by A. R. Shaw
Wren felt a gnawing inside. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She didn’t actually want to know. She was sure it wasn’t good thoughts.
“What’s your name?”
“Beth. Beth McNamara.”
His eyes cut up at her briefly. “You’re lying. Please don’t do that. It will, I promise you, get worse if you lie to me.”
“What’s your name?” Wren found her chin quivering after she asked the question. She was afraid of him. Something about him seemed sinister. She could feel it. It was brave to confront her captor, or stupid…Wren wasn’t sure yet which. Her mother had put her up to this. She knew the cause and the effect. She knew she had to challenge him. It wouldn’t take long. And most likely, her mother said, challenging a bully would cost her in the beginning but in the end…she’d likely win.
“Lieutenant Hyde,” he said as he scribbled something down on a manila folder.
They were making records of them? she noted as his eyes lingered on the pale-yellow file board. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one of those. This guy was old school. Then she realized he was staring at her, pen poised over the file. “Name?”
“Beth. My name is Beth.”
“Your first name might be Beth,” he said as he slid open his metal desk drawer. “But your last isn’t McNamara. I gave you a chance, young lady. Now you’re going to learn why it’s a bad idea to lie to me.” A billiard ball emerged from the drawer. A purple solid number 4, to be exact. He pulled two fingers over the 4 and palmed the rest, while he held it up to show her while staring at her with those translucent blue eyes.
“What? Are we going to play pool now? That would be torture for me because I don’t know how to play old-man games.”
But when he stood up from his chair, Wren’s stomach clenched. She pulled her knees together and braced herself as Hyde walked around the front of his desk.
Perching himself in front of her chair on the edge of his metal desk, he said, “I’ve gone through this same procedure over and over again, little girl. It’s a simple question to answer. Yet you make the task harder. So I’m going to take something precious away from you. Something you value a great deal. I’ve found when one sense goes away, answers come more efficiently. Sensory deprivation is a useful tool when answers are needed.”
“You’re lit! What gives you the right…” Wren spat out before her entire head launched to the side with an audible snap like a metal baton on bone.
The heavy chair she sat in threatened to topple over from the force of the strike, but Hyde stayed it with his boot and then caught the side and righted Wren in her seat again.
Her entire head stung with the hard strike to her right eye so that she couldn’t even catch her breath. She couldn’t help but scream when air finally seeped into her lungs again, heaving in air over and over.
Then his hot breath suddenly blew right into her face, an inch away. His large fist had a handful of her dark, sweaty hair…clenching. “Don’t you ever…speak to me unless I ask you a question. Do you understand the rules now?
Wren’s glossy eyes rounded on him, the right one already marked and bleeding. The dark brown irises were thin spheres rounding deep darkness. This was the game she’d play now that she knew the rules. Her mother was right. Despite the pull in her hair, she faced him squarely.
Then she did something he didn’t like.
She smiled.
13
Kent
“Ace…slow down, boy!” Kent called after the dog. They’d just passed the old property hideout and when Kent caught up to the dog, he held him around the collar. They looked down at the safe haven they once held. “It’s a good thing we weren’t there when those thugs showed up. Let’s find her, boy,” Kent said and let Ace run on again through the east woods like a maniac. He knew Ace was on the right trail since they’d just passed Sloane’s last known location, where he heard the last two shots.
The dog seemed as if he was on a mission of his own. Every now and then Kent had to call to him to slow down, just so he could keep up with him. When they were about to the location he thought Sloane and Wren were taken…he found Ace staring stiffly at a group of deer hovering around in a circle. “Crap. We’re not tracking deer, Ace. You big idiot.”
Ace crouched and let out a low growl. The deer scattered.
Kent expected the dog to take off chasing after them, but he did not. Instead he went right to the area they’d abandoned and sniffed around in the dirt in the small clearing of the forest floor. “Where is she, boy?”
Ace sniffed around, darted off about ten feet and then came back to the same spot in the ground while making a slight whining sound.
“What is it?”
Again, the dog darted forward and then back again. His anxiety increased as he snuffled around. “Ace…hang on, boy; you’re going nuts.”
Pulling out his flashlight, Kent flipped the beam on and shined the light on the spot. He knelt down, rubbed his hand around in the area and pulled it up. Brown oxidized blood. He’d seen deer lick away the blood of recent kills almost entirely. He supposed they did that for the iron and minerals. Kent knew what it meant, too. Shining the light around, the soaked spot wasn’t large and he suspected the deer had just recently discovered the spot or there would be barely a trace left. That meant Sloane survived. It was just a wound. She didn’t bleed out. Did she? There were two shots. No body. No drag marks. I’m wishful thinking, but that’s all I’ve got right now. Wishes and hope.
Kent stood and shined the flashlight around. The second spot, a mere few inches away, was not as large as the first. She was shot not once but twice.
“God help them,” he choked out. The light within him dimmed then to pure darkness. Sounds of the dog led him through the brush. It was then that Kent was a changed man. Never before had he been bent on vengeance as a man of medicine. Never before in his life did he wish another human being harm. Never before was he the bringer of that storm. That changed now.
14
Sloane
The clomp of boot steps passed by the doorway. Sloane awoke suddenly to the same nightmare as the night before—where not only was she captive, but she must also coerce an imprisoned young woman to gain knowledge of her dire predicament and that of her own daughter. Not a position Sloane ever thought she’d find herself in but that’s where she was.
Infection of any sort has a peculiar smell. The putrid aroma across the small stifling cell nearly made Sloane’s eyes water.
Infection smells different than death and decay. There’s a marked difference between the two. The sickly sweet smell of rot and decay holds a distinction, one you never forget. Infection, on the other hand, varies by the type of bacteria in process. The source of this particular smell lay on her bunk beside her own.
Rose’s back was pushed against the painted cinderblock wall, her eyes closed still in sleep. The young woman’s inner thighs were slightly exposed to the air with the thin dirty uniform dress resting higher up on her thighs. The flesh was swollen with patterned pustules that were inflamed and red. They looked like bull’s eyes, ready to burst. What in the hell did they use on her? The sight horrified Sloane. They tortured this woman. What value did Rose hide within for their captors to go to such lengths? Then it dawned on her. This was the work of that sick, twisted bastard Hyde. Had to be.
Before Sloane asked the pressing question, the door of their cell suddenly opened with an audible metal clank. Alarmed by the sound, Sloane jolted but her surprise was heightened by Rose’s sudden reaction of terror.
Not only did the young girl awaken suddenly, she automatically shoved herself up against the corner of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs. “No!” she shouted over and over, shaking her head violently from one side to the other.
Sloane’s attention was then thrown to the three individuals entering the room and before she knew it, her own heels scrambled to push her torso up and against the wall as well. She couldn’t let them take her. But t
he three men didn’t seem interested in Sloane at all. They passed her as one of the men stood guard at the door with a rifle pointed at her chest.
“Leave her alone!” Sloane yelled. “Can’t you see she’s in pain? Look, she’s injured.”
One of the men chuckled at her and then groaned out in pain as Rose kicked her legs and caught him in the groin, fighting as they manhandled her out of the doorway. None of them said a word.
“What the hell are you doing? Can’t you see she’s sick? She needs medical help. She’ll die from that infection, you morons.”
Rose’s arm caught the side of the metal doorframe as they dragged her body beyond the threshold. She held firm for a second. Sloane caught her wild eyes and rose from her position slightly to help. That was when the person holding the rifle lifted the barrel at her in warning. There was an audible click…she knew that meant the safety was off. Sloane pushed herself against the wall and Rose’s hand disappeared down the hall as the door closed with a final slam and re-latched. Rose’s dissipating screams sent chills up her spine. Sloane’s outrage, and resolve, remained alive until Rose returned. She had to do something about this, and she had to act now.
15
Wren
“You haven’t met my mother.” Wren eyed Hyde through slits of blackened, bloody pools of hate as she spit out the words.
“Is that some kind of threat, little girl? I’ll have you know…I have met your mother. Nice lady. I’m sure she’d be proud of you. It’s a shame, though, because if you don’t give me the information I want, she’s going to die very soon.”
Wren hesitated. Already her lip, split open, bled freely down her chin. She tasted the saltiness in her mouth. A severe stinging in the side of her ear caused a ringing so piercing she barely heard his threats over the sound. Yet she persisted in antagonizing her antagonizer. The entire time in the cell, she feared what they would do to her. She’d geared herself up for being slapped, burned…whatever they would bring to her. She’d been slapped and punched a time or two by her stepfather and drew from that experience. The jackass had actually done her a favor…she realized that now. She could take a punch, a stinging slap across the face. She’d use that experience now to her advantage even though the pool ball was unexpected.
“I would think of it as a warning, and my mother is anything but nice,” Wren shot out before the bloody pool ball came down hard upon her again. This time for the left eye. He’d not fully impacted that area yet.
She wasn’t sure where she came up with the comebacks suddenly. It was as if she’d held them back from her mother and they piled up in a little vessel within her, suddenly available to her now to pull from.
He switched the ball to his other hand and shook the tired one out from the impact strain. It was hurting him to do this to her. “All you have to do is tell me where your family is. Those that care for you. You know I already have your mother and she’s dying because of you, but she’ll get the care she needs as soon as you tell me where all of your supplies are located.”
A lump suddenly formed in her throat. I’m not going to react.
He didn’t even know her real name. Getting back to her closet without answering any of his damn questions was her only goal at the moment. I’ll make it a workout for him, she thought. There’s no way I’m going to let this monster get to my sisters and Kent. They’ve already killed Mom most likely. He’s just using her now to get me to spill it. I have to make sure he pays for this. If I’m given half a chance, I’ll tear this whole place down. That’s what Mom would do.
When it came to this scenario, Wren remembered her mother only saying, “Don’t make it easy for them.” She never elaborated on what that meant exactly, but at the very least…her statement meant to fight like hell. That…she’d do. Right now, Wren knew the consequences. She could never reveal her home or location. Any information tracked these bastards back to her sisters and Kent. She couldn’t let that happen…no matter what this animal did to her.
Then suddenly Hyde’s attention turned to the wall behind them.
She hadn’t heard the door open because of the ringing in her ears. Nearly blind from countless blows, she had no idea what was going on. Through her blurry vision, she barely made out that his mouth moved with unheard words due to the cacophony occupying her hearing at the moment. There was a constant beehive in her head now, with a persistent sting. She turned to see who it was, but he grabbed her by the back of the shoulder when she moved and hauled her up to a standing position.
Blood dripped down onto the sleeve of his white button-up shirt. She saw the drop land on the fabric and spread out like a virus in a Petri dish on sped-up replay. Then suddenly, he shoved her into someone else’s arms and as she watched with horror, he grabbed a frail-looking young woman by the back of her hair and forced her forward. It wasn’t her mother.
The woman’s eyes were wide in terror, her mouth open and screaming some unheard plea. Wren couldn’t help but notice, though, that Hyde’s eyes were nearly gleeful as he led the terrified woman to another closed door within the same room. He was going to enjoy what he was about to do to the woman. That sent a chill up her spine. He didn’t show the same glee in hurting her. What was behind that door that made him look forward to hurting this woman? Wren didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
The door shut before Wren saw where they were headed but something told her she didn’t want to see what nasty secret he hid on the other side of that door.
“Wait! What’s he doing to her? Stop!” Wren yelled to her new custodians, but barely heard her own words over the ringing in her head. One of the guards was the same guy as before who held onto her now, but he was accompanied by two others as well. No one paid her any attention. It was as if she didn’t even exist.
Boyd didn’t throw her a sympathetic human nod this time, not now. His buddies were watching. He wouldn’t blow his humanity cover with them around. Perhaps if she remained less an obstacle with these guys, she’d find herself alone with him again. That was something learned. As they dragged her on, she lessened the struggle. She presumed they were taking her to her dark closet again. She tried to look around and to glean anything else that she might use to escape but her vision was failing fast as the swelling increased.
They kept the path dark on purpose.
That…she could also use. Shadows and darkness worked to her advantage as well. The depth of the corners and crevices of the large warehouse-like room provided a sanctuary when the time was right. She saw them…without them detecting her. It was an advantage she heard her mother mention before, applied to firearm accidents. Complacency…they were used to walking in the light to and from their destinations…. they paid little attention to the darkness. That’s right, Wren…keep thinking.
That was only if she could stay alive. She’d just seen what extent Hyde was willing to go to torture someone. He had a whole system in place to extract information, it seemed. She’d only tasted the beginning, she suspected, by the condition and sounds of the other prisoners. She had to get out of there or die trying. And she had to find her mother…dead or alive.
16
Kent
Ace led Kent longer into the dark night than he’d expected; soft purple hues began to break the day on the horizon through the bent Madrona trees, the morning call of forest birds evolved into a soft cadence, and a general ache in the fibers of his hands minutely reminded him that the hereditary pain came with overuse and too much exposure to the elements. None of that mattered though, especially not the arthritis.
What did matter was that Ace led him to a road. A road with parked vehicles up and down the sides. Some of those vehicles still had their doors open. Most of them sported rusted bullet holes through the sides with spidered glass. He didn’t have to search them to know they were cleaned of useful items long ago. What struck him was how they were evenly parked up and down the median of the two-lane roadway. That wasn’t normal. He was willing to bet that a collection o
f drivers had never in the history of parking, done so with such precision up and down a roadway. No, someone or a few someones, with great parking skills, did this on purpose. The road was a commercial parking lot now.
That’s what caused Kent to hold onto Ace’s collar with a death grip in front of him. The dog panted softly with his tongue lolling out to the side. When Ace lurched slightly forward, as if to take a walk, Kent held him steady. “Hold still, Ace. Let’s just wait here a little while longer. I’m anxious too, but let’s see who comes out to play.”
As dawn progressed a few minutes, turning purple hues into blues, Ace began a guttural growl. Kent had a hand under his wide fiber collar and tugged him back slightly. “Where is he, boy?” And soon he too heard the engine noise. They were coming from the right of the forest lane.
As they neared, Kent crouched down behind the brush, pulling Ace with him. The dog seemed to sense this was the enemy and he growled, low and ominous. “Shh, quiet Ace,” Kent whispered. “We’ll get them.”
A battered black SUV eventually rode past them at a steady rate. There were more than a few bullet holes through the frame though it sounded no worse for the assault. Probably retrofitted with steel plates on the inside. With the driver’s side window rolled down, Kent had a clear view of the guy behind the wheel, as well as his rifle. The driver looked as if he were surveying his territory as he drove by. He also looked as if he hadn’t slept in quite a while. The person in the passenger side also hung his elbow out the window but inside the cab, his left arm had hold of a rifle, the barrel pointed straight up, exposed and at the ready. No music blared, no lights led the way. This was a guard unit, he suspected, coming in from the night shift, or a scavenging unit coming in with a haul.
