“J’taime, my Angel. I love you.”
Her heart warmed.
“J’taime, Jacques, forever.”
And she did, with all her heart she loved him. It took releasing her past for her to see just how much.
Gynger Fyer (pronounced Ginger Fire) prides herself on writing stories as unique, spicy and fiery as her name. An avid reader and fan of romance and erotic fiction, she now has the pleasure of writing entertaining stories about love, romance, and relationships. She loves to explore the endless possibilities and outcomes of her characters meeting and falling in love. For her, it all starts with one question..."WHAT IF?"
Karen crept slowly through the trees and brush. No need to rush—slow and deliberate. Take a step, feel for twigs and dry leaves, listen, and step again. Presently she heard faint distant voices and then caught the glow of a fire reflected off the underside of treetops. On hands and knees she moved slowly toward the first house, the one she had searched. The closer she got the, louder her heart hammered and the slower she slinked across the ground.
From under the house in its deep shadows she watched the fire leisurely die. It was in front of the fourth house from hers. The Others were sitting around the fire. Occasionally, one wandered off to pee and eventually all climbed the stairs into the house. With all the shadows cast by the flickering fire she was still uncertain of how many there were; five at least. She didn’t see the shotgun and didn’t spot a lookout. She didn’t see Jay either. He must be tied up inside.
They were all bedding down inside the same house. If Jay was in there it would be impossible to get to him. He would be tied up and the men would be sleeping on the floor or maybe in hammocks. They certainly wouldn’t have him near the door. Sneaking into a room with six sleeping men and its creaking bamboo floor, well, just thinking about it blasted adrenaline-fired fear through her.
She waited.
For a long time.
She dozed off with her head cradled in her arms. Jerking awake from a blurry nightmare, she instantly remembered what she had to do. She saw the thin crescent of the waning moon hung below the treetops. She guessed it was around two, maybe later. It was when people slept their deepest. The nightmare, she was in the
Huck Finn
drifting oarless on a midnight river and she was alone, alone, alone.
It was totally quiet. The fire was dead, no movement. This was the time to go. She lay there; unmoving, filled with dread. She needed to at least try and find Jay. Okay, do it! She rose on all fours, her shaking arms feeling weak. She eased forward, feeling with a hand, then moved her knee to the spot. Keep moving, don’t hesitate, don’t stop without good reason.
She crept from house-to-house beneath their shadows. As she crossed toward the last house next to her objective, she moved as slow as drifting fog, touch feeling her way with fingertips. From under the house she stared at the target house. No sound, no movement.
Okay, go for it, now! Steeling herself, she rose and angled across the open space toward the stairs. She crouched at the foot of the seven steps leading up to the gaping door. Before mounting the steps, she pressed down on the first four. The second one indistinctly creaked. She’d feel her way up knowing that with the slightest sound from the ink-black room, she’d bolt like a rabbit. She was already quivering inside like a nervous rabbit.
Before mounting the steps she scanned around her one last time. She peered into the dark underside of the house. And there was a lumpy shape. She froze, all her senses focused on the dark shape. A man? She eased back from the steps, moved to the right still staring. Something drew her. She looked at the door, then back at the shape. Edging slowly under the house, she silently drew out her flashlight. Cupping her fingers into a tunnel to shield the beam, she switched it on; aiming to the side so direct light wouldn’t hit the man’s face. Jay sat against a stilt, his legs stretched out before him, his arms behind the post, his chin resting on his chest.
She switched off the light and listened for sounds above her. They were so close she could hear snoring. Jay’s ankles were bound with cord. Slinking forward, she eased her left hand over his mouth like she’d seen in countless movies, and gripped his shoulder with her right.
Jay jerked awake with a muffled grunt. He struggled for only a moment as she whispered, “Karena,” in his ear. He didn’t move, but was breathing hard.
She pulled the multi-tool out and looked around. Something caught her attention. Over to the left hung a bloated blob; an evil black cocoon. A hammock hung there. She froze. There was no movement. Her breathing quickened. Easing open the knife-blade, she felt Jay’s hands. His thumbs were tied together. She cut the cord. Then she cut his ankle bindings. She actually breathed easier despite the menace of the cocoon only feet away. If anything happened now, they had only to run for everything they were worth.
Karen motioned Jay toward the back of the house. A few yards, they’d be in the trees. On all fours they crept out. Jay urgently crawled past Karen and rose to his feet, too soon. His head struck the horizontal log supporting the floor’s edge with a solid thump. Karen abruptly felt like her chest was hollow.
“¿Qué fué eso?”
—What was that?
“¡Mario, alguien está afuera! ¡Despi
é
rta!”
—Someone is outside! Wake up!
The cocoon stirred.
“¡Ellos están aquí! ¡Alto!”
—They are here! Stop!” There was a thump when the man rolled out of the hammock, still disoriented.
Jay was crouching under the house rubbing his head. Karen darted past grabbing his arm and shouting,
“¡Corre!”
—Run! in Spanish for some frantic reason.
There was crashing and shouting above them. Karen heard a thump behind them and turned to see one of the Others rising from the ground after jumping out the back window. More thundered down the stairs, shouting.
The man recovered from his leap and lunged at Karen clipping her hard enough to make her stumble. She went into a roll and bounded to her feet. The guy threw himself at her again, caught her around the knees and brought her to the ground with a numbing crash. The breath was knocked out of her in a vision-blurring blow. She rolled, trying to twist out of his grip. She couldn’t. He was shouting. The flashlight was in her hand. She hammered it on his head. The light flashed on. He let go with one arm and tried to grab her hammering wrist. She twisted again and hammered for everything she was worth; a scream paralyzed in her throat, crazy flashlight beams somersaulted all about. She was on her back now, broke her left leg free and jerked her knee up. She kept hammering. She was free!
There were men’s shouts. She scrambled backward like a crab. She leapt to her feet and another man slammed into her. Breath exploded from her with the jarring blow. Her flashlight flew. There were grunts and gasping breath. She kicked, hard, and rolled away. Legs flashed though the flashlight’s dust-hazed beam. She bounded to her feet, kicked at someone, turned, and stumbled. A man dashed by and plowed into the man behind her just as he grabbed her wrist. She yanked her wrist free, but she stumbled to her hands and knees.
A shadow lurched up. Jay! He kicked at the man he’d knocked to the ground. “Run!” he shouted.
She ran like a greyhound.
A shape in a patch of moonlight came at her, but she outdistanced him driven by utter fear. She was in the trees. There were sounds of men crashing in the undergrowth behind her. Jay wasn’t with her.
The shotgun boomed behind her. She hit the ground, then was up and slamming herself through face-lashing brush. The Others were shouting.
“¡Puta!”
—Not a very nice name to call a girl. A flashlight came on, but swung wildly.
She tangled in brush and then shoved her way through. Where’s Jay? She hoped he had the sense to head for the river. A shrieking thought split through her mind. Had he been caught, again, or shot? She’d left him, again. The shouts and yells seemed to fall further behind, then more to the left, like they were angling away from the river. Super!
She broke into a little clearing and a man came at her. She dodged, turned, and as she’d been taught in self-defense class, stiff-armed him with the heel of her hand, right into his face.
“Oh no!” She knelt beside him where he had fallen. “Jay, I’m sorry.”
He rubbed his chin with a startled look, but grinned.
Pulling him up, they eased back into the brush. She motioned him to sit and placed a finger to her lips. “We wait.” If they kept moving the Others might hear them, she knew that from capture the flag. When she grabbed the flag she’d run like mad and then hid and listened. Once pursuers gave up, she’d creep back to her line. Karen wondered if the shotgun blast had awakened Tía. If so, she’d be freaking out.
Both of them were sucking in deep breaths like race horses. Her fists were clutching with nails digging into her palms. She couldn’t stop shaking and had to fight to keep from jumping up and running again.
In all her turmoil, she realized Jay was no better off. He was rocking back and forth, hands gripping his legs, fighting for breath.
After a spell, she managed to gasp out, “You okay?”
“No.” A long pause. “How about you.”
“Not…so good. What happened?”
Jay didn’t answer. Sitting cross-legged, their knees touched. His hand brushed hers. She started to pull back, but he took her hand.
“You came back.” He sounded disbelieving.
“I, I couldn’t just row away. I had to see if there might be some way to get you back.”
“I thought I’d never see you…or anyone again.”
Her face warmed with embarrassment. “They do anything to you, beat you up or anything?”
“They pushed me round some, slapped me a few times, trying to scare me I guess.”
He was trying to sound tough she guessed.
“They sure did,” he said.
“What?”
“Scare me.” He paused. “They kept yelling questions at me. I didn’t know what they wanted.”
“I heard them. They wanted to know how you got there and if there was anyone else.”
“Some went to the river.”
“I made it back in time to row behind a fallen tree.”
He wasn’t shaking any more. He was still holding her hand. She wasn’t shaking either.
“Jay, I…thought about leaving. To protect Tía and Lomara. But I couldn’t.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. And you came back for me.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice. I couldn’t run out on you after all.”
“Just because I came back for you?”
“No, ’cause you didn’t teach me how to clean a chicken yet. And I don’t want to do all the rowing.”
In spite of herself, she chuckled.
They heard occasional shouts, but they became less frequent. After twenty minutes of silence, she nudged Jay.
Let’s get back. Tía’s probably going nutzo.”
She let his hand loose, like it was no big deal. She had no idea how far they’d come or where they were in relation to the boat.
“That’s another reason I came back. Didn’t know if I could find the boat.”
All they had to do was walk until they hit the river, then turn right and follow the bank back to the boat, she hoped. It was easy to become disoriented in a dark dense forest. Woods shock it’s called.
It took longer than she’d expected, but they found the boat, manned by a very alert and nervous Tía.
Tía was rattling excitedly and Lomara awoke. Karen cautioned them into
silencio
with a finger over her lips. They were beyond joy and hugged and kissed Jay. He chugged water, but Karen didn’t take the time. She cast off letting the current pull them out from under the limbs. Turning into the current, Karen rowed away, fast. She couldn’t help it. She raised a middle finger in farewell to the Others.
The crisp morning air made Kat’s throat tighten as she inhaled. The dream she had the night before played over and over in her mind. It was a dream she’d had many times before.
A woman in a tattered nightgown stands on the edge of a roof looking down at the ground, seven stories below. Her brown hair hangs limply over her shoulders. She hears Kat walking toward her and turns to look. In the dream, Kat is always startled by her mother’s appearance. Her face is ashen and the dark brown circles around her eyes give them a sunken, haunted look. When she sees Kat, she smiles slightly before letting herself fall over the edge.
Kat pumped her legs harder on the bike, making her quads ache in protest. She kept up the pace for another two miles until her chest heaved from exertion. She had not had the dream since she was a child. It started again as soon as she arrived in northern Michigan, two weeks ago.
Why did I come back to Northport?
She explained to her friends staying at her father’s house in Florida was not an option. His new wife, Betty, had two children of her own and felt the house would be too crowded. Aunt Mary offered to let Kat stay with her, rent free, allowing Kat to save enough money to pay for her last semester of college. Although this sounded logical, Kat knew, deep down, something else was drawing her back…some dark, unanswered question.
Kat spent her early childhood in northern Michigan, her mother having grown up in Northport. After her parents married, they stayed in the Traverse City area until her mother’s suicide when Kat was eight. Kat moved with her father from job to job, and city to city, as he tried to run from his grief.
Funny thing about grief
,
it
always manages to find you no matter where you hide
.