by A. R. Ford
The hike from the mountains made her legs burn. Walking was easier when they reached the flatlands. Before the sun rose high in the sky, Luca led his captive into Arkala.
Rusted, burned out cars and buses formed a barrier around the decaying town. Men with weapons stood guard in towers sprinkled along the town’s outskirts. Crumbling asphalt and concrete formed the spidery remains of once-thriving streets.
A building marked with a scrawled General Store sign was their first stop. Luca laid a crumpled list written in block letters on the counter. The grey-haired clerk picked up the list and gathered items from shelves. By the time he was finished, a mound of supplies littered the counter. He handed the list back to Luca who paid with a few crumpled bills and coins.
Nyssa hefted the weight of the pack experimentally. It would make for slow going but she was determined to succeed. The supplies could mean their survival. Luca led her toward another ramshackle building with rotting siding. A crooked, scrawled sign bore the word Saloon.
She followed Luca without question, remaining a few steps behind him. The interior smelled of cigars, sweat, and decay. He stopped at the bar. Two coons slapped on its polished surface brought two mugs of beer to Luca. He pushed a frothy mug of beer into her hand. She took one drink of it and nearly vomited at taste of the bitter, thick foam.
A table of men sat in a corner. The whisper of cards shuffled and dealt attracted her attention. Coin jingled, the men bid, cards were collected and dealt. It was a familiar game. Luca drank not only his beer but hers as well when it remained untouched.
One of the men saw the direction of her gaze. He beckoned, smiling, “Come on over. We’ve got a friendly game going if you have the coin.”
Her stomach roiled at the thought of gambling. A silent prayer to whatever deity existed in the skies above filled her mind, a prayer that Luca would not accept the request. Of course, he accepted, her eyes flashing a warning that was ignored. The men moved aside when the mountain of flesh and bone moved toward the table. Their eyes shifted nervously from one to the other as if communicating some silent message.
“My friend here likes to gamble.” Luca pressed a handful of coins into her hand. “I’ll watch if that’s okay.” None of the men argued. Luca took the pack from her back, holding it easily in his paw.
She slid into the seat, coins clinking on the table. “Texas hold ‘em. It’s one of those games from way back when,” the dealer grinned.
The dealer dealt the cards with the fluid ease of a practiced card player. Nyssa took the cards, glanced at them, then opened the connection to the minds around the table.
She won the first hand with two pair. The second hand she lost on purpose. It was a common tactic that helped her avoid suspicion. The third, fourth, and fifth hands she won easily. The other players broadcast their hands with twitches, blinking eyes, and other tells she had gleaned over time. There was little need to use the power of her mind to win.
Nyssa folded on the sixth hand after Luca’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. He collected the winnings with a nod.
When she turned to leave the table, a wave of nauseating darkness washed over her mind. Cinnamon. She knew without seeing the woman that she was near. A high heel’s tap on the stairs alerted Luca to Cinnamon’s presence. Nyssa immediately sensed the change in the cerebral energy pulsating through the room.
Cinnamon was dressed in a gaudy, red satin dress with a low bodice. Ample breasts came close to spilling out of the minimal fabric meant to hold her bosom. Bright circles of red dotted each cheek. An equally bright red smeared across her lips. Crimson hair was caught up in some odd hairdo that perched atop her head. The overwhelming aroma of cheap perfume filled the air.
“Luca. It’s about time you came to town to see me,” Cinnamon drawled. She took a draw of an elongated cigarette held between two fingers. The acrid smoke trailed upward from her nostrils. It reminded Nyssa of smoke from a dragon’s maw.
Luca took Cinnamon’s hand and led her up the stairs. An icy glance at her with a motion of his chin indicated she should follow. Nyssa did so on legs that turned wooden and stiff. She knew what was going to happen. A room at the end of the hallway swallowed them up. A bolt was thrown to prevent anyone from interrupting.
“Who’s your friend?” Cinnamon murmured with a glance in Nyssa’s direction.
“Just some orphan I took to raise. None of your concern.” Luca placed the packs on the floor. He opened a side pocket, retrieving two sets of shackles. “In the closet,” he commanded Nyssa.
Her heart froze in place at the sight of the shackles. Afraid of retribution, she numbly went where he told her to go. The cold steel clamped shut on her wrists, caressing the gnarled network of scars. Luca muttered as a second pair of shackles found their way onto her ankles. The door closed, the twist of a lock enclosing her in the dark prison. She struggled against the shackles briefly until the agonizing bite became too much to bear.
Nyssa curled into a ball as the sound of the debauchery taking place in the room filtered through the door. Rivers of tears poured down her cheeks when the bedsprings squeaked rhythmically. What they shared at night, in the dark, meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to him. The agonizing realization hit home with deadly precision and impact.
Cinnamon’s foul words added insult to injury. The river eventually dried up. She found a safe place in her head, somewhere no one would find her. Luca was no different than the Snake Eyes. They used her just as he had. The painful realization came before darkness pulled her into its welcoming grasp.
Chapter 4
Luca
The late start back to the cabin meant they would be spending a night camped in the woods. Luca cursed himself for being sucked into Cinnamon’s spell again. There was no need in using Cinnamon now, not when he had the girl. The girl gave him more pleasure than Cinnamon ever had. And yet he fell into Cinnamon’s trap again
Cinnamon lay on her back snoring. Luca stood and dressed before fetching the packs.
He unlocked the closet door. He was surprised to find the girl asleep, curled into a corner. He shook her awake, a finger at his mouth indicating the need for silence.
Had he bothered to pay attention, the change in Nyssa’s demeanor would have been apparent. The need to escape Cinnamon’s lair made him overlook the obvious change.
Once the shackles were removed, he stuffed them into the pack. He led Nyssa down the stairs, along the crumbling street, and out of town. She stumbled along at his heels without a word.
They stopped briefly to rest and rehydrate. The instant his eyes fell on her face, he knew something was wrong. The chocolate eyes were flat and lifeless, gazing at the ground without blinking. She didn’t drink water when offered.
“Nyssa? What ails you,” he queried, a hand reaching out to touch her wrist. The instant he did, it became apparent she had struggled against the shackles on her wrists. Blood wet his fingers from old scars opened anew.
Her silence brought with it a great sense of unease twisting in his gut. There was no time to falter or force her to tell him the problem. The need to get closer to the cabin before nightfall urged him on.
When the sun lingered a finger’s width above the horizon, he searched for a cave where they could spend the night. Nyssa sat without moving inside the shelter while he gathered wood for a fire. He pulled the pack from her back after the fire licked hungrily at dry wood.
Jerky served as their dinner. He ate while watching Nyssa hold the piece of jerky between two fingers without apparent interest. She passively refused water, eyes gazing into the flames. The unease in his gut twisted and grew larger. It demanded he explore the reasons for his captive’s sudden change of demeanor.
Sleeping bags spread on the ground, he curled an arm around her, pulling her close as was their habit. The usual clutch of her fingers at his wrist did not come.
After several hours of uneasy sleep, Nyssa bolted upright with a choked cry. Luca caught her arm, “What is it?” She did
not speak, instead a finger pointed into the darkness. “Someone is out there?”
The finger trembled but remained as before. “Stay here, don’t come out regardless of what you hear or see.”
Luca left the warmth of the cave. Accustomed to life in the wood, his footsteps barely made a sound. A stand of laurel near the cave’s mouth provided an excellent hiding place. The razor-sharp Bowie knife always carried in a sheath at his side found its way into a meaty fist. The other hand clutched a rock he nearly tripped over. Crouched as any apex predator would, Luca simply waited for whoever was foolish enough to think they could rob or attack him.
Whispers broke the eerie silence as it stretched taut. Luca recognized both voices. Men from the card table in the saloon, no doubt come to recoup their losses. The first man appeared at the cave’s mouth. He peered inside and grinned with yellow teeth bared. “There he is. We’ll get the money back. The big one must’ve left already.”
The man turned toward his partner but froze with a look of horror as the Bowie knife thunked into the center of his chest. He went down hard as blood poured from the wound, eyes going flat.
Luca dove from the laurels straight at the second man. A massive arm caught and held him as the rock came down hard. It broke his head open like a ripe melon.
Luca retrieved the Bowie knife from the first man’s chest. He made sure to wipe the blade clean on the man’s clothing before returning it to the sheath.
A glance inside the cave revealed Nyssa staring into the fire, unphased by what had just happened. Luca dragged the corpses away from the cave’s entrance to a cliff not far away. The thud of the bodies on the rocks below was oddly satisfying. No one tried to rob or attack him and lived to tell the tale.
He returned to the cave, a hand pushing Nyssa back to the sleeping bag before his arm circled her waist. He slept little the remainder of the night. Her soft breathing indicated she slept. The next morning he broke camp, put out the fire, and held Nyssa’s hand as he led her along the path toward the cabin. Nothing had changed since yesterday.
Once inside the cabin, Luca kindled a fire and emptied the packs. A pot of coffee and skillet of meat were pushed near the flames when they roared high in the hearth.
Nyssa sat unmoving in the chair. Her silence was unnerving. The dead look in her eyes even more so. She refused to eat but drank coffee when he put a cup in her hand.
He cleaned and dressed the wounds on her wrists. She did not flinch or pull away when peroxide burbled as it routed out infection.
“Nyssa, what ails you?”
Twice he had asked. Each time no answer came, leaving him confused and conflicted. He did the only thing he knew to do. He stripped her, removed his clothing, and attempted to mount her. The change was instantaneous.
One second she was motionless and silent, the next she became a raging hellion who screamed like a mountain lion. Tiny fists pounded against his body.
Luca took the blows without a word or any retribution. He knew the tryst with Cinnamon was the cause of the change when the hail of blows ended, and Nyssa lay motionless on the bed.
He held her close, one hand stroking her face and stubbles of silky hair. An uncharacteristic fear grew inside him.
Fighting he knew. Survival he knew. The land he knew. Broken spirits he did not know. For once in many years, Luca was at a loss. Nyssa was broken. He did not know how to put her together again.
*****
Nyssa
The dead space within her mind beckoned the instant the closet door closed. Awareness of the world faded the instant the dead space sucked her in. Numbness. Detachment. It all felt good and right.
Nyssa knew the alien emotion she felt for Luca would never be realized. She was a thing, a possession to be used and discarded.
Never would she allow him to pull her in again. He stroked and nurtured something within her that destroyed her heart. Just as she knew it would weeks ago.
An occasional clarity came. In those moments she realized it was better this way. Men like Dreven and Luca only knew how to take. Broken pitchers could hold no water. Never would he care for her in the way she cared for him. And back to the darkness she would go.
The hulking brute spoke in words she did not understand. Sustenance was offered and refused. There would be no need for it where she now lived.
Only when he stripped her did the dead space recede. A glimpse of his thick, angry cock weeping with arousal sickened her. And so, she fought. Feral rage fueled the gnat-like blows that drew blood. He was shocked at her reaction. Icy blue eyes reflected the knowledge.
For the first night since she arrived, the man-mountain simply held her against his body and slept. Nyssa welcomed the shrouded grasp of sleep. It was the solitary, peaceful abode her heart and soul now craved.
*****
Luca
Unrest grew within Luca through the next few weeks. Nyssa sat where he told her to sit. She performed any normal task he asked. She rarely drank, and never ate even if he tried to force the food into her mouth. She fought like a wildcat if he tried to mount her.
Once he found her sitting on the ground outside the cabin, oblivious to the damp ground. An area of dirt lay exposed, leaves brushed away. Her face and hands were smeared with dirt. A stick clutched in one hand scratched at the ground.
He knelt beside her, curiously gazing at the earth. Three words had been scrawled in the dirt.
I am nothing.
“You are something, Nyssa,” he whispered.
Nothing I become.
“You are mine.”
Broken wheels no longer turn.
“I’m sorry, Nyssa. I broke you. Didn’t I?” He caught her hand, unsurprised when she broke free.
Furiously scratching in the dirt, Nyssa eradicated the words. The stick crumbled in her hands before falling to the ground.
Failure was not an option. He tried again, altering the tactics.
“Open.” Easy enough. Nyssa opened her mouth, vacant eyes staring right through him. He put a fork full of diced meat into her mouth. “Close.” A rush of hope came when she closed her mouth without question. “Chew.”
She refused, simply holding the pieces of meat in her mouth. When he tried forcing her mouth closed, she fought with fists and teeth and nails. She escaped when he shrank away in surprise and ran out the door to vomit by a tree.
This was not how he planned for things to go after Nyssa came stumbling into his camp that night. The instant he saw the chocolate eyes, the lean body, and heard the things she knew about him, he swore to keep her. It was not fear of betrayal. The need for a mate, a partner, rose high within him. It choked out the usual precautions and strategies that kept him safe after leaving the resistance.
Luca was certain the tryst with Cinnamon was the catalyst for the sudden change. His head hung as the realization burned like fire through his heart.
Setting the plate of meat aside, Luca cupped her face in his hands, fingers stroking the cheekbones. “I need you, Nyssa. I’m sorry about Cinnamon. It won’t happen again.”
A flicker of something came in the depths of chocolate eyes. The flat, lifeless gaze returned. “Stand up. Time for a bath.”
Even the warmth of the water or the gentleness with which he cleansed her hair and body did nothing to rouse a reaction. He did not linger on her breasts or between her legs. Any touch with a sexual purpose roused a blistering rage in her.
In the past weeks he had suffered a black eye and more than one bloody lip from the tiny, flailing fists. She had resorted to using her feet and legs as well. He had no desire to feel the agony of a knee to the groin again. Words and gentle touch were the only things she responded to at all.
“We’re going to see a friend tomorrow. One-Eyed Jack and his wife, Mary. They live west of here. Will you try to drink a cup of broth? You need the energy for the walk, Nyssa.” He sighed when her eyes remained unchanged.
He felt the faintest flickering inside his head. A gentle, teasing touch that
only Nyssa could give. A vision of a rose appeared in his mind. It trembled in the wind. The sun’s warmth encouraged petals to open until its beauty astounded him. Shimmering drops of rain fed the flower. The sun’s rays returned, harsh and blinding, falling on the fragile blossom’s petals until it shriveled and died.
“No!” he roared, hands catching and holding her arms. “You won’t die. I. Won’t. Let. You.”
Nyssa’s head fell back, throat working until a burst of hysterical laughter poured forth. She laughed, body jerking with the effort, until tears poured from her eyes. The laughter ended as quickly as it began, plunging him once again into tormented silence.
“Tomorrow,” he promised. “Mary can fix you.”
The trek to One-Eyed Jack’s cabin took less than an hour. Luca knew time passed although he had no watch. The resistance had ingrained a sense of time into his mind, one that remained. Wake at 0500. Breakfast at 0600. Formation at 0700. Mission briefs 0800. Lunch at 1200. Dinner at 1800. Lights out 2200. He lived life along the same lines, varying slightly only when making supply runs, scavenging, or visiting with the few friends he had.
One-Eyed Jack and his wife Mary sat on the front porch of their cabin. Luca had helped the man with the cabin after the old codger repaired a gun for him. The flowing white beard reached almost to his navel now. White hair hung past his shoulders. A piercing blue eye set beneath a shaggy brow looked out at the world. The other would barely open. Scar tissue from a wound that almost took the eye kept the eyelid mostly closed. On rare occasions, Jack would open the scarred eyelid, allowing the rheumy eye within to become visible.
Mary sat at Jack’s side in a rocking chair. Equally white hair flowed past her buttocks and was often braided. She dressed as pioneer women from olden times did, wearing a full-length dress, preferring to go barefoot. Today Mary had shoes on her feet, no doubt prompted by the chill that hung in the air.
Jack raised a hand when he saw Luca, a grin splitting his face. “Luca! It’s been weeks since you dropped by. Who’s your friend?”
