The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: Seeking Others

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Aimee kept the gun aimed on the closest one. Both men were still planted where they stopped. And both were staring viciously. She thought, Two deranged, rather large men against me, a one hundred twenty pound chicken. If I want to make it back alive, I better suck up my cowardice, and do this fast.

  “She's got us, JC,” the second one said.

  “Shut up!” Aimee ordered. “Get down on your stomachs and put your hands behind your backs.”

  The first one, JC, looked back at his friend. “Do you hear this little bitch? She thinks she's a fuckin' vigilante.” He laughed.

  Aimee repeated, “Get down or I'll shoot!”

  JC laughed again. “Robert, I don't think a young, pretty thing like this bitch could shoot the side of a barn, even if it was a foot in front of her.”

  Robert chuckled and stepped forward.

  “I said stop and get down on your stomachs!” Aimee pointed the gun from one to the other. Both looked at each other and shook their heads.

  They were getting closer to the truck, despite Aimee holding a loaded gun. But their attention was so focused on Aimee they didn't notice the young woman no longer was lying on the dirt floor where they had been raping her. Quietly, stealthily, she grabbed a pitchfork from the side of the barn. Silently, she snuck up behind the two. Both hands gripped tightly around the handle, she pulled it back, then with all the power she could muster, she drove into Robert’s back. He dropped dead instantly. In a rage, she pulled it out and stabbed him again with it. Then again. And again. JC broke into a run towards the opening that Aimee made when she crashed through the door. Aimee fired at him. He dropped screeching in pain and grabbing his butt. The woman, with blood splatter all over her, started towards him dragging the pitchfork behind her. The man tried to get up. His backside was covered in blood. He finally made it upright. He glanced over his shoulder, then pivoted around with his hands in the air and started pleading for his life. Aimee kept the gun on the man, but walked towards the woman.

  “Please don't!” begged Aimee.

  The woman swayed towards Aimee and wiped the back of her bloody hand across her mouth. Her eyes bulged with hatred. A hand for a hand. An eye for an eye.

  Aimee pleaded again, “He's not worth it. He won't hurt you again. It would be too easy killing him now. Make him pay for what he did to you. Put down the pitchfork and let me take over.”

  The woman stood there silently, staring at Aimee. JC dropped to his knees whimpering in pain. The woman turned and lifted the pitchfork. He pulled his arms across his face to protect himself. Instead of tossing the pitchfork at him, the woman threw it as hard as possible. It flew over JC's head and hit the side of the barn with a loud bang. Then she collapsed to her knees and balled like a baby. Aimee walked over to her, kneeled and held the woman with one arm while she kept the gun aimed on JC.

  Aimee whispered, “I promise he won't get away with this.”

  The woman peered into Aimee's eyes. Tears streamed down her face. After a long minute, she nodded.

  “Please go get in the truck.”

  She glanced briefly at JC. Then she got up and walked back towards the truck.

  Aimee hollered over her shoulder, “Don't look at him.” But the woman stopped and stared at the dead man who had raped her a few minutes earlier. He laid in a pool of blood. She opened the passenger door and got in and slammed it. She didn't look back.

  “Get up!” Aimee ordered JC.

  “I can't!” he cried. “You shot me in the ass.”

  “Well, unless you want to die right here, right now, I suggest you get up and drop your pants.”

  JC responded, pain obvious in his voice, “Whatthafuck?!”

  “You heard me. Get up and drop your pants.”

  Moaning and cursing, he crept up and stood there staring at her.

  Aimee pointed the gun at his groin. “I said drop them, or I'll make you regret not listening to me.” She pulled her aim off his privates and fired at his feet. He screamed, jumped, and dropped his pants and boxers. The young woman leaned out of the window to watch.

  Aimee commanded, “Completely off!”

  Without hesitating, he stepped out of his pants.

  “Hands back in the air and move over there.” She pointed towards the tractor at the back of the building.

  He cried, “I can't walk.”

  “Walk,” Aimee demanded.

  Arms in the air, he shuffled slowly groaning in pain towards the tractor.

  Aimee instructed, “Stop right there.” He obeyed.

  A rusty chain was wrapped around the tractor's seat. Miraculously, it had a lock and a key securing it. Aimee unlocked the lock, unwrapped the chain and tossed it at his feet.

  “Wrap it around your stomach, a couple times, then around your neck, then run both ends through the wheel.”

  He just stared at her.

  “Do it,” she ordered.

  He picked it up and coiled it around his stomach and stopped.

  “Now wrap it around your neck.”

  He hissed, “Are you fuckin' crazy?!”

  “Yep, certifiably crazy.”

  He wrapped it around his neck.

  “Put the rest through the wheel.”

  JC screamed, “There's not enough left!”

  “Don't argue,” she said as she pointed the gun at him.

  Cautiously, he weaved the remaining piece through the wheel, pinning his head tight against it. From the other side Aimee secured the ends with the lock and removed the key. She came around to his side and examined her work. He pulled at the chain around his throat. It was so tight he couldn't move or he risked crushing his windpipe.

  She tossed the key about ten yards from JC and said, “Okay, I don't think you'll be going anywhere until the cops show up.”

  Standing there in just his shirt and socks, chained to the tractor, JC glared at Aimee. She decided it was time for the woman and her to leave so she could get the woman to a hospital.

  She ran back to the truck without looking at Robert. The woman didn't say a word, but watched Aimee while she waited in the cab. Aimee jumped in and threw the truck into Reverse, then punched the gas. The truck backed out of the building over the rubble like a bullet. Aimee slid it into Drive, stomped on the accelerator, and spun the truck around. They flew down the dusty road heading to the paved road. Before pulling onto the asphalt, Aimee skidded to a halt and tossed the gearshift into Park.

  She asked, “How are you doing?”

  The woman shrugged. “I don't know,” she started, then stopped to fight back tears. Finally, she continued, “I don't feel so good. Part of me wants to run away as fast as I can and never stop, and part of me wants to go back and kill that bastard. I hate them! I hope they rot in hell!”

  “It's okay to hate them and want them dead, but you need to go to the police and let them take care of the monster.”

  She nodded and looked over at Aimee. Moisture filled her eyes.

  “I'm so sorry I didn't help you sooner.”

  She quickly replied, “No! I don't understand where you came from, but if you hadn't shown up when you did, they would have killed me. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Aimee managed to smile. “That's why I was sent.”

  The woman looked bewildered.

  “Are you from around here?” Aimee queried.

  “Yeah. I live near Cortez.” She pointed towards the large mesa.

  “You have a cell phone?”

  “A what?” she asked with her voice rising at the end.

  “A cell phone, you know, a mobile phone you can use just about anywhere.”

  Again she looked strangely at Aimee before she answered, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  Aimee suddenly realized she had traveled back in time before cell phones.

  “Forget it. You just need to drive yourself to the hospital. I can't go with you. Tell the cops what happened, everything, including that I just disappeared into the fields. That creep back there
will collaborate I was here, I'm sure, so don't leave out that I was the one who shot the bastard.”

  With her brows scrunched together, the questions started to fly. “Where are you from? How did you get out here, and how did you know they were bringing me here?”

  Aimee said nothing. She opened her door, then stepped out to the dirt road. She looked at the woman and said, “You'll be okay, but you need to get to the hospital now.”

  Without letting her say another word, Aimee turned and headed into the fields. She didn't look back, but she heard the engine whine and then tires peel out onto the road. She didn't know where she was going, but she walked deeper and deeper into the field as fast she could. She needed to get away, far away. Her head pounded unmercifully. She was leaving soon, but her thoughts were lost in what had just happened. A few feet ahead, a large brown rock jutted out of the ground. Aimee didn't notice it until it was too late. Her foot hit the rock and she flew face first into the cold mud. And then she disappeared. ...

  **********

  ...The tunnel's horror passed unnoticed. Aimee blacked out until she landed face down into a shallow ditch alongside the road. It was full of water and thick mud. The cool water snapped her back into consciousness immediately. She gasped and popped up, and then collapsed on the side of the ditch. Her entire front side was soaked and filthy, but she had no injuries, at least what she could tell. No one saw her enter, and no one drove by while she gathered her senses. The sun was setting. She needed to get back to the apartment before anyone missed her.

  As fast as possible, Aimee walked down the same road she had been on before traveling. In about fifteen minutes she neared the complex. Suddenly, she realized her key band, with her key, had vanished off her wrist. She spotted Sacha's car by their apartment. Aimee stopped briefly, sucked in a mouthful of air, exhaled, then knocked on the door. In two seconds it opened.

  Sacha stepped out and threw her arms around Aimee. “Oh, thank God!” Sacha exclaimed. “What happened to you?” She pulled back and studied Aimee from head to toe, then looked at the mess Aimee left on her shirt.

  Aimee shrugged and said, “Sorry. I tripped and fell into a ditch while I was running.”

  “You're not hurt, are you?”

  Aimee shook her head.

  Sacha continued, “Dylan and James are out looking for you.” Aimee slid off her muddy shoes and left them on the mat. “Snap,” Sacha continued, “I gotta call James before he calls the police. Man, they'll be so relieved.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and hit James's number. Instantly James answered.

  “She's home!” Sacha reported.

  “Oh God, yes!” James replied. “Is she okay?”

  “Seems to be. She showed up, wet and muddy, but otherwise fine. Here, you talk to her.” Sacha handed the phone to Aimee.

  Aimee put the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

  Her easy-going, always in control brother bellowed, “Wherethahell have you been, and whatthahell is wrong with you?! You're not a little kid, Aimee! You know better than to go off without letting anyone know where you are, or at least taking your phone with you! You're not running around the old neighborhood in Medford, you know! You don't know this town!”

  “I'm sorry James. I didn't mean to make you, or Sacha, worry. I didn't realize it was getting so late and I kinda thought I would get back before you two made it home. I couldn't find my running bag so I didn't take my phone. And I didn't think about leaving a note.”

  Silence. Complete silence. James was pissed. Totally pissed. Aimee figured if he could reach through the phone, he would grab her by the neck and strangle her. After a very long minute he spoke, “You better call Dylan, now, not in five minutes. Right now! He was gonna call the cops if you didn't show up by dark.”

  “Let me hang up and I'll call him. Don't be mad. I'm really, really sorry. I promise I'll leave a note and let you know where I'm going the next time.”

  The call ended and Aimee handed the phone back to Sacha. She handed it back to Aimee. “Don't you want to call Dylan?”

  “Thanks, but I'll get my phone.” Aimee flew to her room and grabbed her phone from her backpack, pressed the On button, and headed for the bathroom. A bunch of missed calls popped on the screen. She dialed Dylan's number while slipping out of her wet shorts. Dylan answered before it even rang on her end.

  “AIMEE, THANK GOD YOU'RE ALL RIGHT!!!” he yelled into the receiver. There was silence for a few seconds, then much quieter he continued, “Where have you been? You know you had us all freaked out, Aimee. I thought you promised you wouldn't make me worry.”

  “I know. I broke my promise, but I didn't know I was gone so long. I kinda got into a rhythm and just kept going. I didn't realize I had been out for over an hour until it started to get dark.”

  Dylan was quiet. Aimee figured he was furious with her. She didn't blame him.

  “Dylan, please, please, please forgive me. Really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you worry.”

  Finally she heard a sigh from his end. “Well, don't do it again. All right? You don't know how crazy I get when you disappear off the radar. Just call me, or text me, when you're going out, and let me know where you're going. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan sighed loudly, then asked. “Are you positive your okay?”

  “Other than falling into a ditch of water and getting soaked, I'm good.”

  “What?! Whatthahell happened?”

  “It was starting to get dark, so I was in a hurry to get home and I ran off the shoulder of the road and rolled into the ditch.” Aimee peered into the mirror at herself. She looked a fright. “Hey, Dylan, I'm going to get in the shower. I'm wet, cold, and dirty.”

  Dylan stated, “I'm coming over.”

  Aimee really wanted to shower and be by herself to deal with what she had just been through. The mission drained her of all her energy and left her nerves fried. She looked down at her free hand. It shook. She had witnessed death before on her missions, but she had never had to shoot anyone, nor had she ever watched someone get killed. Aimee shuddered. Even though Robert deserved what happened, she couldn't shake this horrible feeling. She did her best acting job possible. She had to keep it up so no one got suspicious.

  “I'll be out of the shower by the time you get here,” Aimee replied, hung up and put the phone down on the counter. She turned on the water in the shower and stood there looking at it run down the drain. The rape. The killing. The screaming. The awful images swirled through her brain. They wouldn't stop! Her act failed and she crumpled to the floor. With her arms wrapped tightly around herself, Aimee rocked and quietly cried.

  A few minutes later she heard a knock at the front door. Then she heard Dylan's voice. She jumped into the shower and grabbed the shampoo bottle. She expected Dylan to barge right in, but he didn't. When she finished showering, she grabbed a towel and stepped out on the mat. Aimee could hear three voices, and even though she couldn't hear what they said, she knew she was the topic of the discussion. She took her time. Brushed her teeth. Combed out her wet hair and put it up in a towel, then slid into her robe. She opened the door and stepped out into the hall. All three turned and gawked at her.

  “What's wrong?” Aimee asked.

  “Nothing,” James said. He walked into the kitchen with Sacha right behind him.

  Aimee headed into her bedroom. Dylan was right behind her. He shut the door. She turned around and before she could say anything, he whipped Aimee into his arms and smothered her. She barely could breathe. His cheek smashed against hers.

  “Dylan...” she started.

  “No. Shhhh. Don't say a word. I just wanna hold you.” She could feel him shaking. She must have really scared him.

  Aimee tried again. “Dylan, listen, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how awful you feel when I'm hurt, or you don't know where I'm at, or...”

  Dylan interrupted, “No more getting hurt or disappearing. Okay?” He eased his grasp.

  Aimee could breathe again
. He stared painfully at her with his chocolate eyes. She melted. Tears started again. His lips kissed hers. Lightly at first, then firmer. He stopped, and looked long into her eyes.

  “I love you,” slipped out between Aimee's faint sniffles.

  Dylan whispered, “I love you more.”

  Chapter 5 Sidetracked