Bones by the Wood

by Johnson, Catherine

  Thea tried not to sigh as she followed the President’s wife over to the private corner. She sat down and waited for whatever was going to be thrown at her next. And oh great, because she was apparently going to have a conversation with the First Lady while she wasn’t wearing any panties. Thank God the dress was floor length. Thank the baby Jesus it wasn’t white.

  “I see you two got straightened out, cher.”

  Thea only shrugged. No way in hell would she elaborate on that.

  “I wanna know, cher. Where’s your boy’s father?”

  Thea gave Moira a hard look. Old lady or not, she was overstepping. “Did you ask Josh about his daddy?”

  “No. I’m askin’ you.” Moira’s response could be described as frosty at best.

  “His daddy don’t give a shit about him. Ain’t never tried to contact him, ain’t never ever sent so much as a card in ten years. Dizzy’s all the father Josh needs.”

  Moira’s eyebrows rose up her forehead at that statement, and then they dropped and her eyes narrowed. “If you let him, Dizz will always do his best by you and your boy. Question is, can you cope with his life? He will love you hard, cher, but this life is no joke. Can you cope if he gets put away? I did six years with two kids on my own while my husband served time. If you’re gonna take Dizzy’s ink, then you got to know that you can take what his life will throw at you. Do you know what it means? To have his ink?”

  “How did you...?” Jesus, Thea hoped the dorm room walls weren’t that fucking thin.

  “From the moment you waked in, cher. Just the fact that he brought you and your boy here at all.”

  Big sigh of relief. “I know it means I belong to him, that we’re together.”

  “It’s a bit more than that, cher. All us women, the Old Ladies, we have angels as our ink for our men, because that’s what we are. We’re their strength, we soothe them. We support them, we love them, we guide them – when they let us and sometimes without them knowin’. We watch over them. I admit, I wondered at first, whether a young thing like you can carry the burdens he’ll bring you, but I think you’ll manage, cher.”

  Well, it was a hell of a burden he’d handed her today, but Thea was convinced, despite what most people on the street would consider overwhelming signs to cut and run, that her place was forever by Dizzy’s side.

  “I can cope. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  “Good girl. You got any more babies in you, you think?”

  Oh hell no. The sudden and unexpected intrusiveness of that extremely personal question caught Thea off guard. Her jaw dropped before the wave of anger took her. She appreciated Moira’s direct attitude; she thought maybe she could be a good guide through this life. Thea had thought that she could see them getting along like she did with Annelle, but this would be where she told Moira to step the hell off.

  Thea focused all her anger into her words. “With all due respect, I know Dizzy thinks a lot of you, but that is none of your fucking business.”

  Moira threw her head back and laughed. “Oh I do like you, cher. You’ll do just fine.”

  “What’re you cacklin’ about?” Dizzy voice intruded from behind her. Thea’s head snapped around and she found him standing behind her, holding two bottles of beer.

  Chiz was just behind him. “She’s in the coven now, bro’. You’re well and truly fucked.”

  Thea took a large measure of comfort from the fact that Dizzy didn’t seem at all perturbed by that.

  The rest of the party passed in a crazy blur. Josh and Jenny were almost inseparable for the whole time. Thea kept an eye on them to make sure that they didn’t get in anyone’s way, but almost everyone, especially the largest people in the room, seemed to enjoy having them around. And it didn’t hurt that Scooby and Shaggy were obviously watching out, too. No one wanted to argue with those two walking mountains.

  When the children started to fade, Josh almost dropping asleep on his feet, Dizzy suggested that they head to the motel that the club had booked into for the night. Leaving the rest of the patches to step the party up a gear, Thea lifted Josh into the back seat of the truck, and with Dizzy following, headed out from the clubhouse.

  Dizzy checked them in, then carried Josh from the truck, into the family room that they were sharing. While she was waiting for him to be done at the desk, Thea experienced a disquieting unease that this might have been the motel from the article that Annelle had shown her. It could have been the very place that Elvis had died, where the man she was about to settle down to sleep with had killed half a dozen men.

  But if she was going to make a life with Dizzy, the life that she’d promised him, she had to let that thought go. So she did. And when she was lying in bed, with her head on Dizzy’s chest, listening to the regular thump of his heart, she couldn’t bring herself to find wrong in that decision.

  ~o0o~

  Several hours later, Thea woke, groggily, unsure as to what had disturbed her sleep. Until her bleary eyes cleared and focused on the ring of shadowy figures around the bed. She snapped awake and bolted upright, launching her face directly into the rag in the palm of an outstretched hand.

  The sound of her son’s name was muffled by the drug that was robbing her of consciousness. She helplessly flopped back down, unable to command her mind or her limbs. Through closing eyes she saw Dizzy, awake, in pain and bleeding.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pain screamed through Dizzy as the knife, heated to a dully luminescent red, was embedded in the skin of his arm.

  He would not scream.

  Would not.

  These bastards would not break him.

  Would not.

  Would not.

  Would not.

  He could only hope that Thea and Josh were okay.

  Hope.

  Hope.

  Hope...

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She was awake, she thought.

  Josh?!

  Focus! Goddamn. She couldn’t fucking see! What had the shadows done to her?

  The fog was clearing. She blinked and blinked again. Adrenaline began pumping through her.

  Josh?

  “Mama?”

  Oh sweet Christ, he was there.

  Where was there?

  She blinked and shook her head, shaking the fog away.

  Oww! Jesus. Sledgehammers pounded in her skull.

  “Joh....” She coughed. Her mouth was bone dry. She had to speak, had to let him know she was okay, that she was awake.

  “Josh.” She had razor blades in her throat and cotton in place of her tongue.

  “Mama? What’s happenin’, Mama?”

  Oh God, he sounded so scared, so young. She needed to hug him, to make it better. She had to move, had to... wait. She couldn’t move. What the… ?

  Oh shit. Oh shit. She was tied to a chair.

  Thea shook her head again. Finally the fog cleared. The sledgehammers were still pounding.

  Oh Holy Christ. This was bad. So very, very bad.

  “I’m scared, Mama.”

  Her heart was lying in a bloody puddle in her chest, and her soul was going to hell. She’d failed to keep her boy safe.

  Thea’s vision finally cleared fully, although the pain in her head and her desperate need for water was making her thoughts muddy.

  She looked over at Josh. He was pale and terrified. He was shaking like a leaf despite the fact he was tied securely to a wooden straight-backed chair. As she was. But he wasn’t bruised and he wasn’t bleeding. Small mercies.

  Where were they? She had no fucking clue. They were in a small room. It smelled of damp. Paint that might have been any color in its past life was peeling in huge flakes off every wall. The brick ceiling was arched with a tiny sky light in the middle, which was crossed with two thick metal bars. Sunlight attempted to filter into the miserable space. How long had she been unconscious for? How long had she been out of it while her boy was sitting there awake and scared? She’d failed him. She wanted to vomit that know
ledge onto the floor.

  “Mama, what’s goin’ on?”

  She was going to fail him again, because she didn’t have a fucking clue.

  “I don’t know, bud. I don’t know.”

  “Where’s Dizzy?”

  Where was Dizzy? They were the only two people in the room, in the cell. That’s what it was, a fucking cell. Where was Dizzy? The last time she’d seen him he’d been bleeding and trapped, unable to help them. Where was he? What was happening to him? She listened, so hard she thought her ears were going to grow out on stalks. Nothing. She couldn’t hear a fucking thing. No screams. Was that a good sign? Or was it that the walls were just that thick? Or was he dead? Oh God. She couldn’t think that. She mustn’t think that. She had to have hope. But how the fuck could she have hope when she was tied to chair in a fucking cell?

  “Have you seen him, bud?”

  “No. I woke up here, like this. My head hurts, Mama. I need a drink and I need to pee.”

  “I know, bud. My head hurts, too. You’re just gonna have to hold on, though, bud. I don’t know how we’re gonna get out of this, but we’ll find a way. I’ll find us a way.”

  She was lying to him. She couldn’t see a fucking way out. But she had to believe she could find one. Unless whoever had put them here intended to leave them to rot. Oh please, don’t let that be the case. She couldn’t watch her boy die that way. Then the horrifying thought hit her that that might be the merciful option. Oh God no! She couldn’t think that way. She mustn’t think that way. She needed to be strong. She had to keep her wits about her. She had to look for an opening. She had to be strong.

  Her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. She tested the ropes at her wrists. Not tight enough to cut off her circulation, but firm. She took stock of her body. From head to toe she did a mental inventory of how she felt. Whatever they’d drugged her with was the worst of it. She didn’t think she’d been hurt in any way while she’d been unconscious. She was still wearing the camisole and shorts set she’d gone to sleep in. The air in the cell was cool. She shivered. She hadn’t been violated. Small mercies.

  As if thinking about it had been a signal, her body began to protest at the position it had been put in for so long. The aching seemed to take over every limb. No. She couldn’t let it, had to block it out. Fuck it hurt. Tough shit. She needed to be strong.

  She worked her wrists and felt the rough hemp abrade her skin. She was already getting rope burn. She would work until she bled if it was their only chance out of this fucking horror.

  “Can you get your wrists loose, bud?”

  “No, Mama. My arms hurt.”

  “I know, bud. I know. Can you, like, hop the chair around so I can see your wrists? Maybe we can get you untied.”

  She coughed. Every word was ripping her dry throat to shreds.

  “I’m scared, Mama. What if someone comes?”

  “We need to get out of here, bud. We can’t do that tied to chairs. We’re gonna have to take the risk.”

  She hopped her own chair around to demonstrate, rubbing the skin from her wrists and ankles in the process. She could feel the skinned flesh begin to weep. Now she could see the other wall. The one with a door in it. The door was solid. There was no way to tell if someone was outside waiting for signs of life from within. No way to tell if they’d been left, if they’d been abandoned to die.

  Josh jumped his chair in a circle. Thea could see the knots binding his thin wrists. She wriggled her fingers. She didn’t have a great deal of movement, but she had to try. She started to hop and shuffle her chair over to her son. If nothing else, she could touch him, try to hold his hand. If nothing else, they would have that. She reached him, but misjudged the distance since she was moving blindly and nearly sent them both crashing over to the floor. Josh let out a little squeal of terror, but they got righted again. Thea started to work at the knots at his wrists. And that was when the door opened.

  A man walked into the room and Thea’s heart sank. He easily had inches of height on her and at least a hundred pounds. His face was lined, weather-beaten and cruel. His long, scraggly hair was tied in a rough ponytail.

  “Ah, you are awake.”

  He had an accent. A thick accent. Oh shit. Across the border. The photo. The body parts. The lockdown. The bad men that Dizzy had promised they were safe from. He’d been wrong, so very, very wrong.

  “Come on, puta. You’re coming with me.”

  He untied her wrists. She had a chance. She had to try. She struck out... and he backhanded her across the face so hard and so fast that she spun and hit the floor, hard, to the sound of Josh’s scream. All her breath had been knocked out of her, but she forced her arms to work. She tried to scramble up, tried to ignore the pain in her face and the renewed pounding in her head, but she was fuzzy and slow. The man laid a meaty hand on her shoulder and dragged her up. She tried to struggle, but it was like being in a jar of molasses. He caught her wrists and re-tied them. Tight. She’d failed again.

  She caught the immediate scent of ammonia and looked for the source. Josh’s bladder had given way to his panic. Her poor boy. Her poor, poor boy. She was being dragged out of the room. No! She needed to stay. She needed to protect her child. Her little boy was beyond terrified. She couldn’t leave him. She struggled again. The big man dropped his hold on her arms, just long enough to punch her in the gut. Josh screamed again as any air left in any pocket of her body whooshed out. The man slammed the door shut with a resounding metallic clang.

  No, the walls were not that thick. She could hear Josh screaming for her all the way down the corridor that she was being dragged along.

  “Don’t worry, puta. We’ll take good care of your boy.”

  Even if she could have made her lungs work she would have been unable to breathe. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. They were going to hurt her boy. And there was nothing she could do about it. She would offer herself for anything, any pain, anything, sure death, anything if they would just let Josh go.

  She realized she was saying as much, gasping and panting the words as stumbled over her stubbornly numb bare feet.

  “No chance, puta. We have plans for you all.”

  They were going to die. They were going to suffer. Josh was going to know pain and terror, more so than he already had, and it was her fault. She had failed him.

  She had to calm her heart. Had to. It was beating so hard. She was going to have some sort of fucking event. She was going to pass out, but she couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t...

  The man pushed open another cell door. The smell of the damp, which invaded the corridor as much as it had their cell, and which had been fighting with the rank stench of the man’s body odor, gave way to the tang of roasted meat. What the fuck? What were they grilling?

  And then she saw.

  Dizzy

  He was tied to a chair, as she had been, but his chair had armrests. His wrists were tied to the armrests. He was wearing only his jeans, not even his boots. His upper body, his arms, his face, all of his exposed skin was a gut-wrenching awfulness of wounds, of burns, cuts and bruises. Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.

  He was struggling to open one swollen, bruised and bleeding eye at the sound of the door opening. The other was swollen completely shut, a mass of black-tinged purple and blood. She knew he’d seen her when he started to struggle against the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

  “Josh? Where’s Josh?”

  Dizzy’s voice was thick and slurred through his split and bruised lips.

  “He’s...”

  The man, the guard, her jailor, backhanded her again. Pain exploded through the side of her face. The blow sent her back down to the floor. She landed awkwardly, unable to break her fall with her bound hands. Thea spat out the blood that had gushed into her mouth, and a tooth came out with it.

  Dizzy roared.

  Another man entered the room through the still-open door. If the first guard had looked cruel, then this man was soulless. He was of a similar stature
, but his black hair was cropped close and he had a beard just around his mouth. Thea saw that the second man was carrying a gun. Were they going to be shot now? Were they going to shoot her in front of Dizzy? Were they going to shoot Dizzy in front of her? They couldn’t kill her. She’d promise anything. They couldn’t shoot her. She had to find a way to save her boy.

  There was something wrong with the weapon he was holding. It looked like an evil, black gun at first glance, but at second glance she saw that the barrel was thick and square. What the fuck? Oh Jesus, what was going to happen to them? Thea spat more of her blood onto the floor.