Travis was pale and feverish when he brought my lunch today, and he brought me two meals because he said he might not be able to come back down tonight. I never thought about this element of captivity. When your kidnapper is sick, you're sort of a “captive audience” for their germs. Just a little prisoner joke.
Day 102: Travis didn't bring us any breakfast today. Sophie is rather loudly protesting this fact. She's a tough girl, Sophie. She must have been a street kid or something. Master has been to visit her several times and I always have to help her with her bruises afterward, but her attitude never changes. She's a fighter. She never shows pain, only anger.
My stomach is cramping so bad. I don't know if it's hunger, something with the pregnancy, or I'm coming down with what Travis has. I don't feel feverish or nauseous, just the pain.
I feel strange. It's something beyond my normal longing to escape or see the sun...or do anything normal. It's like I'm itching on the inside. My legs itch so bad at night that I can't sleep. I don't know how it's possible to be so tired and not be able to sleep.
Day 110: I definitely caught what Travis had, though it wasn't the cause of my stomach pain. That was vicious. Fever and chills and I thought I would die if anything touched my skin. This is the first day I've even been able to sit up. It's probably a miracle I didn't lose the baby. I could barely eat or drink anything. My throat still hurts and I have a cough now, but at least I can sit up for more than 10 minutes without passing out.
Day 111: Maybe another week or two and the window pane will be free. My belly has grown a lot in the last few days. I hope it doesn't continue at this rate for long. I don't even know if I could fit through the window anymore. But I have to keep trying.
When I was sick, Travis brought me a gallon water jug so I didn't have to get up to get more water as often. I hid it under my cot. So far he doesn't seem to have noticed...I hope that continues. Whenever I get out I'll need something to carry water in. I haven't figured out food yet.
A few days later, day 117, the last of the plaster crumbled into my hands. Heart pounding wildly, my ears straining for the sound of anyone coming down the hall, I dug my fingernails around the edges of the glass and pulled it toward me. With a scraping sound, it gave. A blast of frigid air entered the cell, swirling around me, heavy with the scent of winter.
I laughed out loud, giddy from even this little taste of freedom. I moved the chair aside and pushed the desk under the window. Careful not to injure my belly, I laid sideways on the wide windowsill and twisted my body into some very painful positions to see if I could fit through. I did—but barely. Another couple of weeks and it would be impossible. My heart was pounding so hard that I felt lightheaded. I got down and pushed the desk back into place, before climbing back on the chair and carefully replacing the glass. I was shivering with cold and with anticipation. The first step of my escape plan was finished. Even though I hadn't really thought beyond this moment, I felt exhilarated. I had felt air—real, fresh outside air—on my skin. That alone was enough to keep me going for a while longer.
I heard Travis's boots thumping down the hallway. I rushed to put everything back into place, barely having time to check my work before I heard the jingle of keys and he entered my cell with a tray balanced on one hand.
“How are you feeling?”
My face felt flushed and I was breathing heavily. I prayed he couldn't feel the difference in temperature in the cell, which was colder than normal from the influx of outside air. “Better.”
“You should probably rest. You don't want to exhaust yourself and get a secondary infection. You look like you might still be a little feverish.”
“I'll rest after lunch.”
Travis nodded, gathered up my breakfast tray, and left.
Day 120: For once I'm grateful for the coldness of the winter here. It hasn't come anywhere close to going above freezing in the past couple days. I tested this by placing a cup of water outside in the middle of the day and it quickly froze. I tore a corner from one of the blankets and every meal I put a piece of bread or toast in it and set it just outside the window, off to the side. It can't be seen from outside because of the bush. At least I'll have a little food.
I need to make a plan. I have to find a way of getting a note to Sophie and telling her what I'm planning. I can't take a chance of Travis overhearing what I tell her. I can't hide a piece of paper in my gown anywhere...there's no pockets and no underclothes to hold it to my skin. I think I have an idea. I just don't know when I will get a chance to try it.
That chance came the next day, when Travis came to get me to bandage a wound on Sophie's hip. Master had beaten her the night before and she had fallen against the corner of the desk. My nerves were shot from listening to the exchange, and I felt strung out on adrenaline. Those sounds would never stop being incredibly painful, even just to listen to from rooms away.
As soon as I woke up I had torn a page from my journal. On it I wrote:
I might have a way to escape. Through my window. Has to be soon. I'm not sure where to go once I get out though. I would appreciate your help. If you have any ideas, ask me how I'm feeling.
I rolled the paper tightly and pulled my hair back with my ponytail holder, concealing the thin roll inside the tail.
When Travis came I got up quietly and followed. Inside her cell, Sophie lay on her less injured side, a bloody washcloth pressed to her hip. Travis closed the door and stood just outside like he always did. The random respect of our privacy had always seemed weird to me considering what else went on in this house of horrors. I was grateful for it though, especially now.
“Sophie? I need to clean the wound.”
Sophie removed the cloth from the wound, her green eyes following me distrustfully. Like both Jenny and Annabelle she had fair skin and dark hair, (though hers was red) and she was pretty. Even though I had never done nothing but help her, she had always treated me with thinly veiled hatred. Or maybe it was just her hatred at our captors spilling over onto me. She had never spoken enough for me to know either way. As always, anger radiated from her in waves.
The wound was nasty. I was no medical professional, but even I could tell that it needed stitches. With the limited help I could provide, I knew that infection was very likely.
“Sophie?”
“What?”
I picked up the bottle of alcohol, cringing inwardly at what I knew I had to do. “I have to wash it out.”
“Yeah? So just do it.”
“It's going to hurt.”
“I'll live.”
“Okay. Hold on.”
I unscrewed the top from the bottle and used my teeth to peel off the protective plastic. I wadded the cloth and placed it under the wound. There was nothing for it but to do this quickly.
I poured the alcohol onto the wound from top to bottom, letting the antiseptic wash through the gash. Sophie stiffened and screamed, her hands scrambling for a corner of her blanket, which she stuffed into her mouth.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“Just do it!” Sophie yelled through the blanket.
I let the alcohol pour into the wound until all that ran into the cloth was the clear liquid and fresh blood. Then I stuffed it with clean gauze, placed a big gauze pad over that, and taped the whole thing down. I pulled Sophie's clothing down to cover her legs.
When you lived the way we did, nakedness soon ceased to mean anything. There is no shame left to be felt after the way our dignity had been stripped from us.
I moved back and packed the unused supplies back into the box. I peeked at the door. Travis was standing outside, facing away from us. Heart beating a little faster, I dug in my ponytail until I found the roll of paper.
“Can you sit up? I need to look at that bruise on your neck.”
“It's fine. Just go.”
Irritation washed over me. Normally I would have just backed down, but Sophie could be throwing away my only chance to communicate with her.
“I
t's not fine. Now sit up.”
Looking slightly startled, Sophie sat up on the cot, wincing as the movement pulled at the skin on her hip.
I sat down next to her and pushed her hair back to look at the bruise. With my other hand I pressed the roll of paper into her hand. “Don't say anything,” I whispered into her ear. “Read it first.” Out loud I said, “This doesn't look as bad as I thought. It should be okay.”
Sophie glanced at the paper, then crumpled it and shoved it under her blankets. “So,” she said, a little breathlessly. “How are you feeling these days? I mean, with the pregnancy?”
She has an idea. I nodded. “I'm okay. Baby is growing fast.”
Glancing at the door to see if Travis was looking, Sophie jerked her head at the bathroom. “Bet you have to pee a lot.” She mimed lifting something and reaching underneath.
“Oh, yeah. Like right now,” I responded, managing a not-quite-fake sounding laugh. Not quite understanding, I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Inside, I looked around. It was exactly like the one in my cell. Pedestal sink, cloudy mirror, ancient claw-foot tub and plain toilet. Light bulb with a pull chain. Bare concrete floor and cinder block walls.
The toilet. It was the only thing that could be lifted. As quietly as I could, took the lid off of the tank and balanced it on the toilet seat. Inside was nothing special...until I saw the metal glittering underneath one of the pipes.
Keys! Heart thudding in my chest, I took the two keys from the water. They looked like one of the keys Travis always kept on his key ring that he used to unlock our cells. One had the pattern of a house key, while the other was much longer with a plastic handle—maybe a car key? How in the world had Sophie gotten these? Alone, it was worthless, as the cell doors could not be opened from the inside. But if I could get out, come back in the house and let Sophie out...suddenly my chances of surviving after escape were looking just a little bit better.
The metal might be visible if I stuck it in my hairband. After a moment of thought I rinsed the keys thoroughly in the sink and stuck them in my mouth, holding each inside one cheek. As long as I didn't have to talk too much, they were invisible.
When I came back out, Sophie stood from the bed. She pulled me toward her as if hugging a friend. “I'm sorry for always being so rude to you,” she said loudly. Then she whispered: “Same key unlocks all the cells. Look out my window.” As I did, she continued to whisper, holding me tightly. Through the frosty glass, I could see the gravel of the driveway and a rusty blue pickup truck. “Second drives the getaway car.”
Chapter 13: The Best Laid Plans
I knocked on the cell door and Travis opened it, taking the medicine box from me. “Ready?”
I nodded silently and walked in front of him back down the hall toward my cell. When we got there, Travis unlocked the door and ushered me in, shivering a little at the cold inside.
“Not sure why yours is always so much colder than the others. There's supposed to be a big winter storm tonight, you know?”
“How would I know? I don't have access to the TV or internet.”
Travis ignored me. “I will be back in a little while with your lunch.” He scooped up my breakfast tray and left, balancing it on top of the first aid box. The door closed behind him with a click.
Gagging on the metallic taste in my mouth, I pulled the keys from my cheeks and stuck them in the tank on my toilet like Sophie had. Then I filled the tub with water and took a bath, afraid my face would betray something of my intentions if Travis saw me when he returned with my lunch.
By the time the water ran cold, the younger of my captors had come and gone. On the tray was a bowl of steaming soup, toast, and scrambled eggs. My stomach was so nervous, but I forced myself to eat all of the food except for the toast, which I added to my small stash outside the window.
Day 121: Tonight we might escape. Tomorrow we could be free.
I'm not even sure I remember what freedom feels like anymore. It feels like my whole life has been lived in this dark, cold basement. Maybe I'm like a cave person now. Maybe my eyes can't stand the sunlight.
That's silly.
But still...I'm scared. That's crazy, right? To be scared of leaving? Maybe it's the vast unknown versus the evil that I know. Whatever it is, I am nervous even though I don't know why. Nervous about being free. I know why I'm nervous about escaping.
I don't remember what the evening's dinner was. I pretended to be asleep when Travis brought my food, then I ate it as quickly as I could. Then I sat in my cot, staring at the opposite wall, unable to move. I had no clock, no way to know what time it was. The “good” food today meant Master was gone, and only Travis was around to deal with. The day inched on with agonizing slowness, the shadows slowly turning to black.
The wind howled outside. It was a heck of a night to be doing this. I'd always lived too far south to know exactly what a winter storm was. I guessed I was about to find out. I pulled my sweater on and my thick socks and my slippers. I turned one blanket into a bag of sorts and stuffed my journal, my freshly-filled water jug, and one of the extra blankets inside. The other I wrapped around my chest and tied it like a crude dress under my sweater. I had a feeling even this would do little to keep the cold out...but it was all I had. I removed the keys from the toilet tank and looped my hair tie through the holes on their ends, securing them to my wrist.
The wind screeched outside. Too late, I realized that the glass in the window was falling inward. I jumped from my cot in a desperate attempt to catch the falling glass, watching in horror as it fell just beyond the tips of my fingers to shatter on the floor. For a moment I stood frozen, my ears straining to hear any sound from the other end of the hallway.
My heart leaped into my throat as I heard the locking bar start to slide. Have to go now. I took the desk and pushed it under the window, climbing up on top. The door at the end of the hall opened and I heard Travis's voice call out. “What happened?”
Frigid air swirled around me as I shoved my blanket bundle through the window then pulled myself through, my belly scraping painfully on the sill. The wind immediately began to bite into my skin, and inside I could hear boots pounding down the hall. I grabbed the food I had stashed and shoved it in my bundle. Then I got to my feet and looked around.
It was almost completely dark. The black shapes of the mesas soared in the distance, and the sky overhead was low and threatening. The sun would have set on the other side of the house.
There was no more time to hesitate. I stepped through the bushes and turned to my right, holding one hand to the wall as I ran. Behind me, I could hear Travis's reaction as he saw my window, the clanging of my door being shoved open. “Sarah!” He shouted. “Sarah, don't do this! Come back!”
I didn't listen. I spun around the corner of the house, skidding a little in the gravel. Everything was coated with a layer of ice, and sharp snowflakes pelted the exposed skin of my face and hands. There, along the bottom of the wall—the light from Sophie's room. My heart sank as I realized I'd gone the wrong way. The entrance to the house was on the other side. In front of me, the rusty pickup truck loomed in the darkness, just outside Sophie's cell.
An idea hit me as I moved forward. Travis had stopped yelling behind me—he must be on his way back up. I picked up a large rock and knelt, smashing it into the window to Sophie's cell. She bolted up from her cot, her eyes wide. “What? Who's there?”
“Sophie!” I called through the window. “Hurry! We have to go!”
Sophie sprang into action, pushing her desk beneath the window and climbing up. The glass was jagged around the edge and she cried out as I helped her climb through. I could see the dark streaks of blood running down her arms, and staining her gown at the knees. She had no shoes or sweater.
In the distance, the front door slammed.
“The truck!” I helped Sophie limp to the passenger side and ran to the driver's door, yanking the rusty thing open. Just then Travis skidded around the side of the hous
e, a fact I registered more by sound than by sight.
“Lock your door!” I yelled once Sophie had thrown herself into the passenger seat. Following my own advice, I shoved the truck key into the ignition and turned, praying it would start.
The truck roared into shuddering life. I yanked the stick into drive, and floored the gas pedal. Gravel spit from the tires, and there was a yell from behind. We sped forward, bumping and shaking over the rough ground.
“Lights!” Sophie yelled. I looked around for a frantic moment before finding the dial that turned the headlights on. In the distance was a fence, off to the left a small shed. I spun the truck around the corner of the house, and we sped down the back of the property, which huddled up against the foot of a large hill. Snow was falling thickly, flying into the windshield with the force of the wind that howled outside the cabin.
Chained Page 9
