by Geof Johnson
“Yes you did,” Cassandra said, helping Rita pack up.
“Can I make something else?”
They put the box on top of the table and Rita picked up one end while Cassandra picked up the other. Rita said, “Tomorrow. You can try making DUI powder.” They walked toward the door. “We can sell it at the Screw. It’s usually packed on Friday night.”
“What’s it do?”
“Makes it so you’re not DUI anymore.” Rita chuckled and let go of the table with one hand, closing the door behind them as they left.
And Fred was alone again, staring at the wall. I did it! I did real magic. She was so excited, she wanted to leap from the bed and dance for joy around the room. But as soon as she moved her left leg, the clanking of the chain reminded her of her imprisonment.
Oh well, she thought soberly, eyeing the metal cuff around her ankle. Back down to Earth, Fred.
Chapter 26
Carl woke with a start when his elbow slipped off the edge of the desk. Dang, fell asleep with my head in my hand again. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, one shoulder popping audibly as he pushed his hands toward the ceiling. The Callahan’s couch is killing my back. I’d love to sleep in my own bed tonight.
But he wouldn’t. Someone had to be at Larry and Lisa’s to mind the equipment in case the kidnappers called. If they don’t call soon, we’re gonna have to assume the worst.
He glanced at his watch. Almost time for the NCBI’s search to start. I think I’ll see if they’ll let me help. An image of someone uncovering a body in a ravine filled his mind. I couldn’t bear it. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Not Fred. Got to find her.
He scanned the list of phone numbers on the desk beside him. Maybe I’ll call the Highway patrol again. See if they’ve got anything yet.
* * *
I’m starving, Fred thought as she paced back and forth next to her bed, the chain clanking behind her like a metal tail. It’s way past dark, and all I’ve had to eat all day was those doughnuts. Her stomach growled painfully as a reminder. She stopped pacing when she heard footsteps in the hall.
Cassandra entered carrying the folding TV table and a microwave dinner, a cigarette dangling from her viciously red lips. “Hungry?” she asked.
“Starved,” Fred said and sat on the edge of the bed, waving her hand in front of her face.
Cassandra set the table up beside Fred and put the dinner on it, walked to the window and opened it. She flicked the cigarette out of the window as Fred peeled back the cardboard cover and said. “Well, this looks edible.”
“It’s stew. I eat it all the time.” Cassandra closed the window.
Fred looked up. “Anything to drink? I’m parched.”
“I got something.” Cassandra vanished into the hall and reappeared moments later with two large plastic bottles of water. “I got a bunch of these at the store today. Thought I’d leave some in here so you can have something to drink anytime you want, or wash up or brush your teeth or anything.”
“I still don’t have a toothbrush.”
Cassandra snapped her fingers. “Damn! Knew I was forgetting something.” She left again and returned with a small paper bag which she set on the washstand. “There’s a toothbrush and some toothpaste. A couple razors, too.” She exhaled heavily. “I need a break.” She plopped down next to Fred. “Sorry it took so long to get your food, but I’m on a different schedule from you, I think. I’m on witch’s hours. You’re probably still on high school hours.”
Fred swallowed a bite of stew. “Early to bed and early to rise.”
“I guess you have a family routine and everything, huh?”
Fred shrugged and took another bite.
“So, do you have a mom and dad and sisters and brothers and stuff?”
“Just my mom and dad. No siblings.” Fred opened the jug of water and raised it to her mouth.
“What?”
“No brothers and sisters.”
Cassandra’s expression grew wistful. “Never had much of a family life. What’s it like? Is it nice?”
Fred swallowed a gulp of water and replaced the cap on the jug. “I guess. I’m used to it. You didn’t have a family?”
“Never knew my dad, and my older brother ran away when I was six. It was just me and my mom, and she was hardly ever home. She was either working or off with one of her boyfriends. I dropped out of school when I was fifteen and ran away.”
“You’re kidding. How’d you survive?”
“Turning tricks, mostly.”
It was Fred’s turn to stare blankly.
“I was a prostitute.” She chuckled. “At least ’till I met Mike, my boyfriend. Then I started dealing drugs with him.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t end up in jail.”
“Or dead, like Mike.”
“Oh.” Fred put her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Cassandra gave a little shrug and looked at the far wall. “It’s okay. I was long gone by the time he died. He OD’ed, I heard.”
“What?”
“Overdosed.” She pantomimed injecting a syringe in her arm.
“Oh my God! That’s awful.”
“I’d probably be in the same boat if Isabelle and Rita hadn’t rescued me. That’s how I ended up here. You see, Izzy started this witches’ triad, and she found Rita first. Then they did a scryin’ and found me, and they came to Mobile and dragged me off, kinda like we did to you.”
“Did they chain you to a bed?” Fred raised her foot and rattled the chain at her ankle.
“No. They were living in a different place then. They locked me in a room for a few days ’till I calmed down. It didn’t help that I was having serious withdrawal symptoms from not getting’ my fix.” She shuddered. “Boy, that was hard. But Izzy and Rita got me through it and talked me into doin’ the blood bond, and I been here ever since.” She put her hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Which is what you’ll end up doin’, I’m sure. Trust me. I know ’cause I been through it.”
Cassandra picked at the sleeve on Fred’s dress and furrowed her brow. “You know, I think it’s time to get you into a change of clothes.” She stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, she had some dresses draped over one arm and a pale blue nightshirt in the other, which she held up for Fred to see. “Thought you might want something to sleep in.” She hung it on a hook on the wall by the nightstand, then handed Fred a faded black shift. “Try that.”
Fred stood and held it up to her body. “I think it’ll fit. Was Izzy my size?”
“Used to be.” She showed Fred the other outfit, a gray peasant dress. “She gained a bunch of weight right before she died. Probably from drinkin’ so much.”
“This looks okay,” Fred said, holding the dress at arms’ length as she inspected it. “I wouldn’t want to go on a date in it or anything.”
Cassandra snorted a laugh and laid the two dresses on the end of the bed. “Me either. I like to dress up when I go out.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“A few.” She batted her fake eyelashes and laughed. “I like to keep ’em guessin’ as to whether or not they are.” She surveyed the room. “So you’re good here. Got your dinner and some music and clean clothes.”
“Cassandra.” Fred put her plastic fork down. “I get really hungry in the morning. Is there something you can leave for me that I can eat when I wake up?”
Cassandra snapped her fingers again. “Pop Tarts. Left ’em in the kitchen.” She hurried away and returned with the box of pastries. “Got these when I bought the water.” She set them beside the boom box on the bedside table. “Now, anything else before I go? My TV show comes on now.” She stood and rubbed her hands together.
“Well, there is one small thing.” Fred bit her lip as Cassandra paused. “Could you please, please, pretty please call my parents and let them know I’m okay? You don’t have to tell them where I am; just let them know I’m still alive.”
Cassandra�
��s eyes grew hard as she regarded Fred, her jaw tight. Finally, she said, “No. Not until you do the blood bond.” She turned and left.
Fred watched the door close behind Cassandra. She’s just as bad as Rita. She acts like she’s my friend, but she’s not. It’s all fake. They’re playing good cop – bad cop, and they think I don’t know it. Well, I can act, too. I’ll play along until I figure out how to get out of here.
And there’s no way I’m doing the blood bond with the likes of them.
* * *
Fred lay in the darkness, listening to the two women’s voices drift through her partially open door. They think I’m asleep. Who could sleep through that racket? They both sound drunk.
Rita had just gotten back from the Rusty Screw and was relating the events of her evening. “I sold both jars, just like that.” Fred heard what sounded like a hand slapping on a table. “Soon as I walked in,” Rita continued, “Alphonse cut his finger real bad tryin’ to slice a lemon. So I whipped out a jar of the stuff Fred made and put a little dab on his finger, and it completely healed up right there in front of everybody at the bar, quick as lightnin’. Shoulda’ seen the looks on their faces.” She chuckled. “Alphonse bought that jar on the spot. He whipped fifty bucks out of the cash drawer before you could say abracadabra.”
“What about the other jar?” Cassandra said.
“I pulled it out of my purse, and they started a bidding war for it. Hah! That’s never happened before. I sold it for a hundred and ten bucks. A hundred and ten!”
“Whoo!” Cassandra said. “We need to get Fred to make some more tomorrow.”
“You bet. Some DUI powder, too.” Fred heard what could’ve been a chair scraping across the wooden floor, and Rita continued, “You have any luck talkin’ her into doin’ the blood bond?”
“Not yet, but I think she will soon. She thinks I’m her good buddy, now.”
Rita laughed again, harsh and ugly. “Well, don’t matter. She can stay chained up in that bedroom forever, as long as she helps make potions. She’s a strong one, I can tell. I bet all the spells she makes will be good. She can be our little witch slave, workin’ away back there.”
“Well, you gotta help out more, Rita. I’m getting’ tired a’ cleanin’ up after her. You haven’t dumped her chamber pot once.”
“Get her to do it.”
“How?”
“Put the Compliance Bracelet on her and unchain her. Then she can take it in the bathroom herself.”
“Hadn’t thought of that. She can wash her hair in there while she’s at it. It sucked having to do that.”
It sucked? Fred scowled in the darkness. She acted like she liked it.
“Don’t put her in the shower, though,” Rita said. “Not with the bracelet on. Too much warm water will ruin it.”
“She can just lean over the tub, then. I don’t mind dumpin’ water over her head. I just don’t like haulin’ all that stuff in and out of the bedroom.”
“Don’t blame you. Don’t see me doin’ it, do you?” They both tittered like overgrown birds. “So even if she don’t do the bond, we can make good money off her. Long as the little bitch keeps makin’ potions.”
“I got that,” Cassandra said.
Their voices trailed off to mutters, and Fred stared at the dark ceiling.
So they think I’m a bitch? I’ll show them what a bitch is…no, what a firecracker is. They’ll regret it, soon as I get out of here.
All I have to do is figure out how.
* * *
Fred woke well after sunrise. Wish I knew what time it is. They won’t even give me a clock. She looked around her room, trying again to figure a way out of her prison. In the movies, someone always steals a fork or something to pick the lock. But the two witches had only given Fred plastic utensils, even when she made the healing potion.
I have no idea how to pick a lock anyway. If Jamie were here, he could just touch the ankle cuff and it would pop open.
If only he were here. God, Jamie, where are you?
She’d spent the better part of her time asleep searching for his dreams, without success. Though she did brush up against a couple of dreams that were close by, which she was certain must’ve been Rita’s and Cassandra’s. One of the dream-minds seemed bitter and angry — that had to have been Rita’s — and the other seemed to consist of layers of carefree contentment masking a deeper level of sadness. Bet that one was Cassandra’s. Something awful must’ve happened to her once.
She sat up on the edge of the bed and opened the box of Pop Tarts. This could be my prison for the rest of my life, she thought miserably. If I don’t do the blood bond, they’re gonna keep me here forever. The witches will die of old age, and I’ll starve to death, then somebody will find me here, a shriveled-up corpse with a chain on her ankle. It’ll make the news, and people will wonder who I was. By then, all of my friends and family will have forgotten me.
She stared at the floor, the unopened pack of Pop Tarts still in her hand.
* * *
A couple of hours later, Cassandra entered and said cheerfully, “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”
What a phony. “I guess. But I think it’s almost noon, isn’t it?”
“Noon, schmoon. Who keeps track?” She pulled something shiny from her pocket. “Hold out your arm.”
Fred did and watched as Cassandra reached to fasten a silver bracelet on Fred’s wrist. Cassandra said, “This is going to make things easier on me.”
Next thing Fred knew, she opened her eyes and noticed she wore a different dress. Her shoulders felt damp, too. “Did you wash my hair?” Fred touched her wet curls.
“You did most of the work,” Cassandra said. “I put the Compliance Bracelet on you and unchained you. I took you in the bathroom and helped you wash it over the tub.”
“Did I, uh, do anything else?”
“You used the toilet, but I didn’t watch.”
How embarrassing. She pulled up her dress and saw that she had clean panties on. “Well, you took care of just about everything, didn’t you?”
“I even cleaned your pot. It was getting smelly.”
Sure, you cleaned it. I heard what you said last night. Fred pictured herself as a walking zombie, carrying the chamber pot and dumping it into the toilet. Gross. I probably washed it out, too. Could this get any worse?
* * *
The entrance to the Hendersonville Police department was at the rear of the City Office building. When Jamie turned his car onto 6th Avenue toward the parking lot, he was surprised by the mob of people he found there. Huh, he thought, looking for a parking space. It’s full. He pulled his car into the lot next door and parked.
Two white television trucks with antenna dishes on top sat on the street nearby. Jamie pushed through the crowd to see his father near the building’s entrance, standing behind some microphones, a slew of reporters and cameras in his face. Fred’s parents stood behind him. Larry wore a brave face, but Lisa looked haggard and pale. Jamie couldn’t hear what his father was saying, but it must’ve been about Fred.
Jamie surveyed the crowd. Near his father, Gramma, Aunt Connie, and Grannie Darla were behind a table, handing out sandwiches to the volunteers. Bryce was there with several of their cross country team mates. Melanie and most of the cheerleaders stood near them.
“Dude!” Jamie turned to see Rollie, grinning as he slapped Jamie on the back.
“I thought you had basketball practice.”
“Coach had to cancel. The whole team revolted when he wouldn’t let us off for this, so he bagged it. He’s here too.” Rollie pointed to the other side of the parking lot.
By this time, Bryce and Melanie had joined them. Bryce shook Jamie’s hand and Melanie hugged Jamie. “Thanks for coming,” Jamie said.
“We brought help,” Bryce said.
“I can see that.”
Melanie beamed. “We’re gonna put up so many fliers…we’ll find her, Jamie. I know it!”
“Boy, I hope
so.” Jamie looked across the crowd and said, “It looks like something’s happening. Let’s go see what we’re supposed to do.”
They pushed forward with the rest of the mob to the front of the parking lot, where Carl had taped an enlarged map of the town to a portable whiteboard. He was assigning sections for groups of volunteers to cover. Melanie raised her hand, and when Carl called on her, she suggested that her cheerleader friends cover the business district around Main Street. Rollie and his basketball friends were assigned the area surrounding the downtown district. People with cars were sent further out; Jamie and Bryce were to go west, out on Highway 64. Some of Gramma’s church friends volunteered to drive up and down the Interstate, putting fliers at rest stops and on telephone poles at all of the nearby exits. A few people suggested that they go to Asheville.
“Asheville’s big,” Carl said. “We don’t have the manpower to cover the whole city.” So they decided to cover the downtown area there, at least.
As everyone lined up to get their stacks of fliers, Jamie watched his father at the center of it all, giving directions and answering questions, the undisputed leader of the operation. Jamie felt a sense of pride as he looked on. People trust him. I trust him. If anybody can bring Fred back, it’s him.
Chapter 27
Cassandra and Rita came into Fred’s room sometime after noon, carrying the coffee table again. “Uh!” Cassandra grunted as they set it by the bed. “I’m going to Walmart and buyin’ us a folding table, soon as we’re done today.
Rita rubbed her lower back and grimaced. “Get a couple of folding chairs while you’re at it.”
Fred sat on the edge of the bed. “What are we making today?”
“Not we…you.” Rita said as Cassandra stepped back into the hall for the cardboard box. “You’re gonna try making DUI powder. That’s a big seller for us.”
“You sell it at the Screw?”
“Yeah, and a couple other bars. Fridays and Saturdays are when we sell the most of it, so we need to make up a big batch today. Thought we might get you to make some more healing potion, too.”
“Did that sell last night?” Fred asked innocently.