The water felt heavenly, soothing, and she lowered her body into it completely. Strange sensations flitted across her arms, her body, her legs, almost as if a million little spiders were at work eating at her scars. Shivering, she wiped her legs carefully, her belly, saw the bandages float away in the water. There was no pain, no discomfort at all, so she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the peace and calmness of the moment, and the weird comfort the water afforded the scarred and oozing tissues. It was almost as if the water was a healing balm instead of ordinary water.
Soft music started, almost acting like a lullaby. Half dozing, she dreamed about Mark, his hotter than hell body, his handsome face. For the first time in ages, she felt completely at peace, felt a longing enter her body, a heat between her legs. She imagined his hands on her body, spreading her legs. Oblivious of anything else, her hand crept to her pussy, its baldness escaping her for the moment. She rubbed her clit, slid her fingers between the wet folds, then entered a finger into her pulsing vagina. With her thumb on her clit, rubbing it, she swiftly moved her finger inside her wet vagina, not from the water, but from her cream now running freely. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she came. Realizing where she was suddenly, she yanked her hand away and opened her eyes. To her relief, she was alone. The nurse had left. She lowered herself into the water and dunked her head a few times, then swam a few strokes using her right arm and her legs and not experiencing any pain or pulling of her scar tissue. Strange, movement was so much easier now.
Standing up, she waded to the far end of the pool where a sparkling waterfall cascaded down a rockery. Without thinking, she reached out to the silvery streams and suddenly noticed she had two arms, two hands. Wonderingly, she inspected her left arm, the missing arm, but it looked normal, flawless, as did her right arm. In awe she ran her hands over her face, her breasts, her belly. The bandages were all gone. Her scars, sores, and puckered skin were once again perfect. What manner of magic was this? A healing pool? Something like The Healing Waters of Lourdes? The only thing that was missing was body hair. Apart from that, she was back to normal. She wished for a mirror now because it was too unbelievable. Maybe she was dreaming and none of it was real. She’d soon wake up still scarred and with oozing sores all over and resembling a mummy.
Julie came in and walked to the edge of the pool. Towels and what looked like a robe were draped over her arm. “Your two hours are over, Megan. How do you feel?”
“I think I’m dreaming. All my scar tissue is gone and so are the sores. And suddenly I have an arm where there wasn’t one.”
“It’s not a dream. This is the healing room. The water in that pool is very special.”
“How come I’ve never heard of this place? People would give anything for this kind of healing. It’s magical.”
“Only a select few are chosen for this type of therapy.”
“It must cost a fortune. My parents aren’t rich. They’re just ordinary farmers, and—“
“Everything is paid for by the benefactor. Don’t worry your pretty head, and I must say it’s a very pretty face that emerged from beneath the bandages.”
“So now that I’m healed, I can leave?”
“Oh, no. After you’re dressed, you’ll start your first group session.”
“Group session? What for?”
“You’ve been through a lot. The body is healed, but the mind still needs attending to.”
“My mind is fine.”
Julie smiled while she rubbed Megan’s body with the warm towels. She handed her the robe. “Here, put this on. You can walk back to your room now.”
“What? No taxi?” Megan managed a giggle.
“Your wounds are healed, but your muscles have been far too inactive. This afternoon you’ll start in the exercise room with the assistance of your own personal trainer.”
“A personal trainer? You’re kidding me. What I’d really like is a telephone.”
“There are no phones in Midhaven. We’re too far away for any connection to be possible.”
“Surely there is contact with the outside world? How do you get your supplies?”
“Midhaven Level Five is self-sufficient. There are large farms located just outside the walls of this facility.”
“What about medical supplies?”
“As I said, we’re self-sufficient.”
“What about the drugs? Vitamins? Surely you don’t manufacture those?”
“Actually, we do. We don’t use drugs as you know them. Everything we have and use is developed from natural resources.”
They’d arrived at her room. Julie opened the door and Megan walked in to find a small pile of clothing on the chair.
“I’ll wait for you while you get dressed,” Julie said and sat on the side of the bed.
Megan picked up the clothes and went to the bathroom. After closing the door, she dropped the robe on the floor and turned to look at the full-length mirror on the door. She gasped. Her skin was flawless again, her face her own and not the grotesque mask she’d expected to see. Lifting both arms, she spun, inspecting every inch of her body. Except for her missing hair, eyebrows, lashes, and pubic hair, she was every inch Megan again. She wondered if her hair would grow back, but right now she hardly cared. Bald didn’t look half bad on her and she could always wear eye makeup and false lashes. The pubic hair didn’t matter. No more bikini waxing needed.
The clothes consisted of a pair of blue jeans, sandals and a blue t-shirt. It all fit her as if made for her. How had they known her size? She’d lost weight during her lengthy convalescence. After hanging the robe on a hook on the wall she joined Julie. “I feel almost human again.”
Eagerly, she drank the glass of juice waiting for her and devoured the sandwich while Julie waited patiently. When she was done, Julie escorted her to the group session.
“Everyone, here’s our newest member. Group, this is Megan. She’s new. Please make her feel at home,” a male voice spoke. “Hello, Megan. I’m Doctor Snow, your shrink, so to speak. Take a seat and after everyone has introduced themselves to you, tell us about yourself.”
Megan sat on the only vacant chair in the circle. She glanced at the other people present and counted twelve, including herself. There were five men, and six women. Megan smiled as each person told her his or her name. For now she’d have a hard time remembering them all. She was just glad to see other people rather than just nurses and doctors. Their ages varied from young to elderly.
“Your turn, Megan. How did you end up here? Tell us your story,” Doctor Snow said.
“It’s not a long story.” Megan talked about her birthday, their evening at the nightclub, Mark’s proposal and the explosion. She told them a little bit about her lengthy hospital stay.
“Megan, we want to know everything, from what you first remember as a child.”
“Why?”
“Because there is a reason you’re in this group. The reason is not the accident or what you went through afterward. Something has been eating at you for many years. We’re going to help you deal with it, help you forgive whatever or whoever caused you this pain,” Doctor Snow told her.
“How do you—“ She stopped. None of this was believable, so why question him. “All I want is to get in contact with my parents, with Mark. I don’t need any of this.”
“Mark and your parents are just fine. All in good time. Marie, why don’t you start off today’s session?”
Megan listened to the woman talk. Apparently she’d been in an abusive relationship and had never told her present husband about her alcohol and drug abuse and what her former husband had put her through. She’d kept secrets. Secrets. So this was what all this was about. But how the hell could the doctor know? Damn, now that I’m better I just want to go home, to Mark, to see Mom and Dad…
Chapter Six
Megan’s father…
Harry slugged away at the fire he had to keep going. It had to remain a certain temperature to melt the gold ore the miners brought in. Sweat p
oured off his sooty face. He swiped at it. How long had he been here now? He’d lost all track of time. It seemed like forever. And how had he ended up here? He didn’t have a clue. All he remembered was the explosion and then waking up in this hellhole where no one had an answer for him. His coworkers were all ignorant sons of bitches. He steered well clear of them. He had no sense of hours or minutes. He’d lost his watch when the explosion happened, and there was no clock in this pit. He didn’t know if it was night or day. The only thing he could go by was the siren that rang to announce the end of a shift. Food consisted of slop dished up out of a huge vat. Sleeping quarters, if you could even call them that, were in another tunnel. He was lucky to have found an empty spot and a bunch of rags to use for blankets. It was cold and damp in the tunnels. The nights, if that’s what they were, seemed long. He’d lie awake for hours thinking about his wife and daughter. What had happened to Georgia and Megan? Had they survived the explosion? And why was he condemned to this place? He hadn’t even stood trial. It was an instant switch, from the madhouse in the nightclub, to wake up here. Had he blanked out what happened in between? If he’d been sentenced to this place, what was it he was accused of?
From listening to some of the men talking, he was surrounded by murderers, coldblooded killers, rapists and terrorists. He’d scrutinized them all carefully to see if he recognized anyone, maybe spot the person who’d blown up the club. He or she could be a foreigner. The nightclub had been packed with all manner of people, many different races. When he wasn’t dancing with Georgia, he’d sat and watched all the people, wondering who they all were, where they all came from.
Several new workers had arrived. He glanced at them but didn’t recognize any faces. Some of the workers were even women, rough, tough, and ready to sell their bodies and souls for extra bonuses.
His mind drifted to what burned a hole in his own soul, the killings he’d had to live with all these years. No one had ever found the bodies of the three men he’d killed. He could still see Megan’s face, her dirty torn clothes, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Georgia wasn’t home when it had happened. He’d dealt with it himself and after Megan had bathed and he’d tucked her into bed, he’d made her swear never to tell her mother. He’d gotten the names out of Megan. His rage had consumed him and he’d taken his shotgun and waited for the three men outside the bar, the only bar in their small town. Pretending to be drunk, like them, he’d offered them a ride. Then he’d driven them far out of town. The men hadn’t even noticed. They hooted and hollered the whole way, still sharing a bottle of whiskey.
After he’d pulled up deep in the bush, he said he needed to go for a piss. They got out of the truck and stood drinking near the trees. He remembered the lewd remarks they’d made about his girl. It had fired his rage into an inferno. He’d shot them fast, first two of them. The third was so drunk and in disbelief he didn’t even think to run while Harold reloaded. Then he buried them. To the day of the explosion at the club, they’d been listed as missing. Their bodies were never found.
But what he’d done was engraved on his soul and had eaten at him all these years. He should have taken Megan to the cops, the hospital, let the law deal with the men, rather than take matters into his own hands. He tried to justify his act—they would have been released eventually and possibly rape other women and girls. He’d done the world a favor by getting rid of them.
Georgia had never suspected anything. She was home when he’d returned and thought he’d been working late in the fields. It wasn’t unusual for him to be out on the farm working till midnight.
For six years he’d lived the lie, sat in church on Sundays feeling like a heel, a hypocrite. Hell, his girl was only thirteen, still a child. She’d done okay, though. She seemed to have coped with the trauma all on her own. Never mentioned a word to Georgia. She was such a good girl, his Megan. He’d been against her move to New York, but after meeting Mark, and really liking him, he was glad she’d become involved with a good man and was going to settle down and get married.
“Harry! Keep that fire goin’!” One of the guards wielded his whip.
Harold flinched. He’d become oblivious to the pain it caused. Nothing mattered anymore except to get out of this pit and be reunited with his Georgia and their children. If she’s still alive, if she survived the blast. Is this payback for killing Jack, Colin and Dennis? Is this my retribution? But no one knows. Not a soul. They deserved what they got. Did I somehow get blamed for what happened at the club? The questions roiled through his mind, twenty-four hours a day, causing many a restless night.
“Motherfucker!”
The whip crashed down on his back again. He hurried to shovel more coal into the blazing furnace. The flames leapt out at him. He jumped back, their fiery licking tongues reminding him of the raging inferno in the nightclub, seeing his girl writhing in agony, Mark on fire, people screaming, trampling others in their quest to get away from the flames, not seeing Georgia anywhere…
Making plans…
Georgia sat with Jonas and Cassie on the riverbank. “What are we going to do? Do you have any idea where we are, Jonas?” she asked.
“No. After we’ve cooked the fish we’ve caught and everyone is fed, I’m going to gather some men and we’ll scout the area. It’s the tropics. It was warm and humid last night and if I look at the jungle and its foreign flora, I’d almost suggest we’re somewhere in the Amazon.”
Cassie laughed. “Jonas, how is that even remotely possible? It’s not like New York and the Amazon are neighbors.”
“I don’t know how, but it’s the only solution I can come up with. Have you ever seen flowers like the ones near those rocks on the other side of the river? Look at the foliage, the ferns, the trees, none of them are anything I’ve ever seen, not even on pictures of the Amazon.”
“Maybe people from the future rescued us just in time,” Georgia suggested.
“Time travel? I don’t believe that’s possible either,” Jonas said.
“Son, who knows. At the rate technology is evolving, they could have been working on a time travel machine without any of us knowing. How do we know what’s possible in the future?” Georgia said.
“I supposed you’re right. But if that’s so, why put us in such a godforsaken place?”
“When you go to explore, maybe you’ll find civilization,” Cassie said.
“Yes. Maybe they miscalculated our coordinates,” Georgia mused.
“Stop it already with the time travel theory. I think our fish is done. That Mik is a lifesaver. Catching all those fish with sticks is no mean trick.”
“Yes, and enough to feed everyone. Except of course the few complainers claiming they don’t like fish,” Cassie said.
“Oh, and don’t forget the two women who said they were allergic to fish. They’ll have nothing but the fruit to eat,” Georgia added.
“There’s not much of that left,” Jonas told them while pushing the fish onto a leaf using a stick. A flat rock had served as a frying pan.
“Tastes pretty good,” Cassie said. “Similar to halibut.”
“Fills up the holes, I guess,” Jonas said. He’d finished his portion already.
Georgia handed him what was left of hers. “Have the rest of mine, son. I’m not a big eater and you’ll need it for when you go trekking through that jungle.”
“Thanks, Georgia. Are you sure?” When she nodded, he quickly devoured the fish. “I’d give anything for a machete. It would make it much easier.”
“Didn’t bring mine to the club. It didn’t fit in my purse,” Cassie joked.
Jonas and Georgia laughed. “At least we can still find humor and laugh even though we’re in a horrible situation,” Georgia said.
“Okay, I’m going to call out for volunteers.” Jonas stood and walked to stand in the center of the groups. “Everyone! Listen! I’m looking for volunteers for a scouting party. I need young, able, fit men.”
Too many responded so Jonas had to pick. “A party
of six is enough, I think.”
“We could do two groups,” one man suggested. “If we take different directions, maybe one of us will luck out.”
“Good plan.” Jonas picked six more men and asked a man who looked to be in his early forties to be in charge of the second group. He introduced himself as Russell.
The ones that were left reluctantly went back to their spot on the beach.
“If any of you have pocketknives, anything you can use to make marks on the tree trunks to find our way back, or to cut stubborn foliage, it would help.” Several of the men already sitting on the beach hurried back with pocketknives. One even had a dagger and another had a jackknife. Jonas grinned and eyed the young man. Caramel skin, dreadlocks, though from what was left of his clothing, looked like he’d been well dressed. “What’s your name?”
“Tom Hellington.”
“Keep your knife, Tom, and come with me. That’s if you want to, of course.” He held the knife out to him.
“Hell, yeah. I’ll do anything to help.”
That caused a stir. Other men jumped up wanting to be in the scouting party. Jonas sighed. “If we don’t find anything today, we’ll switch and take turns each day. How’s that?” It seemed to satisfy them. He walked back to his camping spot. “I’m off, girls. Behave while I’m gone!”
“I want to go with you,” Cassie said, pouting.
“Cas, we don’t know what we’ll find. It could be dangerous, who knows. You stay here and keep everyone calm. Maybe get everyone fishing for our dinner tonight, and we need more wood for the fires. See you soon.”
* * * *
“I hope,” Cassie said softly as she watched the scouting party disappear into the jungle.
“He’s a big boy, dear,” Georgia said. “He can take care of himself.”
Deadly Passion, an Epiphany Page 6
