by Michelle, T.
Private Property
A Novella By:
T. Michelle
Private Property
a T. Michelle book / January 2013
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2013 T. Michelle
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
T. Michelle Colorado Springs, CO
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
The sudden, bright white fissure that split the darkness directly in front of her tore a yelp from Tabitha and abruptly stopped her.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” She repeated in a futile attempt to subdue her panic, hitching the heavy backpack further up on her shoulder. At the deafening crack and roar immediately following the lightning bolt, she screamed again. The rain was coming down in droves now, the constant torrent obliterating all other noise.
She glanced back at her car one more time, then turned to face the ominous signs posted at the entrance to the dirt drive in front of her. ‘Private Property’, ‘No Trespassing’. These signs did not bode well with Tabitha at all. Especially out in the country, late at night. Her imagination needed no prompting to conjure up the image of some Grizzly Adams Hoboken sizing her up over the barrel of a rifle. But this was nothing compared to the sign tacked to the bottom of the post. The words glaring at her in Day-Glo orange struck sheer terror into her being. ‘Beware of Dog’.
Tabitha had no choice. Although she’d much rather hunker down on the floorboard of her car, the risk of danger was too great. The radio had announced tornado warnings and watches all over the West Texas area. And the only thing worse than a tornado was a tornado at night. Her car was useless. She had been on a perpetual adrenaline rush since the abrupt blowout sent her careening on the slick streets and into the ditch, rendering her utterly stranded.
Lightning lit the sky directly above her once again and her mind was made up. She’d risk the creepy tree-lined road and possible attack dog over standing out in the open like storm bait.
All she needed was shelter and a phone. Her resolve intact, Tabitha struck out down the path at little less than a run. The wind had begun to pick up again – not a good sign – and it howled through the trees like some hostile spirit.
Tabitha’s mind seemed torn between complete fear bordering on hysterical panic and disbelief over how she had ended up in this situation to begin with. For the most part, the fear was winning. But, it pushed her forward and on she dredged through the puddle-ridden dirt and rocks beneath her feet.
The further she traveled down the lane, the darker everything seemed to get. Even the almost constant lightning flashes were reduced to mere flickers by the dense tree limbs and foliage the dirt lane carved through. At least there was enough periodic illumination to determine that she was still on the path. She had no way of knowing how far she’d come, having had to slow her pace as her field of vision diminished, and thanks to her frantic mental state, her calculation of time was probably well distorted.
Another crack of blue light revealed a widening in the lane and a sharp curve to the left. She’d just rounded the bend when she saw the eerie silhouette of a large house looming before her. A small sense of relief filled her but was soon swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of dread. Even though the rain had ebbed slightly, because of the roiling skies and raging winds that cast ghostly and unpredictable shadows, it looked as though she were about to check in to the Bates motel.
It was a large two-story structure cloaked in the darkness – not a single light burned in any of its many windows. With her luck, the house was probably abandoned. It didn’t matter; her only choice was to try.
She was less than five yards away from the porch when she heard the growling begin. She wasted no time in considering the source of the evil sound, but turned on her heel and fled from the hulking shadow that lunged at her. Sharp, burning pain shot up her right leg and brought her down hard on the wet ground. She could hear the beast tearing at her, felt the ripping of her flesh as its teeth locked on to her right calf. She frantically kicked at the beast’s large head with her left foot until she managed to free herself and scramble to her feet. She pushed at the ground, her knapsack down around her elbow. Gut-wrenching agony flared up her left arm as the large dog attacked again. It felt as though the thing had ripped her shoulder off and she lost her footing again.
Tabitha knew she was screaming hysterically, but she didn’t know what else to do. She screamed, she kicked, she flailed maddeningly. Her free hand landed on the strap of her backpack and she ripped it from underneath her and heaved the bulky mass at her assailant. She heard the dog yelp and felt the release of its hold. She lifted the bag and swung again and again, fury replacing her fear.
“Enough!” A deep, gruff voice bellowed out. “Sam, come!”
The dog immediately obeyed and trotted up the porch.
Tabitha managed a sitting position, gulping in air and gathering strength to stand. A heavy hand pressed down upon her shoulder. “Don’t move. I’m going to pick you up.”
She slapped the hand away, panic rising again, still reeling from the harrowing experience. “I can get up. I-I…” she was fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to cause so much trouble, I just needed…”
“Please, ma’am. It’s raining and it’s late.” He grasped her forearm, but she immediately cried out and jerked free.
“Christ.” He muttered and with no effort, flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He bounded up the porch steps, threw open the front door and flipped a wall switch, casting the large front room in golden light.
The inside of the house was trussed up just like a rustic, old country-style farmhouse, complete with robin’s egg blue couches, one of which he deposited her on none-too-gently.
When he straightened, he towered above her. It was hard to discern his facial features with his head blocking the light, but she knew he wore a stern countenance and his brow was knit closely together.
“Stay.” He commanded then disappeared down a short hall to her right. Tabitha pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and covered her shoulders, tucked her feet up under her.
A large, black mastiff sauntered into the room, one eye closed; blood tinged the jowls on his huge head. Tabitha emitted a slight sound and tried to bury herself in the couch.
The man re-entered the room carrying a large plastic toolbox and a pile of towels. “Sam, go lay down.” He patted the dog on the head as he passed then leaned over her and turned on the lamp next to her.
He hooked an arm beneath her knees and extended her legs out along the cushions, swinging her around to rest her back against the arm of the couch. He pulled the coffee table closer and perched on the corner, studying her intently. He handed her a towel from the stack he’d placed on the floor. “Dry your hair before it chills you further.”
Tabitha winced at his harshness. He didn’t seem to be a very personable man and his tone was dry and judging. “Thanks”, she muttered and started rubbing its warmth over her face and hair.
“You mind telling me what you were doing trespassing late at night in this weather?” He didn’t look at her; instead he turned his attention to the large red box he’d brought in. He opened the lid, revealing
a plethora of medical supplies. Removing the top tray, which held a bunch of surgical tools, he dug around in the bottom. He stopped abruptly and glared at her. “Well?”
She’d been entranced by his actions, her mind still numb with shock, and had forgotten to reply. “I, uh, my car – that is…” Jesus, his stare was penetrating. And his eyes, a clear green color, were hard to look away from. She shut her eyes briefly to regain focus. “I had an accident and couldn’t use my cell phone.” The man snorted rudely and began unwrapping a roll of gauze. “So, I had no choice but to risk disturbing you. I am truly sorry about the intrusion.” She hung her head, filled with embarrassment, her whole body throbbing.
“Look at me.” His voice was a bit softer, but he was still commanding. She looked up and saw concern reflecting in his features. “I’m going to have to clean you up and fix the bites. From what I can tell, some of them are bad. I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined my couch.” So much for his sympathy.
“So, let’s get familiar. I’m Jared, and the dog you beat the shit out of is Sam.” He held a hand up against a retort. “I’m very sorry that you were hurt, but he was only doing his job.”
She relaxed a little after his explanation. “I’m Tabitha.” She paused to watch him take out surgical scissors, a scapula, a few syringes, a weird curved needle thing and some thread. He then removed a pair of latex gloves, two bottles of liquid (one thick and yellow, the other clear and thin). Her heart rate doubled and her mouth went dry. “What exactly are you thinking will have to be done?” She asked in a small voice.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll have to suture your leg and that one nasty cut on your tricep.” He shrugged. “I won’t know what else until I get a good look at you.” He studied her eyes for a moment then rose to his feet. “You could use a sedative and an anti-inflammatory to ward off the aftereffects of the shock.” He strode from the room, his large frame filling the doorway as he passed through.
In a flash he was back, carrying what looked to be a blanket and articles of clothing. “I’m going to go wash up, you change into these pair of shorts and top so I can get a good look at what I’m up against.” He handed her the clothes and disappeared again.
Tabitha watched him leave, bewildered by everything and just wanting to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. She was freezing; his air conditioner must have been set somewhere around 50 and she was still dripping wet. The last thing she wanted to do was try peeling off her jeans and T-shirt. But, she didn’t really have much choice, and Jared seemed as though he knew what he was talking about.
She unbuttoned her fly, checking to make sure she could still hear the water running and that he wasn’t going to come striding into the room. With only one working arm, she managed to wriggle the sopping, clinging mass over her hips, pulling her underwear half way down in the struggle, and began trying to maneuver the jeans down over her hurt leg. The material snagged on one of the cuts and lit a fire up her leg. She cried out and hugged her knees, tears pouring down her face.
Jared was at her side instantly, complete with condescending frown. “I should have known you’d have difficulties.” He ran his hand through his wet, jaw-length hair, pushing the mass out of his face. It was dark brown and straight, with just a touch of wave at the ends. Tabitha noticed for the first time that the way it hung flattered the severe angles and planes of his face. He was stunningly attractive. He’d changed clothes – a white tank top that highlighted his sculptured, tan arms and a pair of black pants.
“Well, we’re about to be more intimate than you were probably prepared for. I’m going to have to help you out of those clothes.” He squatted down next her.
A fresh wave of panic seized Tabitha. There was no way some stranger was going to see her naked. Well, not necessarily naked, she did have on a bra and panties, but close enough damn it. “No. No. Just forget it. I’m fine really.” She batted away his hand as he attempted to grab hold of her jeans. “No.” Her voice had become shrill.
He huffed and zeroed in on her gaze with the most formidable look she’d ever seen. The seriousness of his manner made her breath catch.
“Look, Tabitha,” he said her name as though he were losing patience with a five year old. “Ol’ Sam has a bite that can tear through 200 pounds of solid mass, which you obviously don’t measure up to. Blood is seeping out of you and I can see it spreading into a nasty stain on my couch. I can do this with your cooperation or without it, it makes no difference to me, but it will be done.”
Tabitha lay there rigid as a board and completely horrified. He waited a few moments and began again. “Tabitha, I’m a surgeon. I’ve been trained to look past the attractions of the human body when medical attention is required. It would be better for you to remain in your underwear, but I will drape the blanket over you so nothing is exposed. We need to do this now. Every moment we waste is a greater risk for infection. These are dog bites, after all.”
His last statement did it – she wearily nodded her ascent. Jared replaced the now-wet afghan with a flannel blanket, tucking it about her shoulders. His hands moved swiftly, but gently, to work her jeans first off her good leg then off the injured one. The pain was almost unbearable as he diligently pulled the shreds of material out of her wounds. Tabitha ground her teeth to keep from wailing and fighting him off. Finally, her leg was free and although it still throbbed, some of the tightness in her chest abated. Now he pulled at the hem of her shirt, slipping it over her right arm and head. He grasped her left and tried to raise it but that only managed to inflict more pain so he pulled the shirt down over it instead.
Jared made quick work of her leg and arm to staunch the renewed flow of blood by wrapping each tightly with gauze and ace bandages. He then felt around her shoulder joint before getting up and retrieving a very large book from a bookcase across the room. Until then Tabitha hadn’t noticed the vast collection of tomes and volumes that lined the entire wall from floor to ceiling. What was he planning on doing with a book? Was he a home-schooled doctor and needed to review a chapter? It was finally her turn to frown at him.
He resumed his seat on the table, clasping the book between his flattened palms. “Your shoulder has been pulled out of its socket so the first thing we need to do is reset it.” Jared reached out and grabbed her hand, which had been clenched tightly into a fist for so long it was colored in varying shades of purple and white and she could no longer feel her fingers. Surprised to find her hand in such a position, Tabitha reasoned she must have done so to fight the waves of sharp pain coming from her upper arm.
Jared slowly uncurled her fingers and immediately snatched up another roll of gauze. Curious as to his reason, Tabitha spared a glance down at her hand then stared in horror at the gaping wound that stretched from the base of her pointer finger, diagonally across to the center of her palm. As she watched, the deep laceration filled with bright red fluid that came pouring out. But before she could physically react Jared had bound her hand and placed the binding of the book across her palm.
“Now listen very carefully. In order for me to treat your wounds it’s best if you aren’t hindered by impaired joint movements. Look at me, Tabitha. I want you to hold on to the book. Don’t worry about the cut – I’ll take care of that in a moment. Hold tight and firm.” He tested her grip, which in her current condition was clutching the book as though it was a lifeline. “Good. Now, relax your arm. I’m going to let go of your wrist and then set that bone back in the socket.” Tabitha figured he was testing her strength to make sure no other damage was done to her shoulder.
Abruptly, he released his hold on her and her arm was forced down with the weight of the heavy book. She felt her arm brutally jerk into position with a grotesque popping noise.
“Fudgesticks and popcorn!” Tabitha burst out, reflexively grabbing her shoulder with her good hand and massaging it. The relief was instantaneous and she looked up to thank the ingenious man who’d fixed it. He was looking at her with a stunned expression, one thick slash of an eyebro
w arched in question.
“Fudgesticks and popcorn?” He repeated.
Tabitha felt the flush steal over her cheeks and got hit with embarrassed giggles. “It’s something my grandmother used to say.”
“Interesting.” He nodded curtly and held out two white pills for her to take. “Place these under your tongue, they will dissolve.”
“What are they?”
“Xanax, 2.5 milligrams, to calm your nerves.”
Tabitha obeyed as Jared unwrapped and examined the cut on her hand. “I’ll need to use a local to deaden the area, but the cut doesn’t look big enough to warrant more than a few stitches.”
Tabitha’s heart plunged and she squeezed her eyes shut. She heard him snap the gloves into place over his hands.
“This will sting, but only until it becomes numb.”
The needle pricks were multiple, quick and irritating but in no time the area was completely dead to sensation. Tabitha risked a look (one was enough) and she quickly shut her eyes again at the sight of the small hooked needle being pulled through her skin. She felt the tugging as he stitched up her hand.
“Okay. Well, that doesn’t look like it was inflicted by Sam and I removed quite a lot of debris. I suppose you fell rather hard at some point.” Tabitha nodded mutely to confirm his assumption.
Next, he moved on to the tender area at the back of her arm repeating the process of deadening, cleansing, and sewing up the skin. Here, Jared pointed out that the area was torn and ragged where she had tried to pull herself free of Sam’s locked jaw. He worked more slowly, taking care to mend the area as best he could.
The tugging on Tabitha’s arm stopped and she heard a sigh escape him. She peeked out and found him staring at her.
“Now, I need to get you turned over. I really should move you to a table or some place higher and steadier, but since the couch is already ruined and you’re comfortable – you’ll stay.”
