by Marnie Perry
She lay on the ground amongst the leaves and insects and moaned with the pain in her shoulder which had become worse in the hours since she had left the cave. Her sandals had holes in the bottoms and one of the straps was broken, she knew it wouldn’t last much longer then she would have only one shoe and her feet were already blistered and bleeding. Her hands were so cut and bloody that she could barely see skin any more. Her hair hung in disarray around her shoulders and down her back, it was filthy and full of leaves and twigs.
She was hopelessly lost, before all she knew she could be walking further and further into the swamp and further and further away from civilisation. She buried her face in the leaves and wept, with frustration and pain, with fear and despair.
It was inevitable that her mother’s voice would come to her. “Here you are again, in trouble. But then you’ve been trouble all your life. You thought you were so clever with the toothbrush thing and escaping that man’s clutches, but here you are lying there dying, which kind of defeats the object of escaping really doesn’t it. You’d have been better off back in that dirty old shack with the killer; at least he would have made it quick and painless. But no, once again you had to prove how smart you are; well you don’t look so smart now, Dela, you look dead to me.”
Then suddenly the voice was no longer her mother’s but Hennessey’s and he to sounded infuriated but amused. “I told you you’d never make it, you should have listened to me, you should have listened to everyone, Daniel, David, Sally, old Deanie. You’re just not capable of living on your own, but you’re sure as hell capable of dying alone, and that’s what’s gonna happen to you, Miss. Faraday. God, you even thought of coming back to me, to ask me to put you out of your misery. But fact is, you’re already dead, you just don’t know it. Shame.”
She listened to all of this and agreed with all of it, every word. They were right, she was stupid and weak, she always had been. If she wasn’t she would have left her mother to fend for herself years ago. She would have studied harder, gone to college, maybe even university; she would have had a good job with good prospects. She would have had friends, someone to talk to, to confide in, but because she hadn’t she had let herself be taken in by Sterling Hennessey. She had fallen for the first man to take notice of her and look where it had got her.
Her mother and Hennessey were right, she was a dead woman. So she would wait here, wait for death to come to her, it was no more than she deserved.
Then another voice was added to the others. “So you can fight for others but not for yourself, you can save me but not yourself? Maybe you think you’re not worth saving, not worth fighting for.”
‘Go away, Olivia; leave me alone, you’re as bad as the others.’
But Olivia wouldn’t give up, “What would Llewellyn do? Would he give up, or would he fight on, would he lie there weak and defeated or get up and fight…or at least die trying.”
She said, ‘He’s not real and even if he were I’m not him, I’m not Llewellyn.’
And now there was yet another voice one she didn’t immediately recognise, “No that’s right, you’re not, you’re you, you’re real. You’re Adela Anne Faraday, fighter not quitter.”
She said, ‘leave me alone, go away, I’m too weak to fight any longer, I’m done. But the voice persisted, “So that’s it? You just give up and let them win. Are you going to let silly Sally be right? Are you going to let your mother’s cruel taunting words send you into a pit of hopelessness? Are you going to let that murderer win, let him go after Olivia and take her back to that sick twisted bastard Glissando all because you were too weak to fight for her, for yourself? I thought you were better than that, Adela Anne Faraday?”
Adela opened her eyes and looked around, she wasn’t sure why but this time she really expected to see someone there, the voice had seemed so real this time, so close, not coming as if from a long way off as her mother’s always had, coming to her from down the years. And Hennessey’s and Olivia’s too had been a distant echo, but this voice had been so close as if the person speaking was lying right next to her and whispering in her ear. She staggered to her feet and took one step then another then another and kept on walking straight ahead. She had finally recognised the forth and last voice, it had been her own.
*********
The tone of Jonas Lando’s voice would have been unrecognisable to anyone who knew him, or had known him, so different was it from its usual harsh, brusque tones.
As he patted and rubbed the mare’s flank and head he said soothingly, ‘that’s a good girl, that’s a clever girl, you’ve done it, Josie, you’ve done it.’ He afforded himself a smile as he reached down and stroked the back of the foal sucking happily away at the mare’s teats. ‘Well little fella, you caused quite a fuss didn’t ya.’
The mare turned her head to look at her foal as if to say, yeah you little devil, Lando chuckled, the sound sounded alien to him and he looked around as though someone might have overheard him.
He had spent most of today with the mare, but after much difficulty and just when he thought he would lose her and the foal she gave one final push and out it had come. He had at one point seriously considered going into town for the vet, but was glad it had not come to that, he hated the thought of asking for help from anyone, but he would have done it for Josie. He looked down at the foal and said, ‘Maynard, that’ll be your name little 'un, after my grandpappy.’ Josie was named for his grandmother Joselyn Lars Lando.
Lando yawned and rubbed his neck. He was exhausted but still had the day’s chores to do, he had not yet fed the other animals and he had not been on his daily search for the traps, but it was too dark for that now anyway.
He needed to sleep but the animals came first. He patted both the foal one last time but his hand froze in midair as Dante growled. Lando snatched up his rifle and turned swiftly, but again froze at the sight of the apparition that stood silhouetted in the doorway. He stayed perfectly still his rifle raised and pointed at whoever…or whatever…stood there.
Rarely in Lando’s life had he been struck senseless or motionless, he reacted instinctively and immediately to most everything that came his way. Sometimes he acted even before he had thought things through, that was mostly why he had wound up in prison, reacting then thinking. But now he was so shocked, so stunned that he just stood there like a jackass staring at the shape standing in the doorway. The form seemed all hair and leaves and slime and looked as if it had risen from the very swamp itself.
He raised the rifle higher and began to approach, as he got nearer his eyes grew wide in his face and he could not hide his shock. He stammered, ‘H...hey, lady. What the fuck?’
She didn’t answer just stared right through him or that was how it seemed to him. He took a step nearer then one back as she suddenly put out her hand to him, she opened her mouth but no sound was forthcoming.
He just stood there shocked and incredulous, but then with an expletive he darted forward dropping his rifle as she fell straight into his arms. He sunk to his knees and lowered her to the ground. Even now it felt strange to touch another living being that wasn’t an animal of some kind and he wasn’t sure what to do with this creature, because creature was the only way to describe what he held in his arms.
He checked her pulse; it was there but thready and weak. As if she was contagious he very slowly and tentatively brushed her hair from her face and what he saw shocked him to the core. Her face was so cut and blooded that if he hadn’t known her by all that hair he wouldn’t have recognised her as the English woman. Her face was so white she looked dead, her lips were swollen and cracked and her clothes were in tatters around her, she was wearing only one sandal and her feet were blistered and bleeding.
He knelt there like an idiot until Josie suddenly whinnied and brought him out of his trance. He looked up at Josie and she looked back at him as if telling him to get his ass up and get the woman some help. As if to add his two cent’s worth Dante ran around sniffing at the woman then lo
oking at him.
He picked up his rifle slung it over his shoulder then put his hands under her legs and back and stood up. She was so light it was almost like carrying a small animal, a fawn or a lamb.
He carried her out of the barn and into his cabin where he hesitated for a moment on the threshold, then headed for his bedroom and put her gently down on the bed. During all of this she had not even moved, she was completely out of it. He slipped his rifle from his shoulder and once more brushed her dishevelled hair from her face which was smeared with blood, if the rest of her was as bad as her face she was in a very bad way.
He thought of the doctor, should he go fetch him? No, that meant leaving her here alone, she might wake and be frightened, and whatever had happened must have been pretty bad to cause her to be in this state. He slipped the rifle from his shoulder, ran into the living room and locked the door then went into the kitchen and poured some water into a glass then ran back into the bedroom. He knelt down, raised her head and holding the glass to her lips poured water into her mouth, or tried to, but it just ran down her chin and onto her chest. He persevered tipping her head back knowing that she must have fluids or she would surely die.
Dante watched all of this, his tail was not wagging a sure sign that he was worried or upset. When Lando was satisfied that he had managed to get some water down her throat he began lowering her head, but stopped abruptly as he saw blood on her blouse which had previously been covered by her hair.
He raised her again and looked at her left shoulder, when he had wiped away the blood he saw a huge bruise and thought for a moment her shoulder was dislocated, but then noticed splinters of wood embedded in the bruise. He cursed aloud, ‘fuck, how the hell…’ He knew he would have to pick out the wood from the shoulder and for the first time was glad that she was out of it, he just hoped she didn’t wake when he did what he had to do. Her head flopped forward then back as he lowered her slowly back down.
He got some tweezers which he first cleaned thoroughly. He pushed her torn blouse to one side then looked at her face and was grateful to see she was still unconscious. Sitting on the bed and supporting her back with one hand he began removing the small shards of wood.
He rose, ran back into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit, the one he used for his animals. He then ran some water into a bowl and poured antiseptic into it then grabbed some cloths and towels and carried all of them into the bedroom where he put them on the bedside table then stood looking down at her suddenly uncertain. He would have to undress her and he really did not want to do that.
He thought again of the doctor but the same conclusion came to him, whatever or whoever she had run from might be hunting her still, might even be close by. With that thought he looked at his rifle then at the window. He ran round the bed and closed the drapes then walked back around the bed feeling very embarrassed and self conscious. He raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a long breath. He looked at Dante who looked back his head on one side as if sympathising.
Lando began to unfasten her blouse or what was left of it, he removed it and then began unfastening her jeans, he looked up at her but she did not move. He pulled her jeans down her legs then removed the one sandal and threw it on the floor followed a second later by her jeans. He looked back up at her face but thankfully her eyes were still closed. God knows what she would have thought if she’d seen him standing there removing her clothes, but anyway she was in no fit state to fight him, whatever his intentions might have been.
This made him think of what could have happened to her, had she been attacked and raped? If so he would have to involve the law. He looked at her underwear, it was a good sign that she was still wearing it, it didn’t look torn and there was no blood or stains on her panties, although there was a huge bruise on her hip. Obviously something had happened to her, something very bad.
He sat once again on the bed and after cleaning her shoulder injury he tied a bandage around her shoulder. He then cleansed her other wounds with the solution he’d made, as he did this he wondered what the hell she was doing here in Alabama. She had been in Mississippi the last he’d heard and that was the day before when he had called Sheriff Taylor, who had informed him that she and this Sterling Hennessey guy were as thick as thieves.
Lando had not liked that too much, it seemed too fortuitous, that she had met another tourist, a single male at that, in such a small town on the same day smacked of coincidence to him and he knew that there was no such thing in this life, only opportunities.
But Taylor had assured him that she was okay and seemed very happy and Hennessey was charming and polite and seemed to treat Miss. Faraday very well. And no one fitting the description of his guy had shown himself. Lando had not been altogether satisfied but at least the sheriff was watching over her and for now that would have to suffice. But today he had not made his regular call to Taylor because of Josie and the foal. He could hardly believe his luck, or more accurately the woman’s, that the one day he had not called something had happened to her.
But then what could he have done even if he had known something was wrong, he had no transport nor even enough spare money to get a bus or train there. He could have gone to Sheriff Lomax of course and that’s probably what he would have done. For the first time he regretted not having a phone, if he had he would call Lomax right now and get him to contact Taylor find out what had happened. He had no radio or T.V. either so couldn’t get any information from there, and they would surely be interested in a missing female tourist. He was frustrated, but he would have to wait for her to wake to discover what had happened, if she did wake that is.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he gently dabbed her cuts and bruises, there were so many he had to change the water in the bowl three times. Her feet were the worst affected and when he was done cleansing them he smeared them with antibiotic cream then wrapped bandages around them and put on a pair of his thick socks. She would have difficult walking on them for a while that was for sure. As he did this he pondered that she must have walked a long way, a very long way, to get her feet in this state. How had she done it with her feet so badly cut?
He couldn’t believe that this woman had walked any distance with that kind of pain from her shoulder as well as her feet.
She couldn’t have walked from Mississippi; it was almost two hundred miles from Gulfport to Alban. But wherever she had come from she must have been pretty desperate to get away to endure such pain. And the other important question was, why come here to Alban anyway? And why to him, why not the sheriff? So many questions and only an unconscious woman with the answers. And maybe one other.
At this thought he looked again at his rifle, he would be wise to keep that close.
He cleansed the cuts on her hands; her nails were broken and filled with dirt. He dabbed her palms and as he did so he noticed marks on her wrist, cuts and scratches yes, but there was something else there too, a red mark around it as though…’ He looked at the other wrist the same marks were on that one too.
He knew instinctively what they were; she had been bound with some kind of tape. What the hell had happened to her and how had she escaped whatever it was, or more accurately whoever it was. He finished the bandaging and cleansing and emptied the water down the sink. He then grabbed a cloth and soaked it with cold water and once more kneeling down beside the bed he began to squeeze the water from the cloth onto her dry lips.
He looked down at her, at her pale, cut face, her cracked and swollen lips, at her hair all matted and filthy. Without really thinking about it he ran his hand down the side of her face to her neck but stopped and leaned back quickly as she let out a moan, the only sound she had made since she had appeared to him in the doorway of his barn.
Dante backed off as if the noise had startled him while Lando stood and looked down at her waiting for her eyes to open, see she was semi naked, him standing over her and panic. He took a step back just in case, but she only moaned again and moved her he
ad from side to side. Then she began to shiver and her teeth began to chatter.
He went swiftly to his closet and found a shirt which with difficulty he put on her shaking body. She was sweating yet shivering as though freezing cold, a fever if ever he saw one. He ran back to the closet and found more blankets which he tucked around her, as he did so he recalled what they used to do in the old days when someone was in a fever, cut off their hair, especially if it was long like hers. Rarely had he seen such long hair. Adrianne’s hair had been long, it had hung to the middle of her back but this woman’s hair was to her ass and covered her like a blanket. Although it was filthy and covered in slime and leaves there was no way he could cut it. Instead he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out some string which he cut with the knife he always carried with him. Lifting her head he pulled out the hairclips that had managed to stay in her hair but were hanging loose, then tied the string around her hair. She moaned again and began to shake her head from side to side making it difficult for him but eventually he succeeded in tying it into a pony tail.
As he lowered her head he noticed something on her neck and with one hand kept her head still while with the other he pushed the hair from her neck. He knew right away what those two little marks were, puncture wounds from a taser or stun gun. He studied her neck and shoulders but saw no similar marks anywhere else.
He stood up and sighed heavily, what God awful mess had she gotten herself into and dragged him into? He left the bedroom and went into the living room where he bolted the door and checked the windows were secured, the animals would just have to wait for their food. He then dragged the old, tatty armchair into the bedroom and put it next to the bed. He saw she had thrown the blankets off in her agitation; he put them back on her and tucked them tight under the mattress. She didn’t like that and tried to kick them off again but he sat on the bed and held her legs down with one of his own and her arms with his hands. She struggled and tossed her head from side to side moaning and shivering and sweating all at the same time. He sat and dabbed her face intermittently with cold water and tried to remove as many leaves as he could from her hair.
