by Mark Stewart
TEGAN HAD woken and fought off the Ether effect by 11am. After scouring her small prison room from top to bottom for two hours, which included countless futile attempts to escape, she fell exhausted onto the bed. The chain tethering her to the cast iron bed frame appeared to be unbreakable. She tried to break the chain in a dozen different ways, from smashing a link by lifting the bed time and again and slamming it onto the floor, to cutting a link in half by scraping it along the bed’s metal frame.
“Dad, what would you do to get out of this predicament? Even though I know you’re not here, I can feel your presence watching over me.” She scrunched her nose. “Great, now I’m talking to myself.”
Tegan sat quietly on the bed thinking. After a few minutes, she looked up through sparkling eyes. Her face slowly altered from an expression of despair to a look of someone in complete control.
“I know what to do,” she whispered. “I have to be brave, and I must be convincing. I can do this. When the time comes, I mustn’t hesitate.”
A muffled scraping noise downstairs wafted upwards and through the closed door. Tegan sat motionless listening. When two minutes finally ticked off, she stood and walked over to the window. The chain tightened. Studying the view, she saw a bird sitting on a tree branch.
“It must be about 3:00pm,” she whispered at the bird. “What day, I have no idea.”
The sparrow took flight and banged head first into the window. Tegan jumped back. The chain clanged against the floor. The floorboards on the stairs creaked. She stared at the door. The stairs creaked again, only this time the noise was on the other side of the door.
Tegan quickly gathered the chain and vigorously rubbed the metal shackle against her ankle. Her skin turned sore and red. Painting an innocent school girl’s expression on her face, she sat on the bed. Using her body and the bed to camouflage the chain she allowed it to dangle from her right hand.
Un-seen feet forced another step to creak.
Tegan stiffened.
“The noise came from the top step. Be ready; you won’t get a second chance. Dad, please help me to be brave.”
Tegan clutched the chain tight in her right hand. She heard it clink against the side of the bed.
The lock on the bedroom door made a clunk. The door swung open. The kidnapper seemed to take up most of the doorway. He adjusted his balaclava and stared at Tegan through slits.
Tegan let out a low squeal.
“Hungry kid?” growled the kidnapper.
She nodded.
“You’re not very talkative today. Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m tired,” she confessed, slouching on the bed.
Patrick walked across the room carrying a small tray. “It’ll be the Ether drug.” He stooped and placed the food tray on the bed.
“Bacon and eggs again?”
“Hey, don’t complain. The Doc’s the good cook in the family, not me.”
“What’s she to you?”
“Kid, it’s none of your business. Now eat.” He stared at the girl. “You’re up to no good. What is it?”
“Nothing,” mumbled Tegan.
“You’re planning something.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re just like your old man, always thinking.” He wagged, a gloved finger at her. “Thinking is a bad family trait.”
“Why?”
“No more questions.”
“I was thinking my ankle feels sore.”
“Tuff,” barked Patrick. “Soon we’ll be going for a drive.”
“How soon?” probed Tegan.
“Three or four hours,” jeered Patrick.
“Where to?” questioned Tegan.
Patrick started to pace back and forth across the room. On a return trip, he stopped. Staring directly at Tegan through crazy wild eyes he pointed at the girl.
“I told you, no more questions.” He turned his back and started to walk out of the room.
Tegan moaned. She covered her eyes with her hands and pretended to cry.
“My foot hurts. I don’t think I can stand the pain for too much longer. Please, unshackle my ankle. It hurts.”
“Shut up. I hate kids. I especially hate you.”
“It’s sore. I beg you to stop the pain.”
“If I free you from the shackle, you’ll try to escape.”
“No, I won’t. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What about a compromise?”
“It’s a big word for a child. Convince me.”
“Put the shackle on my other foot.”
Patrick walked back to the bed. Reaching out he grabbed Tegan’s reddened ankle. For several moments, he studied the shackle where it and her skin were touching. He stared at the girl through narrowed slits.
“Do you promise not to escape?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Don’t you move, don’t flinch, don’t even breathe. I don’t trust a Kendal.”
“Okay.”
Patrick pushed his hand into his pocket and produced a small silver key.
Tegan blinked several times to get rid of her tears. Patrick stared at his prisoner. Wearing a painted smile, she closely watched her warden. He grunted and set to work unlocking the padlock. There was a loud click. Patrick placed the padlock on the bed in readiness to re-lock. He opened the shackle and removed it from her ankle.
Tegan’s painted smile changed to horizontal. Clamping her teeth together she whipped the chain over her shoulder and down on Patrick’s head. Hearing the chain rattle, Patrick moved fast. Instead of hitting him in the head the chain fell across his back. He collapsed onto the bed. Tegan swung her legs over his body and jumped onto the floor. She was free. Free to run like the wind. Her plan had almost been flawless. A hint of a grin widened her lips. For several seconds, she stood in the open doorway watching the motionless figure. Patrick started to stand, his gloved fingers curling into a fist. He searched the room. His thin lips parted. He moaned. Glaring at the closed door, he heard the key turn in the lock.
“You told me you wouldn’t try to escape, you, little brat,” he growled.
Tegan casually dropped the key over the balustrade and waited to hear the clang as it hit the tiled floor.
“Tuff,” she spat, staring at the door.
“You lied,” yelled Patrick.
“I did no such thing. I crossed my fingers.”
Hearing Patrick beginning to kick a hole in the door, Tegan sprinted downstairs. She just stepped onto the tiles at the foot of the stairs when Patrick opened the door. Leaning over the balustrade he shook his fist at her.
“You can hide kid, but you can’t run. Be warned I will find you.”
Tegan grabbed hold of the front door knob and twisted. Her victory smile collapsed. Several times in rapid succession she turned the front door knob.
“Dad, please help me. I don’t know what to do; the door is locked. Dad, I can’t hear you.”
Patrick, already halfway down the stairs, stopped. He tilted his head back and created a horrid laugh.
“I’ve got you now, kid.”
Tegan screamed and ran into the first room on her left behind the stairs.
Closing and locking the door she grabbed the only chair in the small room, wedging it under the door handle. Forcing her mind to push the fear away, she glanced at her surrounds. The room consisted of a wall full of medical books. All appeared to be stacked in alphabetical order. A small desk was in the middle of the room.
“I have to work a miracle using nothing?” Tegan groaned.
When Patrick started pounding and kicking the door Tegan’s eyes grew wide.
“Don’t panic,” she whispered. “Don’t panic. Think, think.” She spun in slow circles scrutinizing everything. “Yes, I remember. Dad, I remember the game we played. The spinning game; spin three times, observing what’s in the room and work out a way to escape a bad situation.” She smiled. “I don’t get dizzy like Mother does. I see the do
or, the chair, the books and the desk.”
Patrick’s foot broke through the door, pushing the chair out from under the door knob. Squatting, he stared through the hole. He was in time to see Tegan grab a thick book. She watched Patrick watching her.
He opened the door.
Unblinking they held each other’s stare.
Smirking, Tegan raised the book she had swiped from the bookcase over her head and glared into the eyes behind the balaclava. She turned and threw the book at the window.
Lunging for the girl’s ankle, Patrick managed to only grab air.
Shards of glass littered the garden bed. Tegan dived through the smashed window and completed a forward roll between two rose bushes. At full tilt, she sprinted towards the back fence. Patrick growled and jumped through the window in hot pursuit.
Tegan was swift. Her pursuer looked stronger. He quickly closed the gap between them.
The fence grew higher the closer the duo approached. Patrick reached out, managing to grab only a rogue strand of hair.
Tegan climbed the fence and didn’t look back.
“Stay calm,” she puffed. “Stay calm. Dad, I escaped, I’m free.” She bit her bottom lip and picked up the pace.
Patrick easily leapt the fence. He landed heavily, sprawling face first onto a rock garden.
Seeing a gate built into the front fence of the neighboring house, Tegan made a beeline for it. Beyond the front fence, she knew the narrow road boarded a small park.
“I hope that gate’s not locked.”
Tegan’s wish was a whisper of words. She reached the gate and pulled hard on the handle. The lock clicked. The gate swung open. She slipped through the gap, slamming it in her wake. Footsteps pounded the grass behind her.
“Surely Patrick won’t follow me beyond the gate, someone might see his balaclava,” she groaned.
Looking over her shoulder for the first time, Tegan slowed to a walk.
“I’m alone. It is decision time,” she puffed. “Hide in the park or knock on someone’s front door.” She paused to think. “I’ll take the later.”
Tegan ran to the front door of the house and knocked. The small black dog pushed its head between the narrow gaps between the curtains. A continuous yap quickly escalated. She walked to the window, cupped her hands against the glass and looked into the house.
“Nobody’s home,” she whispered, crumpling onto the paved verandah. For the first time, she cried.
The sound of a car approaching buzzed inside her ears. She stopped sobbing and looked up. The car came slowly around the corner and stopped three houses away.
“Oh no,” she mumbled. “It can’t be?”
Tegan squatted behind a small bush growing out of a medium sized terracotta pot and watched Patrick survey the area. She hugged her knees every time he looked her way. Tegan watched him take off the balaclava and throw it under the front seat of the car. Her eyes sparkled.
“Patrick, I know your identity. I’m positive my dad will be all smiles when I tell him.”
In her excitement, she lost her balance. As she fell, the pot plant toppled off the verandah and onto the paved path.
Patrick heard the crash. He looked her way. In a heartbeat, he started running towards the house. Tegan jumped the small bush lying on its side, easily jumped the low front fence and sprinted for the park. Her posse flanked her right side, cornering her at the junction of two park fences. She whirled around to face the unmasked Patrick square on.
“Give up kid,” he bellowed. “There’s only one gate to the park. You’ve nowhere to run or hide.”
“Never,” growled Tegan.
“If you come quietly, I won’t hurt you.”
“I bet you’ve said those words before.”
“You’re a smart little brat.”
“Smart enough to know you’ll kill me overseeing your face. If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”
“Take a look around. Who’s going to hear? No one will ever know you were in this neighborhood.”
“Dr. Clarke knows I was chained to the bed in her house.”
“I’ll shut her up. She always listens to me. She’s weak. I’m strong. She owes me.” Patrick took a step closer.
Tegan glanced at the park. Patrick was right; she had nowhere to run. The park consisted of a swing set and a slide. The grass looked short and expertly edged. A small drainpipe seemed to be the only possible sanctuary.
“Patrick, believe it or not, dad’s standing directly behind you, pointing a gun at your head.”
He let go of a deep belly laugh. Just for a moment, he moved his gaze away.
Tegan immediately saw her chance. She sprinted through the open gate and ran for the pipe. She squatted and crawled into the dark tunnel, scrunching her nose at the smell. She winced each time her shoulders brushed the sides of the pipe’s rough surface.
Patrick saw her move. Just before she completely disappeared into the pipe, he managed to catch her up and wrap his fingers around her ankle. Tegan screamed. She kicked hard using her one free foot. Patrick yelled and lost his grip. Tegan slithered along the pipe on elbows and knees. When she was out of arm’s length, she stopped long enough to look back.
Patrick was staring at her from the entrance to the black tunnel.
“You should be proud of yourself, kid. Stinking storm water pipe to slither along. Come out; and I promise to set you free.”
Instead of replying, Tegan crawled deeper into the pipe.
“If you’re not out by the time I count to five, I’ll smoke you out.” He slapped the inside wall of the pipe. “One, two, three, four, five. Enjoy the smoking vermin home,” he spat, slapping the inside of the pipe again.
Tegan heard the rustling of leaves. In seconds, the daylight dimmed. Hearing a match scraping the side of a matchbox, she muffled her scream by covering her mouth with her hand. When she smelt smoke, Tegan decided to push further into the dark.
“I hope there are no rats, or worse, snakes,” she moaned. “The further I go the darker this pipe is getting. The worst part is that the smoke is thickening.” She coughed. “I sure hope this pipe leads to somewhere safe? And soon, it’s getting hard to breathe.”
She had travelled a further twenty feet before she saw any light. Hurriedly Tegan got the end of the pipe. Carefully parting the branches of a small bush growing over the entrance, she peered out. A trickle of water flowed from the entrance to the pipe which ended at a shallow creek slowly flowing a short distance from a small shopping centre.
A dozen people couldn’t stop staring when they saw the dirty, smelly, girl emerge from the pipe.
A quick survey of the area and gave a cursory grin, Tegan left the onlookers gossiping, frowning and pointing at her running towards Melbourne Central still wearing pink pajamas. She didn’t stop running for a good half hour. She jogged past a building. The clock hanging in the display window read 4:00pm. She rounded the building and walked down a darkening lane. Invisible fingers switched on a single incandescent light at the end of the lane revealing graffiti had been scibbled on everything.
Stopping under the light, she leaned against the wall. A few seconds later she slid downwards. She sat on dirty blue cobblestones, closed her eyes and fell asleep.
“Look what I’ve found,” reported a voice from the shadows.
Tegan woke, took one look at the face and screamed.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE