Savage Surrender

by Natasha Peters

  "Good. You're awake."

  The mist in front of my eyes cleared. I was inside the shack, lying on the floor under a window. The body was gone. A short candle was burning on a small table. Georgette was standing near the door. She was holding a pistol in her hand.

  "Arnold's gone to make arrangements," she said.

  "Water." I tried to sit up. Once again nausea swept over me. "Water, please."

  "Be still!" she barked. "You can sit up, but don't attempt to stand or I'll shoot you dead. Don't think I won't."

  "Oh, I wouldn't doubt it for a moment." I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. "Isn't that the whole idea? A nice double murder?"

  She smiled. "No. We have something even better in store for you. A really appropriate fate for a whore. I devised the idea some time ago and confided it to Arnold. He was enchanted by it."

  I swallowed. "Garth wouldn't approve of this," I said.

  "Garth! Ha! He won't even know. He's gone to Washington, my dear. He left last night, and he won't be home for a long, long time. Certainly no one would be surprised to learn that you ran away after killing your husband, least of all Garth. He told me about you. He laughed at you, Elise, when we were together. We laughed together. He said you were like a bitch in heat, that no man was big enough for you."

  I knew she was lying, but in my weakened state I half believed her. He had to come. He had said he would come. "You're a liar," I said.

  "Am I?" She gave a short dry laugh. "Don't you believe it. Garth loves me, Elise. He has always loved me, ever since we were children together. And I love him."

  "Is that why you've given him so many children?" I asked maliciously.

  "Hold your tongue! That—that couldn't be helped. And it never made any difference to him, I know it. You were just a temporary nuisance, Elise. I am the kind of wife he needs. I know what Garth wants out of life, and I know how to help him get it. I'm an asset to him, but you're the worst thing that could have happened to him at this point in his career. You're a scandal, a disgrace. You're vulgar and shameless! He's sorry he ever laid eyes on you!" Her tone was a crescendo of hatred.

  "You're pathetic," I said with a little laugh. "You're just angry because you aren't enough woman to hang on to him. Do you think he ever would have looked at me if you had been any kind of wife to him?"

  In two strides she crossed the room. She began to beat me around the head and neck with the pistol, screaming hysterically all the while. I fended off her blows and managed to aim a good, strong kick at her middle which sent her flying. She fell heavily. I jumped up and tried to snatch the pistol out of her hands. Then I heard a bumping noise on the porch. Arnold had returned.

  He rushed at me and threw me down, then held his pistol to my head while Georgette caught her breath and got to her feet.

  "Let me kill her now," the woman panted. "Let me—"

  "No!" Arnold held her back. "I know the temptation is very great, Georgette, but be patient. I promise you, my way is better. She'll suffer for it, you won't be disappointed."

  "No, it won't work," Georgette said. "She'll get away, she'll come back—"

  "I swear to you, you'll never see her again," said Arnold firmly. "Please, cousin, trust me." He turned to me. "You were very clever, weren't you, Elise? I see you obligingly packed your bags this morning, and I'll wager you even left a note. They'll find that note, and later today when they find Jacques they'll just assume you made good on your threats of yesterday. We all heard you, Elise. Even James would testify that you wanted your husband dead. They'll try and find you, but they never will. You'll be as good as dead, though. And I'll marry Colette and make La Rêve mine."

  "So you want La Rêve. That's all you've ever wanted, isn't it, Arnold? But you'll never be able to make it pay. You haven't the guts and the ambition."

  "Oh, Georgette will lend me some money from time to time until I get on my feet."

  "Why go to all this trouble?" I asked. "Why couldn't you just marry Colette, and you and Jacques could have lived happily together forever."

  He shook his head. "I didn't anticipate his marrying you, Elise. You nearly ruined it all. But now everything has fallen into place. Jacques is gone, La Rêve is mine if I want it, and you won't be around to cause trouble."

  Oh, God, I thought, he's mad, completely mad. "Quite an elaborate scheme," I remarked calmly.

  "It had to be," he said excitedly. "Georgette thought up the best part, I give her credit for that, even though she's sorry now and would much rather kill you. But I persuaded her with little difficulty that death was too good for you. You need—to suffer before you die. And so we compromised. You must appear to be dead, and we shall dispose of you so that you can never be traced. It's a difficult problem, but not insoluble if you know the right people. And Georgette does. She knows a lot of really evil people."

  "You're crazy, both of you."

  Georgette laughed. "Perhaps we are at that. Crazy with hatred for you. But don't say any more, Arnold. We don't want to spoil the surprise for Elise, do we?"

  Arnold's eyes flickered dangerously. "No. No, we don't." He checked his pocket watch. "Nearly four o'clock. We'll have to work fast. We still have a lot to do. Take off your clothes, Elise. Everything."

  "You're a disgusting animal, Arnold," I said through my swollen lips.

  "Why? Oh, you think I want to make love to you! No, my dear, not now. Strip, or I'll tear off your things piece by piece."

  I spat in his face and was rewarded by a forceful slap on the cheek. I sucked in my breath. Tears smarted in my eyes.

  "You're managing her very well, Arnold," said Georgette admiringly. "I could never have done all this. But then if it had been left to me I would have killed her, and that wouldn't have been nearly so much fun."

  Arnold hit me again, and I started to undress slowly. He wet his lips as he watched me, but he made no move to touch me. When I was wearing only my flimsy chemise I heard Arnold make a wheezing noise in his throat.

  Georgette sniggered. "Take off the chemise, slut. Arnold wants a better look. What do you think, Arnold? Would you like me to go outside for a few minutes?" She laughed crudely.

  I watched them both warily, hugging myself to cover my nakedness and to protect myself from his unexpected drooling lust. Georgette came over to me and ripped the chemise off my back. I gasped with fury and whirled to confront her, my clenched fists upraised. I struck her once in the face before Arnold threw himself on top of me and dragged me down. Georgette watched us wrestling and cried out gleefully.

  "Go ahead, Arnold," she urged feverishly. "Take her. What are you waiting for? What are you afraid of? You want the slut, you know you do. Go ahead, Arnold. Do it."

  I wriggled in his arms, hating the feel of his moist hands on my naked flesh. He cuffed me once again, so viciously that the room went completely black for a moment. He thrust his knees between my thighs and fell groaning on top of me, pushing his puny tool into me. He strained and sobbed in a kind of delirious fit. Through the fog of my pain and shame I could hear Georgette shouting encouragement, laughing excitedly, urging Arnold to hurry, hurry. The rough floor boards dug into my back. I tried to push him away but my arms had no strength.

  "Hurt her, Arnold," Georgette shrieked. "Make her scream!"

  Finally Arnold rolled away from me. He was panting and his eyes were bright and glazed. Suddenly Georgette was standing over me with her riding crop in her hands. She brought it down on my breasts and once again on my abdomen. I shrank away from her and drew my knees up to my chest, but her blows continued to rain down mercilessly on my back, my buttocks and my thighs. I swore that I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of screaming. The lash bit into my flesh, raising welts, drawing blood. I clenched my fists and bit my lips as pain enveloped me, and then, just when I thought I could stand it no longer and that I must cry out or go mad, something stayed her hand.

  "That's enough, Georgette," Arnold cried. He grappled with her. "Stop it, stop it before you kill her
."

  "I want to kill her!" Georgette roared. "I hate her! I hate her! She deserves to die!"

  "No, no! Stop! She'll pay, I swear it, Georgette. But we have work to do now, before it gets too dark to see properly. Please, do as I say."

  She leaned breathlessly against the wall of the cabin, her whip hanging uselessly at her side.

  "I'm glad I did that." She sounded exhausted but triumphant. "I'll remember for the rest of my life how good it felt. I only wish Garth had been here to see it and that I could have killed her."

  "My way is better," Arnold said briskly. "You'll see." He was in control of the situation again, and he bustled around the cabin in a sudden fury of activity. "Did you bring the things I asked for?"

  She nodded and went out of the cabin. In a moment she was back, carrying a shapeless bundle which she tossed at my feet. "Put these on," she ordered.

  I looked through them. A worn-out chemise, a torn petticoat, a faded muslin dress, a moth-eaten shawl that had once been a pretty lavender. No shoes, no stockings. A square of unhemmed fabric that was probably a head scarf. I dressed quickly, glad to be able to cover my nakedness.

  When I finished Arnold nodded approvingly. "Good. Very good, indeed, Georgette. Most convincing."

  "Yes, isn't she? We have to go now. Someone will remark on our absence, and La Rêve will be in an uproar over Jacques' death. We need to be home so that we can offer advice and comfort. Tie her up and we can go."

  "You don't have to come back tonight," Arnold told her. "I can do the rest myself."

  "Oh, but I want to come back." She smiled coldly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  She watched while Arnold bound my hands and feet and pushed me down in a corner, then she left the cabin. Arnold checked his handiwork carefully to see that I couldn't free myself, then he extinguished the candle and walked out of the cabin, closing the door tightly behind him.

  I strained futilely at the cords, but Arnold had done his work well and I quickly realized that I had no chance of escape. I screamed long and loud for help, even though I knew it was useless. No help came. The two conspirators had chosen their spot well, as well as the two lovers had the day before.

  I lay in that stinking cottage for the rest of the day. When darkness settled over the cabin I started fearfully at every sound, fully expecting them to return at any moment. Another darkness, like black despair, settled over my soul. I didn't know what they had planned for me; or perhaps I did know, deep in my heart and didn't have the courage to acknowledge my fears. I did not want to admit it, to say the words that might make it real. I shut my mind to everything but my own discomfort. I didn't think about anything, not even of Garth.

  Hours passed. My cramped arms and legs pained me terribly at first, then they grew numb and cold and began to ache with a deeper, more agonizing pain. I might have slept briefly. At last I heard a step outside the cabin and a beam of lantern light sliced through the darkness.

  "Still here?" It was Arnold. I blinked into the glare. He leaned over me and cut the cords that bound my feet. "Get up." He hauled me upwards until I was standing. The rush of blood to my limbs hurt me so that I whimpered and sank back down again. He cursed and kicked me.

  "Everything is all right?" Georgette had kept her promise. She had come back.

  "Fine. Our lady friend is finding it a little difficult to stand up."

  "Get her up," Georgette snapped. "I don't care how much it hurts." Arnold obeyed, pulling and prodding me until I stood, swaying and moaning. "Are we ready?"

  "Yes." Arnold tied a rag around my mouth and pushed me towards the door. I stumbled and fell to my knees. He pulled my hair until I stood again, and he shoved me along in front of him. The splintery boards on the porch pricked the soles of my feet as I moved along. The night was dark, moonless. A few crickets chirped in the undergrowth, and an owl hooted in the pines. We crossed the cane fields. The rough stubble from last year's crop cut into my feet like so many knife blades. Swinging dizzily, the lantern cast crazy shadows on the faces of my tormentors.

  We made our way towards the river road. When we reached the place where the drive to Highlands met the road we halted. Arnold extinguished the light. We were left with only a glimmer of starlight. We stood waiting, for what I didn't know. I felt cold and sick, and I knew that however terrible their treatment of me had been so far, the evening would surely bring even worse punishment. The whole day seemed like a deadly, terrifying dream. If only I could wake up.

  Georgette became nervous and impatient. "You're sure he knows where to come? He won't miss us?"

  "Of course not," said Arnold. "I know how to arrange things. Please give me a little credit for brains, dear Georgette. If you want to go home—"

  "No," she said stubbornly. "I'm staying. I'll stay until dawn if I have to."

  A light gleamed faintly in the distance. We fastened our eyes on it and watched as it drew closer. Soon we could hear the creak and rattle of wheels and the slow plodding of horses. An open wagon approached us, swimming in the pool of light from a lantern that hung from a post near the driver's seat. The light glowed eerily on our upturned faces when the wagon came to a halt. Georgette had deep shadows under her eyes and nose. She looked malevolent and powerful, the very embodiment of evil.

  "Put that light out," Georgette ordered the driver. "Do you want someone to see us?"

  My flesh crawled as I looked at him. I knew who he was. His name was Bose Niles and he was known to everyone in the vicinity as the Flesh Peddler. He made the rounds of the plantations every six months or so, looking for old, sick, or worthless slaves that no one else would buy. Some plantation owners who felt they couldn't afford to care for a slave who could no longer earn his keep would sell them to the Peddler for just a few dollars. A better bargain, they said, than paying for a coffin. He would be sure to recognize me. I had ordered him off La Rêve at gunpoint one day.

  The man drawled, "Well, Ma'am, it don't look to me like there's anyone around here to be seein' us anyways. Horse got to be able to look where it's going. Just calm down now. This won't take too long. This her?" He jerked his head at me. "Got her mouth all tied up, I see. She must be a talker."

  "She's a screamer," Arnold said quickly. "We didn't want to attract any undue attention, you understand. The land around here is fairly flat, and sound carries."

  "Sure, sure. Well, I won't let her have her say until we're far away from here." He reached behind him. "But right now I'll jest truss her up a little better." I could hear the dull clanking of chains. He held up some shackles. "These'll do, I reckon."

  I made an hysterical screeching noise back in my throat. Georgette chuckled. "Oh, I like them. Perfect, perfect. Put them on right now. At once."

  "Hold on to your hat, lady." Niles climbed down from the wagon and knelt in front of me. I danced and kicked at him as he tried to fasten the hideous bracelets around my ankles.

  Arnold cuffed me so hard that I fell backwards and struck my head on the hard ground. I lay stunned long enough for Bose Niles to lock the cold heavy rings around both legs. Then Arnold cut my bonds and dragged my hands around to the front. The stab of pain in my shoulders was excruciating. I felt the tears sliding down my face, soaking into the gag on my mouth. Then Niles manacled my hands with expert efficiency and dragged me to my feet.

  "'Course, the best way to do this is to have a 'smith fire the metal," he said conversationally. "But you folks probably know more about that than I do. You've owned a lot more than I'll ever see. Come on, Slave Gal." He led me towards the back of the wagon. I shuffled along slowly, unaccustomed to the weights on my wrists and legs. Arnold helped him lift me into the wagon. " She got a name?" the man asked Arnold.

  "Her name is Eliza," Arnold said a trifle stiffly. "She's—she's a quadroon from Haiti. We're getting rid of her because, well, because she's mad. She'll tell you a lot of strange things, but believe me, none of them is true."

  The Flesh Peddler laughed. "Doesn't matter to me. I don't care
none if she's crazy or not. Where she's goin' it might even help her some."

  At the word quadroon I started to scream, kick, and thrash. The shackles felt as though they were made of lead, and they seemed to be growing heavier by the minute. I panted and sobbed and almost choked on my own tears and mucus. After a moment I lay quietly at the bottom of the wagon, my energies spent.

  I heard Georgette's voice at my head. Looking up I could see her face peering at me over the side of the wagon. Her eyes were shining.

  "This is worth the Hell you've put me through," she said. "I hated you the first moment I saw you; no, from the first time I heard he had made you his whore. I could have killed you, you bitch. But Arnold was right. This is better, much better. You're a slave now, Elise. You'll live a slave and you'll die a slave, far from here. I'll never see you again, but I'll remember this night forever. Good-bye, Elise." The triumphant light of victory shone in her eyes. "I won't remember you to Garth. Too bad he can't be here."

  I rolled my head to the other side so that I wouldn't have to look at her. Absurdly, I thought that she must have been the kind of nasty little girl who liked to torture smaller creatures: insects, dogs and cats, younger children. She felt very superior to me tonight because she had tortured me successfully, and I was sure she would relish this triumph until she died. I was sorry that I could give her that satisfaction.

  The wagon rocked as Niles climbed up and released the brake. He bounced a sackful of coins in his palm.

  "Real nice doin' business with you folks," he said cheerfully. "If I'm ever back this way I'll look you up, hear?"

  He laughed heartily, then clucked his tongue at his horses. The wagon jerked into motion and the lantern bobbed. I fancied I could hear Georgette and Arnold laughing uproariously as I was driven away into the night.

  Chapter 14

  The Master

  The wagon jolted over a bump and I opened my eyes. The expanse of sky over my head was blue, broken by feathery tree tops. I struggled to sit up. Every bone, every tendon in my body throbbed painfully.