“I need the bathroom!" she called, squeezing her buttocks together to keep from soiling herself. "Please! Oh, please hurry!" After several agonizing minutes, the door was flung open.
“Come on. Get your ass up!” Gina was in a black mood. She grabbed Brook’s arm in a rough grip and yanked her to her feet. “I’m not your fucking slave, you know.”
Brook stumbled into the bathroom. She had barely seated herself when the diarrhea started. Helpless to stop it, Brook endured the humiliation. Gina made retching noises and glared at her with disgust, finally backing up to wait in the hallway.
When Brook was finished, she cleaned up as well as she could with tissue. As she stood to flush the toilet, her legs shook and her backside burned. Through the tiny bathroom window, Brook could see nothing but darkness. In just a few hours, her world had disappeared and she had been plunged into a nightmare. She moved to the sink while Gina glared at her from the doorway. Turning on the tap, she lathered her hands with a sliver of grimy soap. Then, she splashed her face with cool water, and drank from her cupped and trembling hands.
She hardly recognized her own face in the mirror. Clark had always told her how pretty she was. He'd be shocked if he could see her now. She hungered to feel his comforting arms around her. To be cradled, protected. The longing turned into a soft sadness inside her as she realized he’d probably never hold her again.
Gina hit the door with the palm of her hand, startling Brook. “Turn off the fucking water and move your ass. I ain’t got all day.”
“Can I have a cloth to clean up with?” Brook was shamed by the groveling note in her voice as she begged for the privilege of doing something she’d always taken for granted.
“Oh, for Christ's sake! No, you can't wash up. Damn, you're a pain in the ass. Get on back across the hall and leave me the hell alone.” Gina shoved Brook into the hall, but instead of obediently entering the bedroom, Brook turned and dashed toward the rear of the house, bouncing off the walls of the narrow passage until she came to an open door on the right. Behind her Gina bellowed in anger, but Brook didn’t slow. She raced for the window and thanked God when it opened on the first try. No screen hindered her way, and she slipped like an eel through the opening, dropped to the ground, and raced for nearby trees.
The backdoor of the house banged open and coarse laughter rang out, not the response Brook was expecting. There were a few mumbled commands, but she couldn't make out the words.
Dashing from tree to tree, Brook drew in ragged breaths, trying to look in all directions at once. From her left came Pete’s voice. “Little bunny, where you hopping off to?” His tone was mocking, completely unconcerned.
Then, to Brook's horror, a second voice came from the right. “BrooklynBridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. BrooklynBridge is falling down, and Benny’s gonna land on top of her.” His musical abilities left a lot to be desired, but his message was clear. They were toying with her. Brook stopped, holding her breath, and listened.
Where are they?
She couldn’t hear a thing except the pounding of her heart in her ears.
Then, Benny stepped from behind the tree she was using for shelter and wrapped his arms around her. “Gotcha!”
Brook freaked. She fought like a wild woman and if Pete hadn’t shown up to help, she would have caused severe damage to Benny. As it was, she left several claw marks on his arms and red marks on his face and neck. Pete simply enfolded her against his chest, trapping her arms at her sides. He lugged her back to the house where Jase sat on the rear steps smirking.
“Give the bitch back to Gina and tell her to do the job right this time or I’ll have to teach her how.” Jase instructed.
Red marks stood out against Gina’s ashen face. Livid, she hurried Brook back to the bedroom and shoved her inside. "I wish you were dead," she growled. "Just where the fuck did you think you were goin' anyway? We’re in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere! It’s your fucking fault Jase slapped me around. Pete’s such a pussy sometimes. I can’t believe he didn’t stand up for me. I fuckin' hate you!” Gina slammed Brook with her forearms, knocking her onto the mattress. Shivering, Brook grabbed the stained sheet and wrapped it around her nakedness, keeping her gaze glued to Gina all the while.
Gina's eyes roved the room and fell on the torn garments scattered about the floor. Swooping down, she grabbed them and stormed out, bellowing, “Are you guys out of your mind? Do you know how expensive these clothes are? I would have loved….” Her voice trailed off as she moved away from the room.
Minutes later Brook heard the small ding of a microwave. The smell of food reached her, but did not stimulate her appetite. She listened to her captors through the thin walls as they talked around mouthfuls of what smelled to her like popcorn and pizza. No one offered her anything to drink or eat, which was fine with her. She didn’t think she would be able to keep anything down, even if someone shoved food in her mouth. But, the point was well taken that she would not be fed. Her life was to be forfeited. Once the initial rush of adrenaline drained away, Brook became aware of pain flaring in her feet. Her barefoot rush into the wilderness had left cuts and bruises on her soles. She rubbed them gently against the mattress. They were just more injuries to add to the list.
Darkness descended. Lightning flashed outside the window and thunder boomed, startling her. The lights in the room blinked off and then came back on. Brook pulled the blankets closer. Wiggling down between the mattress and the wall, she tried to become as small as possible. Following another loud crack of thunder, the lights went off and stayed off. Crazy patterns crawled around the room; dazzling brightness alternated with menacing shadows. Rain cascaded between the bus and the window. The storm sounded as if it were in the room with her, surrounding her, cursing her.
She wept. Her mind raced frantically away from thinking about what she had just endured. She pushed away even thoughts of Clark because the yearning for him hurt so much she could not bear it. Riding waves of pain, she let the tears flow until there were no more to tears to cry.
After a while the house grew quiet. Brook crept painfully to the door and pulled it open a crack, listening. Hearing nothing but the rain outside, she eased into the hallway and tiptoed towards the living room. Lightning illuminated the room for a long moment, and she could see Pete and Gina sleeping on the fold-out couch. Their bed filled the small room; she would have to go across it to reach the door.
Carefully, moving mere inches at a time, Brook stepped onto the mattress, swaying slightly to retain her balance. She had only taken two small steps when fingers wrapped around her ankle.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Pete’s voice came from the dark.
Brook yelped, jerked her leg free, and fell across the bed and onto the floor. Jumping to her feet she yanked the front door open and darted outside, only to be grabbed around the waist by Pete. “Noooo!” she screamed into the pouring rain.
Pete dragged her back inside although she fought him with all her strength. Jase, awakened by the ruckus, appeared in the living room. Pete threw Brook into his arms. “Bitch almost got away.” Grabbing a flashlight from the table, he filled the room with wobbly light. He headed for the bathroom and returned, drying himself with a towel.
“I’ll be damned.” Jase held her tightly by the upper arms. “No way did I think she’d try again, especially not so soon." He hollered down the hallway. “Benny!”
A minute later, Benny appeared, hair sticking on end and eyes droopy with sleep. “What? What the fuck is going on?”
“The bitch tried to get away.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“You brought her here; she’s your responsibility. You’re gonna crash on the floor outside her room.”
“Fuck that. Fucking tie her up or something.” Benny turned away.
In a single move, Jase shoved Brook aside and grabbed Benny by the throat. “Don’t give me no shit. You do what I say or you’ll
never
do
nothing
. You understand?”
Benny choked. “Sure, Jase. I’ll do it. But how about I just sleep
with
her?”
“Damn straight you’ll
do it
, and no, you won’t sleep with her. You fucked up by bringing her here; you’ll sleep on the fucking floor. You’re on fucking guard duty, you stupid dick.”
Before Jase returned Brook to her prison, he stared intently at the cowering woman. “Let me give you a little advice. You don’t want to try running off again. You see, I got me a brand new chainsaw and I’ve been faunching at the bit to try it out. I bet it would slice through your legs like a fucking hot knife through butter. How far do you think you could run without any feet? You just keep that there in mind.” He looked at Benny and then at Brook. “Now don’t be causing Benny no trouble or I might have to cut something off of him too.”
He glared at Benny as he shoved Brook through the doorway. “Tomorrow, you put a fucking lock on this door. I don’t want to be woke up again.”
Jase moved down the hallway toward his own room.
Cursing, Benny tossed the couch cushions onto the floor outside the bedroom. He slammed the door closed, mumbling, “Should have dumped the bitch before. Should have shot her in the fucking head.” Before long, he began to snore.
Brook crept back onto the filthy mattress and burrowed under the edge. She pulled it up over her body, finding comfort in the weight, a sort of security she did not feel on top of the mattress. As the storm raged outside the window, she cried silent tears.
Her mind in a frenzy, she envisioned breaking the window with the chair, squeezing between the bus and the side of the house, and dropping to the ground. Running. But logic told her the plan wouldn’t work. There couldn’t be more than six inches of space. Even if she was able to make it out the window, she would more than likely become wedged, trapped. She wouldn't put it past these monsters to leave her there until she perished.
In another fantasy she imagined breaking the window, wrapping the broken shards of glass in a torn up piece of sheet for a handle, and stabbing her way to freedom, jabbing, slicing. Jase would be the first she would cut. She would watch his blood flow over her wrist and hand, relish the look of surprise on his face. But she soon recognized the lunacy of that plan as well. They would kill her for sure. Probably with the same piece of glass. Weighing heaviest on her mind was Jase's threat to use a chainsaw on her. Brook pulled her knees to her chest, held her feet in her hands, and imagined him cutting them off. There was no doubt in her mind he was cruel enough to do it.
Panic sent her into a quiet hysteria. After an indeterminate time, her crying eased and finally subsided. Her breathing slowed, and she fell into exhausted sleep. The storm raged on outside and then spent itself. Silence reigned.
Chapter 8
Lance pulled Old Reliable as far off the road and up into the trees as he could. After packing the travois, he covered the truck with camouflaged netting. Hefting the first load, he set out for home. Bruised purple clouds hung low over the mountains. Lance measured the sky with a knowing glance. All hell was about to break loose; he was certain of it. He hated to leave his truck here, but he doubted he would have time to finish unloading all his purchases, get Old Reliable to town, and ride his bike back before the rain hit.
I should have left earlier
, he thought,
or not dawdled in the stores
.
When he reached the cabin with the second load, Gilbert was waiting for him, her head cocked expectantly. He was glad to see her. It would make this chore much easier and faster. She approached Lance and reared up on her hind legs, placing her front legs on his shoulders. He felt the bite of her hooves through his jacket, and laughed as she nearly knocked him off balance. This was a ‘Gilbert hug’ and Lance appreciated it, although it could be a bit overwhelming.
“Whoa, girl.” Lance released the travois and backed away, allowing her to drop to the ground. She began nudging his side, trying to nose into his pocket. With a gentle touch, he pushed her away.
“Now, you know better than that.” He patted the firm wedge of her neck, avoiding the sharp tips of her curved horns. He sometimes wished he had dehorned her when she was young, but he hadn’t wanted to leave her defenseless in the wild, and Gilbert did like to roam. She had an incurable case of wanderlust, but she always came home. His other goat, Belinda, did not rush to greet him. She never did.
“Work first, treats later.” He gave Gilbert a final pat before sliding off his heavy backpack and unloading the travois. Gilbert strolled around him as he worked, but Belinda hung back, peering at him with her odd yellow eyes. She had never warmed to Lance like Gilbert had. As a result, he hadn’t grown attached to her like he had to Gilbert. But she would produce for him, and in return he would take care of her.
He stacked the food items inside the cabin and grabbed the small harness from a peg near the door. Retracing his steps to the road, Gilbert following, Lance dragged the empty travois down for the last load. He threw back the netting and pulled the bales and feed from the back of the truck and loaded it onto the travois. Gilbert pried a mouthful of alfalfa from the bale, giving Lance a sneaky look as she did so.
“I saw that,” he told her with mock sternness. She gave her head a nonchalant toss, and stood still while he harnessed her to the loaded travois. He covered Old Reliable with the netting once again. It wasn’t a perfect camouflage, but she would be difficult to spot if a person wasn’t specifically looking for her. A light mist fell as Lance finished tying his purchases down; the pressure in the air swelled uneasily. He took a deep satisfied breath, drawing the tangy ozone smell into his lungs. Mountain thunderstorms always rocked his senses with their deep rolling booms, like massive explosions, so close it felt like he was standing in the heavens between warring clouds. The sense of anticipation worked on him like a drug as the earth prepared to be pounded, waiting impatiently for its thirst to be quenched. The scent of the trees and plants reached toward the coming rain as pheromones to a lover. For Lance, it was a full-body sensation when Mother Nature yanked up her stormy skirts and danced her brazen jig across the land. He could never get enough.
With a sound like a thousand wild horses thundering through a high pass, the storm arrived. Lance delighted in the rumbles, felt them reverberate in his bones, and thought of God. Gilbert seemed unimpressed with nature’s outburst, but she picked up her pace and they almost made it back to the cabin before the rain fell in sweeping sheets.
Lance unhitched Gilbert at the door of the shed. Pulling the candy bar from his pocket, he quickly peeled away the wrapper, and gave her the sweet treat. He could swear she smiled as she took it from his hand. Chewing, she ambled into the shed. Belinda was already inside and gave him a baleful glare as if to admonish him for being silly enough to stand out in the rain. Her bossy attitude made him grin, even as the icy water ran down his face and inside his jacket. He tugged the bales and feed into the other side of the shed and filled the goats’ trough through the slot he had built into the structure for just that purpose. Before heading to his cabin, he tucked the travois inside the shed and shut the doors, protecting the feed on one side, and safely enclosing the goats on the other side. They could wander tomorrow, but tonight they would be sheltered and cozy.
On his way back to the cabin, he closed the door on the small poultry shed and secured it against predators. He heard the soft rustling of wings, and a hen scolded him for the disturbance with a few quiet clucks. The ducks were hopefully ensconced with the chickens, but it was too dark to tell.
His muscles ached pleasantly, the result of honest hard work. He was tired, and that’s the way he liked to end his days. Tired, too tired to think. Too tired to remember. Tomorrow he would take Old Reliable into town and retrieve his bike. For tonight, he wanted only dry clothes, a hot meal, a book to make him drowsy, and his soft warm bed.