The Remembered

by Michael J Sanford

"Okay, okay," she said, voice muffled against the car. The blaring alarm made her dizzy.

  The man pulled her off the car and continued to force her through the maze of vehicles, moving further and further away from the storefronts. Athena looked over her shoulder a gave a last desperate cry for help, but none came. Her eyes raked the area in front of the office supply store, but couldn't see her grandmother.

  The further they went, the sparser the crowds became. Athena's horror grew with each passing moment, but she had stopped fighting. Already, that energy had faded. Or been stolen. I'm being stolen, she realized.

  In the far corner of the expansion lot, the man opened the back gate of a covered pickup truck and gestured for Athena to climb in. Athena stared into the truck bed, seeing little more than shadows and darkness. The man didn't give her a second opportunity to comply. He grabbed her by the shoulder and tossed her into the darkness. She hadn't even stopped rolling when the man was upon her again. He wrapped duct tape around her ankles and wrists, and tied a rag around her mouth. When Athena tried screaming through the gag, the man wrapped duct tape around her head as well. When she had been bound, the man pushed her head down against the truck bed, grunted, and then slid out. He slammed the gate shut, plunging Athena into impenetrable darkness.

  Athena tried to break the tape at first, but soon gave up, and fell limp as the truck shuddered to life and began taking her away from everything she knew. She cried next, but even that didn't outlast the long journey.

  Everything became fuzzy, moments blending with those before and after, abolishing Athena's concept of time. It felt like she had never not been trapped in the back of a moving truck. The hum of the vehicle was hypnotizing, but each struck pothole shocked Athena back into reality, lighting her panic anew.

  The truck screeched to a halt and the engine shut off. Athena perked up, straining to listen for any hint of what was happening beyond her dark prison. The back gate opened, revealing the silhouette of her captor. Night had fallen at some point during their journey. The man was just a darker shadow against the lighter shade of the night behind him.

  Athena squirmed away from him, pressing her body against the back of the truck's cab. As much as she tried not to, she couldn't help but whimper like a cornered animal. Part of her knew there was no escape, but her instinct commanded that she try. Fight and never give up. Her grandmother's words raced through her head. Athena kicked at the hands reaching for her. But they persisted, snaring her legs and dragging her from the truck bed.

  Athena landed on a dirt ground, sending up a small cloud of dust that stung her eyes. She rolled onto her side, desperate for information. Trees towered over a small cabin, dwarfing her and boxing her in. She twisted around and saw nothing in the other direction but more forest. A narrow path traced a line from the back of the truck into the forest, where it became a black pit.

  The man lifted Athena over his shoulder and walked toward the cabin. Athena wanted to fight like she knew she should, but was too enraptured by what she saw. There would be no one to save her here.

  The man carried Athena into the cabin and dropped her unceremoniously on the floor of a small room. He crouched before her, the sharp edges of his features lined with the glow of an exposed light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling.

  Athena rolled away from him until she hit the wall and then crawled into a corner—the farthest point in the room from him. He watched her struggle, head cocked to the side, face hidden in the shadow of his hood. Athena pushed herself against the corner and managed to stand. Her eyes flicked from the man to the open door and back again. She'd have to make it past him to escape.

  Without a second thought, Athena tried. With her ankles lashed together, she was forced to hop, but she did so with desperation. The man was crouched in the center of the room, directly in her path, so she tried to circle around him without wasting too much distance. He swiveled on the balls of his feet, watching her as she bounded around him, destined for the door.

  When Athena made it past the man, she entertained the idea that she would actually escape. That the man, for whatever reason, was just letting her leave. A single pistol shot filled the room with its oppressive echo and Athena's legs buckled beneath sharp pain. She landed hard. Pain screamed up her leg, and she didn't need to look to know the man had shot her in the right leg, just above the ankle.

  She screamed against the gag in her mouth and slammed her head against the ground, trying to abolish the sensation in her leg. She turned toward the man, fearing another shot, ready to beg for whatever mercy he could provide. I hope he makes it quick, she thought. Whatever he's going to do to me.

  The man was standing, facing her, pistol in hand hanging at his side. He stuffed the weapon into his waistband and walked toward her, taking slow and heavy steps. Athena clenched her jaw against the pain and squirmed toward the door. Maybe she could still stand, maybe she could still escape.

  The man grabbed her hair and pulled her back into the center of the room. There, he crouched before her again, a fistful of hair clenched in his hand. The pain in Athena's leg was nearly blinding, but she forced herself to stay conscious, forced her stare to remain steady. Whatever he was going to do, she wanted him to look her in the eye when he did it.

  The man held a finger up to her lips. Athena just stared back.

  The man released her hair and removed the tape and cloth from around her head. When he had finished, he leaned back on his heels as Athena pitched forward, gasping, and then retching onto the floor. The vomiting gave way to fits of coughing, and it took a few moments for her to gather herself. She looked up and found the man in the same position. Crouching. Watching.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked. Her voice was harsh and grating, unfamiliar to her ears.

  The man reached toward her and she flinched away. He pointed at her hands and nodded, reaching for her again. Athena didn't resist this time and allowed the man to tear away the tape binding her wrists.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked again. "Who are you?"

  The man stood and walked from the room, shutting the door behind him, and hitting an unseen switch to turn off the only source of light in the windowless room.

  "What do you want?" she screamed.

  She received no response but the sound of a bar being slid across the back of the door, entombing her.

  Athena woke to the sound of the door opening. Bright light from beyond her prison flooded in, startling her. For a brief moment, Athena had forgotten the previous day, but when the memory returned, it struck like thunder.

  "Get away from me!" she screamed as the man walked toward her.

  Athena had removed the tape from around her ankles shortly after having been locked in, but the pain in her wounded leg forbade her to stand. She was already pressed into the deepest corner, but tried to tunnel further as her eyes fought to adjust to the light and her mind battled to clear the fog from her thoughts.

  He stopped a few feet from her and lowered himself to his knees. He set down a bundle of medical supplies and looked at her. His oversized hood was gone, in favor of a tight blue sweater. His eyes were of the same brilliant shade, and the light at his back transformed his long, blond hair into strands of gold. She didn't understand. He should have looked like a monster. She had envisioned a monster. Only monsters stole children to haul back to their secluded cabins. In any other circumstance, she would have thought him handsome. And he couldn't have been much older than her cousin, who was in college.

  They stared at each other, locked on each other's eyes, though for entirely different reasons, Athena imagined. "What do you want?" she asked.

  The man pointed at her foot and held up a bottle of peroxide.

  Athena couldn't make sense of the gesture, but didn't fight as he crept closer and examined the bullet hole in her lower leg.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked as he cut away a portion of her pant leg and set to cleaning the wound.

  The man didn't respond, a
nd soon the fire in her leg returned as he scrubbed at it with cloth and disinfectant. Athena slammed her head against the wall and screamed words she knew her grandmother would make her eat soap for. But her grandmother wasn't there to hear her. No one was.

  Athena opened her eyes and wiped sweat from her brow. The man slid away from her, revealing her ankle, clean and bandaged. He caught her eye again and nodded.

  "Who are you?" Athena asked, drawing her legs to her chest.

  The man said nothing. He gathered up the supplies and left the room. The door and bar slid back into place. The light bulb flared to life at his exit.

  Athena waited for several long moments to be sure the man wasn't immediately returning before she even dared breathe again. She ran fingers over the bandage on her ankle. It seemed competently done, but the fact that it was done at all was the bizarre part. He's keeping me alive on purpose, she realized. She wasn't sure if that was any better than if he had just killed her in the first place.

  Using the wall for support, Athena climbed to her feet and gingerly applied weight to her injured foot. The pain was still there, but as far as she could tell, her leg and foot were structurally sound. She hobbled around the outside of the room, exploring the bare wall for some sign of escape. Other than the door and lone light bulb, there was nothing else to be seen. Even the floor was bare plywood, colored only by a spattering of her blood.

  She banged on the walls for a time, and then the door, but eventually returned to the farthest corner and collapsed.

  At some point, the light turned off, signifying that night had fallen, Athena guessed. But she didn't fear the dark. She welcomed it. She could see nothing and hear nothing, and that made it far easier to pretend she was somewhere else.

  Her stomach growled, and her mouth was almost too dry to allow her to swallow. And though the pain in her ankle had subsided some, it still pulsed just enough to remind Athena of where she was. She curled up as tightly as she could, pulling her legs against her chest and pressing her forehead against her knees. She had never once in her life desired to die, but now it seemed the only option of freedom. The only thing that kept her from falling into that pit of despair was her grandmother's voice in her head, demanding that she persevere.

  The man brought her breakfast the following morning. Toast and a bottle of water. Athena consumed both before her mind reminded her of where she was. When she'd finished, she scampered back into the corner like a feral beast.

  The man picked up the empty water bottle and left the room, leaving the door open. Athena stared at it for a moment before realizing what it meant. A chance. Still groggy from a restless night, Athena crawled toward the door. Sticking her head past the threshold, she saw a small dining area, most of which was occupied by a large, polished table. Even from her hands and knees, Athena could see it was covered in fine china and crystal, looking sordidly out of place in the dusty cabin.

  Peering beneath the table, Athena saw two more open doorways and a third, shut that would lead to the outside world. She eyed the door hungrily and had to fight to stop herself from hurtling toward it. She turned her ears to the rest of the cabin, trying to discern where the man had gone. Had he made a mistake, leaving the door open? Or was this a game? Either way, Athena knew she couldn't remain in the prison room. If there was even the slightest chance of escaping, she had to take it.

  She crawled as quietly as possible toward the front door, opting to slide beneath the opulent dining room table for the sake of speed and evasion. She reached the edge of the table closest to the door when she heard footsteps approaching. She froze, held her breath, and watched as boots scuffed into the dining room, slowly circled around the table, headed for the prison room.

  Athena's freedom was only a few feet away, but she'd have to move quickly, using the brief moment of time it would take the man to walk around the table and into the prison room. A few seconds at most. And there was no telling his reaction when he found the room empty.

  Athena waited until the man had passed her position and was halfway around the table before she left her hiding place. She didn't dare look toward the man. It didn't matter whether he saw her now or not; her mission was still the same.

  She still didn't dare stand, and reached for the handle from the ground. In her periphery, she saw the man vanish into the next room. She turned the knob. Unlocked. She could have shouted for joy, but a sharp grunt and stomp of booted feet shot adrenaline through her body and sparked her to action. The time for stealth was over.

  Athena pulled herself up using the doorknob and threw it open. Desperation blunted the pain in her ankle for the most part, and she took off running as best as she could.

  Something crashed within the cabin as Athena cleared the small porch and turned her eyes to the seemingly endless forest stretched out before her. Athena charged forward, only risking a quick glance over her shoulder once she'd reached the first towering pine tree. The man appeared on the porch of the cabin with his pistol in hand, already taking aim at her.

  Athena dove behind the tree as a shot rang out. She hit the ground, but immediately clawed herself back to her feet and continued running, zigzagging among the closely grouped trees. Everywhere she looked was the same—endless trees and deep shadows. The early morning light couldn't penetrate the forest, making it difficult to see where she was stepping, but Athena knew it would also make it difficult for the man to see her.

  Another gunshot and Athena ran faster, leaping over fallen logs and forcing her way through brambles and thicket. Her eyes were pinned in front of her, wishing the trees to fade away and reveal some sign of civilization. She needed just a hint of hope.

  Nothing but more trees greeted her the longer she ran. A third and fourth gunshot rang out, but they seemed further away. Her lungs burned, and the pain in her ankle had resurfaced to force her run into an uneven skip.

  Her foot caught a stone and sent her headlong into the soft dirt. She scrambled to get herself upright, but exhaustion pulled her back down. She managed to crawl to a particularly wide tree and force herself against its trunk and exposed roots. Her heart thundered, and she couldn't catch her breath. She didn't know if she could stand again, much less run.

  Agonizing minutes passed with no sign or sound of the man. No further gunfire. Athena's breathing slowed, and though her limbs trembled with even the slightest movement, she prepared herself to run again. She closed her eyes, listening to the forest. Birds called, and a breeze stirred the branches high above, but nothing more.

  She listened a few more moments, and satisfied, opened her eyes. And screamed.

  The man was standing not three feet from her, staring down at her with eyes like angry lightning. How had she not heard him?

  Athena grabbed at the roots nearest her and fought to propel herself upright and over them in one motion, but a strike to the back of her head sent her to the ground. She tasted dirt and blood as a hand grabbed her hair and another seized her waistband.

  The man lifted her over his shoulders with a grunt and set off. Athena screamed, kicked, and punched, but the man gave no notice of her attacks beyond an occasional grunt.

  "Why are you doing this?" she pleaded once the energy in her arms and legs vanished. "Why?"

  The man said nothing. He carried her back to the cabin, into the bare room, and tossed her onto the floor. He turned to leave.

  Athena's body wouldn't respond to her desire to move, but her tongue did. "Who are you? What do you want?"

  The man shut the door behind him as he left, leaving Athena to shout at an empty room. The only response she received was the echoes of her own voice, reverberating around the small room.

  The man returned a few minutes later with a coil of rope in his hands.

  "No! I'm sorry!" Athena pleaded, scuttling away from him.

  The man tied the coarse rope around her wrists and lashed it with another length he fastened around her ankles. When he'd completed the restraints, the man dragged her toward the corner s
he favored and set her upright as much as the ties allowed. He crouched before her, the malice in his eyes gone, looking at her with the vacant blue stare of an ocean. Athena could only sob.

  The man cocked his head to the side and brought his thumb to her cheek. Athena jerked her head away from his touch, but he grabbed her hair with his other hand and held her fast as he wiped her tears away. He then studied her face a moment, produced a rag from his pocket, and wiped the dirt and blood from her face. When he was done, he smiled and left the room. The door shut and the bar slid into place.

  Athena didn't see the man for the next several days. The light would turn on, rousing her from sleep to reveal a bowl of water and a couple pieces of bread or toast, but no man. Hogtied, she was forced to inch herself to the food and eat and drink like an animal, but she did so, compelled by desperate hunger.

  At first, Athena tried to keep track of the days by how often the light turned on and off, but soon gave that up, or lost track, she wasn't sure which.

  When the man did return, he dragged Athena from the room by the rope that bound her. They didn't go far, just into the next room. Athena held her tongue, no longer wishing to illicit a response from the man. Whether he couldn't speak or simply chose not to, Athena would do the same. If he wanted to hear her beg, she wouldn't.

  The man untied her ankles from her wrists and lifted Athena into an elegantly carved chair at the head of the dining table. The fine china and crystal still covered the surface, but the setting in front of Athena was covered in food. Meat steamed from the center plate, and crude salad sat beside it, along with a goblet filled with dark liquid.

  Athena's mouth watered and she lunged for the food, her survival instinct taking over. The man forced her back before she could taste any of it. He wrapped a length of rope around her chest, tucked under her arms, and fastened it tightly to the back of the chair. Athena could hardly breathe against it. He untied her wrists next and slapped her across the face when she tried to reach for the food. She stopped trying after that.