by Karen Ward
Stump steps over to the computer and peers over Damian’s shoulder at the picture in question. He sees a picture of his buddy, Pinky, when he was a lot younger and a beautiful girl with shoulder length auburn hair and green eyes dressed in a pretty dark green party dress. Shrugging his shoulders he says,
“It beats me Damian. I don’t know what could have upset him about that picture.”
******
Eric runs as fast as he can across the ranch yard and back to the main ranch house where he lives with his mother and Barry Farrady, his step-father. He bolts through the door yelling at the top of his lungs, “Mom, Barry! Where are you?”
Barry sticks his head out of the study and says, “In here Eric, what’s going on? Why are you yelling?”
Eric runs to the study, breathing heavily from his sprint across the yard and breathlessly says, “Barry, Mom, I saw a picture on the computer in the office of Pinky and Jasmine!”
Eric’s Mom, Melanie Brentwood Farrady was kidnapped as a fifteen year old runaway and imprisoned in a militia compound in Idaho for ten years. Eric’s biological father, Darren Calloway, was the head of the group and was killed in a confrontation with the Drake Security team shortly after Melanie and Eric escaped from the compound. Barry rescued Melanie and Eric from a blizzard during their initial escape and he and the other former Marines saved them from Darren Calloway. Soon afterwards Barry and Melanie had married.
Surprised by her son’s words, Melanie asks, “Jasmine? The same Jasmine we knew at the compound in Idaho? Eric, are you saying you saw a picture on the computer of Pinky and that Jasmine?”
“Yes Mom! I saw it. She looked a lot younger and didn’t have the ugly scar but I know it was Jasmine,” answers Eric.
Confused Barry asks, “Who is Jasmine?”
Melanie answers, “Jasmine was one of the women at the compound in Idaho and my best friend. She is a couple of years older than I am and had already been at the compound for a year or two when Darren first carried me there. She helped me adjust to life in captivity. She convinced me I needed to stop fighting and accept my situation before I died from the abuse. She was a good friend to me and I will always be grateful to her. The man she lived with, James Bixby, had a major disagreement with Darren and they left to move to a different compound a year or so before Eric and I escaped.”
Barry looks at his stepson and asks, “Eric, are you absolutely certain you saw a picture of that Jasmine with our Pinky?”
Eric emphatically nods his head and says, “I’m positive!”
Barry continues, “Can you show me?” Barry is very curious because as long as he has known Pinky he has never been involved with a woman, any woman. In fact, Pinky is one of the most unemotional men Barry has ever met, always cool and calm, unflappable in the heat of battle. It is one of the traits that made him an excellent sniper in the Marine Corp.
As he is following Eric across the ranch yard to the Drake Security office above the barn an almost forgotten memory flashes across his mind. Pinky had shared a heart breaking story with him during a time when Barry was very depressed because Melanie wouldn’t accept his love. It was about a girl Pinky loved that had been eaten by an alligator in the swamps of Louisiana. He wonders if it is possible this might be the same girl.
Eric leads Barry and his Mom up the stairs to the Drake Security office where Damian is still looking through the files of pictures. When Eric walks back in the office he says, “Damian, can you bring back up that picture of Pinky and the pretty red headed girl in the long green dress?”
Damian asks, “Sure, Eric, but what is so important about that picture? Why did you run out of here earlier?”
As the picture appears back up on the screen Eric says, “See Mom, It is Jasmine!”
Melanie looks at the picture of the beautiful young girl with shoulder length auburn hair and green eyes and gasps, “Yes, that’s definitely Jasmine! I wonder where and when that picture was taken. She doesn’t look more than fifteen or sixteen years old.”
By this time Stump, Scoot, Goose, and Bear have all gravitated to the office and are staring at the picture of Pinky and the beautiful young girl. None of them have ever seen Pinky look at a woman in that loving way either and they are all fascinated by the picture. It is obvious to the group that the girl meant more to Pinky than just the average prom date.
Pinky, who has just returned from an assignment in Washington DC with Goose has been refueling the helicopter and strides into the office while everyone is still looking at the picture. “Hey, guys, what’s going on? What has all of you so fascinated?”
Barry looks up at Pinky questioningly and asks, “Pinky, is this your Senior Prom picture?”
Pinky walks over to the computer and glances briefly at the picture, “Yeah, it was a long time ago. I don’t know why I even still have it.”
Barry questions curiously, “Is the girl’s name Jasmine?”
Surprised, Pinky looks at Barry and asks, “Yeah, but how did you know?”
Barry states as a matter of fact, “Melanie and Eric knew her at the compound in Idaho.”
Stunned, Pinky sinks down on the sofa shaking his head in disbelief and says, “No man, that’s impossible. Jasmine died in the swamp nearly fifteen years ago, a gator got her.”
Eric excitedly says, “No Pinky, I’m positive. She was at the compound with us in Idaho.”
He looks at Eric, his eyes full of sadness, “I don’t think so Eric. I personally killed the gator. He still had her hair wrapped around his snout.” A tear slides down his cheek and he angrily brushes it away with his hand. Why can’t he get over Jasmine? She’s gone damn it! It must be that damn curse!
All of the guys are staring at Pinky in stunned silence. He is showing more emotion over that picture than they have ever seen in him.
Melanie sits down beside him on the sofa and gently lays her hand on his arm and pleads, “Pinky, please, you have to listen to me. Eric’s right. Jasmine, the girl in that picture, was my best friend at the compound in Idaho. She was alive and well as recently as two years ago. That’s when she and James Bixby left to move to a different compound.”
At the sound of an almost forgotten name, Pinky snaps back from the deep sadness that had overtaken him. He looks at Melanie and says, “Bixby? She is with James Bixby?” Pinky’s heart is pounding in his chest and his breathing is shallow. Jasmine is alive? Can it possibly be true? He feels a little light headed and he takes a deep breath to clear his head.
Melanie answers, “Yes, do you know him too?”
A dark rage flows through Pinky’s veins and he feels the flush of anger spreading across his face. He takes a few deep calming breaths and answers through gritted teeth. “I knew him. He was a weird guy that lived in the same area as Jasmine and me in Louisiana. He was several years older than me and a lot of years older than Jasmine, at least ten. He always kept to himself and never bothered anybody that I knew of anyway. I know Jasmine wouldn’t have given him the time of day. She was scared to death of him.” He pauses then continues, “Now that I think about it, he disappeared about the same time she did. We just never put it together because we always believed she died in the swamp.”
Melanie says, “Pinky, she told me that he kidnapped her. He knocked her unconscious and dragged her away. I’m sorry but I don’t know all of the details. Jasmine helped me to adjust to life at the compound when Darren first carried me there. I would have died without her help. She also showed me which plants to pick in the forest to boil to make her special tea to keep me from getting pregnant again.”
Pinky nods and says, “Jasmine’s grandmother was into alternative medicine. They believed in all the herb and plant stuff. Maybe it paid off for her after all. Melanie, do you know where they were going when they left Idaho?” A flicker of hope sparks to life inside Pinky’s heart. Is it possible Jasmine might still be alive? Is it possible she might still love him? He has to find her!
“No, I don’t, I’m sorry. I only remember Bi
xby had a huge argument with Darren about merging with a group from Montana. Darren threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again, so he took Jasmine and left. We didn’t even get to say goodbye to each other.”
Eric interrupts, “It was Flathead Lake Mom. I remember because I thought it was a stupid name. They were arguing about a group in Montana on Flathead Lake.”
Bear has been sitting in the corner of the office listening to the exchange. He only recently joined Drake Security after his son, Stump, located him living near Kalispell, Montana and convinced him to seek treatment for the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder he suffered after serving in Vietnam. He says, “Flathead Lake is near Kalispell. I heard talk about a militia group forming around that area a few years ago.”
Pinky looks over at Bear, “Do you still have contacts up in that area? Can you find out where their compound is located?”
“What are you planning to do Pinky?” interrupts Barry.
“I am going to find Jasmine, get her out of there or die trying,” answers Pinky without hesitation.
Smiling at Pinky, Barry says, “I take it this Jasmine means a lot to you.” Everyone is stunned at the emotion in Pinky’s voice. They have never seen any emotion in him much less about a woman.
Tears in his eyes, Pinky says, “Yeah, I have loved Jasmine since we were in grade school together. It nearly destroyed me when her brother told me she was dead. She was only fifteen at the time. I joined the Marines to kill myself after her death, and I would have too if I hadn’t met you guys. You guys gave me the will to go on.”
CHAPTER 2
I moan quietly, the pain in my ribs so severe I can barely breathe. I roll to my side and slowly push myself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. I am shaking from the freezing cold and I need to add wood to the stove.
As I try to stand on wobbly legs, the pain shooting through my middle causes me to double over and grab my sides. My ribs must be broken this time, I can’t ever remember hurting this much before. I can tell my left eye is nearly swollen shut because I can’t see out of it and my jaw hurts every time I try to move it.
I have got to get up and brew my special tea. James raped me again last night after he finished hitting me and I don’t want to get pregnant. Bringing a child into this situation is unthinkable. It is better James continues to think I am barren.
I slide off the bed, my legs crumble beneath me and I fall to my knees painfully jarring her ribs. I cry out in agony and slowly pick myself up off the floor. I can’t keep doing this! I have got to do something, but what? As I put water on to boil on the wood stove and add wood to the fire I try to think of something, anything.
I remember hearing that Melanie managed to escape with Eric from the compound in Idaho. I am extremely happy for her and I pray she is somewhere safe. I remember too that Darren Calloway was killed by a group of mercenaries that helped the FBI and ATF break up the group at the compound in Idaho. As far as I am concerned, Darren Calloway deserved everything that happened to him. He was an animal, just like James Bixby. Calloway’s death made James furious though. He had wanted to be the one to kill him. Calloway embarrassed James in front of the other members at the compound in Idaho and he intended to have his revenge. He has been talking about it ever since Calloway forced them to leave. Now that he’s dead, James is determined to exact his revenge from that group of mercenaries. I shake my head in disgust. Men can be so stupid at times.
I could always poison James. Heaven knows I’ve thought of it often over the last fifteen years. It would be easy after all. I know exactly what herbs to sprinkle on his food, but I am sure that would mean certain death. These men have no respect for human life, especially a woman’s life and they wouldn’t hesitate for a minute to kill me, after they raped me and beat me for days on end of course. Keeping James around at least saves me that horror.
I have seen the same scenario several times over the last fifteen years. A man dies for some reason or another and the other men in the compound descend on the woman like vultures, raping her, beating her until she dies. Only one time that I remember has a woman in that situation lived and one of the men took pity on her and took her away from the compound. I wonder if she is still alive today or if he killed her after they left.
I add the appropriate amount of wild herbs to the boiling water and once again send a prayer of thanks to my grandmother for teaching me about wild plants and herbs when I was a young girl. The knowledge has saved my life more than once since James Bixby kidnapped me from the bayous of Louisiana. The brews have kept me from getting pregnant. They have dulled the pain from the beatings, and even allowed me to intentionally throw up to keep James at bay when I couldn’t take anymore of his abuse for a while.
I sit down at the rickety table in the corner of the cabin that has been my home for the past six months while I sip the bitter brew and let my mind wander back to my childhood. My grandmother raised me and my little brother, Leaf, after our parents died when they ran their car into the bayou. I was a very small child at the time and Leaf was only a baby. Granny’s bitter brews kept me and my little brother healthy and saved us from most of the childhood diseases kids usually contract. A small smile crosses my face when I think about when my best friend, Keith Williams, got the chickenpox. He was miserable and looked so ridiculous for days and his father could never understand why I didn’t come down with the chickenpox too. I played with Keith every day but never got sick.
Keith Williams, I don’t usually let myself think about him, it just hurts too much. I have loved him forever and my heart still aches for that lost love. We met in grade school and immediately struck up a friendship. We were constantly together all through grade school and junior high. Then in high school I knew I would marry Keith one day.
I still love him with all my heart. He is so tall and so good looking with his auburn hair and green eyes almost the same color as mine. I wonder where he is today and what he is doing. I hope he is happy with the houseful of kids he always wanted.
I wipe a tear from my eyes and think back to the last time I saw him. It is one of my happiest memories, the night we went to his Senior Prom. I was only in tenth grade then but I felt so beautiful, so mature that night in the pretty green dress that matched my eyes. I gave him my virginity and my heart that night, our one and only night together. James Bixby kidnapped me the next day.
I had gone down to the swamp that fateful day to gather herbs for my grandmother. He knocked me unconscious, and dragged me back to his cabin where he tied me to the bed and raped me. Then he cut off my shoulder length auburn hair, wrapped it around a big hunk of smelly meat and left the cabin.
When he returned to the cabin he loaded me into the camper on the back of his pickup and we left driving straight to the compound in Idaho. We slept in the camper and ate peanut butter sandwiches. The only time we stopped was for gas. When I had to go to the bathroom he made me go on the side of the road. Any time we were around people he would tie my hands and feet and stuff a dirty rag into my mouth to keep me from calling out or signaling to anyone. He did the same at night. He tied me to the frame of his truck inside the camper, stuffed the dirty rag in my mouth and raped me night after night. He told me over and over during those first few days that I belong to him now, his woman. What he didn’t know then and still doesn’t know is that I had willingly given my heart and my body to Keith Williams and I will never belong to anyone else.
I feel a little better after drinking the special tea that will keep me from getting pregnant and will dull the pain from the beating. I walk over to the cracked mirror to see what damage James did to my face this time. Of course, nothing can be as bad as the time in Idaho when he sliced my face open with that big ugly knife. James was drunk that night and was threatening me with the knife like he had so many times. Only that time he stumbled and that razor sharp knife sliced through my skin. I jumped away and fled the cabin, but the damage was done. Melanie sewed my cheek back to together but then I developed
an infection and it burst open. Now I have a horrific scar that covers nearly the whole left side of my face. My left eye looks droopy and that side of my face has no feeling and won’t move.
I examine my black eye and shake my head. Well, I guess it will heal just like it does every time. I again shake my head in defeat and set about straightening up the cabin. Every time James gets in one of his moods he wrecks everything.
CHAPTER 3
Keith Williams, Pinky, to his buddies is extremely knowledgeable about computers and has served as Drake Security’s resident hacker since the group was formed. Using his knowledge he scans all of the militia websites looking for any information that might hint at where Bixby and Jasmine are living now. He hacks into their confidential communications and reads every email he can find. Not finding any obvious information about James Bixby he decides to talk with Melanie, to see if she can remember anything she hasn’t already told him.
He walks across the ranch yard to the main house and knocks on the front door. Melanie answers and says, “Hello Pinky, what brings you over this way?”
Blushing Pinky asks, “Melanie, can I talk to you please?”
Smiling warmly, Melanie says, “Sure, come in.” She leads him into the great room and sits on the sofa. “Now, what do you want to talk about?”
Pinky asks, “Will you tell me about Jasmine? How does Bixby treat her? Can you remember anything else that might give me a hint as to where they might be living?”
She looks down at her hands then back up at Pinky concern plainly visible in her eyes, “Pinky, Jasmine is not the innocent young girl you fell in love with fifteen years ago. She has had a very hard life. Are you absolutely certain you want to know the details?”
Staring out the window across the pasture for a long moment then turning his gaze back to Melanie, determination glowing from his eyes, his heart pounding with dread, he answers, “Yes, I have to know what I am facing. How can I possibly help her if I don’t know?”
