“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 the 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 hims
elf. “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. Seven, 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?”
“Track the flight of birds. They’ll lead us to water or to plants that could provide sustenance. The screwbean mesquite blooms from May to August. Its fruit isn’t as sweet as other varieties of mesquite, but the pods are fairly nutritious. Coyotes thrive on them.”
She shook her head. “I thought coyotes were carnivores.”
“They’re opportunists. Animals that learn to adapt to their environment live longer. That’s what we’re going to do, too.”
She put her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes and scanned the area for birds. “Food sounds good—even screwball mesquite pods.”
His muffled laugh warmed her. They were in a perilous position, but David wasn’t giving up, and neither was she.
But the mention of food had sent her hunger urges over the top. She even checked to see if what she’d thought were stale French fries were still edible. The lumps turned out to be wadded up twists of tissue—a product of Reezira’s nervous habit.
“Aren’t there other plants we can eat?” she asked. “Dad used to say certain cacti could keep a man from dehydration.”
He nodded but didn’t look up from his work. “If this hole doesn’t pan out, we’ll go foraging. But look, the soil is damp and I’m only six inches down.”
She scooted closer for a look. Sure enough the walls of the hole were turning a darker shade of pewter, but that was a long way from something to drink. Just thinking of the word, made her mouth crave moisture.
“What else should I do? I haven’t even seen a lizard, yet.”
“Because I’m making too much of a ruckus. Um…what color underwear do you have on?”
She nearly fell off her perch. “Red panties. White bra.”
“Take them off. You don’t need the layers during the day and even a small patch of red might help a search plane spot us.”
Somehow she doubted her bikini briefs would be much help, but she quickly complied. The relative coolness of the morning felt good on her skin. She had a feeling she was going to be hating her jeans before long, but according to David, keeping your skin protected was imperative.
He looked up when she held the two pieces of lingerie out to him. “Good. Maybe you can use the bra as a hat.”
Liz started to laugh. “I’m afraid you have me mixed up with my sister Alex. She’s the bosomy one. Well, she used to be—until she got sick. But even underweight she’s still got me beat.”
He wiped his hands on his pants and walked to her side. “It’s vital to protect your head from the sun. As we become stressed for water, you’ll also need to breathe through your nose and keep your mouth closed. And not talk. Or laugh.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “Our last, until we’re rescued.”
“Do you think that will happen? I mean, maybe we need to think about walking out.”
“We’ll start walking this evening, just after sunset, if no search planes show up. To walk in the heat of the day would be suicide.”
He took the bra from her and cleverly fashioned an odd-shaped, lumpy hat of sorts that he perched atop her head. “Now, find a long stick to attach our new flag to, but move slowly and deliberately. No wasted motions. And keep looking for signs of trails. Javelinas and burros know where to find water. They can lead us to it, if we’re observant.”
David watched her move off toward the grouping of rocks near where they’d been dropped off. He’d climbed to the top of the outcropping before she woke up to get a sense of where they were. In the middle of freaking nowhere, he’d decided. He’d marked the position of the sun as it peeked over the horizon in the far distance to get his bearings.
They would follow Ray’s tracks for as long as they had light, but without water, they wouldn’t make it far, regardless of the time of day. So he picked up his donated tennis shoe again—a lucky break that Liz’s new brother-in-law bought durable, expensive footwear and wore the same size as David did.
He turned the shoe length-wise and resumed digging. The padded insole helped protect his fingers from the course soil. He’d never have broken through the rock-hard topsoil if he’d been digging anywhere but the riverbed. Once he cracked the outer crust, he’d found the going easier.
He focused on his task the same way he’d focused on the miracles he’d witnessed under his microscope. Worlds shifted, collided, bonded and metamorphosed while he watched. He’d missed that part of his life, he realized.
A noise of some sort made him look up some time later. He blinked to
get his bearings. And when he saw Liz, his heart did a funny little lift and fall. She was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, eyes closed in a meditative pose. Her misshapen bra hat tilted rakishly on her head. Directly behind her, on the highest part of the embankment, a small red flag atop what appeared to be a creosote branch fluttered in the breeze.
His feelings for her were so powerful he was afraid his heart might explode. He respected her, admired her and, above all, loved her. And he damn well would keep her alive.
He cleared his throat, which was dry and coated in dust.
Swallowing was getting harder. The back of his neck felt blistered and his arms were probably bright red under the layer of dirt he’d accumulated. “Liz,” he croaked.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
“I need your hat…um, bra.”
She pulled if off her head and leaned over to hand it to him. “What for? I’ve grown rather fond of it. Could be the new rage, you know?”
He inverted it, doubling the cups to make one. “Perfect,” he said. Then he dipped the soft, slightly padded saucer into the well of off-gray water that had accumulated in the hole he’d dug. “Ambrosia, my dear.”
Liz scrambled closer and didn’t hesitate. After checking the supply, she slurped down a few ounces. “Yuck,” she exclaimed, choking slightly. “That’s really bad.”
“But your body needs it. Don’t spit.”
She made a face and stuck out her tongue, like a cat choking back a hairball, but eventually she stopped gagging. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Not really. But it’s better than dehydration. We could try filtering it. Maybe through my sock.”
He sat back and started to pull of his other shoe, until Liz’s laugh stopped him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’ll stick with the plain, unfiltered kind. Sweaty-sock water just doesn’t have the same appeal, you know?”
He chuckled and took the bra/cup from her. He choked down two gulps, and had to agree. It was bad. Wet, but alkaline-tasting and gritty. “Nice job on the flag,” he said. “Did you see any more creosote around? It burns nice and smoky if can get a fire going.”
Bringing Baby Home Page 17