by A. Z. Green
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Erica questioned with a tense voice.
“Everything. My eyes hurt, I feel tired, dizzy and this close to vomiting,” she said, holding her hand up with her index finger and thumb almost touching.
“Maybe it was the sandwich,” Aunt Erica suggested. Jaz held up the unopened packet. Her aunt eyed it as if it were a scorpion.
Stop thinking of excuses you fool. Act concerned, worried. She can’t possibly suspect you! Aunt Erica’s mental voice growled at her. “What do you want us to do?” she asked with genuine concern.
“It’s so hot,” Jaz whispered, holding the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead.
“Would you like me to pull over?” came the sound of the driver’s velvety bass voice.
Jaz looked at the back of his head between her half closed lids, still keeping her head back against her seat.
“No,” her aunt cut in a little fiercely, “We’re nearly there now. There’s not much point stopping.”
“How much longer?” Jaz croaked.
Her aunt shot the driver a look.
He glared at her in the rear view mirror then let out a low sigh. “We should be there in fifteen minutes. If there’s no traffic.” Jaz groaned knowing that answer was relative. Those fifteen minutes could double or triple or… she didn’t want to think of it. She just tried to breathe even, controlled breaths hoping that was enough to stop the vomit shooting up. “I will do what I can to get you there in that time,” he added in a stern voice.
She glanced up to find the driver watching her with a determined glint in his eyes. The fierceness of it startled her for a moment and she forgot to breathe. The fire in her belly roared and she swallowed hard to try and hold it back with a ball of saliva. It worked, this time. She looked away from him and lightly bobbed her head in response.
The last minutes of the journey were hell on earth. The driver kept to his promise, racing down the country lanes on the last ten miles of the journey. The only problem with that was that the bumps and curves of the narrow country road made it even harder to hold her vomit down. Her sweating was becoming unbearable. Her head was pounding. She could hear her heartbeat and the pumping blood in her ears. She felt like she going to die.
Correction; she wanted to die.
She couldn’t make out the scenery around her. It blurred in her weak vision so she kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t do anything about the sudden fever. The window was all the way down but it didn’t help much.
She glanced down at her phone, poking out of her open bag. 2:28 p.m. Nearly four hours in the car. It had been ten minutes since she’d told them about her sickness. She would have jumped for joy if she’d had the energy when the sign of the ‘Deer Creek Hotel & Spa’ came into view.
They pulled off the road, passing by the wooden sign standing high on two legs, and turned into a dirt road surrounded by forest on both sides. The road was long and bumpy but ran pretty straight. She looked ahead, praying that she’d somehow make it to a place she could puke in peace. She couldn’t see the building from the road. It must have been on the downhill slope. The road went up steadily but it was enough to conceal whatever was beyond.
She stared out the window as the blurred, luminous green trees flew by. The driver had slowed down to thirty MPH but her stomach acid was racing at a rapid speed. She had to get out. She needed to get out, right now. “Stop the car,” she pleaded quietly.
“Darling, we’re nearly there just hold on,” Erica began.
“I’m gonna puke, pull over.”
“Just wait-”
Jaz became desperate and angry. “Pull over! Now!”
The driver slammed on the brakes and she thrust herself against the door as she pulled the handle. The door stayed put. Locked. She was about to snap at the driver but the sound of the lock clicking open stopped her. She jumped out and got as close to the forest as she could, facing away from the car before she puked her guts out.
The burning acid was disgusting and painful as it went up her throat and out her mouth. Her chest heaved, her stomach ached. She puked until there was nothing left but stomach acid. On the last few smaller explosions of sick, she collapsed onto her hands and knees and coughed the last of it up. Her breathing was ragged. The air was suffocating as the afternoon heat mixed with the hot stench of sick. If she’d had anything left in her she’d have puked again. Instead, she gagged and gradually controlled herself with heavy, slow breaths until she felt empty and weightless.
Her aunt was not far behind her. The driver had gotten out and was leaning awkwardly against the car, having been unsure of what level of comfort would seem normal to provide. Instead, he’d decided being out of the car would show he had mild concern, somewhere safe between indifference and his true feelings of disgust, anger and agony for her suffering.
Her uncle stood on the other side of the car, with his elbows rested on the roof. He watched with an inquisitive expression.
Jaz sensed her aunt’s presence and appreciated her silence and distance.
When she felt like all the sickness had gone -being replaced with weakness and exhaustion- she carefully raised her head. Staying on her knees she gazed weakly at the thick layer of trees in front of her. She couldn’t see their end and she found them strangely soothing.
She’d gotten used to their stillness that it was very easy for her to spot the sudden movement fifty feet away in the dull light, from behind a trunk. It wasn’t an animal; that she knew straight away. It hadn’t moved between trees, disappearing from one tree trunk to the other. This figure had glanced behind one and then moved back. He knew he’d been seen. She stared fixedly at the tree she’d seen him peer behind.
She also sensed her aunt had moved away and for some reason it made the hairs on the back of Jaz's neck tingle. She didn’t know why it made her feel so uneasy, but she just knew something was wrong.
She slowly eased herself up onto her feet. Even at that speed, she still felt dizzy and wobbled on her heels before regaining her balance. She noticed that there was a strange heaviness in her ankles. It moved down to her toes filling them with a shooting pressure, as if all the blood in her legs had gathered there, pumping vigorously. It wasn’t painful, just unpleasant, like pins and needles. She ignored it, on edge from the man she’d seen in the forest.
She looked back at the car.
Her aunt was on the other side, by Uncle Bo. Jaz’s suspicions were set ablaze by the cautious, almost panicked look, on Aunt Erica's face. Uncle Bo's usually jolly expression had also become very tense and guarded.
Her eyes flickered to the driver. He stood stiffly. She could see the tendons on his neck protruding. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring into the forest; in the direction she had just seen the man.
She whipped her head round jumpily, her back now facing the road they had just come down. She focused her tired eyes on the shaded trees, finding not one, but two dark figures moving hastily between trees.
Towards her.
They weren’t quite running but they weren’t out for an afternoon stroll either. The purposeful determination in their eyes as they pinned them on her trembling figure, made her blood turn cold.
She gave her aunt one last panicked glance, catching the look of deceit in the woman's bright eyes as they darted between Jaz and the two approaching men, before Jaz bolted back down the road towards the exit.
She nearly fell forward as her jelly legs tried to propel her down the hill. She forced her body to balance, almost snapping tendons as she sprinted as fast as she could down the dusty path. The sound of her flats crunching furiously against the dust, grit and scattered stones was countered by several sets of raging footfalls.
She didn’t look back. The terrifying sight of the men’s approach would only weaken her determination to get the hell out of there.
She whimpered through her panting, willing her weak legs to move. She knew they weren’t working a
s well as they could; as they should. Something was wrong with her.
So many thoughts rushed through her head but they were incoherent babbles. Only the sound of their heavy footfalls as they got louder and the exit she could see hundreds of yards ahead were all that mattered.
Then the sound of one pair of footfalls, seemed to overtake the others. They were louder and that meant, closer. She swiveled her head round automatically and was horrified to see the driver was only a few feet away from her and gaining.
She tried not to squeal as she forced her already exhausted body to push forward. Faster.
Her weakened limbs couldn’t take the extra strain and her balance was lost. She fell forward, landing on her front with one lazy hand held out as she tried to stop herself from falling. Instead, the weight of her body crushed her arm and her clenched fist slammed into her diaphragm as she hit the ground, winding her.
She inhaled dirt as she took a ragged breath to force the air back into her lungs and choked on it. Two strong, big hands grabbed her by the waist and rolled her over as she coughed violently.
Even between fits of coughs, her first instinct was to kick out, making contact with meaty, solid flesh. She caught the top of his leg and he fell forward. But he was quick and strong, and managed to hold himself up with his hands. They slapped against the ground either side of her hips and stopped him from falling on top of her.
She rasped in fright, whilst dragging her legs away from his body. She then swung around and thrust herself up with her wobbly hands to run again. She made it two steps before he was on her again. The force of his weight made her lose her footing and she dived to the floor. Before she hit the ground he got a grip around her chest with one bulging arm. His elbow knocked against the ground and he let out a small grunt.
She tried to claw his arm off her chest but he held on tight. He was knelt over her, with his chin on her shoulder and she squirmed under him with her right cheek pressed against the ground. Her strength had no power against his. The grains of dirt and small pebbles scratched her skin but not enough to draw blood.
She hated his arm so close to her breasts and the feeling of being violated forced the last drops of energy she had, transforming it into fury. With that, she put her palms against the ground either side of her ribcage and thrust away, rolling them both over. His back knocked against the ground momentarily stunning him. She used that short moment of her arms being free to elbow him in the face, as hard as she could. The pointy bone of her elbow crunched against his nose, he groaned and let go of her. Blood trickled from both nostrils and he held it in vexation, squeezing his eyes shut for a short few seconds.
She got up quickly but the whole world started to spin and rather than move forward, she dropped down heavily to the floor. There were stars across her vision and she couldn’t summon the strength to lift herself up again.
Her sense of touch was delayed as the driver gently rolled her onto her back and lifted her up into his arms. She only realized he was carrying her when she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her anymore. Her head flopped back against his arm and when she saw his face she made a feeble attempt to slap it. Her hand swung just short of it, brushing his chin and catching some of the blood that had trickled down his face. Her arm became heavy and slumped down by her side.
All the symptoms she’d experienced in the car came back in a rush.
It was excruciating.
Her feet and ankles were throbbing and the strange pressure made them feel like they were swollen with blood, about ready to explode. Her head was pounding, her stomach was so fragile; the little jolts as her capturer’s boots hit the ground at each step made her want to throw up again. Her whole body was bruised and sore from the struggle and the exertion she’d put it through. Her chest was feeling the worse of it. She still hadn’t recovered from being winded.
Everything hurt but that wasn’t what worried her.
She felt faint and dizzy and couldn’t think straight. She was exhausted; inches from a deep and long sleep. It made her panic.
Her breathing quickened, becoming uneven and increasingly weaker.
She wheezed in pain at the pressure her panicked breaths put on her bruised chest and winded lungs. Soon the tiredness corrected that. She tried to fight it but she could feel her consciousness slipping away with each step the driver took.
The driver marched further up the dirt road, carrying her close to his chest. He glanced down at her with a pained expression in his eyes.
As he got nearer to the two idiots that couldn’t even perform a simple task of staying hidden, his expression became furious and very frightening.
He was disgusted with himself and everyone else for letting it come to this.
The plan had been to get her in the building and let her sleep while they got down to business; no panic, no problem. The drug would keep her sedated for several hours. Only now she’d wake up in absolute fear. He’d only agreed to do this if he could be the one to break everything to her gently, and slowly. Now the very site of him would horrify her. He clenched his jaw tighter, grinding his teeth.
The plan had totally been fucked up thanks to Barry and Norm for their incompetence. He gave the two men the full force of his glare as he strutted towards them. He walked as if he wasn’t carrying a ten stone burden. That amount of weight was nothing to him.
The two men stepped aside warily as he stormed between them. He stopped just as he walked past them to growl, “You fucked it up. You will be dealt with, make no mistake about that.”
The two men held their heads down and warily shuffled several paces behind him.
The aunt and uncle were staring from their place by the car.
By then Jaz had lost consciousness and her eyes were completely shut, her mouth half open as she’d tried to cry out. Her furrowed brow had flattened out now as her mind was lost to the world of sleep. “I hope you’re happy,” he addressed them in a low snarl.
Aunt Erica opened her mouth to speak but her husband squeezed her arm in warning. The sight of the menacing glare on the driver’s face, and her husband’s firm hand made her close her mouth hastily.
The driver stormed forward, leaving the car behind. They weren’t far from the village now. “Let’s get this over with,” he barked loudly, though it wasn't really clear who he was talking to.
~Chapter 8- Trap~
Monday May 9th, 2011, 11:19 a.m. - Locked Cell.
She woke up shaking with fear and the advanced stages of a vigorous fever. The sweat droplets clung to her skin like blisters. Her lips were pallid and cracked. She licked them with her dry tongue and winced as the saliva stung the broken skin.
The room was strange and primal, carved out of a dusty yellow stone she didn’t recognize. It seemed peculiar in England. It belonged to some middle-eastern country, in the desert maybe. Not here.
Wherever here was. She scanned her surroundings.
A cell.
She didn’t get up to check the curved door was locked. It would be a wasted effort. It had no window, no bars. The door was made of heavy, thick wood, possibly oak. The planks that had been fused together ran vertically until it met with the stone floor.
She clutched her knees, rocking back and forth on the bed in a sitting foetal position. She bit her sore lip, urging herself not to cry but the tears betrayed her. They trickled down her dry cheeks unrelentingly. She would not make a sound, she vowed. And she stayed true to it. The sobs were silent. She let herself cry for exactly four minutes before kicking her brain back into survival mode.
Was she underground?
No. There was natural light coming from a narrow slat on the wall to her right.
A strange concoction of solid wood and an unknown animal hide stitched to it made the head rest for her bed. She glowered at it, tracing the wall it rested flush against all the way up to the top, where the wall met with the ceiling. There was a dull light slithering through the slat. The slat was covered with frosted glass, but it appeared to
be layered; so thick it was almost opaque.
It was too thick and too narrow. Escaping that way was out of the question.
Maybe it’s a basement. Halfway underground?
She stared ahead at the wall opposite the left side of the bed.
There was no furniture. Everything was minimalistic and cold and hard. Stone and wood, stone and wood.
The strange curve of the walls and ceiling disorientated her. She hated it. There was a narrow archway at the end of the room; she spotted a small, stainless steel sink as she leaned back against the wall.
The coolness of the stone against her back was actually pleasant and she rested there for a while, allowing her head to dip back. The cooling sensation washed over her and her fever seemed to ease.
It was then the memories smacked into her like a continuous, never-ending motorway pileup.
She gained consciousness minutes after being captured.
She felt the cold, clinical metal beneath her body.
It was what had made her lucid.
The sounds of voices came next.
She kept her eyes closed.
Then came the absolute agony in her feet.
She couldn’t scream. Her lips were heavy, her jaw wouldn’t open.
They were cutting her toes off. That’s what it felt like.
She snapped out of the memory to look at her feet. They were covered in her socks that she’d packed in her suitcase. They looked abnormally swollen. She didn’t feel any pain.
Was it real?
She pulled her black socks off slowly to find her feet were wrapped in thick bandages. Her toes were hidden beneath the layers of white. She tried to wriggle them but they felt almost numb. She could feel them there without using her hands to touch, but they felt sort of fluffy; not solid.
Anesthetic, she thought with wonder and dread.
She tugged aside the strap of bandage that had been wound over her toes and up around her ankle, to try and peek inside the open hole of the corner. She looked in, saw the cotton bandages wrapped around her toes soaked in blood and gagged.