stood in light rain and stared at dark shapes taking place against a slowly lightening sky line. Some kind of old buildings. She walked closer to the nearest structure. An old Barn. Grass is growing all around, no sign of people here.

  Maria screamed herself awake. She awakened inside a silk lined casket. No! A family of racoons scampered out the doorway. They had awakened her from her nightmare. She knew it was more than just a nightmare. She had lived the terrifying ordeal. She had asked God for a quick death.

  She looked around. It must be near midday. The racoons had scavenged her food. Light rain still rattled the tin roof of the barn. She was wrapped in rough burlap sacks she’d found in the barn. They smelled of mildew and other strange smells. That had not kept her from wrapping herself in one bag and pulling another up from her feet to her chin. She had fallen asleep quickly, before her body had warmed enough to stop the shaking. Maybe God does hear my prayers.

  Her mind wouldn’t let go of the dream. She kept on waking up inside the casket. She knew they were injecting her with drugs. She had never cared for the feeling. She felt she could survive the physical attack and sexual abuse of her body, maybe not the mental trauma. Waking up sick inside the small, dark enclosure had turned her mind to jelly within minutes. She’d screamed herself hoarse and scratched the lining out of the overhead the first time. Her fingernails were worn away, and the tips of her fingers scraped raw.

  She had very little memory of things happening outside the casket. She would wake up enough to eat, use the toilet with one of them helping her, and go back to sleep. Hans was always brutal. He slapped her across the face whenever he wanted her awake. She didn’t want to wake up and fought to sleep, knowing what was coming. One night they had taken her into a motel room. She had been put into the room with Hans. He put her in the shower and scrubbed her down like a child before repeatedly using her body and falling asleep with her strapped to his wrist. The casket eventually became her safe house. They knew she would relieve herself inside the enclosure and put a plastic sheet down before placing her inside. They would have to take her into a public restroom with Hans and let her clean herself up because of the odor.

  She was thirsty. She climbed out of the sack, needing to pee. She would go outside and look for a way out. From wherever this place might be.

  Chapter 36

  The first-class flight to Mobile, Alabama had been relaxing for Dick. He had tuned out the low conversation between Samantha and Grant to ponder over several matters of importance to him. Her new inheritance had popped into his mind. The lengthy flight gave him an opportunity to consider the added responsibility for her and how they would deal with that and any possible conflicts between her career and his flying. He felt their feelings for one another were real, based upon mutual respect and genuine affection. His commitment to a new career, flying for the foundation supporting Children’s Medical Care Associates, should not interfere. His commission in the navy reserve required little time. He didn’t want to give that up. Samantha’s joy in working for a private doctor, also a consideration. He visualized their future together, as a family. They both felt it would require a mutual understanding and certain amount of flexibility for happiness. They had agreed to table those differences until after the threats on her life were over. His thoughts turned to Robbin, and the huge family-controlled medical foundation he would be part of. He knew immediately, there would be a place there for Sam. She would fit nicely into the children’s medical group.

  Dick drove the rental car. The highway system had changed over the years and he was unable to recall specific directions through the rural country side. He had only a general idea where they were headed, depending on GPS. Excitement trickled through his body. Why hadn’t he returned again after his father’s death? He’d matured into a busy adult, that’s why. He’d pushed aside childhood memories, including those of his father’s birth place, to become the man he aspired to be. He glanced at the GPS, and prepared to exit the freeway. He knew where he wanted to go now.

  Grant toyed around with the GPS for a few minutes. “There’s a Cracker Barrel restaurant ahead, on the right. Stop there for lunch. If you’re right about no food or water where we’re going, we may want a good meal before we get there.” He glanced back at Sam. She’d moved to the back seat. “What do you say we treat ourselves to some great southern food? Do you think you can handle it?”

  She smiled back at Grant. “I’m willing to give it a try. If I turn my nose up or question his opinion of good food, he’ll trade me in for a fine red neck southern girl that eats fried okra and loves grits.”

  Dick looked around inside. The restaurant was nearly full, yet they were seated almost immediately. “This is an interesting get-up. I wonder where they pick up all the nostalgia hanging on these walls.”

  “Lots of people probably ask that. It’s anybody’s guess.” She picked up Dick’s hand. “I suggest we try the fried catfish with hushpuppies, a side of fried okra and a side of turnip greens. Think that will keep me in your good graces?”

  He grinned back. “Let’s go for it. My family grew up eating like this. I can usually eat anything that doesn’t try to eat me first. I once ate a couple of snakes in the Thailand jungle.”

  A few minutes later he watched Grant mix up two lightly fried eggs with his grits. “What’s that you’re doing with your eggs?”

  “Making Georgia ice cream. A good old southern boy taught me this in federal prison. It’s filling and delicious. You just mix your grits and eggs all together while it’s hot. You can throw a little crispy bacon in it too, or a real pork sausage patty.”

  “No thanks,” Dick said. “I’ll stick with the catfish. Everything I’ve tasted is damn good. I may order seconds.” He grinned at Samantha. “I don’t think I’ll trade her in, after all. Did you see how she plowed through that fried okra?”

  Dick attempted to answer some of their questions. “There’s so much about this property I don’t understand. The trust has nearly a thousand acres of timberland, plus several hundred acres of farmland in the estate. Trust attorneys have handled everything, including the choice of an investment firm. There are separate management firms specializing in specific areas of expertise. A Wall Street investment firm handles the investments. A timber management firm from Mobile manages the timber production. A large farm conglomerate leases the farm land except for that around the old farm house that once belonged to my great uncle. We’re coming up on that now. The farm, now a cattle ranch, is under a separate lease, handled by the trust’s law firm.”

  He spotted a heavy gate blocking a well-maintained dirt road. “Now, let’s have a look at the old McGowin family farm property.” Dick eased the car up to the gate. “That’s the old farm house you see in the distance. I’m glad I called the estate attorney and then talked with my brother again before driving out here. According to my brother, the lease holder has been here for over twenty years. They’re extremely private, pay their rent, and keep the property up, in accordance with the lease agreement.” He sat and looked over the entrance for a moment. “The lease allows the property owner to inspect the property from the outside at any time. A one-week advance notice is required for entrance into the house.”

  He walked out to the gate and back. “There’s no lock on the gate. A snap fastener has a welded chain from the gate, which loops around the fence support post.” He pointed down the road. “The driveway’s three hundred yards long from the road to the front yard of the old farm house. Our great uncle lived here, raised a family here and died here. His children wanted nothing to do with farming or country living, so it ended up in the trust.”

  Samantha stared at the house. “It’s a beautiful old home, and well
maintained. There must be at least five or six bedrooms in that place.”

  “The leaseholder maintains the house. My father visited as a child and often talked about the house. He said there was much more to the house than just bedrooms. Our great uncle and his wife entertained local friends in a large room designed for that purpose. It opened up to an oversized dining room and extra-large kitchen. That would be outdated today, of course.”

  He pulled back onto the road. “I phoned for permission to look over the old house but no one got back to me before we had to head out this way.” He glanced back at Sam. “I don’t feel we have a good enough reason to disturb those inside without notice.”

  “It’s magnificent,” Samantha said. “Certainly not important enough to disturb the long-term tenant. The pasture surrounding the home is beautifully trimmed.”

  “Actually, that’s maintained by grazing cattle,” Dick said. “There’s a stream back behind the pasture, flowing along the edge of the pine forest providing water for the cattle. They tend to gather in the shade there through the middle of the day.”

  He started the car. “We’d better move on to the old plantation property.” That’ll take up some time. The law firm said the timber company reported someone had broken through the gate and burned down one of the old homes there. I guess it’s an easy mark for young scoundrels. The damage has been reported to the county sheriff.”

  Dick stopped the car. A heavy rock held the gate closed. He opened the gate wide enough to drive through.

  He examined the lock and chain. “That chain blocking the service road was deliberately cut to allow entrance with a vehicle. Someone was determined to get in here. What do you suppose they were after?”

  “Don’t have any idea,” Grant said. “Could be hunters or young vandals. The road is hardly used, grown over. Perhaps we’ll know more after we look around where the house burned.”

  Dick said, “Yeah. The sheriff’s office said heavy rain has flooded the old road into the area where we’re going. You can see why I suggested a four-wheel drive for the trip. It’s always been a little difficult driving over the minimally maintained road.”

  He drove through, closed the gate and replaced the heavy rock. “There may be cattle loose inside the fenced area. I haven’t been here for many years. Things have changed a lot. Trees and brush all look different.” He stopped again. “I’ll drive on through the flooded areas you see ahead of us. It shouldn’t be a problem with this vehicle. We’re almost to the old village.”

  “Oh my God!” Samantha said. “Stop the car, Dick. I want pictures with my cellphone. This looks like a movie set, from a hundred and fifty years ago. The rain’s stopped and the sun’s out.” She left the car door open and hurried out front.

  “Watch for snakes in the grass. Just stay on the road bed,” Dick yelled. Dick walked out in front of the Jeep. “Look here, Grant. There are vehicle tracks in and out of here, made quite recently. The rain did only minimum damage. The tracks aren’t even washed out.”

  Samantha had mostly been silent on the ride through the forest. “Dick! You said this plantation community has been maintained since the civil war. Why would your family do that? It must have cost a fortune to keep up a lot of old buildings. Of course, I’m glad they did. Can’t wait to come back again and explore everything more carefully.”

  “Back in the car, everybody. It’s starting to rain again. We’ll be back this way after we check out that house that burned. I believe it was the plantation overseer’s home.”

  The previous vehicle had left deep tracks in the yard of the old home. Dick figured it had been raining when that car made the trip in and back out again. He guessed it came in and left the same day. He parked over the tracks of the earlier car. “Look at this. Our perps made a deliberate trip in to visit this house and left immediately, right after setting the house on fire. There had to be a reason for that. The heavy rain and humidity doused the fire before the house completely burned. Let’s have a look around inside the remains.”

  The kitchen and dining room were completely destroyed. All rooms in front were left intact. Dick kicked his way through the charred remnants of the kitchen. He looked at a burned kitchen stove. An old-fashioned wood stove, he guessed. He looked over the foundation to determine the size of the various rooms that burned. He dragged away several sheets of scorched tin for a better idea of what he was seeing.

  He stared at a small area off the kitchen. That warrant’s a closer look, perhaps a small casket. A pantry maybe, or small storage closet. Something’s been buried there underneath the floor. No, only half buried. Dirt had been shoveled over the top to make it look like a mound of dirt. A burning timber had fallen onto the buried object and scorched the wood where dirt had fallen away over the years. It was not a recent burial, too small for an adult, perhaps a child. He motioned for Grant to come around to where the closet had been, in one corner of the kitchen.

  “What the hell,” Grant said. “Is that a casket? It must have been there a darn long time.”

  “That may be where someone buried a small child,” Dick said. “But why underneath the floor?” He straightened up and looked at Samantha. “Maybe.” He turned back to Grant. “I’ve been thinking. I might have an idea of what we have here. One of Dad’s stories. It’s a long, tall tale. If it’s what I believe it is, we’ll celebrate.” He called Samantha around, for a look. “Some of the houses in the community still have shovels and other old tools inside. I think we should make sure of what’s in that box before we leave here.” Dick picked up a half-burned board and raked some more dirt off the top.

  Samantha said, “It’s an old trunk. I can’t wait for a good look inside. Let’s go for the tools. It doesn’t look like a casket.”

  Dick dragged a piece of the tin roof over the box before leaving. He asked Grant to drive. “Stop at the first cross street in the community. There’s an old barn behind one of the small houses that should have a variety of tools stored there. Workers use them to maintain the village.”

  Grant stopped suddenly and backed up a few yards. “Look! There’s a Jeep parked underneath the trees behind that huge, partially burned main house. What do you make of it?”

  “Damned if I know. We’d better be careful. Back the car out of sight, and call the county sheriff’s office, Grant.” He opened the car door. “We need a better look at what’s going on here. Stay with the car until I return. I don’t believe that Jeep was there when we came in. one of us would have noticed it.”

  Dick walked around to where Samantha was taking a picture from the Jeep. He removed the Glock from a behind-the-belt holster and handed it to her. “Since you insist on going with me, you’ll be my back-up. Here’s what we’re going to do. I want you behind one of those big trees, near where I plan to enter the side door. Just stand there and wait, with the Glock ready. I believe that’s where the activity’s taking place. If you hear gunfire from inside, approach carefully with the weapon ready and shoot anyone holding a gun. Do not hesitate, just shoot, whether I’m down or not. If everything is safe, I’ll call you to come forward. Do you understand what to do?”

  “I can do this, but, Dick! Please don’t go inside unless you’re sure it’s safe.”

  He eased close to the doorway, took a quick peek inside and stepped back. There wasn’t enough light inside to be sure of what was going on. Two people, in some kind of struggle. He closed his eyes and covered them with his hand while counting, to improve night vision.

  He heard a weak feminine voice. “You don’t have to hurt me. I’ll do what you want. Please don’t take me back.”

  A man said, “We ain’t taking you back. We got a better idea than that for you.”

  Dick stepped inside the dark room. The man had the woman on the floor, with a knee on her stomach. Her hands were bound. She struggled for breath. Dick kicked the man in the temple, quickly followed with a kick to the butt, sending him against the wall. He reached out toward the girl, didn’t make it. Strong arms
grabbed him from behind. He hadn’t suspected another man to be there. He straightened up quickly, twisted around to find himself, stomach to stomach, with a giant of a man.

  He’s going to break my back, he thought. He circled his left arm around the thick neck. Can’t play around with this guy. He’s reaching for something underneath his arm. Dick took advantage of the move and jammed his thumb into the man’s left eye, curled his middle finger into the ear canal and squeezed hard. Blood and gore squirted across his face, momentarily blurring his vision. He shoved the heavy man hard, sending him stumbling through the open door. A fisherman’s knife fell away into the grass. The thin man he’d kicked off the girl sprang to his feet, facing Dick. He put his weight behind a kick to the kneecap. He felt it give. He grabbed an arm and dragged the man outside, dropping him near the other one.

  Samantha stepped out from behind a tree with the Glock in her hand. She pointed it directly at the men on the ground. Dick nodded at Samantha and ran back inside to help the injured girl. She struggled to breathe. She’d rolled over and attempted to sit up straight. He looked at the bindings on her wrist. “Are you OK?” He hurried back to Samantha. “Give me the gun and help the girl. She’s badly hurt.”

  Samantha guided the girl to a seat in the doorway. “You’ll be OK now. We’re going to help you.” He picked up the fisherman’s knife from the yard and passed it to Samantha. “Cut those bindings away from her wrist.”

  “No, Dick. She’s bound with a small chain.”

  Chapter 37