by Julie Cannon
“Sorry, but you’d never breathe right if I didn’t straighten it. You’ve also got a nasty cut on your forehead. I have to clean it or it’ll get infected. And trust me, that’s the last thing you want.”
Barrett concentrated on the sound of the woman’s voice and tried to block out the pain. Slowly the stinging dissipated and she could see again. The woman could certainly pass for Florence Nightingale, or at least what Barrett thought a caring nurse would look like.
“There, if we can keep this clean, I think you’ll be all right,” the woman said.
But who was she and where in the hell was she?
Barrett suddenly remembered. Well, she didn’t know exactly where she was, but she was somewhere in the middle of the fucking jungle. And she remembered how she got here. She tried to sit up, but her hands behind her back made it next to impossible.
“Here let me help you.” The woman with the soft Southern drawl eased her into a sitting position. “That’s it. Are you dizzy? Are you nauseous? Any double vision?”
Barrett couldn’t answer, the movement and questions making her head pound even more. Blackness threatened to overtake her again, and she fought it. As much as she wanted to disappear into oblivion, she had to stay awake and figure a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. She tried to move her hands and stifled a cry.
“I said get your fucking hands off me. I don’t need your help.” That was an understatement. What she needed was about a dozen Navy Seals to crash this party right now.
“We have to clean your cut. If it gets infected, there’s very little I can do.”
The woman was looking at her with kind eyes. Kind eyes, my ass. She was obviously part of this gang, and no way was Barrett going to let her touch her again. Even if it killed her.
“No, you don’t want me to die, do you? I’m worthless to you dead and a bundle if I’m not. Well, amigo, don’t bother,” Barrett said defiantly, as her head pounded.
“Let me look at your hands,” the woman said, moving to crouch behind her.
Barrett barely held in the scream that shot up her arms and out her parched throat. A wave of nausea threatened to empty her already-empty stomach, but somehow she managed to swallow the bile that hadn’t yet reached her mouth. Sweat broke out across her brow and slid into her eyes. She was suddenly hot, very hot.
“I said don’t touch me,” Barrett said through gritted teeth.
The woman came back around to face her, and Barrett detected a flicker of something she couldn’t identify in her tired eyes. Now that Barrett was more focused, she felt an overwhelming need to kill her and every fucking person involved in this.
The woman didn’t have a chance to reply before she was hauled to her feet and pushed in the opposite direction. Barrett understood that the guard was shouting at her to stop talking. The woman didn’t look back but instead stumbled forward each time the guard pushed her. A sick feeling fell over Barrett when she realized the woman was a prisoner like herself.
*
Kelly practically fell onto her bedroll. Opie wasn’t usually this rough, but she suspected The Colonel was watching and would dole out the discipline he thought appropriate. The Colonel saw everything and his men feared him. Whereas most men followed their leaders out of respect and a shared cause, The Colonel’s men knew they would be killed if they didn’t. He often made an example of one of them when they broke one of his rules. The punishment was severe, quick, and unforgettable.
Opie secured the chain to her ankle, and she watched The Colonel walk slowly back across the camp toward the woman. A guard hauled her to her feet. The woman looked him squarely in the eye as he approached. Even though Kelly knew what was going to happen next, she jumped when he slapped the woman’s face. Her head snapped back and she crumpled to the ground.
The guard standing next to the woman pulled her up again. Her head rolled and her knees buckled, but the guard held her upright.
“Wake up,” The Colonel shouted. “I said wake up!” This time the guard tossed a cup of water in the woman’s face. She sputtered and blinked several times.
“You, Miss Taylor, are a prisoner of the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarios de Colombia. I am Colonel Suarez and this is my camp. You will do what I say, when I say it, and as many times as I tell you to. If you try to escape we will hunt you down and catch you. No one has ever escaped from me, and you,” he pointed a finger at the woman, “will not be the first.”
The Colonel slowly walked around the woman as if inspecting her like a side of beef. Or like a man inspecting his next piece of ass. Kelly shuddered at the thought.
“You will be with us until your ransom is paid. That may be weeks, it may be years, but if it is not paid you will never leave.” He stopped in front of the woman and looked her directly in her eyes.
“You are a wonderful catch, Miss Taylor,” The Colonel said in perfect English. “You are very wealthy, your company has a lot of money, and you have family that loves you. You will fetch a nice bounty. I hope it doesn’t come too soon. You are a very beautiful woman.” The Colonel traced the woman’s breasts with the butt of his ever-present whip.
Kelly’s stomach tightened, and she was shocked when the woman spit in The Colonel’s face. “Fuck you,” she heard her reply an instant before he punched her in the mouth. Kelly jumped up and got the few feet her tether allowed before her feet were yanked out from under her and she fell on her stomach. When the dirt settled and Kelly could see again, the woman lay motionless on the ground, blood dripping from her mouth.
Chapter Five
Barrett tried to open her eyes. Her left one would obey the command from her brain, but only slightly. The right refused to do anything. That side of her face throbbed, and she remembered being struck in the face before she blacked out again. The pounding in her head beat to a consistent cadence.
She listened to the sounds around her. It was almost dark, and voices were murmuring in the distance. After a few minutes she felt strong enough to sit up, which wasn’t easy with her hands secured behind her back. A wave of dizziness threatened to overtake her again, and Barrett took several deep breaths. She saw that her foot was secured to the base of the tree by a chain. No guards were near, but the thickness of the links would keep her from going anywhere.
“How do you feel?” The voice she recognized from earlier drifted to her. Barrett slowly lifted her head and saw the woman sitting no farther than a few feet from her.
“Like I’ve been dragged through the jungle for days, kicked, punched in the face, and starved.” Barrett’s tone was sharp. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of them. I know you tried to help me, or at least I think it was you. Thank you.” Barrett hated admitting when she was wrong, but this time it wasn’t a problem.
“I was worried. You took quite a blow from The Colonel.”
“Is that what you call him? He’s a pig.” Barrett remembered the leer on his face when he stared at her exposed breasts. It was worth the slap to wipe it off, if just for a moment.
“You need to be careful around him.” The woman didn’t agree or disagree with her description of the camp leader. “He has a lightning temper and an equally fast backhand.”
Barrett moved her jaw back and forth. It was sore but not broken. She wasn’t sure about one of her teeth. “Was that what that was?” She hadn’t seen it coming but had definitely felt it all the way to her toes. Barrett looked at the woman more closely. She was also chained to a tree, but her hands weren’t bound.
“How long have you been here?”
“A long time.” That was all the woman said. She looked like it. She was too thin, her dark hair was chopped off around her head, her skin tan from the sun.
“How long is a long time?” The woman hesitated. “Come on. I need to know what’s in store for me. Even if I don’t really want to.” Barrett was the type of woman who needed to have all the information. The more she was aware of what might happen, the less mystery it held. She was a firm believer that
what you didn’t know you’d make up, and it was probably going to be wrong.
“I think it’s been about eight months,” the woman answered quietly.
Eight months? Holy fuck. Barrett tried not to show her shock but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “You’re not sure?”
“What’s the date?” The woman seemed hopeful.
“I’m not sure about today, but the last I knew it was the fifteenth of July.” She’d probably lost a day or so lately. Barrett watched as the woman’s face fell. For a moment, she thought she might cry, but she pulled herself together.
“One year and five days, give or take a few,” the woman replied, her voice lifeless.
Barrett didn’t know what to say. A year? Good God, how could anyone survive this place for that long? The huts around them, if you could call them that, were made out of sticks and pressed lumber. They were held together by rope and vines and looked as if one big wind would blow them apart. The woman was sitting on a mat of some kind, her only covering the wide leaves on the trees overhead. Why hadn’t she tried to escape? That was the first thing on Barrett’s mind.
“What’s your name?” Barrett finally asked.
The woman hesitated as if trying to remember. Finally she said, “Kelly Ryan.”
“I’m Barrett Taylor. Are there any others here?” She was referring to other hostages.
“Yes, eight of us.”
“Are you the only American?” The drumming in her head showed no sign of subsiding.
Kelly glanced around. “Yes. There are two Frenchmen, one Spaniard, three Germans, and one man from Japan.”
“Are you the only woman?”
Kelly nodded.
“Is everyone being held for ransom?” Barrett remembered what The Colonel had said about why she was here before he smacked her into unconsciousness.
“In one form or another, I suppose. Money and power are what they’re after, and it takes money to get power and power to get money.”
At the risk of upsetting Kelly, she asked, “So why does it take so long?” She saw a brief flicker of pain cross Kelly’s face before she masked it.
“Money, politics, or just refusing to negotiate. Who knows? I don’t speak much Spanish, even though I’ve been able to pick up a few words here and there. It’s not as if The Colonel is going to come out and say why. It’d make him look bad in the eyes of his men.” Kelly looked down at the ground, then back at her.
“In my case it’s probably the lack of cash. I don’t have the kind of money they’re probably asking for, and my aid organization has even less.”
“Why were you here, in Columbia?”
“I was doing volunteer work at a local clinic. The rebels came in and took several of us, at least those they didn’t immediately kill.” A wave of pain crossed her face.
“That explains the way you helped me when I first came in. Doctor?” Barrett asked.
“Nurse. But they expect me to be a doctor.” Kelly nodded in the direction of the voices. “I have to treat everything from a splinter to gunshot wounds. I even had to amputate three fingers one time.”
“Where are the others? Those from your clinic that were taken with you.”
“I don’t know. We were separated in the first few days and I haven’t seen them since. They move us around a lot to different camps.”
Barrett detected a note of weariness. The voices around them grew louder, and Kelly put her finger over her lips to indicate they were to be quiet. The guard she recognized as Blue was accompanied by another man she didn’t know. Both men stopped in front of them, Blue casting a long look in Kelly’s direction. Barrett didn’t like the feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t be stupid,” the other man said in Spanish.
Blue never took his eyes off Kelly but moved closer to her, staggering the last few steps. He reached for his belt buckle.
“You are new here and do not know. The Colonel will kill you if you touch her. She is his woman,” the man warned again.
Barrett’s eyes moved between Blue and Kelly. Kelly was surprisingly calm, and in the fading twilight the look on her face was determined. Before Barrett had a chance to close the gap between them, Kelly stood. Her feet were braced apart as if ready for a blow, her hands at her side, the set of her jaw determined.
“Leave her alone,” Barrett shouted, as she scrambled to her feet. Blue crossed the distance between them in three big strides and slapped her across the face. Barrett staggered backward and fought to remain standing as she spit blood and a tooth from her mouth.
“Shut up, stupid whore,” Blue screamed in Spanish. “Watch what I do to her and know I will do the exact thing to you, twice.”
Barrett didn’t want to watch but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the scene playing out in front of her. Kelly stood lifeless, not even trying to get away or lessen the distance between her and Blue. He reached out, but before his hand closed around Kelly’s arm, a loud snap cracked the air. Blue screamed and grabbed the side of his face instead.
Kelly jumped, but not before Blue’s blood splattered across her cheek. He fell to his knees screaming, and Barrett looked around for what had caused his injury. The Colonel stood to her right, a long bullwhip in his hand. The whip lay coiled at his feet, as if ready to be called upon to strike again. He walked toward Blue, who now lay on his side, blood dripping from between his fingers.
Slowly, step by step, The Colonel closed the distance with a quiet calmness that frightened Barrett. Kelly had finally moved and was as far away from the scene as her restraints allowed. The man that accompanied Blue was long gone, deserting his comrade to face his punishment alone.
The Colonel finally spoke in soft, muted Spanish. “Get up.” Blue didn’t move. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” It was several moments before Blue complied. He stood on shaking legs, anger burning in his eyes. “Drop your pants,” The Colonel commanded.
Blue acted as if he didn’t understand the request, but Barrett did. What was The Colonel going to do next? She shot a quick glance at Kelly and their eyes met. Silently, Kelly was telling her to stay out of it.
The Colonel shouted and, in seconds, dozens of men who Barrett assumed were other rebels came out of the jungle like ants from a disturbed anthill. He issued a series of commands and four men stepped forward. One grabbed Blue around the neck, one held his hands, another grasped his legs, yanking his pants off, while a fourth grabbed some rope. One by one Blue’s wrists and ankles were tied to a tree. In the end he was splayed spread-eagle between two trees. Barrett couldn’t help but notice the skin covered by Blue’s clothing was much paler than his arms and face. His penis was erect from the adrenaline coursing through his body.
Everyone stood silently except Blue, who wept and begged for his life. Without raising his voice, The Colonel spoke to his men. “Your comrade has chosen to disobey one of the rules while under my command. He is being punished in a manner befitting his infraction.”
Barrett held her breath when The Colonel swung the whip over his head. Once, twice, three times it cracked into the air, each time causing Blue to whimper. The Colonel turned to his men and spoke again. “My rules are few but simple. Punishment for disobeying them is severe. You,” he said, pointing to Blue, “are a disgrace to the revolution. Maybe you will think the next time you cannot control your actions.” With a final crack, the whip lashed Blue’s penis, his scream filling the waning light.
*
Kelly saw more than a few men instinctively grab their crotch when the whip connected two more times with the most private part of Blue’s anatomy. The Colonel walked away without further comment. He’d made his point. What else was there to say? The thirty-or-so men retreated, mumbling quietly to each other. No one looked back at the man hanging unconscious between the trees.
She sat on her mat, only slightly dazed at The Colonel’s brutality. For months she had seen him, whip, beat, even kill to maintain order among his troops. This evening was only another episode
in a long line of what had come before. And it wouldn’t be the last.
She glanced over at Barrett. She was obviously upset but didn’t look too bad. Her face had that look of disbelief she saw on every new arrival in camp the first time they witnessed The Colonel’s brutal temper.
“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
“Better than he is.” Barrett was shaking her head. “Jesus, I see what you mean by not crossing that guy. Other than the obvious, what did he do?” Barrett nodded in the direction of the unconscious man.
“He touched me. Or at least he was about to,” Kelly said. It pained her to see how badly the man had been punished, even though she was glad he had.
“I belong to The Colonel,” Kelly said, further explaining her statement. She watched as Barrett grasped the full meaning of what she’d said. First it was comprehension, then disbelief, and, finally, fear that she too would be raped.
“Don’t think about it.” Kelly knew exactly what Barrett was thinking. “You have to concentrate on what’s happening right now, not on what might happen.” She’d learned to remove herself from the here and now every time The Colonel called for her.
The first time had been shortly after she arrived in the camp. She was in a condition similar to Barrett’s—filthy, exhausted, and scared shitless. She’d known that sooner or later it would happen. It was just a matter of time and by whom. At least it was The Colonel and not any or all of the other guards. He bathed regularly and wasn’t overly brutal, and he usually used her body as a means to an end. All the men in the camp knew that she was his and that no one else was to touch her. Kelly thought it was more a case of The Colonel not wanting to contract syphilis or some other disease rather than some sense of sparing her.
“Have you—?”
“I said don’t think about it.” Kelly snapped because she certainly didn’t want to discuss it. Just then Opie arrived with their dinner, or at least what the guards considered their dinner.
