Daunting Days of Winter (22 page)

Rose had passed a blue pickup truck parked off the road halfway into the center median when she heard the voice again. “Help me, please.” She paused, looking around again. The voice was strange, not distinctly male or female, and wasn’t coming from anywhere she could identify. She raised her gun, her nerves on edge. The horses, sensing her tension, were skittish themselves. She spotted movement in the median to her left. A leg extending past the blue pickup twitched and kicked. “Help,” the voice said again.

Rose couldn’t see the rest of the body, but she didn’t like the situation. “Go, Smokey!” she urged. As she prodded the horse forward she heard a noise and felt a hand on her arm. She turned to swing her rifle, but the person held her arm tightly and jerked her hard from the horse. Smokey spooked and lurched forward, further unbalancing Rose and causing her to fall from the saddle. Her gun roared as she pulled the trigger, but the un-aimed shot only served to make her ears ring and further startle the horses, sending them running, panicked by the noise and commotion.

“Nice try, bitch!” A man, his face, dirty and bearded, slammed his fist into her cheek and sent her crashing to the ground.

The blow dazed Rose, and her rifle fell from her hands, clattering onto the highway. “Stop!” she yelled, desperate and disoriented.

The man grabbed her jacket and pinned her to the ground, rising above her. He threw a leg over Rose to straddle her, using the weight of his body to keep her down, his hands holding her arms at her side as she thrashed helplessly. “Dangerous place to be traveling alone, lady,” he said, leering down at her through squinting brown eyes, a perverse grin splitting his face. “Don’t get many women in these parts, ‘specially not pretty ones.”

A shadow fell over her as another man approached. She assumed he was the source of the voice from the median. “You let the horses get away, you idiot!” the man accused.

Rose tasted blood in her mouth. She turned to try to see the second man. “Let me go,” she insisted. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

He looked down at her and grinned. “No one said you did,” he replied, spitting on the pavement. He wore a filthy, brown work coat, and a dark, unkempt beard covered his face, much like the other man’s. He didn’t strike her as being especially big, even looking up at him from the ground. “We’ve just embarked on a new career, and you just happened to pass through at the right time, depending on your point of view.”

The man astride her looked towards the horses, which were still galloping away. “Sorry about the horses,” he said. “But she had her gun out. You heard the shot. I had to grab her arms.”

The other man shook his head. “Just shut up, alright. I don’t care what happened. Now I’ve got to go chase them down.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it at his partner. “You think you can handle her by yourself while I go get ‘em?”

“No problem,” he replied, nodding his head vigorously. “I’ll have her warmed up and ready for you when you get back.”

“You sure?”

He nodded again, his mouth drawn in a tight line. “I’m sure,” he replied. The first man stood, jerking Rose upward and twisting her arms painfully.

With Rose back on her feet, the man from the median handed the pistol to his partner. “Take this. If she tries anything, shoot her, but try not to damage any of my favorite parts.”

His partner took the gun and laughed. “Count on it,” he said. “Do you want to check her for weapons before you go?”

He shook his head. “You do it. Looks like the stupid horses have stopped. I gotta go before they run off again.”

Rose heard the man behind her grunt then felt the barrel of his gun press against her back and his hand press against her waist. His hand rubbed across her body, sliding from her waist to her thighs, then up across her chest and down her back. She shuddered during the search, her legs shaking and her breath coming in short gasps.

“You have any weapons?” he asked belatedly after physically probing far longer than necessary.

“Just the gun I was holding,” she choked out, trying to sound calmer than she felt, which wasn’t very. “There’s another gun on the horse, but that’s it.”

“I’ll check again when you get inside. If you’re lying…” he trailed off ominously. He pushed her forward, his handgun still aimed at her, then swung his leg and kicked her hard in the thigh.

Rose attempted to block the kick unsuccessfully. The impact of the blow left her leg throbbing, but she didn’t fall, only letting out a small whimper.

“So you don’t try to run off,” he said as he bent down and picked up her rifle, inspecting it quickly. “Nice gun.”

Rose stared at the road and massaged her leg, but didn’t respond.

“Walk to that motor home,” the man ordered, pointing to a forty-foot motorhome parked on the opposite side of the freeway and fifty yards back in the direction she had come from. “If you behave well, we’ll let you go.”

“What if I don’t?” Rose asked as she limped towards the RV, not really wanting to know the answer.

“If you don’t then, well, you won’t like it, but Mickey says we got to conserve our bullets.”

“So it’s up to Mickey, is it?”

“I decide, too, but Mickey’s in charge, so, yeah, I guess it’s up to him. You have a problem with that?”

Rose shook her head. They were approaching the motorhome, and she slowed, awaiting directions. She looked over her shoulder and saw Mickey still headed the other way, the horses nearly a mile down the road, pacing nervously in the median and still tethered together.

“Open the door and get in,” her kidnapper ordered. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

Rose reached for the door handle and tugged on it. The door stuck a little before opening, then she climbed inside, her eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the dim light. The coach smelled of body odor and sewage. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but the odors were so strong she could taste them, and she fought the urge to vomit as she moved further into the RV.

As the man lumbered in behind her, Rose saw an open door at the rear and a woman dressed only in a sport bra and shorts lying on a bed with her back towards the door, arms bound behind her body, with fresh bruises and wounds on her back and arms.

The man shoved Rose onto the couch, stepped past her, and pulled the bedroom door shut. “My wife’s sleeping. Try not to make any noise.”

With the image of the woman in her mind, Rose was too terrified to respond, and her body started shaking.

Her captor turned towards her, leaned her rifle against the wall, and pointed the handgun at her head. “Take off your shoes and your pants.”

“What do you want from me?” Rose asked, her voice barely audible, her mouth still tasting of blood.

The man laughed. “If you haven’t figured that out already, there’s no point in me explaining. Just do what I say.”

Rose reached down and pushed off her boots, then, hands shaking almost uncontrollably, unhooked her belt and the button of her jeans. “Please don’t do this,” she begged. “Please.”

“Hurry,” the man ordered, glancing out the front window. Rose followed his gaze and saw that Mickey had reached the horses, but Smokey was making Mickey chase him to be caught. “I don’t usually get to go first. I have to be done before he returns.”

“No,” Rose said, shaking her head. “I won’t do it.”

The man’s face hardened, and he raised his gun, aiming it at Rose. “We can do this dead or alive. It’s up to you. You cooperate, and you’ll live. Mickey will get bored of you in a couple of weeks, and you’ll get to go. Fight it, and worse things will happen to you.”

“I’d rather die,” she mumbled, her arms limp, her strength gone.

The man lashed out with his foot and kicked her in the shin, sending sharp pains shooting up her leg, then he shoved her backwards, and she tumbled onto the floor. “Listen!” he growled. “You’re lucky I’d rather not put bullet holes in this thing, or I’d shoot you in the foot. Take your pants off now, or I’ll make sure you’re kept here alive for a lot longer than two weeks!”

Rose recoiled and began to cry, but still forced herself to push her jeans down. She lifted her hips and pushed on the waistband, scooting her pants down past her knees. She tugged her white thermal underwear up as she pushed her pants down.

The man laughed derisively. “Hurry it up,” he demanded. “I don’t have all day.”

Rose kicked her jeans off, and they landed under the table across from her. The thermals were tight, probably a size too small even with all of the weight she’d lost, and they clung to her legs, revealing the curve of her hips.

“Nice. Now stand up and turn around.”

Rose stood and turned, tears running down her cheeks. “Please don’t…” she began, but the man cut her off.

“You’re wasting your breath, lady. You don’t leave ’til we get what we want. Understand?”

She nodded and slumped back down onto the couch.

“I didn’t say sit down, did I?”

“No,” Rose mumbled weakly, standing again.

“Take off your jacket.”

Rose removed it.

“Now your sweatshirt and t-shirt.”

She tossed her clothes on the couch, leaving just her bra and thermals.

“Very nice,” he muttered, staring at her chest. “They real?”

Rose shook her head.

“Thanks for spending the money. That’s why they’re still big,” he observed, grinning. “Not like all these other scrawny women who shrivel up when they get skinny.”

Rose was numb, both physically and mentally, and didn’t respond.

“Put your hands on your head,” he directed, then smiled as she did so. “That makes them look even bigger, you know.”

He removed his coat, then knelt down in front of her, still holding the gun in his hand, and reached for the waistband of her thermals with his empty hand. He tugged, but it hung up on her opposite hip. He looked up at Rose, clad only in thermals and a bra, her hands on her head, and felt his hormones surge. His heart raced, and his breathing became shallow. “Don’t move.”

Rose closed her eyes and braced herself, hands still resting on her head. As her hands slipped slightly, she felt the cold steel of the red-handled knife her neighbor, Lou, had insisted she take brush against her fingers. It took a second for Rose to remember what she was touching. She had promised Lou that she would keep it on her person at all times, and as her hair had gotten longer, she’d found it more convenient to use it to tie her hair up, than to carry it in a pocket or boot. She felt a second hand on her hips and realized her abductor had set his gun down. She looked out the front window and saw Mickey with Smokey in tow, but still nearly a mile away and struggling to get the horses to come back with him.

“I like black underwear,” the man said as he slid down her thermals. “Lift your foot.”

Rose lifted her left foot and felt him pull the underwear off. As she set her foot back down, she shifted her weight and coughed while simultaneously flipping the blade open, something she’d practiced doing while warming herself by a fire in the evenings.

“Lift this one,” he ordered, tapping her right foot.

Rose looked at him as she lifted her foot, willing him to look away. He smiled at her with filthy, yellowed teeth exposed and stray hairs from his beard stuck to his lips with saliva. He extended his tongue and slowly licked his lips. She waited, both hands behind her head, blade extended, fingers trembling, trying to focus.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he tugged the long underwear from her right foot. “This is as good as a hooker,” he said, his smile growing.

Rose held her breath, still waiting for him to look away. She swallowed, wanting to scream, to lash out immediately, but needing to wait until he looked away. She knew if she failed, this nightmare, this hell, would get much worse and last much longer than she wanted to imagine.

“My name’s Mantle,” he said, laughing. “Get it? We’re Mickey and Mantle, like the baseball player.” He caressed her thigh, still looking up at her.

Rose gasped and looked at the ceiling. “Just do what you have to do, Mantle,” she said, forcing the words out, wanting to vomit. From the corner of her eye she could see him grinning, almost giddy, then he leaned in and kissed her on the inner thigh.

This was her chance. She was either going to die trying or succeed in sending him to hell, both options far better than what lay in store otherwise. Clasping the knife in both hands, she swung it over her head and down as hard as she could, plunging the blade into the back of Mantle’s neck just below the collar of his shirt.

CHAPTER 29

Tuesday, February 7
^th

Deer Creek, MT

Jennifer took a step back from the door, startled. “What’s wrong, Ty?”

Ty was breathing hard. “There’s a girl, from Clinton.”

Carol had already risen from the couch and moved to the front door. “It’s not another murder, is it?” she asked.

Ty shook his head. “No. She’s pregnant, ready to deliver. They’re bringing her here because there’s no doctor in Clinton. They were on the wrong street. I told them how to get here, then ran ahead to warn you.”

Jennifer looked at Carol. “You deliver babies?”

Carol shook her head quickly. “Calves and puppies. Never human.”

“Well, get ready, Carol,” Ty said, as he looked down the street to where two people were leading a very pregnant young woman on a horse, “because you’re about to get the chance.”

“I’ve worried about this,” Carol said anxiously, “but nobody in Deer Creek is pregnant. I didn’t think about Clinton. Jennifer, get Grace. Ty, help get some water heating up.”

Carol pushed the furniture back against the living room walls, then sent Ty and David to retrieve the box spring from the bed Grace used and place it in the center of the room. Jennifer met the group from Clinton at the front door and helped guide the pregnant woman to the box spring on the living room floor.

“What’s your name?” Jennifer asked as she helped lower the young woman onto her back.

“I’m Heather,” she answered, gritting her teeth in obvious discomfort and struggling to get the words out.