Save Johanna!

by Francine Pascal

  It annoys me that David wouldn’t approve, and then it doesn’t annoy me anymore and I know the pill is working.

  Before I board the plane I send off an email to Sephra. “Urgent change of plans. Must return to New York. Will write.”

  Good-bye everybody’s favorite—horrible San Francisco.

  Chapter Eleven

  Home again and picking up the novel where I left off and armed with a name for the new character—Pinky.

  Avrum, Imogene, Frank, and Nellie, having spent themselves in a feast of lust, now sleep on the cabin floor. Only Swat, life’s isolated, rejected, and unloved creature, is awake.

  Souls in Darkness

  Chapter Two (Cont’d)

  Sometime later there was a soft tapping at the door. At first Swat didn’t realize what it was. No one ever knocked. They simply came in. She listened for it again and then got up and went to the door. As she opened it a long rectangle of late-afternoon sunlight fell across the floor, lighting up the interwoven bodies sleeping in the center.

  Outside on the step was a young girl, perhaps sixteen, no older. She was dusty and exhausted-looking but still very beautiful. Small and delicately shaped, she had straight blond hair that hung to her shoulders, hair so smooth it appeared to be one long piece of silk. Her face was perfectly carved, and colored in pale pinks and peaches, with eyes the blue of opals. She was dressed in an ordinary tie-dyed, gauzy cotton shift that fell lightly to the middle of her calves. In her right hand she carried an obviously expensive gray-suede Vuitton suitcase. She stood there, her eyes wide, staring past Swat at the sexual tangle on the floor behind her. In that instant her terrible vulnerability touched Swat who moved slightly to shield her from the shocking sight.

  “Please help me.” The girl spoke in so soft and timid a voice that Swat had to lean slightly out the door to hear her. “I’m looking for Avrum Maheely.”

  “What do you want Maheely for?” It came out a nasty challenge from which the young girl visibly retreated. For Swat, the threat of yet another beautiful female elicited an involuntary reaction of uncontrolled aggression. “Wait here,” she commanded, turning and closing the door behind her.

  With no further explanation Swat kept the young runaway girl waiting outside the cabin until long after dark. By then Pinky’s strong determination, long since eroded by weariness and hunger and the unexpected debauchery of the still life she’d glimpsed on the cabin floor, had drained her of all but minimum strength and left her stunned and confused.

  At first she’d stood outside the door waiting for what she expected was Swat’s momentary return, but when more than a half hour passed and she didn’t come back, Pinky began to look for some place to rest. She was much too intimidated by Swat’s hostility to knock again. The only spot other than the hard, dusty ground was a cutoff tree stump a few yards from the house. She sank down on it, exhausted. All the misgivings she’d been holding back since she’d fled her home nine days earlier came flooding over her, and fear and a terrible aloneness took hold. A small panic began to churn at the pit of her stomach and she pulled her suitcase closer to her legs, gripped the smooth leather handle tight, and leaned forward, as though ready to run off the moment she summoned enough courage. But before it came to her, the door opened, and then it was too late.

  Avrum stood in the doorway, his body outlined by the flickering candlelight behind him. At first he didn’t see the girl. The night was fairly bright, but she was sitting so still she seemed part of the landscape. He studied the area, slowly searching the night shadows for her.

  She watched him without giving a hint of her presence, unsure whether or not to reveal herself. Pinky had never seen Avrum, but she knew instantly it was he. Now, as his head swept around toward her, the excitement of her imminent discovery dispelled the fear and panic, and she felt instead the small thrill of anticipation. She held her breath.

  Avrum stared at Pinky for several seconds before his eyes could detach her from the foliage that framed her. His first reaction was simple pleasure at solving the puzzle.

  When she felt his discovery, she stood up, still clutching her suitcase. For Pinky, Avrum, with the dim light behind him, was only a bulky outline, but as he came toward her his assurance and ease instantly took command of the moment, and she relaxed. He came to her, stopping only inches from her, his face intimately close. Involuntarily, she leaned back slightly. He took her by the shoulders, his hands steadying her, and brought her body in close again. She felt him looking down at her, but shyness kept her eyes on the ground. An aura of electricity engulfed them and for silent moments they stood together, and then he spoke.

  “I’m Avrum Maheely, and I welcome you to me.”

  The texture of his voice brought an intimacy to the words, and Pinky could feel their strength. She started to speak, but he stopped her. “No. Don’t tell me anything now. Let me feel your presence first.”

  She obeyed.

  He closed his eyes, and she watched him stiffen his body, waiting to receive whatever essence she emanated. He took a deep breath and held it. A moment later he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes, then narrowing them, searched her face carefully. He gave no clue to his reaction as he wordlessly led her into the cabin.

  Nothing about that first night was what she’d expected. At no time was she introduced to anyone, nor did anyone speak to her. Avrum led her past the others and into an empty room, no bigger than a walk-in closet. He put a half-burned candle stuck to a small plate on the floor and, without a word, turned and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

  Again fear descended on her, and she stood confused and helpless in the middle of the tiny room. She had nothing with her. Her suitcase was still outside where she’d put it down, her pocketbook on top of it.

  She waited, hearing sounds but not the words from the other room. Nothing happened. No one came, and finally, overcome with exhaustion, she allowed her body to slide down along the wall to the floor, and within minutes, still sitting upright, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Hours later she awoke to the soft click of the door being unlocked. For an instant she was disoriented, frightened, but forgetting why. Then, as the door opened and she saw Avrum, she remembered.

  “Use the bathroom if you like,” he said, pointing just outside the door. She rose, straightening out her gauzy dress that had gathered up around one side of her waist, pulling it down quickly to cover her bare thigh. She ran one hand along the back of her neck, releasing the strands of long yellow hair that had caught in the creases of her neck.

  He watched her, his deep-set dark eyes studying her with an intensity she couldn’t read. She slipped past him, careful to keep a good distance between them, and found the bathroom. It was small and old, with only the porcelain base of the toilet, a tiny sink balanced on three chrome legs, and a broken faucet. But the worst part was the door. There was none. All that remained were two paint-splattered hinges protruding from the door frame.

  When Pinky turned away from the empty doorway she saw what she guessed were six or seven people. None of them seemed to be particularly interested in her, but all could see her just the same. There would be no way for her to achieve even a semblance of privacy.

  She watched the others out of the corner of her eye. Choosing a moment when most of them had their backs to her, she quickly raised her skirt and, slipping her panties down as little as possible, sat down on the low, seatless toilet, using her skirt to cover as much of her body as possible. Lowering her head, she studied the cracked and broken floor tiles. An ant’s tiny, beadlike black body raced across the floor toward the empty doorway. Long moments passed, and it seemed forever until she had finally emptied her bladder. The wooden holder for the toilet paper was empty, but a fresh roll was sitting on the floor a few feet away. There was no way for Pinky to reach the paper without taking at least three steps. For the first time since she’d arrived last night, she found herself feeling an ordinary, everyday emotion—annoyance. Why in the world
would anyone leave the toilet paper so far away from the toilet! Armed with the momentary anger, holding her skirt up in the back, she half-leaned, half-walked to the roll of paper and with a free hand snatched it up; scampering backwards, she almost fell past the toilet. Once down, she looked up and saw that some of the people were watching her, Avrum included. No one said anything. She felt a combination of acute embarrassment and humiliation. If they had meant to strip her of all sense of dignity, they had certainly succeeded.

  Her toilet completed, she walked out of the bathroom to the room where the others were and stood waiting for some greeting. No one looked at her. Finally Avrum turned and noticed her and without a word nodded toward the tiny back room. At first she just looked in that direction, then she realized that he meant for her to go back into the room. She didn’t want to, and the thought crossed her mind not to move. But one look at Avrum and she knew she had to obey him.

  Pinky turned and walked back to the room. Someone closed the door behind her, and she heard the bolt snap into place.

  She thought about the people on the other side. She’d been there in the big room long enough to see some of them. She knew one woman was pregnant; another was the big, ugly lady who first opened the door for her; there was possibly another woman, and the rest, maybe four or five were men. One of the men looked more like a kid, a teenager. She’d caught him staring at her, but she pretended not to notice.

  She was very confused. She’d come here willingly, searching out Avrum, and now she was being treated like a captive. There was no reason, no explanation she could think of for what was happening to her. They didn’t even know who she was. No one had even asked her name or where she was from. All they knew was that she was looking for Avrum Maheely. Why were they treating her like an enemy? Could they know she’d run away? Were they holding her until the police came? No, she didn’t think so. But why the strange treatment?

  An aroma of something frying wafted in, quieting her crowded thoughts and making her aware of how hungry she was.

  At the same moment she heard a low drone somewhere in the distance that grew steadily stronger. She recognized it as a motorcycle heading toward the house. In seconds it zoomed to a stop outside the window. The window! She hadn’t even looked out the window. It was high off the floor, more than five feet, and open a few inches at the top.

  Balancing on tiptoes, she peeked out. The cyclist was already gone, but the excitement of knowing that she wasn’t completely trapped thrilled her. She calculated that pushing out the torn outer screen would be easy enough if she could open the window. Someone had nailed it not to open more than it was, but she was small and it might be possible for her to squeeze through. Or she could break it. Either way, she would wait for nightfall before trying. The sudden possibility of options calmed her enough to allow her thoughts to drift back to the food. She tried to guess what they were frying. It smelled like some kind of meat. God, she was starving!

  Within minutes the door opened, and the ugly woman came in with what looked like a hamburger on a paper plate and a can of beer. She could tell instantly that the woman didn’t like her at all and that frightened Pinky, but she took the food, smiled and said thank you. Swat said nothing and left.

  The hamburger turned out to be fried Spam on a bun with a big glob of yellow mustard smeared on one side. She ate the entire thing quickly, even though she normally hated that kind of mustard and had never before in her life tasted Spam. It was not the kind of thing her mother ever had in the house.

  Pinky didn’t like beer either, but she was extremely thirsty and downed the entire can in a few minutes. The alcohol made her feel lightheaded. It was hot in the room, and the greasy sandwich and the beer weren’t resting well in her stomach. And she was beginning to feel very unhappy. This sadness was a quieter and heavier feeling than the fright she’d felt before. Tears began to fill her eyes, and a sob silently caught in her throat. She dried her face with the hem of her skirt but new tears kept rolling over her cheeks, and now the sobs broke free and became gasping cries, low, long moans of misery.

  She listened to herself weep and wondered why the others, the ones in the big room, didn’t care enough to come in and see why she was crying. But no one came, and soon, like a baby, she spent herself in tears and dropped off to sleep.

  She couldn’t have slept more than a couple of hours, but when she got up it was silent in the other room. She tried the door. It was still locked. She looked outside and the motorcycle was gone, but she was reluctant to try the window in the daylight. It would take some doing to open the window anyway because the two nails holding it were driven deep and held fast in rust. She looked around for something with which to pry them out, but the room was totally empty. There were no utensils from lunch, and the only hard things she had were her shoes and a ring. Now she began desperately to want her freedom. A terrible thought struck her. No one knew where she was. She had completely disappeared. These people could do anything they wanted to her without leaving a trace. She felt totally vulnerable.

  That night the pregnant Nellie brought her dinner, more Spam and some beans. Another beer. She asked Nellie why she had to stay in that room but got no answer.

  Later, when it was dark, she went to work on the nails with her little opal and gold confirmation ring. The gold was worn and thin and bent easily. She knew she would never get the nails out that way. She cried again that night when she realized that she was hopelessly imprisoned.

  She slept often in those first few days. It was her only escape. When she was awake she’d try to figure out why they were holding her captive. After all, she had come of her own free will. Was she their hostage? Were they holding her for ransom? But they didn’t know anything about her. Wait! Of course they did. They had her pocketbook with all her identification. That was it. They’d found out her father was wealthy, and now she was being held for ransom. The very thought chilled her. Maybe not even money. Maybe some impossible political demand. No wonder they weren’t treating her like a person. They meant to kill her if they couldn’t get what they wanted. That’s what people did to hostages. Or, maybe like that girl she’d once read about, they’d bury her alive.

  The click of the lock caught her in the middle of that terrible thought, and she let out a scream and jumped to her feet. The door opened slowly, and the man who looked like a teenager stood in the doorway. Pinky screamed again, and he quickly closed the door. But hysteria had set in, and she couldn’t stop screaming. Over and over again she shrieked and shrieked until her throat stung and she was hoarse. The husky shriek became a cry for help, and the word gave her renewed strength, and she pounded and kicked at the locked door. She never stopped long enough to listen for outside sounds. She kept kicking and shouting for help until, worn out, she collapsed on the floor in front of the door, faint with exhaustion.

  Another night passed, and sometime in the early morning, just as the sky was lightening, someone tried to push the door open. It jammed against her body. Whoever it was shoved harder, and as she woke up she remembered where she was and quickly slid along the floor away from the door. There wasn’t enough light for her to see who it was, but she thought from the bulk of the shadow that it was a man. Again there was no controlling the panic that came over her, shaking her whole body and bringing fresh tears to her already swollen eyes.

  “Please,” she begged, “let me leave. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  “No.” It was Avrum.

  She was silent for a moment while she swallowed her sobs enough to ask, “Am I a hostage?”

  “Stand up.”

  She got to her feet immediately. “Did you ask my father for money? Is he going to give it to you?”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “I don’t know . . . to find you.”

  “Who sent you?” It was light enough now to see his eyes. They were hard with suspicion.

  “No one . . . I swear. I just heard about you.”

  “From who?”
<
br />   “I don’t know. Just around. Please, I’m not lying. No one sent me. I just came on my own to see you. People are talking about you. They say . . .” She paused, not knowing how to phrase it.

  “What do they say?”

  “They say you know things.”

  “They’re right. And I can’t be tricked.”

  Was it possible? Did he think she was sent to spy on him? She tried to make him see she wasn’t a spy, but he remained cold to her pleas.

  Avrum knew he had many enemies. Enemies everywhere. Especially in the government. Clever professionals, people who looked like young, innocent runaway girls who could infiltrate his core and threaten his plan. But he was ready for the challenge. In fact, he found himself intrigued with it. Instinctively he knew how he could metamorphosize this enemy into a follower. First he would take everything from her—and when she was emptied fill her with himself.

  “Please,” Pinky wept, “let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “You’ll stay here as long as we need you, and then . . . we’ll see.” Avrum’s tone was cold and sharp, and Pinky’s heart sank at his words. She tried not to beg, but she couldn’t help herself. For a moment Avrum was still. He seemed to be listening to her entreaties and then, abruptly, left the room and locked the door behind him.

  For Pinky, the next three days passed in slow agony. Fear for her life kept her in constant panic. Each time the lock clicked she jumped up and fled to the farthest corner of the tiny room. Most of the time it was Swat who brought in her food, angry, ugly Swat. Pinky no longer tried to question her. She took the plate but didn’t eat. She’d lost her appetite to fear. Either Swat or Nellie would lead her out to the bathroom. Privacy no longer mattered to her. All she thought about was protecting herself from the attack she expected any minute.

  She’d become convinced that they planned to kill her. That’s why they were keeping their distance from her. It would be easier if they didn’t know her as a person, didn’t care about her. There was hardly a waking moment when she didn’t feel frightened. She took any sound from the other room to mean that they were coming for her.