by Lynsay Sands
"Perhaps they are kept in the labs you mentioned," Domitian suggested.
Sarita nodded slowly. "There were several buildings. I only saw the front room of the first building, though. I suppose he could have had any number of people and things locked up there."
"Speaking of locked up, Dressler did leave you the combination to the padlock on my chains," Domitian announced suddenly.
Sarita stiffened up just a bit more. "Oh?"
"Si. It is around here somewhere." He glanced around the floor briefly. "It was taped on the inside of the refrigerator door. It had the combination on the outside and a brief note on the inside saying the blood was unsullied and he would contact us later to tell us what he wanted from us."
Turning back, Domitian grimaced and admitted, "I meant to tell you about it, but when you came down in that little red-and-black nightgown I am afraid I forgot. I can find it, though, if you want to read it. I think I tossed it on the floor somewhere."
"No," she breathed and felt herself relax. He'd meant to tell her and got distracted. That was all. He hadn't been hiding anything from her.
"He is a monster."
Sarita glanced to Domitian to see that his attention was on the jars again. She peered at them herself, and felt a lump forming in her throat. These creatures Dressler's man had mentioned must be his successes, the mutations that had survived. Fish people and bird people, and a centaur? Why would he create such beings? What kind of life could they have in this world? Not that he was allowing them out into the world. At least she hadn't encountered any while on the island. She wouldn't be surprised if they were locked up in his labs, probably being dissected and experimented on just like the immortals.
Suddenly unable to bear it anymore, Sarita stepped forward and closed the cupboard door in front of them. The moment she did, Domitian began to close the others to the left of it and she started to do the same to the ones on the right.
"We have to leave here," Domitian said quietly as they worked together.
"Yes," she said simply.
Once the last door was closed, he moved back to clasp her arms and turned her to face him. Peering down at her solemnly, he said, "Thank you. For the blood. And for covering me. For taking care of me."
"It was nothing," Sarita said, shrugging his hands as well as his words away and turning to lead the way out of the room. And it really had been nothing. It certainly hadn't been taking proper care of him in her book. That would have included staying to feed him bag after bag until he woke up and then making sure he was okay. Not just popping one to his fangs and leaving. But she'd been too angry to do that, angry and suspicious about the letter and his not telling her about it.
No, that wasn't the truth, Sarita acknowledged. She had been angry, but it had been because his not telling her about the letter had frightened her. She'd feared what it might mean. She'd thought they were a team trying to escape together up to that point, but the letter had raised doubt in her, and fear. Most anger was based in fear, she knew.
"The sun will be setting soon. I think we should collect some bottled water and some canned goods and leave as soon as possible," Domitian said quietly once they were out of the old lab.
Sarita paused and turned back to point out, "He'll see what we are doing on the cameras and might send men to hunt us down."
"There is nothing we can do about that. We will just have to be quick about gathering things and hope to get out before he can get men here to stop us," he said firmly.
When Sarita frowned and looked uncertain, he pointed out, "We either take a chance and leave now, or wait here for whatever he has in store for us next. What do you prefer?"
"Leave now," she said without hesitation. Putting it that way rather made it obvious that it was the only choice.
Domitian smiled and relaxed a bit. "I am glad to hear it. I was not happy at the thought of having to knock you out and drag you out of here like a caveman."
Sarita snorted and turned to start upstairs, saying, "Knock me out? In your dreams."
"Trust me, in my dreams knocking you out is the last thing I would do to you," Domitian assured her, following. "Unless you count--"
"Don't say it. Don't even think about it," Sarita warned, knowing he was thinking about their postcoital faints.
"It is difficult not to think about it when I am following your perfect behind up the stairs in that ridiculous swimsuit," Domitian assured her. "Why do bikinis no longer have a back on them? Why even wear them at all, if all it is, is a strip of cloth up the crack of your bottom leaving your cheeks on display?" he complained, and then added, "Do not mistake me, it is a beautiful behind you have, but most distracting and--"
"Domitian?" Sarita interrupted as she stepped off the stairs and into the office.
"Si?" he asked.
"Stop looking at my butt," she ordered firmly.
He remained silent as they left the office, but as they entered the living room, murmured, "As you wish."
The words made Sarita whip around to eye him suspiciously. The last time he'd said that was in response to her lecture about no kissy, kissy, no gropey, gropey, and no sexo. And look how that had ended. She suspected the man wasn't as agreeable as he'd like her to believe, and that "as you wish" from him didn't mean what it would from everyone else. She just hadn't figured out what it did mean from him yet.
"Why do you not go take a shower and change into something a little less distracting? I will prepare a picnic for us while you do and we can eat out on the beach," Domitian said loudly, adding a wink in case she didn't understand that he was trying to buy them some time before Dressler would realize they were making an escape attempt.
"Sounds good," Sarita said just as loudly, but turned toward the kitchen instead, adding, "I'll just grab the first aid kit so I can put some antiseptic on the cuts on my legs after I shower."
"There is a first aid kit?" Domitian asked, following her.
Sarita nodded. She'd spotted it on one of her earlier searches through the kitchen. There was a sewing kit too, and she decided she'd take that to the bathroom with her as well. Sewing a sheet onto herself might be the only way for her to have something that would help her cover up against mosquitos and the other bugs here. She wasn't running through the jungle in a bikini or one of those ridiculous negligees.
"All set?" Domitian asked when she straightened from collecting both kits.
"Yes." Sarita headed for the door adding, "Can you throw some bottled water in the picnic too? I'm pretty dehydrated after spending all afternoon in the sun."
"My pleasure," Domitian said, but he was beaming at her, and she knew he was pleased she'd just given him an excuse to pack the water. It might help keep Dressler from realizing too quickly what they were up to. She could only hope, anyway, Sarita thought.
The moment she stepped out of the kitchen, Sarita's mind turned to what they might need for this escape. The problem was they hadn't discussed how they meant to travel. Did he plan for them to traipse through the jungle or follow the beach?
Following the beach away from here would be easiest and probably safest, at least from whatever animals, reptiles, and insects might inhabit the jungle. On the other hand it left them out in the open and exposed should Dressler realize what they were up to and send men to search for them along the shoreline.
Then again, while heading straight out into the jungle might make for a shorter trip and one where they were less likely to be found again by their kidnapper, it also meant they might be walking into unknown peril. Sarita had lived in the city as a child here, she and her parents living in Caracas before moving to Canada. She had no idea what animals could be found in the jungle around this house, but knew there were tigers and jaguars in Venezuela's Amazonian jungle as well as bushmaster snakes. Yeah, the jungle didn't sound a good bet to her.
Hurrying back through the bedroom to the bathroom, Sarita turned on the shower taps and then went to fetch towels. She meant to grab one, but quickly changed her mind and gr
abbed four instead, tossing three on the makeup table before taking the other with her to sling over the shower. It had occurred to her that the large towels could come in handy. They could be useful just as towels, but could also be used to bundle everything up in and carry slung over their shoulders like Santa's sack. That was the reason for two of them. The third one was because she was considering turning it into a toga rather than using a sheet. The towels were quite big and should reach well below her knees. They were also thick, offering more protection from bugs and snakes. But aside from that it would demand the least effort. She could wear a swimsuit, wrap the towel around herself and then use one of the large safety pins in the sewing kit to pin the towel closed. She could even use a second one to secure it to her bikini top so that there would be no risk of the towel dropping and tripping her up.
Satisfied with that idea, Sarita stripped off her bikini and stepped quickly under the water.
She took care in washing the cuts along her upper legs as well as those on her feet. And was careful to scrub every last inch of her body to be sure she removed every trace of the dried blood she'd missed during her earlier shower. She even shampooed her hair again to ensure she removed any drops of blood that may have splattered there. With all of that, it still didn't take her more than three or four minutes to shower.
Turning off the water, Sarita tugged the towel off the panel where she'd placed it. She scrubbed her hair with it to dry it as much as possible and then simply wrapped it around herself, toga-style. Grabbing the other three towels as well as both the first aid and emergency sewing kits, she then left the bathroom.
Sarita entered the closet a moment later and quickly went through the swimsuits in the drawers again. She retrieved and donned the most decent of the remaining bikinis, a black number that she hadn't noticed earlier. It actually had more than a thong back unlike most of the others, and the top actually looked like it might at least cover her nipples.
She opened the first aid kit next, considered the contents, and then set to work smearing her injuries with antiseptic cream. Once that was done, she slapped a fabric bandage over each wound, including the ones on her feet.
Satisfied she'd done all she could, Sarita set the first aid kit next to the sewing kit and grabbed one of the large towels. She wrapped it around herself, and then opened the sewing kit to retrieve a couple of the large safety pins to pin the towel into place.
Satisfied, she then turned her attention to the shoes in the closet.
Seven
Domitian closed the last box along the wall and shoved it away with irritation. He'd come downstairs to finish searching the boxes and see if he could find anything to wear besides the boxers he presently had on. It was a sensible idea. He could hardly go traipsing into the jungle in just boxers. Well, really he could, but Sarita couldn't in a negligee and high heels, and she had mentioned that those were the only clothes available to her here besides bikinis.
Unfortunately his search had turned up nothing. Not only were there no clothes in the crumbling old boxes in the room at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't anything else they might use when they left this place either.
Turning away from the boxes, Domitian started for the stairs. He would check on Sarita and see if she was nearly ready. He had set out some things in the kitchen for their supposed picnic, but they would need more than he had out. He just didn't want to bring the rest out until Sarita was ready to go. The more time they had to get as far away as they could from the cottage before Dressler sent his men out to stop them, the better.
He headed to the kitchen first, hoping she might be done with her shower and waiting for him there. Domitian didn't find Sarita, but he did find proof of her recent presence. It looked as if someone had ransacked the place and he was quite sure that neither Dressler nor any of his men were responsible for it the moment his gaze slid over towels, canned food, and a first aid kit.
That was all he bothered to catalog before hurrying to the bedroom. They had to get moving. If Dressler was watching the camera feed, all that stuff on the island would tip him to the fact that a simple picnic wasn't their intention.
A muffled thudding reached Domitian's ears long before he reached the bedroom. Frowning at the sound, he pushed through the door and spotted Sarita almost immediately. There was a closet to the left of the bed that he hadn't noticed before. The door was open and Sarita was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a towel . . . trying to beat a shoe to death with a . . . can opener?
Slowing, Domitian walked to the door and peered down at her.
"Hi," she said, not bothering to glance up.
"Hi yourself," he responded. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get the heel off this shoe," she answered, and then gave the heel another whack with the can opener before explaining, "I'd rather not go traipsing through the jungle barefoot if we have to go that way."
Sarita paused to examine the shoe she'd been pounding. "The leather feels soft. It might flatten out a bit with a little wear. I just need to get the heel off--"
Her words died as Domitian bent, plucked the shoe from her hand and snapped the heel off with little effort.
"Huh," Sarita muttered, taking the shoe when he handed it back. Pursing her lips, she examined it briefly and then muttered "Thank you" as he bent to pick up the second shoe and snapped off its heel as well.
"We have to go," he said, offering her a hand to get up.
"Yeah. I know." Ignoring his hand, she got to her feet and moved past him into the bedroom. Grabbing two large bath towels off the bed in passing, she led the way to the door.
Domitian followed, his gaze on her legs below the towel she had wrapped around her body. She'd obviously taken a shower as suggested. Her hair was still wet, he noted.
"I gathered together some things we might need before I thought of the shoes," Sarita announced as she led him through the living room.
"That would not be the pile of stuff on the island in the kitchen would it?" Domitian asked with a frown.
"Yes. I thought we could load it all into these two towels and carry it Santa-style." She held up the bath towels she'd grabbed as she spoke.
"Santa-style?" Domitian echoed with bewilderment. What the hell was Santa-style?
"Like a sack," she explained. "We put the items in the middle, gather the ends, and hoist them over our shoulders to carry them."
"Dear God," he muttered with dismay.
"What?" Sarita asked over her shoulder and he could hear amusement in her voice. "You're a big strong guy. You could probably carry it all by yourself if you had to."
"Yes, but Sarita, we cannot possibly drag everything you have piled in the kitchen with us," he said reasonably. "I do not think everything will even fit in two towels. We would probably need six to fit it all. Surely we do not need all of it?"
They had reached the kitchen by then and Sarita considered the stack of items on the island and snatched up a pile of towels. Tossing them onto the stove, she said, "I suppose we don't need those. The supersized bath towels can do double duty as Santa sacks and towels if necessary."
Domitian raised his eyebrows. That was all she didn't think they'd need? His gaze swept the stack of items and he picked up a plastic box about the size of a ream of paper. "What about this?"
"It's a sewing kit," she explained, taking it away from him and setting it back on the island with the other items.
"You intend to get in a little sewing around the campfire at night?" he asked dryly.
"Not me, but those boxers of yours look kind of flimsy. Catch them on a branch or something else and you might be as good as naked if we don't have something to sew them up," she pointed out, and then shrugged and added, "But I was thinking more along the lines that the sewing kit might come in handy if one of us gets badly injured and needs sewing up. The first aid kit has antiseptic and bandages and such, but nothing to close a deep wound."
That gave Domitian pause. Considering the cuts in her upper legs and
the glass in her foot, Sarita was proving almost more dangerous to herself than Dressler was so far. If she continued as she was going, he might very well have to sew up some wound or other at some point. Still, they could just take a spool of thread and a needle. It wasn't necessary to drag the whole sewing kit along with them, he thought and was about to say so when Sarita spoke up again.
"Besides, while it's larger than I'd like, it's a nice flat surface and might come in handy for cleaning fish on, or setting things on that we don't want to get dirty, like bandages. And," she added, picking it up again and hefting it. "It's pretty light, so won't add to the weight."
"Very well." Domitian gave in. Her arguments were actually pretty good, but there was still way too much for them to be carting around, so he turned to the island and snatched up a pile of white cloth, only to frown as it unraveled and he recognized it. "Is this your nightgown?"
"It was the nightgown I was wearing," Sarita corrected, apparently unwilling to claim it as her own. Picking up a second ball of cloth, she said, "And this is the robe I was wearing. But--" she pulled the hem of the robe over her head and grinned at him through the gossamer material, "--now they're mosquito netting to keep the bugs out while we sleep. I washed the blood out of both of them," Sarita added and then examined the material as she removed it and pronounced, "They're both almost dry already."
It was actually a pretty clever idea, but Domitian didn't say so. He was troubled by the fact that she seemed to think they would have to walk for more than a day to find civilization and help. Or perhaps he was more distressed that he couldn't assure her that wouldn't be the case. Turning to the items on the island, he pulled out a racket next and pursed his lips as he spun it in his hand.
"A tennis racket? Really?" Domitian shook his head. "Where did you even find it?"
"It's a badminton racket," she corrected, taking it from him. "And I found it in one of the wicker storage boxes on the terrace. There was a badminton net too and I considered bringing that, but it's far too big and bulky, so I decided that the racket and stockings would do instead."