“Did I ever tell you what I was doing in Germany?” He asks, raising his eyebrow. “Intelligence officer, for the marines, I was their best, top of the class.”
“That is the most excellent thing I’ve heard in days,” I whisper between our close faces. It is all I can say, all that I can think of. I’m overjoyed with the possibility of getting out of here, of running away from this new District that Crane is creating and keeping us captive in. As I reach out to hug him I feel a pair of soaking wet paws collide with my back. I cry out as I fall into Adam, Stevie, scraping her claws down my recently stitched wounds.
“Down Stevie!” Adam commands our dog. She stops and sits, cocking her head to the side. Unsure of what she did wrong. Adam is holding me under my elbow as Lina runs over to us.
“Mom, are you ok?” she asks, her eyes searching my face for what is wrong.
“Yes, Lina, Stevie hit the stitches on my back.” I choke back a few tears. “It’s ok. It’s time for them to come out soon anyway.” I take a few deep breaths and wait for the pain in my back to subside. I move to a large flat rock and sit, keeping my back perfectly straight as I watch Lina resume throwing rocks and Stevie chase the waves.
“I can take them out,” Adam says as he sits down beside me. “The stitches, I can do that for you.”
“Ok, after I get Lina to bed,” I tell him, “I don’t want her to see the scars.”
We sit and watch the sun until it is almost gone before we walk back to the townhouse.
I get Lina to bed and bring down the small scissors from the first aid kit in the bathroom. Adam is standing by the sliding doors, looking out at the moonlight over the lake. He looks relaxed, calm. It’s hard to admit but I feel a little safer having him here. Stevie is curled up at his feet, looking guilty for hurting me. I walk over and rub her head.
“It’s ok Stevie. I know you didn’t mean it.” Her tail sways back and forth then she lays her head down again.
Adam looks to the scissors in my hand. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you would be hoarding medical supplies here.” He laughs lightly at me. I watch as the skin around his eyes wrinkles slightly as he smiles.
“How do you want to do this?” I ask nervously. I think back to him watching the doctor stitch me up as I lay nearly topless on the dining room table.
“Let’s go over to the table where the light is better.”
I walk over to the table. Adam sits in one of the chairs, and I lift the back of my t-shirt, exposing the scars from the wolf scratches.
“Thanks for doing this,” I tell him. “I have no idea where that doctor came from and I don’t have any one else to ask.” I hear the small snips from the scissors as Adam clips at the stitches, removing them from the almost healed wounds. I stand still, barely breathing as he snips away. He rests his warm hand on my hip, to steady the scissors. The skin underneath tingles, sending small ripples up my side. Finally I hear the ting of the scissors on the table, he is done. Adam stays sitting, staring.
“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer. “Does it look that bad?” I try and crane my head around, to see what he is looking at on my back. “Is it not healed?”
“You never told me you had a tattoo,” he finally replies, a clever smirk pulling at his lip.
“Nobody knows about it.” I let my shirt fall back into place and walk away to wash the scissors in the sink. “What does it matter anyways, no one will notice the tattoo after they see my wolf scars.”
“I’m not so sure about that. The tattoo suits you. I like it. The wolf scars are pretty cool too. Who else can say they’ve survived a wolf attack?”
“Yeah well, there’s definitely nothing brave about me. Sometimes I think the tattoo was a mistake.”
“You got your daughter back.” He stops, abruptly, as though he was going to say more. Then it occurs to me Adam knows the townhouse is bugged, whatever he was going to say, he doesn’t want anyone else to know.
“OK, it’s late, and I’m sure you have to work in the morning, so thank you for taking out my stitches, and eating my food, and letting my kid beat you at cards.” I try and pull him out of the chair from under his arm. But my hand is much smaller than his bicep and I can barely get a grasp on him. He looks at my hand and laughs quietly.
“I think you’re right.” He gets up and walks towards the back door. “Andie, try and stay out of trouble.” He says, as he walks out the door and through the back yard to his townhouse.
--
There is a loud noise from the kitchen. The shattering of glass, a loud thud, it wakes me instantly. At first I’m not sure where I am. But I remember when I see the pale walls of the bedroom. Reaching over I check to make sure Lina is safe. She’s still sleeping soundly next to me. Stevie is at the bedroom door pacing, pawing at the wood. I walk over and crack the door. She bounds down the stairs to inspect what happened. I close the door quietly behind me. The stairway smells strange, sour and damp. Stevie growls from the kitchen. As I walk down the stairs the smell gets stronger, the sourness turning into something much more putrid. There’s a warm breeze blowing through the open living area, I look to the kitchen and see it’s coming from a broken kitchen window in the front of the town house. Stevie continues to growl at something on the floor in the dining room. I walk closer to it, slowly, pulling my shirt up over my nose. There’s a lumpy mass, it’s brown and white, leaves and twigs are stuck to it. As I look around I see there are dark marks on the floor where it must’ve rolled across the room. I can’t move much closer to it, the smell is so strong, so putrid, it seeps through the loose weave of my nightshirt, and I cough a few times, trying to get the thick smell of rot out of my nose and mouth. I walk around the mound, noticing that the white areas are moving, slowly, they are piles of maggots crawling and squirming. When I get to the other side I see what looks like a triangular ear, and a snout, it’s the decapitated, half decayed face of a wolf staring at me, one dark dead eye sagging open.
I stifle a scream with my hand. I can’t have Lina waking up and seeing this in the dining room. I tip toe across the kitchen floor, trying to miss the glass shards from the broken window, but I fail to spot one and it stabs sharply into my heel. I balance on one foot and pull the glass from my foot. I notice the blood specks on the floor from my bleeding foot. I grab a garbage bag from under the sink and open it. I throw the open end over the decaying wolf head and pull one side under it, so I can get it in the bag without touching it. There is a damp spot on the carpet that will have to be scrubbed clean before the stain sets. Stevie continues to growl at the bag as I tie it up, holding my breath so as to stop myself from vomiting. I head for the front door, turning as soon as I hear the tap of Stevie’s nails on the floor.
“Stevie, stay,” I tell her, “stay with Lina.” I point up the stairs where Lina is sleeping. “I’ll be right back.” I close the front door behind me and look around the cluster of townhouses. I wish I had a flashlight. There are no lights, only the moonlight. My plan was to toss this in the ditch by the road, but I don’t want to venture far out in the dark. Whoever threw this through my front window could still be out there, but I’m sure they’re trying to get away from here; they wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick around with all the Volker watching us.
I remember the sound of the wolves chasing us down the road, a chill runs up my back and my heart starts thumping in my chest. The thought of Lina waking up to find this mess scares me more. She has already been through enough, and I’ve tried so hard to keep her safe after the wolf attack. She barely slept for days, waking in the night, screaming. If she sees this I have no doubt it will start all over again. I take a deep breath and run down the front steps in my bare feet. I feel the cement from the sidewalk, the smooth pavement; a few small rocks jab into my soles. There’s just enough light from the moon for me to see where I’m going. I can make out the flat landscape, the grass, small sidewalk, more grass. I can see the road, the ditch on the other side where I plan to throw the bag containing th
e wolf head. The smell of rot is seeping through the thin plastic garbage bag, getting stronger and somehow more putrid. I try not to gag as I run across the sidewalk, then the grass, and finally making it to the road. I look behind me to make sure the door is still closed. Stevie’s wet nose is on the glass next to the door. The rotting smell is still getting stronger, but I’m almost close enough to where I can swing the bag and throw it. The road is dark; shadows from the tall forest trees block the bright moonlight. I can barely see in front of me. The smell keeps getting stronger. Just a few more steps, I step down and feel something slimy and crunchy under my foot. It trips me and I fall on the pavement, my knees landing in whatever was in the road. I drop the bag, freeing my hands to hit the rough pavement and stop my fall. The bag must have ripped because the rotting, putrid smell is stronger than ever. I roll over and look down to see what I tripped over, giving myself a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness. There’s a dark mound in front of me. I can make out four legs, a high hip bone, and a tail. That’s all it takes for me to realize, I’m looking at the decaying body of a wolf, the body that belongs to the wolf head that was thrown through my window.
“Not good,” I whisper into the darkness.
I scramble to get up and run back to my front door, realizing that this was a big mistake. I’ll just leave the mess where it is, someone else can deal with it in the morning. I’m almost to my feet when I feel someone grab the hair on the back of my head. They also grab my upper arm and drag me across the pavement, down the street into the darkness. I start screaming and slapping with my free hand. I can see the cluster of townhouses, and hear Stevie barking from behind our front door. It’s as I’m screaming that I notice there is no Volker vehicle parked in front of my townhouse, like there has been for days.
“Adam!” I scream as loud as I can, “Help!” I scream it over and over.
Whoever is dragging me lets go of my hair and clamps their hand over my mouth. I can’t scream anymore, I can’t even get air out of my mouth. Suddenly I am filled with the same fear I’ve felt too many times in the past few weeks, during the earthquake, and the wolf attack. Lina.
Whoever is dragging me lets go of my mouth I am able to get out a few more screams and shouts, hoping someone will hear them. My captor responds with a sharp slap to my face, when that doesn’t shut me up he progresses to a punch to the other side of my face. This is enough to almost knock me out. There’s a pillowcase placed over my head, my hands are tied behind my back. Then I’m roughly tossed into the cargo area of a truck. The truck starts, and I kick the sides of the cargo area, and the top, trying to find a way to get out. The driver speeds over potholes and bumps in the road, tossing me around. There’s the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Ringing in my ears. I can’t see where we are going but the truck stops just a few minutes after it started. I hear heavy footsteps and the back of the truck opening. Someone drags me by my foot, dropping me on the ground outside of the cargo area. There isn’t enough time to get my feet under me and my balance is off with my hands tied behind my back, I land hard on my hip. There is a loud rushing noise from underneath me and a cool breeze blows by my legs and hands that are on the ground. It takes only a few seconds before I realize we are on one of the bridges that pass over the large rushing river, which separates the town.
The person grabs the pillowcase and the back of my hair, pulling me to my feet. I stumble as I’m pulled across the bridge and slammed up against the metal barrier of the sidewalk guard. The pillowcase is finally pulled off my head and thrown in the air. I watch the wind carry it like a ghost, over the barrier and down towards the rushing water.
“What do you want?” I can barely get the words out, my jaw and hip hurt so badly.
There is a deep grumbling laughter from in front of me. My captor walks towards me, into the moonlight so I can see him. I look around quickly. There is no one on the street to help me. Ever since the curfew was enacted the streets are bare at sundown. I struggle against the ties around my wrists, trying to get my arms free.
“What do I want?” The voice in front of me repeats, it’s deep, and southern, and I know instantly who it is. Baillie. He steps in front of me. His skin is so dark I can barely see his face in the night. He’s tall, much taller than I am. “What do I want?” he repeats, mockingly.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“What I want is your useless excuse for a human being out of the Phoenix District Committee meetings.” I have never been spoken to so coldly before. But there is no mistake in the seriousness of his voice. He does not want me being any part of the committee or this place. “I tried to take care of that with the wolves but they obviously didn’t get the job done because here you are, as weak and annoying as ever.”
“I’ve never done anything to you,” I tell him. “Why are you doing this to me?”
I can feel the pressure behind my eyes, from impending tears. Baillie must sense this. He starts laughing, his deep, thunderous laugh.
“See, I’ve barely even done anything and here you are cowering like a fool. There is nothing special about you. You are worthless, never giving any decent contributions to committee meetings. I don't know why Crane keeps you around. Making you Sovereign was a waste.” He reaches for my waist, picking me up, resting my hips on the top of the metal barrier, my upper body hanging over the dark rushing water. “But we are going to fix that, right now."
“Stop, please,” I try and plead with him, “I have a child, I’ll do anything.”
“I don’t care about you, or your child. You are both a waste of space. I can’t believe they let you past the fence. We were told you were something great, you would bring so much to the committee, the District. But you just sit there, barely speaking, and when you finally decide to speak you’re disagreeing with my every word. You may think you’re smarter than me but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a moron.” His words cut deeper than any knife could. This is not the first time my intellect has been questioned because I have been quiet and observant. It’s something I’ve struggled with my whole life.
“Please, stop.” The wind from the river whips my hair across my face. “I never wanted any of this.”
“Maybe with you out of the way Crane can focus and get some real work done.” Baillie lets go of my waist, grabbing my neck and squeezing. I thought he was just going to throw me over the bridge and let the river have its way with me. But it seems as though he may want to finish the job himself. Either way, by the time they find my mangled body it won’t matter how I died or who did it. Thoughts of Lina start running through my mind as Baillie squeezes my neck harder, cutting off the blood flow to my brain from the carotid artery. I know what’s going to happen, soon, permanent damage will be done, my brain will be starved of oxygen rich blood cells and my brain cells will start dying. Darkness starts to creep in around my eyes. My last words are the only person I can think about.
“Catalina.”
I hear something, a faint rumble, a loud squeal, the smell of burnt rubber. I wonder if this is it, death. But men are yelling. I just can’t make out what they’re saying. I think Baillie’s grip loosens around my neck, and I feel myself falling. I wait to feel the river envelope me in its cold darkness. A few moments pass before I realize I am sliding down the metal barrier towards the hard sidewalk and not floating towards the river as the pillowcase did.
“Colonel Baillie, stop. We are required to protect all District Sovereign, even if it’s from you. We will shoot.”
Baillie lets loose his deep rumbling laughter. There is the metallic heavy click of a bullet falling into the chamber of a gun next to my head. I open my eyes in time to see Baillie pointing a gun at my face. This is followed by multiple gun shots, from multiple guns. Baillie’s body twitches, his shoulders, arms, and then he is falling backwards, away from me, falling to the ground, a dark pool of blood seeps from under his body.
“Andie,” a familiar voice is at my side. It’s Adam. “You�
��re safe now.” He picks me up like I weigh nothing. “Get the doctor to her house,” he tells one of the nearby Volker guards.
“Where is Lina?” The ringing in my ears has returned and I can barely hear his response.
“She’s safe. Stevie is with her, and Ms. Black. We’re going back now.”
He carries me to the back of an SUV, sliding in, with me on his lap. I make no attempt to move. The pain in my hip and jaw are intense. I let my head rest on Adams chest, listening to his heart thud, his slow breaths. Each bump in the road brings a sharp intake of breath and pain shoots down my left hip. We arrive at the townhouse in just a few minutes. The road is lined with dark SUV’s. People are outside near the lumps of decaying wolf carcass. Adam slides out of the SUV carrying me towards the townhouse. Someone is replacing the kitchen window. Ms. Black steps out, holding the door open for Adam. The kitchen smells like cleaning solution.
“Careful,” I tell Adam, “broken glass.”
“That’s all cleaned up.” Ms. Black eyes me concerned.
“Where do you want her Doc?” Adam asks the Doctor who stitched up my back.
The Phoenix Project Page 13
