Edge Of Bloodshed
Page 9
“I need to get out of here. I need the toilet,” she said.
The guard grunted and reached down, then tossed a bucket into her. Annabelle was horrified. She stammered and yelled something else, but the guard merely grunted again and slammed the door shut, turning his back on her. She ran up to the door and hammered it again, but it was no use. He was deaf to her pleas, and she was alone. She looked at the bucket that had stopped rolling across the floor and sank to the floor once again, despondent.
It seemed as though she would be alone until Diana or someone else rescued her, and she felt vulnerable. But then she remembered the days between losing her parents and finding Diana. She had been alone then as well, but she had managed to make it through those days unscathed. She was glad for Diana, of course, and enjoyed having someone else to rely on, but she knew she could survive by herself. She had learned a lot from her father and the Scouts. She knew how to boil water, how to skin animals and make sure they were roasted properly, and knew what types of berries and fruits were safe to eat. She knew how to make a shelter and fire, but the one thing she didn't know was how to escape from the clutches of this woman.
If the guard was responsive, then she could have tried using some of the lessons that Diana had taught her, but it seemed as though there was no use. If the guard was not going to engage her in conversation, then there was nothing she could do. When the door had been flung open, she had looked for a way to escape, but there was nothing. The man was so huge he left no gaps at all through which she could have run, and even if she had, his arms were so long and his hands were so big that he would have scooped her up without any problem at all. No, for the time being she was stuck in that small room, unable to shout the truth to anyone who would listen. She knew if she caused more noise she'd only be silenced. So, all she could do was sit there and wait for the right opportunity, just like her father had taught her.
Now that she was alone and had nothing else to occupy her thoughts she thought of her parents deeply, and opened her heart to the loss she had suffered. She closed her eyes and saw the men who had dragged her mom and dad away, saw the anguish that had been on her father's face as he struggled to break free of their grip. She remembered the pain she felt as she ran away into the city, through the rubble, hearing the distant screams, tasting the salt of the tears that ran down her face. She wished that her father still was alive, that he was with her and could protect her, and she just hoped that if he saw her he would be proud of her. She thought of Diana too, and Adam and Peter, and hoped she would see them again. But she knew she could not depend on them.
Like her father said, at the end of the day she was alone in the world. The only person she ever had to answer to was herself, and the only one responsible for what she did and how her life turned out was herself. She had all the power in the world, she just had to wield it properly, and she knew exactly what she was going to use it for. Resolute determination swelled in the young girl's heart as she thought of her captor and the threats that had been made against the people she cared about. Annabelle knew she had to take care of Lisa. She didn't know how, and she didn't know when. However, if it fell to her to be the one who uncovered all the dirty secrets of this community, then that was what she had to do. She was just a young girl, but she had survival skills and a heart hardened by sorrow. She was going to use every weapon in her arsenal to make sure that she punished those who needed punishing.
She wrapped her hands around her legs and watched the door and the man who stood beyond it, waiting for that moment, waiting and waiting, knowing she had to be ready. And yet she also was so tired. Her mouth stretched, wanting to yawn, but she kept it closed. Her eyelids grew heavy and she struggled to keep them open. She wasn't sleepy, no, not at all, but every blink was longer than the last, and her breaths became heavier. Her head drooped and her body fell to the floor. She would rest for just a few moments, that was all, just rest, and she would think what to do later. Later...
Chapter Thirteen
“What the hell do you mean? You'd better not be lying! Why would you say that? What do you know?” the man with the eye patch said, his one eye staring at Diana, creased at the sides in a mixture of hope and anguish.
His voice rose. It was raw and hoarse, and blood shot through his eyes. He jerked back and ran his one hand through his hair. The other hung limply by his side, the stump waving to and fro. If he had had a hand, Diana imagined he would have planted it on his hip. She stayed in the chair, waiting for him to calm down, knowing this was her only chance to make it out of there without suffering any harm. So far, this man, Stan, thought she was the enemy, and she couldn't blame him for thinking that. After all, she and the others had come to this camp and set it on fire, making it a hell on Earth, and she had been captured. Annabelle hadn't told her much about her father, and it was a long shot, but Diana had to hope this man was one and the same, had somehow lived through it all and was alive, even when Annabelle had been sure he was dead.
Stan shook his head, unable to believe what he had heard. He looked at his wrist, at the tattoo. Annabelle's name was etched into his flesh. She was part of his very body, and he never could let her go, even though he long ago had given up hope that she had survived. She was a smart girl, yes, and capable, but an eleven-year-old out by herself in a mad world such as this? He knew he had given her the best chance to live, but it was only a small chance. Now this woman had come to him and told him she knew his daughter. It was unbelievable!
“No way! You're lying! You're not going to play me like that. Very observant of you, I'll give you that, noticing my tattoo. You guessed good that it was my daughter. Could have been my wife or my mother, but you guessed right. I don't believe you, though. There's no way you could know her. I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never see her again, so don't try distracting me. Tell me what I need to know. Otherwise, I'm going to go out there and tell the others that it's not worth keeping you alive. Start talking. Now.”
Diana saw the anguish in his face, and knew that look. She'd probably feel the same if someone came up and told her that her sister was alive. The ropes bit into her wrists and she knew she had to play this next part carefully. She hoped that this man was really Annabelle's father, the Annabelle she knew, not just for her own sake, but for the girl's as well. Annabelle never really spoke about her father, but Diana knew the loss affected her deeply, and finding him again would bring her no end of joy. The only chance she had was to describe Annabelle and hope to hell that she was the same Annabelle that Stan loved, and that she could convince Stan that Annabelle was alive and well.
“The Annabelle I know is about eleven, with brown hair, and freckles. She never shuts up, talks to anyone, loves learning, and knows how to survive in this world a damn sight better than most adults I know. She's damned amazing, even if she does go on about the Girl Scouts too much, and I’ve loved her ever since I found her wandering alone, having lost her parents. She loves My Little Pony and knows how to make a fire. She's the only person I know who actually has hope in this world, and everything I've done is to try helping her have a better life.”
Stan staggered back with emotion, as though he had been hit by an unseen force. He brought his hand to his chest. Tears ran down from his eyes, sneaking below the eye patch. He gulped, but just as Diana thought she had gotten through to him and made him believe again, he shook his head, his face snarling with anger.
“No! You don't get to do this! You're lying! Is it not enough that you've come into our homes and tried taking everything we have, but you also want to break our hearts again as well? You're monsters, the lot of you, and I'm not going to sit here and listen to your rubbish. She can't be alive...she can't be,” he said.
His words started off forceful, but by the end they were choking in his mouth. He leaned against the wall, looking weak and old, as though sorrow was weighing heavily upon him. Diana knew she was the same Annabelle from the way he reacted to her description, and now it was just a matte
r of making him believe.
“I know it's hard to believe in anything good in this world, but you have to believe this. She's out there. I found her, and I've been looking after her. She thought you were dead. She's never spoken of it because it's been too painful for her, but she's still out there. I know exactly where she is.”
Stan looked at her and seemed to forget about the pain in his hand from where she had bitten him. He sat down at the table and placed his head in his hand, still trying to process this revelation. He changed instantly. When he came in he was the tough interrogator, ready to question Diana until she gave him what he wanted. Now he was just a father aching for his child, being given a shred of hope, something he had given up on long ago.
“It all seems so long ago now. So long, before all this,” he said, speaking for his own benefit as much as Diana's.
He seemed to be going back to memories that he had pushed away. Like father, like daughter, Diana mused to herself. She imagined he hadn't told anyone else about that fateful day, but she was glad to know finally what had happened, since Annabelle had not breathed a word of it.
“We were trying to live, just like anyone else in this world, the three of us, trying to find somewhere safe where we could make a new life. I tried taking care of them as best I could. Annabelle was a wonder. She always had a bright idea and I was trying to make it to the forest because I knew we stood a good chance of surviving out there, even though it was winter. I knew what people could be like, and I didn't want my wife and child to fall victim to them. I'm sure you know what I mean,” he said, lifting his head slightly to look Diana in the eyes. Diana knew all too well what he meant, but any of the details went unspoken between them.
“We were so close. We had stored up enough food to see us through for a few days, and we were going to hug the river to make sure we had enough water. Our plan was to make a shelter and hunker down for the winter. It was going to be tough, but Annabelle always had loved camping. Maybe it was a mistake, I don't know, but we didn't have very long to decide. We almost made it out when these guys came at us. I tried to negotiate with them, but it wasn't working. They took my wife...they were going to take Annabelle as well, but I threw myself at them and told her to run. I screamed as loud as I could for her to get away because I knew what would happen if she stayed. The last thing I saw was her running away. The last thing she must have seen was me and her mother being dragged away. I'm not surprised she thought we were dead.”
Diana took up the story. “I found her wandering around the city. She was all alone and I couldn't believe she had survived all that time by herself. She was in a daze, and I tried asking about her parents...about you, but she wouldn't say anything. I think she expected me to leave her to fend for herself, but I couldn't do that. I decided to look after her, and I'm glad I did, because she's been good for my own sanity. I don't think I could have made it through without her. I've lost as well...and Annabelle has helped with that.”
“And you say she's okay? But how? When you're living with the people? You attacked us? Are you sure she's okay?”
Diana sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I think we may have misjudged the people we're living with. I'm sure you know what it's like out there. My...friend saw an opportunity for us to be a part of that community and we took it, not realizing what we were really getting ourselves into. The things I've seen today...I never knew it could get so bad. I've had my doubts but, please, tell me what a mistake I've made.”
Stan leaned forward. Diana tried not to look at his missing hand. She couldn't imagine what kinds of things he had been through, what pain he had suffered at the hands of those men, and the way he spoke about his wife...she was sure she was dead. Diana was sad that Annabelle would not get to see her mother again, but at least she would get to see her father, and that was more than the young girl dared hope, Diana was sure. There still was much of the story that Diana had to hear, but for the moment she was willing to listen to whatever Stan had to say. After all, she still was restrained and her fate still hung in the balance. If she was to be set free, it all rested on Stan's judgment, and while she felt confident that he would do whatever it took to keep his daughter safe, she knew she had to prove herself to be trustworthy so he would allow her to be free.
“The gravest, I'm afraid. When I first arrived here I heard of a terrible enemy, a camp who went around and stole from others, who took what they thought was theirs without any thought of kindness or generosity. The people you live with are a dangerous sort. They come to other communities with a smile and kind words, claiming they're looking to negotiate for trade, but it soon becomes clear that they're only interested in one thing, taking what they want. If you don't go along with their terms, they attack. That's what happened last night. We didn't want to deal with them anymore. Yet, instead of leaving us in peace, they try stamping us out. Sadly, we're not the first community this has happened to, although many of them weren't able to defend themselves like we did. I'm just surprised so many people are willing to take up arms for the cause.”
“We were told you attacked us. A man was wounded and was brought back to camp. The woman in charge told us there were people out there who wanted everything we worked so hard for, who wanted our freedom. I guess she was talking about herself,” Diana said bitterly, annoyed at herself for falling into the trap and not seeing the truth until it was too late.
“It seems that way. It sounds as though she's manipulating people through fear. And you still think my daughter is safe?” Stan asked, his entire body tensing. Diana licked her lips and swallowed.
“I have friends. They're...they're like me. They don't really know what they've been caught up in. They'll be back at the camp now, and they'll make sure that nothing happens to Annabelle. We all take care of each other,” she said.
She could tell Stan wasn't entirely convinced, although she couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. He now knew where his daughter was, but he wasn't able to do anything to protect her. He must have burned with frustration. Diana watched him in silence as he seemed to consider things in his mind. He rose and approached Diana, then reached around behind her and undid her restraints. As he became close she could smell the masculine musk on him, and when he whispered into her ear his breath was like hot wax over her flesh.
“I'm going to set you free because I believe you, and I want to get my daughter back. You're going to help with that, but if you've been playing me, or lying to me, and using my daughter to manipulate me, I will make you feel worse pain than you've ever felt before,” he growled. Diana said nothing in response, but flexed her wrists and ankles when she was free of the restraints.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked as Stan led her out of the small room and through the camp.
“To our leader. He'll know what to do with you. Believe me, this attack is not going to go unanswered,” Stan said.
They walked through the camp and Diana saw the charred remains of the buildings. The scars of the blazing inferno still were evident and her heart was heavy with remorse. The dead bodies still were being collected. Some of them had been killed by gunshots, others by the fire, their flesh melted, and their clothes turned to ash. Diana hated herself for the part she played in it. As she walked through the camp and breathed in the smell of the aftermath of war, others looked at her. When she met their gaze she saw the hatred they had for her in their eyes.
She couldn't blame them, and she wondered how she ever was going to make up for it. Was reuniting one father and daughter enough? She wasn't sure anything was enough, but she was going to do all she could to help this camp get revenge on Lisa. She just hoped it wouldn't be too long until she saw the others again. She had told Stan that Adam and Peter were looking after Annabelle, but in truth Diana didn't know if the two men had made it out alive. She only could hope they had, because she didn't want to think of a world in which both of them had died that night, and left Annabelle on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
Every minute they wasted was another minute that young girl could have thought that nobody was coming to look for her, and that her chance for freedom had disappeared. The longer she waited the more she would lose faith in Adam and the others, and what's worse is that Annabelle still thought Diana was alive. It was bad enough she was captured, but Adam also was going to have to break the news to her after she was rescued as well. He still didn't know how he was going to do it. Hell, he barely could believe it himself. He barely knew Diana, and hardly had known her for any time at all in the grand scope of his life, but any time he said anything it was natural to expect a sharp reply to fly from her lips, and when he turned around it felt as though she should be there. She had become an important part of his existence, but now she was gone, and without even a way for Adam to say goodbye.
Was this what life was like now? To develop feelings for and connections with other people, only to see them severed so abruptly? He looked at Tara. Even though she was agitated, still chewing her bottom lip, her face ashen and worried, there still was a beauty about her that Adam found enchanting. He wanted to be close to her in a way that he hadn't felt for a long time, not even with Diana. With Diana it had been purely physical desperation, but with Tara it was something more. He was drawn to her, and merely wanted to hold her and feel her beside him. Yet, the thought of it terrified him. Losing Diana had been bad enough. It felt as though a gash had been slashed across his chest and had left him hollow. How could he cope with anything else?