by Matt Hilton
The driver complied. He darted sideways glances at her, licked his lips. ‘What’s going on? Who are you people?’
‘I’ll ask the questions,’ she snapped.
The man’s fingers worked on the steering wheel, squirming like eels. His eyes darted towards her again. She withdrew the gun a few inches so he could clearly see the business end close to his head.
‘Don’t try me.’ Tess could read the signs that he was fighting an internal war of indecision: the movements of his fingers indicated he was torn between obeying her and launching at her throat. ‘Keep your hands on the wheel, your eyes forward and answer my questions, and you’ll get to go home to your family. Try anything stupid though …’
He got her message. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he stared ahead. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with a dry gulp. He had a good view as Pinky made his friend stand, and then nudged him between the shoulder blades with his pistol to start him walking towards the pickup. His friend looked inconsolable.
Voices babbled through the radio; the accents were too thick for Tess to distinguish more than one in five words. But she got the sense of the flurry of messages: Po was still on the loose and eluding his pursuers. She smiled, but otherwise her face was expressionless. For a moment she was unsure how to play out this situation. For now, nobody inside the commune knew who they were, how many of them there was or why they were there. Po’s incursion had been to try locating Elspeth and Jacob, in order that a rescue mission could be launched later. If Tess asked about either of them now, it would give the game away. Getting the man to elicit information without specifically asking about the prisoners was the best way to proceed.
‘There’s somebody in those woods across the river,’ she said. ‘Why are they being chased?’
‘You know why.’
‘I don’t. Tell me.’ Tess tapped the gun muzzle on the man’s ear.
In the meanwhile, Pinky forced his prisoner down next to one of the pickup’s rear wheels; he checked Tess was OK.
To the driver Tess said, ‘Well?’
‘Your friend is trespassing.’
‘Did I say the person is my friend?’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it, to have a hunting party chasing a trespasser? They must have done something more than walk where they aren’t welcome.’
‘He hurt some of our folks.’
Tess kept her features emotionless. ‘For what reason?’
‘Who can say?’
‘You can.’
The driver shook his head.
Pinky interjected. ‘How’s about I bust your pal up some more, you going to say then, you?’
‘Who are you? Are you cops? FBI?’ the man responded.
Tess sneered. ‘If you’re wondering if we’re constrained by a set of rules, think again. My friend will beat your pal to an inch of his life and not even blink. Then guess what … you’ll be next.’
‘You don’t frighten me.’
‘I frighten your buddy,’ Pinky replied. He wafted a hand under his nose. ‘I think he’s already soiled his pants.’
Tess diverted the conversation from the dead end it was heading to. ‘My guess is this trespasser saw something he shouldn’t have. Is that a fair assumption?’
The driver rocked his head.
‘What has Eldon Moorcock got going that he doesn’t want outsiders to see?’
‘Who says he’s got anything going on?’
‘Back to that question again? You say or—’ Pinky aimed a swift kick at his prisoner. The cowed guard cried out in alarm. The driver had no way of seeing that Pinky’s foot hit the tire, and not the man.
‘Whoa! Take it easy, man,’ cried the driver.
‘Next time I won’t miss,’ Pinky snarled.
‘Get talking,’ Tess urged the driver, ‘before somebody does get hurt.’
‘I don’t know what Eldon’s up to. He has this bunker—’
‘What does he keep in it? Don’t lie again. You know exactly what he keeps there. You’re out guarding that bridge all night to ensure nobody looks inside it. You’re out here now chasing a trespasser ’cause he might have gotten a glimpse at what Eldon’s hiding.’
‘I swear to you, I don’t. Look at us, ma’am. We’re the schmucks who get to freeze our butts off all night guarding a bridge. Do you really think Eldon shares his secrets with us? He treats the likes of us as if we are worthless.’
‘It’s a poor life for either of you, then,’ said Tess. ‘So why do Eldon’s bidding? You’ve come here, armed, to do what? To murder somebody you know nothing about, or why he’s actually here, on behalf of a man that treats you like dirt?’
‘We only came here to help capture him, not murder him.’
‘Only to then hand him over to somebody intent on murdering him all the same?’ Tess stepped back from the pickup’s open door. She frowned down at the man that Pinky had disarmed. What to do with their prisoners was a quandary unique from what was in store for him should Po be captured. ‘Is that what Eldon will do: kill him? Or is there someplace where he keeps people while he punishes them first?’
‘Ha!’ said the man, proving he was no simpleton. ‘That’s what this is all about, right? You’re not here because of what’s in the bunker, you’re looking for somebody.’
Tess’s head ticked to one side.
The driver said, ‘If you’re here because of Orson Burdon, you’re looking in the wrong place. The cops already asked about him, and are satisfied there’s no evidence he ever set foot on our land.’
‘That’s what the cops were doing here earlier, asking about Burdon?’ Tess had no idea who the guard was referring to, but she could use it to her advantage. ‘The police didn’t ask to search your land?’
‘They’d need a warrant.’
‘All they’d need is Eldon Moorcock’s permission. Eldon wouldn’t give it?’
‘Why should he? I told you, there’s no evidence Burdon ever set foot here.’
‘And that’s what’s in store for this other trespasser, eh? He gets captured, he disappears, and there’s no evidence to ever indicate he was here?’
The guard refused to answer; it was obvious he was being maneuvered into a trap.
His silence didn’t matter to Tess. What he refused to say was more important than the lies and half-truths he spoke. Apparently Orson Burdon had gone missing, and the guard believed it was Burdon that Tess was interested in locating. She’d allow him think that to hide the truth.
Another flurry of conversation broke out over the radio. From the annoyance in some voices and the misery in others, it sounded as if the search for Po was not going the way the hunters had intended. The baying of dogs sounded distantly, and closer by there was a faint crackle of movement through brush, but they were the only indicators of the search. Tess commanded the driver to get out the truck.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘Unlace your boots,’ she told him.
‘Wh-why?’
‘Out the truck and do as I damn well say,’ she snarled. She wagged the gun at him and he rushed to obey. He sat in the dust to pull out his laces, offering no form of visible threat. He had claimed to be unafraid of them, but he was a liar: he had been frightened before that he was going to be shot, and now she’d offered a lifeline he was eager to comply.
Already, Pinky had picked up on her intention, and had instructed the other guard to take off his belt. Pinky looped the belt through the pickup’s rear fender, then instructed his prisoner to present his hands. He cinched the belt around the man’s wrists, then pulled the belt so tight it creaked with the strain. The restraint wouldn’t hold the man for long, but they didn’t need it to.
Pinky watched his prisoner, but moved closer to Tess, to act as a threat while she first tied his wrists together behind his back, then used the second bootlace to secure him to the front fender. Again, the lace could probably be rubbed through within mi
nutes, but she only required a small window of time to leave.
‘Can I trust you to stay quiet until we’ve left?’ Tess asked.
‘Who is going to hear us?’ the driver replied and squeezed out a grimace.
Without warning, Pinky stooped down and clubbed a right hook against the driver’s jaw. Knocking the man out was the lesser of two evils, but the suddenness of the blow caused Tess to flinch.
‘Jeez, Pinky, did you have to do that?’
‘Guy proved he couldn’t be trusted to keep his yap shut. What else was I supposed to do, me, shoot him?’
Tess looked down at the man secured to the rear fender. He had his teeth clamped shut. His eyes were as shiny as silver dollars. Pinky aimed a finger at him. ‘Now him I trust to stay quiet.’
They retreated from the pickup, keeping an eye on the seated man. He ensured he kept his face averted and his chin squashed tight to his sternum. Once they were past the boulders at the edge of the ravine he would no longer be able to see or hear them, but Tess still indicated to Pinky that they should hurry quietly with a wiggle of two fingers, and then touching one to her lips.
They got in the GMC, Pinky again driving, and immediately Tess leaned between the seats, peering into the back.
‘Are you OK, Po?’ she asked.
She had heard the faint crackle of his progress through the woods at the riverside. He had crossed the river and snuck into the GMC while she and Pinky kept their prisoners distracted. He was alive, but disappointed.
‘I couldn’t locate them,’ Po growled. ‘We have to go back.’
‘Not yet we don’t,’ said Tess. ‘For now we have to press the pause button. Pinky, let’s get out of here.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Elspeth knew Caleb as a man who rose quick to anger, and who reacted to even perceived slights by growing hot under the collar and launching into irrational outbursts. After hauling her from the cellar, where he’d made those dire threats about getting the truth from her, and abandoning Jacob in the darkness, his rage had been palpable. Soon, though, the situation had become more terrifying because he’d lapsed into silence and he’d seethed coldly as he dragged her away. He had cast glances that both threatened dire retribution and then in the next second pleaded with her. Jacob’s shocking denouement about his parentage had thrown Caleb off-kilter worse than any words Elspeth could have hurled at him. Caleb, being a bully, thrived on control, but here he had none. He could beat the truth out of Elspeth, but Elspeth could lie, or tell him whatever he wanted to hear, and then what? He would still remain unsure of the truth. With this understanding he was slightly lost.
He had dragged her to another chamber deep within the hive of subterranean rooms and tunnels and thrown her inside. There was power feeding the lights there, and Caleb had flicked them on. Slamming the door behind him, he had stared down at her while she gathered her feet. She had risen up and faced him. He turned his face aside and wouldn’t meet her gaze; he looked ashamed, and tears tracked from his bloodshot eyes. Despite herself she pitied her abuser. There was once a time when she had loved Caleb Moorcock, and for a moment he had reminded her of the man that had stolen her heart. That was before she had been subjected to his relentless cruelty, though. Any love she had ever felt for him had since dried up and formed a walnut-sized lump where her heart should be.
‘It can’t be true,’ he croaked, and still couldn’t look at her.
‘It isn’t. Jacob misheard and—’
‘You’ve fed that boy lies for years, Elspeth, but this is the worst of them.’
‘I didn’t lie to him. I didn’t tell him anything, he misheard me and—’
‘Now he thinks Po’boy Villere is his father!’
‘He has somehow gotten that into his head. But I didn’t—’
‘He isn’t stupid. And he isn’t a child. He’s old enough to know exactly what he heard.’ Caleb finally looked at her, and the only shame he exhibited now was what he believed himself subjected to. ‘You must have put the idea in him.’
‘No. I didn’t. You have to believe me.’
‘I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you. You ran away from me, Elspeth, and you stole my child from me. I got you both back, but you’ve poisoned Jacob against me. How can I ever trust you or anything you say again?’
‘Caleb, please. Look at how you treat us, how you hurt us. I had to try to take Jacob somewhere safe. You’ve got to understand that?’
Caleb sprang at her and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. He swung her around, jamming her against the wall of the small room. ‘I warned you what I’d do if ever you tried to leave me.’
‘I don’t care what you do to me anymore. I only care about Jacob. If you cared for him you wouldn’t put him through this torture.’
‘I’m making a man of him, the way my parents made a man out of me.’
‘Your parents abused you, Caleb! What you are doing to Jacob, there is no other name for it: it’s abuse!’
‘Do you think any other man could make a better father? Oh, that’s right! You think Villere would be a better dad, a better role model for Jacob.’ Caleb thought for a few seconds and concluded a fiction that fitted with his narrative. He stared at her with eyes now as hard as marbles. ‘It’s why you ran off to Maine, isn’t it, searching for your old boyfriend. That was your intention, wasn’t it, Elspeth? You thought you could convince Jacob that Villere is his father, by feeding him your stinking, poisonous lies, and you’d all live happily ever after. Jacob heard what he was supposed to hear, but Villere wasn’t having any of it, right? He’s got another woman now, and they want nothing to do with you or your brat; they kicked you both out on your asses, that’s what happened? That’s how you ended up back on the street and how I recaptured you?’
‘I was only trying to protect my son …’
‘Your son? He’s my son too! He isn’t Villere’s, he’s mine!’
Caleb could never control his fists for long.
He struck Elspeth then, a backhanded slap that sent her to one knee. She covered her face with her hands; he would punch her body instead, and she could withstand it longer than she could being beaten around the head. He loomed over her, bunching his fists and Elspeth steeled herself against what might prove to be her worst beating ever.
A distant car horn had been bleating for some minutes, ignored by them while they had been entrenched in their own drama. But now the horn had fallen silent, and voices had risen up in its place. Footsteps clattered down the hall outside and a hand pounded on the door. ‘Caleb,’ a voice hollered, ‘you’d better come quick. Eldon wants you right now!’
Caleb still stood over Elspeth. Through her fingers she watched his features contort through several conflicting emotions. The hand beat upon the door and his name was called again. Caleb bent to her, hissing in her ear, ‘We aren’t finished here, Elspeth. I’ll be back soon and we’ll take up where we left off.’
He had left the room then, and she was aware of urgent conversation, and then the slap of boots on concrete as Caleb and the other man ran off to obey Eldon’s summons. Why there was an urgent need for him to leave she couldn’t tell, but the interruption had saved her from who knew how badly a beating, perhaps this was the one she had been destined not to survive. Maybe there was a benevolent god watching out for her, and he had taken pity on her and sent some divine intervention. She doubted it; any explanation would be far more mundane, and yet she sent up a prayer of thanks all the same.
In the past Elspeth had taken her beatings and afterwards was usually incapable of doing much more than the simplest of tasks. This time was different: she’d been spared his fists. Her hair felt as if it had been yanked out in bunches, and her knees and palms were sore from being dragged along the floor, but otherwise she could move without discomfort. She pushed up to her feet, one hand braced to a wall for support and she gave her limbs a mental going over. Caleb had struck her a couple of times, no less when he’d thrown her about in front of Jacob, but sh
e was unhurt. She felt stronger than she had in, well, in forever, and much of that was in strength of mind. On the previous occasions she’d been assaulted she had been fearful of what might follow, so had acted meekly around her abuser. Victims of abuse often questioned their own shame and perceived it as guilt, and convinced themselves that somehow they were to blame for everything they got. That was the superpower of the abuser. This time, though, she felt as if he had lost some measure of dominance over her, and she was prepared to push the boundary more. She went to the door without pause.
Normally Caleb would have set a guard to watch her, or he would at least have locked her within the room until his return. From what she’d heard though, he had run off with the man that had come to find him, and also, in their haste, they’d forgotten to throw the outer door bolts. Despite her new resolve she paused at the door, her fingers hovering over the handle as she contemplated her next move. Doubt assailed her for a moment. Had her husband concocted a nasty trick, where he would coax her into a false sense of security? Was he hiding outside, ready to pounce on her from the darkness of the tunnel, to drag her back here again for a worse punishment than the one previously in store? She couldn’t allow fear to control her, not after she had resolved that this was the last she’d ever allow Caleb to lay his hands on her.
She nudged the door open an inch at a time, listening keenly. Voices echoed down the tunnel, but the source sounded distant. Dogs yapped and bayed. She heard the revving of an engine. Whatever had gotten the community excited it had their full attention. Elspeth crept out into the tunnel. The tunnels had originally been hewn from the hills and bedrock, but they had been fortified with concrete. The ceiling and walls were uniform grey, along which electrical conduit had been strung, some of it now brittle with age. At regular intervals bulkhead lights offered luminance, but as many were out of commission as those that worked. The tunnel led arrow straight in both directions, pockets of light and dark reaching out into the hillside. Elspeth had no idea where she was in relation to her son, but only had one choice of direction if she planned on avoiding recapture. To her left the distant clamor arose, so she immediately turned and ran to the right.
