Risky Baby Business

by Debra Salonen

  Which, finally, they did.

  David woke up fully when Ray killed the engine. He couldn’t see anything, but he listened hard, trying to follow every movement Ray made. Now he could hear the low tuneless humming that always indicated Ray was focusing on a problem. Ray was thinking. Nothing good ever came of that, David thought.

  The driver’s side door opened and closed. A moment later, the door near David’s feet opened. “Ah, the boy fell down,” Ray said in a childish, singsong tone. “Too bad.”

  A second later, rough hands grabbed David around the shoulders and forced him to sit upright. Ray yanked off David’s blindfold, taking a painful clump of hair with it.

  Blinking, David saw that night had fallen with a vengeance. The only light came from the car’s headlamps. The overhead dome light wasn’t turned on even though the door was open.

  Still, David craned about to see Liz. She was sitting, her chest pushed out, her hands behind her back.

  “Let her go,” he pleaded. “She doesn’t have anything to do with our business. I only met her a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Braggart,” Ray said. He took hold of the plastic zip tie that bound David’s legs and tugged brutally. There wasn’t room for David’s hips to fit through the opening straight on, but twisting on his side meant slamming his ear against the raised drivetrain shaft. Even the car’s carpeting couldn’t ease the pain that shot through his head. He tried not to moan, but couldn’t stifle the sound completely.

  “David? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

  “I’m fine, Liz,” he said, even as his knees crumpled beneath him. Lack of movement had rendered his feet numb. He fell on his shoulder and rolled on the rocky ground, hoping he wouldn’t smack into some unseen boulder.

  He had no idea where they were, but they appeared to have reached a dry wash of some kind. The glow of the car’s high beams illuminated a rock formation as high as Liz’s SUV. No wonder Ray had stopped, he thought.

  The door slammed and Ray disappeared around the rear of the car. “Okay, Gypsy Girl, time for you to join Lover Boy.”

  Ray was a big man—nearly as tall as David and at one time had weighed fifty pounds more. No longer. He was thin, but obviously not lacking in strength. David sat up and tried to move to his knees, but the pins and needles in his legs made him want to scream. “Liz? Are you okay?”

  There was a soft grunt and a sob, but she didn’t answer. Fury filled every inch of David’s body and he fought to a kneeling position.

  “Oh, relax, hero. She’s fine. Just heavier than she looks.” Ray half dragged Liz’s body around the car and dumped her in front of David. She curled up in a fetal position, as much as her restricted movement would allow.

  David cursed. “You rotten son of a bitch. Why God let you live is beyond me!”

  “God?” Ray hooted. “He and I parted ways years ago. Guess He couldn’t take the competition. And if it hadn’t been for you, I’d have been richer than God, and worshipped by more people. I was going to give them youth. Till you, Judas, sold me out.”

  The truth struck David harder than the back of Ray’s hand, which knocked him sideways, so he landed closer to Liz. His former boss was totally crazy. He’d read about a condition called narcissistic personality disorder. He’d even heard the term mentioned in regards to Ray, but at the time, he’d told himself the truly gifted, the movers and shakers of the world were entitled to an inflated ego. But few of those types believed they could replace God.

  Ray squatted a few feet away. “Here’s how this going to go down, my boy. I’m going to take Gypsy Girl’s blindfold off. The two of you can huddle together for the rest of the night. Exchange sweet nothings. Weep and moan together. If no hungry coyotes wander by, you’ll probably be okay until say…two or three tomorrow afternoon. By then, you’ll be roasted and toasted and dehydrated.” He made a bridge with his hands and cracked his knuckles.

  “I’ve heard that death from exposure is a really nasty way to go. Your tongue swells up and your lips crack and your eyeballs sorta pop out of your head. If there is a God, He’ll make sure she dies first. Not because I give a damn about her suffering, but because I want you to watch her agony and know that you’re responsible. Too bad I won’t be here to watch, but knowing that you’ll be tormented with guilt until you take your last breath is almost a fair trade for all the billions you cost me. So long, Judas.”

  Choking on Ray’s dust as he backed up the SUV and pulled away was the final indignation. But all too soon, the darkness closed in on them and Liz and David were alone. In the desert. With only the clothes on their backs and their wits to save them.

  Chapter 16

  Survival.

  Liz knew they didn’t stand a chance unless they could get free of their bindings. She wasn’t going down without a fight, but in the silence after her car drove off, she had a tough time getting hold of her emotions. One hiccup of a cry turned to a sob. Tears followed.

  “No, Liz,” David shouted, his voice panicky. “No tears. Tears are moisture. Your body’s going to need every ounce to survive. Don’t cry.”

  “Go to hell. I’ll cry if I want. I hurt all over and I’ve been left to die in the desert. This is when people cry.”

  She kicked at him with her feet. Thankfully the bastard who left them here had removed her blindfold before he drove off. So David could see her eyes bug out before he took his last breath, the disgusting creep had said.

  “Your ex-boss is a certifiable whack job. How could you possibly have worked for a man like that?” Liz heard the hysteria in her voice.

  “He’s changed,” David said. “They say genius and dementia are closely related.”

  “They could be blood kin for all I care. If we make it out of this predicament alive, I vow to do everything in my power to see that psycho monster brought to justice. If we survive.”

  “We’re not going to die,” he said passionately.

  The only light came from the stars, which though plentiful, had little impact over such a vast openness. She could make out shapes, though, and David’s body was the most obvious, since he was inching back and forth to get turned around.

  “Ha,” she snarled, her tears drying up as anger became her predominant emotion. “We’re gonna be bugs under a magnifying glass once the sun comes up.”

  The word reminded her of the bug Zeke had planted in her car. Would someone in Zeke’s office notice that her car, which was normally parked in her garage, was driving all over the place tonight? Would they call Zeke?

  “Not if we get these damn handcuffs off and build a shelter.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “Scoot around until you find a sharp rock. It won’t be easy, but we have all night. We’re not going anywhere, right?”

  “Very funny. What if a coyote or javelina or an army of scorpions decides to visit us?”

  “We probably have a better chance of seeing a UFO. Quit talking and save your energy for getting free.”

  She made a face at him. She knew he was right. The instructor at her survival-training course had stressed how important focus and a will to live were to a person in a trying situation. She struggled to block out the pervasive fear that threatened to strangle her and brought to mind an image of Prisha. Her sweet little girl’s smile. That smile would dim and fade if Liz didn’t make it out of here. She had to stay calm.

  “I have something in my pants that might cut through these ties.”

  David didn’t say anything for a few seconds then he started to laugh. “And what might that something be?”

  She fought to keep from grinning. “A nail file. Lydia lost it last week. I found it between the seat cushions. I can’t reach it, now, though. It was stuck in my waistband, but when your sick friend dragged me over here, it went lower.”

  David’s rocking motion brought him closer. It took another few adjustments to scoot around so his face was next to her butt. His nose poked and prodded until he said, “I feel it. But how in t
he hell are we going to get it out of there?”

  “Do you think you can undo my pants with your teeth?”

  She rolled onto her back. The position of her hands thrust her pelvis upward. David labored to his knees and bent over her. His stubbly jaw chafed against her skin and the downward pressure hurt her hands but she lifted up as much as possible to help.

  “This isn’t as easy I thought it would be,” he mumbled.

  Her shirt had come up and his mustache tickled her bare belly. She breathed deeply the way her yoga instructor had taught her. At last, the button gave, but she still needed to get the zipper down if she was going to reach the file.

  His teeth made a horrible clicking sound on the metal tab, but he persevered. His breath was hot and damp on the tender flesh. She’d worn frilly underwear instead of her usual functional white briefs. She didn’t know if bright red bikinis had helped or hindered the file on its downward trek.

  “There. Is that far enough?” he asked, rearing back.

  The cold night air, which she’d been too preoccupied to notice earlier touched her bare skin and she immediately started shivering. “Y-yes, I think so.”

  She rolled over, trying to find a spot that didn’t have nine thousand little rocks poking her.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Yoga,” Liz said through clenched teeth. “Stay close and take the file if I get it, okay? My fingers are kinda numb.”

  She took a deep diaphragmatic breath, letting it lift her upper torso. At the same time, she raised her feet and pushed her hands into the gap in her jeans. She blocked out the sensations from the sharp stones and gravel and reached deeper with each exhale until her fingertips touched something metal.

  The pain in her lower back was excruciating. Her shoulders felt as if they might break apart, but another inch gave her control of the little tool. Lying flat, face turned to the side in the dust, she said, “I got it.”

  Seconds later, his humming mumbles told her he had the file in his mouth and needed her help. More mumbled instructions and she managed to transfer the file from his mouth to his hand. “Now what?”

  “This feels pretty sharp. I’ll try to saw through the tie around my ankles, first. You rest. Can you lean up against that big rock without too much pain?”

  “Why can’t I lie on the ground?”

  “The chill will seep into your bones and your body will start to shiver. Once my feet are free I might be able to kick together some kind of bed from dried reeds or whatever’s around. In the meantime, rest.”

  That little exercise—and stress of the kidnapping—had exhausted her, and the pain in her shoulders and ankles was wearing her down, so Liz did as he suggested. Her knees hurt from trying to walk on them—each step yielding just an inch or so of forward progress—but eventually she reached the large rock formation that had caused Ray to stop driving.

  She tried not to think about the worst that could happen. She tried to think about Prisha. But within seconds she wasn’t thinking about anything. She was asleep.

  David felt a trickle of blood run down his shin. The back-and-forth sawing motion was torturing his shoulders, but he pressed through the pain. He had to do this. If he and Liz couldn’t free themselves, they had no hope. Even with the use of their limbs, they wouldn’t have long. David knew that the survival rule of thumb was one gallon of water per day per person. That meant they were starting out two gallons short.

  He knew where to find water, if there was water to be found. At certain times of the year, the outside edge of a dry creek bed retained small caches of groundwater. Experience told him this spot had potential. Ray had been stopped by large boulders, which had probably been pushed downstream by flash floods over the years.

  Unfortunately, this was summer and most of the potable water was deep underground. They’d dig. With luck they’d find enough to keep them alive through the day, but then they would have to walk for who knew how many miles to find help.

  The durable little strip that bound his ankles gave a fraction of an inch, then a few strokes later broke apart.

  “Yes,” David cried softly, not wanting to disturb Liz. He’d sensed her collapse and was glad she could rest for a few minutes. Although tempted to free her feet next, he went to work on his wrists instead.

  He was almost ready to give up when the blasted strip finally let loose. He looked toward the heavens and murmured a little prayer before getting up. “I don’t care what happens to me, but please keep Liz safe and let her get home.”

  Walking was tough at first, but he took his time. He surveyed the immediate area and located a decent spot out of the wind to spend the rest of the night. There was an abundance of dried brush that he collected and assembled in layers.

  Although there was fuel for a fire, he had no matches or time to devote to using the bow-and-drill method. His first priority was making Liz more comfortable.

  Once he was satisfied with the arrangement, he returned to where Liz was resting. He jostled her shoulder gently and said, “Liz, my love, I’m going to saw these ties off now.”

  Her soft moan nearly broke his heart. What courage she’d shown—and continued to show. She didn’t flinch or cry out, even when he accidentally poked her with the file. She used her body strength to keep the plastic taut, which helped a lot. Sooner than he would have predicted, both pieces were cut.

  “Oh, thank God,” she cried, sitting back to massage her wrists. He took her feet in his lap and chafed her ankles to get the blood flowing. “Damn. That really hurts.”

  “I’ve built us a shelter. It’s not much, but it’s out of the wind and I think we should try to rest a few hours. As soon as it gets light, I’ll look for water.”

  “I don’t know if—” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll talk in the morning. I’m so sore and tired I think I could sleep for a week.”

  He took her hand and slowly helped her through the maze of rocks, praying he could find the slight depression he’d discovered earlier. “Through here, I think,” he said, giving her hand a little tug. “Be careful and duck your head.”

  She followed him into the nook where the ever-present wind didn’t reach. “Oh, it’s warmer. I didn’t even realize I was cold.”

  “Shock. Adrenaline. Your mind’s way of keeping your body out of the loop,” he said. “We’re not dressed for these temps, but we’ll be okay for one night.”

  He hadn’t meant to make that last sound so ominous, but he felt her shudder and could have kicked himself. “You lie down first, facing the rock and I’ll spoon you, okay?”

  She dropped to her knees then settled on her side. Turning slightly, she said, “No fooling around, mister. This is serious business.”

  He joined her, wrapping one arm and one leg over her as a sort of makeshift cover. “A boy can dream, right?”

  She didn’t say anything for a minute, then she asked, “What did you dream of when you were a boy? Did you always plan to be a scientist?”

  He nuzzled her hair. “No. I wanted to be a farmer. My grandfather on my mother’s side was a farmer. We only visited him once when I was little. He passed away shortly after that from a heart attack. Grandmother sold the farm and moved to town.”

  He let out a sigh. All through high school, he’d nurtured the dream of buying the land, refurbishing the old house, raising his children in the pastoral setting he remembered so fondly. “When I came home from college one year at spring break, I took a detour to visit the old place. The house was gone. Agribusiness is not the same as the old family farm.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said drowsily.

  “I’m not. Odd as it may sound given the circumstances, I’m glad. Farming was a boy’s dream. One I hung on to after my parents died because I remembered us all being happy there. But in hindsight, I credit my grandfather with sparking my interest in science. He taught me things a city kid had no idea about.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I don’t know. Se
ven, maybe? Eight?”

  “I bet you were adorable.” Her words were starting to slur with fatigue.

  A few seconds later, she added, “I hope I get Prisha home before she’s seven. The light in their eyes goes out if children don’t feel loved, you know.”

  The light goes out. How well he knew it. His grandmother had never shown him love. She’d let him know that she considered him a burden.

  Liz would make a fabulous mother. He had to do everything in his power to make sure she got that chance.

  THE NIGHT PROVED cold but tolerable. Liz actually managed to sleep, off and on. She hadn’t been able to tell whether David was sleeping, too, or faking it for her sake. They’d survived for twelve hours after their abduction, but the next twelve would prove even more challenging, she was certain.

  “Too bad neither of us has a watch,” she said, returning her focus to David, who was using his shoe to dig at the edge of the dry creek bed not far from where they’d slept.

  “Or a cell phone.”

  His comment put hers in perspective and she chuckled. “Yeah, why wish for a bicycle when you could wish for a car? Duh.”

  He looked up. “I wasn’t being critical. A watch would actually come in handy for a lot of things, including using the glass as a signal, but since mine went up in smoke in the fire and you don’t wear one, we’re out of luck.”

  Luck. She’d been born into a family of gamblers, but she very rarely placed a bet. Everyone thought she was…thrifty. And practical. In truth, she just didn’t trust in outside forces of any kind. Nor did she blame fate when something bad happened to her. She and David were in a fix, but they were smart and determined. They’d survive on their wits. Or not. The unwelcome thought echoed in her mind.

  She moved from the patch of shade she was sitting in to another patch closer to David. He’d advised her to stay out of the sun as much as possible. “What should I be doing? And please don’t say, ‘Nothing.’ I need to do something useful.”

  “Bird-watch.”

  “Pardon?”