TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  Specters moved before her half-closed eyes, bringing with them excruciating pain. Alex shivered with cold, her bare skin a greyish-white and numb as it was pressed against the frozen ground, pinned there by the crushing weight lying on top of her. Her head throbbed. She could taste blood in her mouth, feel it trickling from her nose, feel too the warm liquid smearing her thighs with each killing thrust. She was on fire, her insides scorched, rubbed raw. Her eyes flickered open then shut as the lids drooped down. Something pulled out of her, unleashing a gush of blood between her legs. She wanted to scream, cry out, wanted to resist, but didn't have the strength. She could only lay there as her life slowly ebbed away, waiting to die. Another weight came down on her and with it, legs forced wider apart, arms held fast, another attack. He speared her, driving deep inside her. She moaned, then stilled, as the darkness closed in.

  Her mouth was pressed into the dirt, smothering her screams. He was ripping her apart! She could feel her anus tearing as he forced himself inside her. She tried to lift her head, but a booted foot forced it down again. Weak, nostrils filling with mud and blood, barely able to breathe, she collapsed. Laughter echoed in her ears, as the ground beneath her grew wet with her blood and tears. She tried to hold on, but could feel herself slipping away. Her last thoughts were of the children. What would become of them now?

  A shot rang out. There was a deafening yowl as something large landed with a resounding thud right beside her. The boot lifted off her neck, the weight quickly rising from her back. Running footsteps scuttled around her. Another shot boomed. Something warm and wet rained down from above, splattering her naked skin. She lifted her head, coughing, eyes blinking open. For a split second everything was a blur, all she could see was red, dark red. Alex began sobbing hysterically as the image cleared and she saw the body lying next to her, half its skull blown away. Another bullet exploded amid shrieks and howls. The air was filled with curses and the sound of guns being loaded and cocked. Shots came in rapid succession. She summoned all her strength and began dragging herself toward the trees. Gunfire erupted all around her as she managed to crawl behind a large, rotting log. Shivering with fear and cold Alex wedged herself against it, curling up into a ball. She covered her mouth with her hands trying to stifle her sobs. She was afraid to peek out and see what was happening. The screaming had subsided with the last barrage, but the firing continued.

  Alex huddled against the log for protection. She looked down at her arm, stunned to see bits of red clinging to her skin. For a second she thought it was blood. Realizing they were actually little pieces of flesh and brain matter, she began frantically brushing them off, gurgles of revulsion rising in her throat. Someone groaned. Then a single shot rang out and the forest became deathly silent. She rubbed at her arms, whimpering in fear. After a moment she pulled herself up, just enough to see over the log. Four bodies lay motionless, sprawled in the dirt, pools of blood forming around them. They were dead, all of them. She heard running footsteps and quickly ducked back down. Head spinning, dazed, she clung to the log. She was half-frozen, too weak to flee. They stopped, then continued on, only to stop again. She held her breath as the footsteps came nearer, finally coming to a halt just the other side of her hiding place. Alex choked back sobs, shutting her eyes and cowering…he knew she was there!

  Alex was startled when she felt something soft laid over her. She opened her eyes a crack and saw it was a thick, plaid blanket. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up to see who was there. She gasped. The piercing blue eyes, the square jaw, the stubbly beard were all too familiar. It was the same face that had haunted her nightmares since that day at the museum. She had to get away! Alex rolled over and struggled to her feet, the blanket dropping to the ground. She tried to flee, but before she could take a step, she grabbed her belly, doubling over in pain. Her legs suddenly gave out and she dropped to her knees, then slumped, sprawled in the dirt.

  She shuddered as he stepped over the log and knelt down beside her. "I'm not going to hurt you," he assured her as he spread the blanket and gently lifted her onto it. He saw the blood on her thighs and reached out to touch it. She whimpered and tried to squirm away, but he grabbed ahold of her arm. He could see the terror in her eyes. She didn't understand that he was trying to help her. His other hand touched her cheek. "I said I'm not going to hurt you and I won't. I just want to see how bad the bleeding is."

  She shook her head. "No," she begged, sobbing as he pried her legs apart.

  He looked worried as he stared at the rivulets of blood, uncertain whether they were coming from inside her or from the tears to her openings. He moved his hand to her hip and coaxed her over onto her side. Her bottom was streaked with blood and feces. He clenched his teeth, thinking they'd died too quickly; he should have made them suffer, tortured them for what they did to her. He pulled the blanket around her, searching the surrounding area for a flat stone. "Don't move," he ordered as he got up and began walking away, eyes fixed on the ground.

  Alex watched, terrified of what he planned to do to her.

  He used his boots to kick aside the fallen leaves, revealing what lay beneath them. Something caught his attention and he bent, rummaging through the debris with his gloved hands. When he stood up again, he was holding something. Alex trembled as he walked toward her, a large rock held tightly in his hands. All she could think was that he meant to bash her head in with it. She couldn't breathe, fear strangling her, choking off her air supply. He quickly knelt beside her, opened the blanket just enough to uncover her belly, then, wiping away the excess dirt, laid the stone on her lower abdomen. She shivered; it felt like a chunk of ice!

  "You leave that there a while," he instructed, covering it with the blanket. "The cold will help with the pain and slow the bleeding." He noticed the crusted blood on her scalp; she'd been shot! The bullet had grazed her temple, opening a gash in her scalp. It was the sound of gunfire that had drawn him here, but he'd never expected this. The bastards could have killed her! He'd been keeping an eye on her. Alex had been venturing further and further into the woods every day in search of food, getting closer and closer to the road and the danger there. When he'd heard the shot, his chest tightened. He kept telling himself that it was just hunters, that it had nothing to do with Alex, and yet he knew, he sensed it. He touched her head, the hair matted with blood. Another fraction of an inch and it would have splintered her skull. She'd be dead! His face contorted in rage at the thought. He stood up and, seeing her shiver, took off his jacket and tucked it around her. "You lay quiet. I'm going to find your clothes," he said, walking away. Back to the place where the bodies lay.

  She closed her eyes, confused and afraid. What was he doing here, so far from the museum? Had he followed her that day? Was he stalking her? The fact that he'd risked his life to save her, that he was trying to help her, didn't allay her fears any. She didn't trust him. He was a rapist! In his own way, just as frightening, just as brutal as the men he'd killed. One act of kindness didn't exonerate him!

  Alex jumped at the sound of a shotgun blast. She tried to sit up, the rock sliding onto her thighs. She could barely see over the log. He was standing by one of the bodies, glaring down at it. Had the man still been alive? Gone for his weapon? She watched as he walked slowly toward another body. He bent over it, but Alex couldn't see what he was doing. When he straightened up, he was holding something in his left hand. A pair of pants. Tossing them behind him, he grabbed his gun and pointing it down, squeezed the trigger. The blast made the body jump. He nudged the lifeless corpse with the barrel of his gun. Satisfied, he reloaded before moving on to the next. She gagged when she realized what he'd done. There was a gaping wound where the man's genitals had been. Alex felt a stabbing pain in her chest. She couldn't breath. Gasping and coughing, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell back, unconscious.

  Alex was warm and snug in her cocoon. Her body bouncing and floating through the air. Suspended in space, she was drifting on a cloud! Her eyes fluttered open, but
unable to see anything in the dark, they closed again. Her head nestled against something soft. It smelled of wood smoke and pine. She could hear heavy footsteps tramping through leaves and brush, felt pressure behind her knees, across her back, and under her arms. For a second she was afraid, her body tensing, but then something warm and soft brushed her forehead. It pulled her close and she felt safe again. Alex hugged it, her arms wrapped tightly around the cloud as it carried her away into the night.

  Chapter 17

  Something cold lay across her forehead. Alex lifted her hand, trying to brush it away, but was quickly intercepted, her arm gently forced down again. She shifted position, turning onto her side, drawing her knees up to ease the cramps. She felt so weak, so tired. Someone drew the blanket up, tucking it around her shoulders, wrapping her in comforting warmth. A little hand, like a gentle wind, smoothed the damp hair back from her face. Familiar sounds made there way to her ears: a crackling fire, a bubbling pot, the wind whistling through the trees. She snuggled against the pillow, conscious of the smells wafting around her. There was wood smoke, the scent of fresh pine, and the aroma of steaming broth. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again against the glow of a brightly burning oil lamp.

  "She opened her eyes," an excited little voice announced.

  The bed bounced, the floorboards creaking and shaking under the weight of running feet. Her eyes opened again. Blurred faces gathered around her, staring down in a mixture of jubilation and concern. She blinked, suddenly seized by fear, uncertain who they were, where she was, or what they wanted from her. Her lids closed, shutting them out.

  A hand touched her cheek. "I think the fever's down."

  The cloth was lifted from her forehead only to be replaced by another, colder than the last. She liked the darkness; it was peaceful and safe. Why were they trying to drag her out of it? Alex slapped at the air, trying to keep them away.

  "She's still delirious."

  "Is she going to die?"

  "No," another voice insisted. "The fever will break and she'll be fine. You'll see."

  A child began to cry. Alex could hear it whimpering in the darkness. "She needs more medicine; what are we going to do?"

  The pitiful sound of that youngster was like an insistent stick prodding her awake. She opened her eyes, then turned her head, straining to see. At first everything appeared distorted, as though she was looking through a prism, the images changing shapes, vanishing, then reappearing, amid showers of tiny sparkling stars and black speckles. Slowly her eyes began to focus. Dazed and bewildered she looked up to find nine worried faces hovering over her.

  Deana laid a reassuring hand on her arm. "Don't worry Aunt Alex. You're safe now. You're home. We're going to take good care of you."

  She stared at the girl, puzzled. She didn't understand. Safe from what? Then it all came back to her. Her body went rigid, visions of blood, pain, and degradation flashing before her. She sat bolt upright in bed, her frantic wails shattering the silence. A hand touched her shoulder and she reacted as though she'd been struck.

  "Don't be afraid. We won't let anyone hurt you," Charles told her gently. "Lay down," he coaxed, pressing on her shoulders.

  Tears filled her eyes as she nodded, sinking back into the mattress.

  "Are you hungry?" Justin asked. "You haven't eaten anything for days."

  She blinked in confusion. Days? Alex tried to speak, but couldn't. Her mouth was so dry all she could manage was a squeak.

  "Seth, get her some more pillows," Justin ordered. "Lindsey, bring her some soup. Maybe we can get her to eat a little."

  Feet scurried off in all directions. Alex lay there racking her brain, trying to remember how she'd gotten here. The answer was simple, but its implications were frightening. He'd brought her home! But how had he known where the camp was? Had she told him? Blurted it out in a moment of weakness? No! The network of paths through the woods was complicated, meant to confuse and keep strangers away. A mere slip of the tongue couldn't have led him here. Chance played no part in it either. There was no way he could have stumbled on the trail to the cabin, not where he found her. The closest one had been over a mile away. There was only one answer…he knew where the camp was because he'd known of its existence all along. Her nightgown grew damp with sweat. What the hell was he up to? Rescuing her? Reuniting her with her family? Those were acts of kindness and compassion. But this man was neither kind nor compassionate. She remembered, all too well, what he'd done to her. The cruelty of the rape. The pleasure he'd taken in taunting and terrorizing her. Confusion reigned as she struggled to make sense of it. But try as she might, she couldn't decide…was he her enemy or her savior?

  They propped her up on pillows, steadying her with their arms, as Lindsey slowly approached with a half-filled bowl of steaming liquid. She sat down beside her aunt and, filling the spoon, began to blow on it.

  "Be careful, it's hot," she said, bringing it to Alex's lips.

  She took it in her mouth, but couldn't swallow. They'd long ago exhausted what little canned food they had, yet this was chicken noodle soup. The only place they could have gotten it was…him! Alex choked it down, recalling their first encounter. His generosity had a price. He gave nothing without demanding payment in return.

  The children chattered as she ate; Derek and Jasmine kneeling on either side of her, gently holding her hands. She felt like a condemned prisoner, eating his last meal, while the shadow of his executioner loomed over him. She remembered his eyes, how cold they were. She didn't know what he was planning, but was sure it had nothing to do with altruism. She wasn't deluded enough to think he'd leave them alone now. He'd be back. Alex savored the taste of the soup, trying not to think of anything but getting well. If she'd learned nothing else from the past few months, it was that she shouldn't waste time worrying about tomorrow. The future was elusive at best. They were alive, that was the only certainty. What lay in store for them was anyone's guess.

  Alex looked around the room startled to see that the windowpanes were glazed with ice and the wooden frame covered in white. She lifted a feeble hand and pointed. "Snowing?" She could barely mouth the word.

  "It's been snowing on and off for the past five days. There's over two feet out there now," Charles told her. "The last few hours it's been coming down like gangbusters."

  Alex blinked, looking even more confused. Five days, was that how long she'd been in this twilight world? She looked at Charles and motioned him closer. "What day is this?" she whispered.

  "It's Christmas Eve," he told her.

  She gaped at him in disbelief.

  "You were real sick. You had cuts and bruises everywhere and you were bleeding a lot from…from…" he gulped, not knowing what to call it. "Your…your lady stuff. And then the fever started. I think you had bronchitis, or pneumonia, or something. You were coughing something awful and had a hard time breathing. Then the cut on your head got infected. It turned bright red, swole up, and was oozing pus. It wouldn't heal no matter what we did. We would have lost you if it hadn't been for the medicine."

  "Medicine?" she repeated.

  "Wolf got it for you. Antibiotics, aspirins, antiseptic creams, bandages, everything! And he's been bringing us all kinds of food. He brought you here when you got hurt. If it hadn't been for him, God knows what would have happened.

  Her gaze shifted to the blanket. She was anything but reassured by the news that he'd cast himself in the role of benefactor. So the pervert had a name…Wolf. How appropriate! He was an animal! A ruthless predator!

  "Do you know him?"

  She shook her head. It wasn't a lie, not really.

  "His name's Ben Wolf. He's from Alder Creek, down near Rome. He's got guns. All kinds of guns. He owns a piece of land up here someplace. A hunting camp I think. He was cutting trees for firewood when it happened. He was by himself, just up for the day. He went back to find his family, but they didn't make it. He doesn't talk about them much!" Charles paused to take a breath, then went on. "Wolf's r
eal smart. He's a good hunter," he told her in obvious admiration. "Last year he bagged a 12 point buck during bow season and got another one during regular hunting season. Three years ago, he even got a bear! Can you believe it? A bear! And guess what? He's going to teach Justin and me how to shoot a gun.

  She looked apprehensive, alarm bells ringing loudly in her head. She didn't want him anywhere near the children. "Where is he now?"

  "I don't know; he left a couple of hours ago. Didn't say where he was going. He's coming back though; his things are here."

  Her face betrayed her emotions.

  "Aunt Alex, what's the matter?" Justin asked, unsettled by her reaction. He would have thought she'd be grateful for Wolf's help. For the food, the medicine, for saving her life, but she wasn't. She looked afraid.

  Alex shook her head, not responding, lost in her own thoughts. All she could think was that he meant to stay. He wasn't going to give them food, then wander off into the wilderness never to be seen or heard from again. He wanted something. A sick feeling clawed at the pit of her stomach. What was she going to do?

  "You know he killed the people that hurt you."

  She nodded, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

  Deana glared at her brother. The woman didn't need to be reminded of what those bastards had done to her. "Do you like the tree?" she asked, hoping to turn her aunt's attention away from her ordeal to something cheerful.

  Alex looked up at her, then scanned the room, smiling when she saw the tree propped up near the narrow stairway that led to the lofts.

  "What do you think?"

  "It's beautiful." she replied, regarding the scrawny green branches hung with an array of pine cones, scraps of paper fashioned into chains, and circles and stars made from discarded tin can lids. At the very top, sparkling in the firelight, was a shiny, aluminum foil star. Even in the midst of all this misery, it was still Christmas. She caught sight of a mattress lying in the corner, a bundle of blankets mounded on top. "Whose is that?"