by TylerRose.
He said nothing more, helping her to the bed slab and getting her a drink of water. Seeing her shiver, he got a blanket from the open cubby hole in the wall. The door closed with a hissing click and she was alone. She tried to get a fingernail under the strap on the mental chain.
The blanket was snatched away from her, a cruel hand crushed her wrist in its capture.
“I figured you’d try that again,” Solomon said, flipping her on to her face to get at her other wrist.
He put her into simple metal wrist cuffs similar to police handcuffs, then placed smaller cuffs around her middle fingers to hold them close together to prevent her twisting to get out of the wrist cuffs. He didn’t put the blanket back on her.
“Cell temperature, decrease by fifteen degrees,” he said, and left her shivering.
Feeling the intoxication of the endorphins wash over her and relaxing into it, she had one hard shiver and was soon glowing warm from head to calves. She fell asleep.
Waking to a hand on her arm, she startled.
“Leave it to you to find a way to get out of punishment just to spite me,” Solomon said, pulling her up by the arm. “Come on.”
“Now where to?” she grunted with the sudden and sharp pains all over her body.
“My room. I’m not done with you.”
Wasn’t done by a long shot.
The dial on the mental chain turned up so she couldn’t fight if she wanted to, and his hand around her throat to cut off her air supply, he forced himself on her. Numerous times in the coming days he held her on the cusp of consciousness, through choking or the mental chain, while taking what he wanted whenever he wanted. He slapped and smacked her from thighs to face, for a foul word, for a dirty look, for turning away from him.
Her mother had lived with an unstable grenade ready to go off unexpectedly sometime during a week to ten day period. Tyler was struck almost hourly on some part of her body.
Going to the little cell to sleep was a relief.
With the mental chain turned so high for so long, she couldn’t spend much time in thought. She couldn’t follow thoughts through, was stuck in this moment and inside her own skin. She found solace in sleep and shed as few tears as possible, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of breaking down and crying openly.
“I will come for you again,” he said the next time he took her to his room. “Right when you think you can be happy. Right when you think your life is good, and it will be the last time. I won’t let you go again. Not ever. I won’t kill you and I won’t let you go.”
He went away for a while, leaving her a beaten mess on his bed while he dressed. A while later, he came back and had her again, in an orifice so raw and sore she was in agony from start to finish.
“You are my property whether you like it or not. If you won’t love me, you can’t love anyone else. Say it.”
His hand opened enough to let her breathe.
“Fuck yourself in the ass,” she whispered, and got fifty punches to both breasts.
Hard enough to hurt like hell over her already bruised flesh, not hard enough to break the bones beneath. He licked a tear as it rolled from the corner of her eye onto her temple.
“Delicious. Your tears are a delicacy I look forward to enjoying for the rest of your life.”
He put a metal band around her neck and leashed it to the head of the bed. Wrist and ankle cuffs already on her, he chained left wrist to left foot, right wrist to right foot with maybe an inch of slack.
“I have things to do. You won’t accompany me this time. There is a camera and I can see you any second I want, so don’t be stupid. You’ll only get yourself punished more and I’m finding I like to do it.”
He bent low over her body so she could feel his weight. His fingers tight around her chin held her face upright.
“I do enjoy punishing you. I think you enjoy it also, or you wouldn’t strive so diligently to get it at every turn. Such a good whoreslave to give Master what he likes most.”
He lifted from her and shoved two gloved fingers deep into her. With the other hand, he slapped hard onto the mound of her puss some hundred times, until she was screeching and writhing and, finally, erupted into a forced orgasm with gushing ejaculation.
“I do so enjoy that you can do that too,” he said, and walked out.
Hearing the door shut, she lay still a moment to catch her breath and recover from the pain and powerful forced orgasm. Lifting her head, she could not see any guards.
She realized he’d not put the control to the mental chain into his pocket…Had he? He always made a show of letting her see it go into his pants, and playing with it a few seconds. He didn’t this time.
Where were the pants he’d just taken off? Looking over the edge of the bed, ignoring all the pains from all over, she saw them in a puddle on the floor.
Turning slowly, easing herself off the bed with more than one grunt of pained exertion, reaching a foot out, she was able to grasp the band of the waist between first and second toes and pull them toward her. Fast as she could search, she found the left pocket and shoved a hand in.
Breaking into a cold sweat, she ripped the fabric of the pocket trying to get the stupid thing out. Turned off, gasping for breath with the sensation of a hurricane, her full mind rushed back and the oppressive heavy sensation melted away. She grabbed the control disc on the band around her upper arm and tore it from her arm. She threw it against the nearest wall with vehement hatred of the vile thing.
Testing her abilities to be sure what she could do so quickly after getting the thing off, she teleported the metal collar off herself first. Then she ported herself out of the cuffs to a spot a few feet away. It was an effort, but she could do it. Into the tiled bathroom, she threw the control box at the floor as hard. Hard as she could five times, it was smashed as smashed could be.
Could she teleport to a planet she knew? She had no idea where she was, how far from anything. Knowing she didn’t have much time before he would check the camera, she thought fast where she should go. Who could she trust? She didn’t want to go to Thomas again. Didn’t want Shestna’s pity. Forget the Celestial Congress.
Where would he not be able to find her so easily? Where could she go and be alone for a while?
She could think of only one place, and teleported back to Earth to a lonely warehouse sitting by itself in a field next across the road from an auditorium no longer used.
The middle of nowhere.
Coming backfrom a successful negotiation and lucrative sale of the Rovan to a Sistarian dealer, Solomon reached into his pocket to finger the button of the control box as he did now and then during a day.
The box wasn’t there. He checked his other pocket. Not there either.
“Shit!” he blurted, realizing he’d forgotten to put it into his pants before leaving her.
He checked the feed on his camera. He’d been so busy with the negotiation that he’d not looked in on her. There was an empty bed, the collar laying on the pillow.
Arriving in his room, he found the cuffs on the floor in a pile, the destroyed mental chain next to them. The control box lay smashed to bits on the hard tile floor of the bathroom.
She was gone.
He’d intended to let her go in a couple weeks. She had forced the plan forward before he’d broken her.
“Dammit!” he shouted, throwing the busted box onto the floor himself.
Chapter Eighteen
She appeared insidethe back room of the video store. Dark, no lights, the windows had been painted over opaque black. Looking into the front, lit by the glow of late afternoon sun peeking through cracks between boards, she saw all the videos were still sitting on the racks. Abandoned and collecting dust.
Going farther back, toward the door that led to the garage, she saw a block of light on the floor. A shaft of light coming down the stairs on the left beckoning her to go into the apartment above. She went up with a hand on the rail, feeling feminine energy lingering there. Old ene
rgy. Male energy was newer, someone she didn’t know. Peaceful, calm.
Sun coming in the kitchen windows, over a three sided booth-like breakfast table, lit up the whole room. Sink, counter and stove on the right behind an island that helped to create a corridor from the back door into the apartment. It seemed no one lived here, but the kitchen wasn’t dusty.
The double door refrigerator was working. There was electricity. She opened the fridge, her eyes first finding a six pack of pop. She took one out, cracked the tab open, and drank in a long series of swallows. She’d not been fed or given water yet that day. The sweet soda hit the spot like nothing ever could. Her belch was one of the loudest and most complete she’d ever belched in her life.
Opening the door to the right of the fridge, she found a dining room. In the exterior wall, there was a pantry. It’s outer wall helped make the nook for the booth. Seeing shelves of canned goods and boxes, she went in to see what she’d find. Toaster pastries in four different flavors. A box of cherry flavored was already open. She snatched up a paper/foil pack and tore the top clean off to get at the sweet, fruity nirvana within.
“Who is there?” she heard an electronic voice ask from in the kitchen.
She stepped out to look for the source, and felt the microwave scan her.
“You are Tyler. What are you doing here?” the microwave said.
“Who are you?” she asked in return, the first words she’d spoken above a whisper in three days.
“Landra Ahr. You met me as Im Reesana some 500 years ago on Crecorday. I was here with Jerome the day Adamantine invaded. I was here the day you punched Marcy and spent the night with Jerome at the Pickle Road apartment. Come farther into the corridor. I’m based in the third door on the left.”
A room empty except for a counter with computers on it.
“Where?”
“Here,” the male-ish voice replied, the computer screen flashing. “My armor was destroyed at Davis Besse but I had already saved a copy of myself here. Just before being destroyed, I downloaded everything between making the copy and being destroyed.”
“Are they all dead?”
“All except Sifu Chen and Demitrius.”
“I don’t know who a Sifu Chen is. Or what,” she said.
“It does not matter right now. He will be back very late. Your readings show that you are injured and dangerously exhausted. Go into the room to the left from this one. It has no windows. You can turn on a light and no one will see. The television does work. This building is defended. No one can enter from the outside without my letting them. Unless they teleport, it seems. I will work on that. You came here as an escape from something bad, yes?”
“Yeah,” she said, opening the door.
She found the light switch immediately to the right on the wall. A bedside lamp turned on. She stepped into old energy. She could feel Jerome had been here, feel his hands touching books. She could almost see him using the weapons at the far end of the room, could almost see him in the bed. Made up neatly with dark, plain sheets and blankets, looking gloriously comfortable, it beckoned her.
Empty soda can and pastry wrapper into the trash can next to the desk, she went to the door at the far end. She wondered what the wood and leather dummy in the middle of the open space was for.
She needed a shower, needed to get Solomon off her and out of her, and this was the only door leading to another room. She needed to douche out both orifices in order to begin to feel clean, and found a single use box under the sink. She made two copies of the original. Using those first while on the toilet, she then stood under a strong hot stream of water in the shower. Maybe if it was hot enough, she could scald herself clean.
There, only there, she gave way to the tears she had been holding in for too long. She didn’t know how many days she’d been held prisoner. Might have been a week. Might have been ten. She had no way of knowing without contacting Julian or Shestna.
A thorough washing – twice – and she searched drawers to look for one with women’s pajamas inside. If Jerome hadn’t gotten rid of them at the apartment on Pickle Road, then he hadn’t gotten rid of them here. She found it and they fit well enough. The former had stayed overnight, but had not lived here.
She climbed into the bed and curled up into a tight ball under the blanket. Everything still smelled like Jerome. The pillow, the sheets and blankets. She found it an odd comfort, welcomed his energy around her.
“If someone suddenly appears inside, can you incapacitate them?” she asked.
“Yes,” the voice came from the bedroom computer opposite the door. “Anyone who comes? Or someone specific?”
“I don’t suppose you’d know the difference between a Sistarian and a Deek’Traiian, would you?”
“In fact, I do. I did travel in space and interact with the other peoples of the galaxy, if you recall.”
“If a Deek’Traiian shows up, kill him.”
“What of the others?” he asked, and got no answer.
She was already asleep. He called Chen’s phone to tell him of the visitor and her physical condition.
“I will return as soon as I can,” Chen replied and put the phone back into his pocket to continue his work tending the injured and ill.
A tent cityhad sprung upin International Park on the East side of the Maumee River to house the many thousands of people who had been left homeless. Teenagers whose parents had been killed or made into Rhutvak soldiers; people who refused to leave because the missing might come to find them. No one was refused. No one was forced to leave before they were ready.
Every week, busses came to take people to Chicaco, Dayton, Columbus, other cities. Some took the opportunity for a new start while others remained. Chen had resolved to continue to help until no one was left. Some he was able to coax onto a bus or talk into getting on a particular bus when next it came. This night, he helped rescue workers fill a bus to Cleveland.
A temporary walking bridge, erected by the Army Corps of Engineers within a month after the disaster, was the only immediate route to the other side. He’d left the Charger there, in a parking lot among the ruins of office buildings. The lot had been cleared for aid workers.
He drove the lonely route between smashed and felled buildings to the Anthony Wayne Trail, seeing few other vehicles. This part of Toledo had been crushed and burned to the railroad tracks at City Park Avenue. Beyond, there were still full and functioning neighborhoods. Beyond, there was some midnight traffic on the Trail and lights were on in houses.
He took the Trail to keep on a main and well-lit boulevard. An old canal that had been covered and turned into a road for cars, it ran all the way out of town. He took it to Michigan Ave and turned right. That became Eastgate Road. Left onto Heatherdowns and turning right into the driveway opposite the abandoned Masonic Auditorium and he was home.
A great many parcels of land this far out were abandoned now, so many people had fled the region. With most of Downtown destroyed, many business headquarters were also gone. Those companies had moved their offices elsewhere, putting many thousands of people out of work. The city was on the verge of collapse.
As he always did, he drove around the gym side of the building to be sure no one was lurking to ambush him. He backed the vehicle into the garage and carried up the groceries he had purchased on his way into the ruined city. Fresh fruits and vegetables went into the refrigerator or onto the table as was appropriate.
He made his way up the hallway in darkness, and found the light inside the end bedroom was on. He opened the door. She startled awake, blinking and staring, a tonfa in her right hand, drawn back and ready to throw, a sai at hand to follow. Her face was bruised in several places. Her arm was bruised in many places. Her neck was bruised all the way around from one ear to the other.
“You are Tyler. Jerome told me about you. I did not expect you would ever come here. I am Chen. I taught him Kung Fu, to fight.”
She lowered the tonfa, a nightstick with a handle two thirds
up the middle, to the bed.
“Are you damaged beyond the bruising I can see?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“There’s a lot more of it,” she said.
“I’m sure. Rest now. I’m sure you need that the most. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
“You don’t usually sleep in this room. Where do you sleep?”
“I leave the sofa bed out in the living room. You are welcome to stay as long as you need. In order not to draw attention, I do not use the kitchen light after dark and I keep the drapes and blinds pulled tight in the living room. The police force is spread too thin and crime is very high. We have to take care of ourselves if anything happens. But everything here is in working order. Are you hungry? I brought fresh fruits.”
“I just want to sleep,” she said, and settled back in again.
“Then I will see you in the morning,” he replied, and reached for the switch.
“Leave the light on,” she said in a near panic.
He did not question. He left the light on and closed the door behind himself.
The room was not completely soundproofed. She heard cars racing around out front. She would just fall asleep and another pair would go roaring around through the Masonic parking lot. Sirens approaching sent the tires screeching in all directions and then all was quiet again.
She turned over and tried again, just about to fall asleep and jolting herself awake with some other sound.
“No one is here but you and Chen,” Landra Ahr said from the computer. “You have very high levels of anxiety. Jerome left several marijuana cigarettes in the drawer beside the bed.”
She sat up and reached in, seeing the rolled stash, seed separating tray, pack of papers, baggy roll of uncleaned pot. She made a copy of a joint and picked up the lighter.
“I am here if you want to tell what has happened since you left Toledo,” Im Reesana said after a moment.
She made no reply, a vhs tape of Star Wars arriving in her hands from the store downstairs. She put it into the machine atop the forty inch television and sat in silence to watch from start to finish. When the credits started to roll, she turned it off and tried again to sleep.
