by Vi Grim
©2010 Vi Grim.
Published by Vi Grim
Cover photo©Dreamtime
Inside cover illustration ©Lulu
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
1st September 2015 Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Also published by Vi Grim
Emily Taylor Book 2- The Slave Girl
Emily Taylor Book 3 – The Apprentice
Emily Taylor Book 4 – The Teenage Mum
[email protected]
Many thanks to Arnie for the use of his apartment in Antibes when writing this book
1.
Emily edged along the rock face, her fingers searching for the next handhold. The loose rock crumbled splashing into the shimmering silver below.
'Em, I'm stuck,' called Annie.
'Me too,' said Emily, her arms aching from hanging on.
'Let’s jump,' yelled Annie. 'Three, two, one, go!'
They pushed away from the rock face and tumbled into the waves.
Water exploded around them and they were engulfed in the cool, blue Mediterranean, bubbles tickling as the girls swam back to the surface. Emily hardly had time to take a breath before Annie splashed water at her then dived down, grabbed her foot and pulled her back under. She screamed as she went down, then fought free and swam away underwater, blurry grey and yellow fish chasing ahead.
They swam around the rocks to their secret spot, splashed up onto the beach and stretched out on the hot grey sand, wriggling into its soft warmth.
Annie slapped Emily’s thigh.
'Pinky!' she cried. 'Ha...got you!'
'Ouch that hurt!' screeched Emily, trying to look mad, then they both laughed as the white handprint turned back to sun burnt pink, matching the spots on Emily’s bikini.
Even Annie's silky Indian skin was rosy. The sun was never hot like this at home.
They dozed in the heat of the afternoon, nodding off to the lazy chirping of cicadas.
The roar of powerful engines woke them from their dreams. They screamed as a wave chased up the beach and washed over them. Looking up, Emily saw a black boat nose up onto the beach. Two men jumped out and ran up the beach to the treasure cave. With guns slung over their shoulders and red bandanas taming wild black hair they looked like something out of the movies.
Wow! thought Emily, Could they be filming a new James Bond? Dad will be so jealous when I tell him that we saw it.
But where are the cameras?
Ploughing a furrow in the sand, the men dragged a slim box down the beach, lifted it aboard and dropped it into the boat with a thud. Then they looked at the girls and argued, shouting at each other in a funny foreign language. One pointed his gun at the girls. He looked at Emily with hard, bloodshot eyes, a smile flickering across his hairy face.
'Adios,' he snarled, cocking his gun.
The other shouted and knocked the gun sideways. Bullets whizzed over the girls’ heads, kicking sand up around them. It smelt like fireworks night.
Maybe it isn’t a film set! thought Emily.
The men grabbed Emily and hauled her kicking and squirming to the boat. They were strong but she was wet and slippery. She wriggled her legs free and kicked at the man carrying Annie. He tumbled backwards into the shallows, holding his eyes.
Annie was on her feet.
'Run, Annie,' yelled Emily, as they pulled her back into the boat.
Annie hesitated.
'Go Annie, go. Run!' shouted Emily.
She ran. She was quick with her long legs.
The driver sprinted up the beach after her. Annie reached the rocks just ahead of him and scrambled up the near vertical hillside, using the roots of the pine trees as hand holds. As she frantically tried to get away, she sent rocks raining down, knocking him tumbling back onto the beach in a cloud of dust.
Go Annie, go!
The men fired a shot to get the driver’s attention as they pushed the boat out from the beach. He splashed his way aboard, grabbed the controls and they roared away, the men firing their guns into the trees.
'Miss, miss, miss,' said Emily quietly, willing their bullets astray.
A fast grey boat came around the rocks, heading straight for them. The men turned their guns at it. It fired back angrily, making splashes in the water. Emily kicked the man that didn't like her. She kicked her hardest and got him right in the pants, where they taught her to at karate. The surprised look on his face was priceless then he laughed and swung his gun at her.
Twack!
2.
There were stars in the darkness. They drifted around in random circles, changing colour as they went. Pain arrived in waves then settled above Emily’s right ear, like someone had banged a four-inch nail into her head. She went to rub it but her hands were stuck. Pulling and struggling just made her wrists hurt. She screamed then peace returned.
She was surrounded by darkness and noise. Something was burning. The nail in her head throbbed but it was nothing compared to the searing pain on her bottom. Her bum was on fire.
She was in a sack; her wrists bound together with cable ties, like on tele. It was hot and noisy and smelled yucky horrible. It stunk of dead fish, engines and her burnt bottom.
Everything moved, she slid this way and that, her bottom coming up against something hard and hot, probably the engine. She tried to hold still but kept sliding about in slimy oil and fish blood. She squirmed and fought to try and free her wrists and get out of the darkness of the sack. Nothing worked. She screamed and screamed. Above the noise of the engine she heard laughter from above.
'Gordon Bennett!' she cursed. She wasn’t one for swearing, but that wasn’t nice!
Where am I? What’s going on?
She remembered the beach and the wild men with their boat with the big black engines, Annie running and the gunfire.
Will they do horrible things to me? Will I see Mum and Dad again?
She pooed and peed, she just couldn't help it. The pee made the burns on her bottom sting, even more. Then she threw up until it hurt.
The air was so thick she could hardly breathe.
When Emily came to, the throbbing in her head had almost stopped, as had the throbbing of the engine, which had slowed to a lazy drumbeat. The wild pitching of the fishing boat had calmed to a gentle roll. The anchor chain rattled out then the engine stopped. There was shouting and laughter then a bump and a gentle nudge as another boat came alongside. She heard the creak of hinges and the click of a switch and light shone in through little holes in her sack. Heavy footsteps approached and she was hoisted up in the air.
‘Beurk, elle pue,’ grunted a coarse voice, speaking French, like Emily was learning at school. She wriggled and kicked then fell and landed on something hard and hot.
‘Elle a l’esprit,’ laughed the voice as she was plucked back into the air.
Ouch, ooch!
Emily bumped against a sharp corner and was lowered down until she was in a puddle in the bottom of a small boat. There was puffing and panting and a lot of yelling then something big and heavy like an elephant squished her down into the puddle.
There was the click of a lighter and the suck of a cigarette.
‘Bon voyage, ma petite pouce,’ called the coarse voice.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
The fishing boat’s engine started as she was rowed away.
Emily figured that the elephant sat on top of her must be the packing case that the men had dragged down the beac
h. Above the crush of its weight she could hear the creak of oars, the splash of water and the rasping breath of the smoker. The sound of surf grew louder and the little boat whooshed ahead and ran up on the beach with a bump. The elephant was gone then a minute later her sack was tossed onto the sand and she was dragged feet first up the beach, all the nasty gooey stuff ending up around her ears.
A second set of hands grabbed her head.
‘Un, deux, trois…’
She sailed through the air and there were more stars. Darkness returned.
Bump, bump, smash!
Emily was being bounced around in the back of a pick-up truck. It lurched and shuddered and jumped. Its engine roared as it dodged and swerved about the place, as if the driver was trying to hit every rock, rut and pothole, just to make her life miserable. They were definitely not driving on the M1, more like the surface of the moon. She shivered as they bumped along through the cool night air.
Above the noise and pain she heard an occasional cricket chirping away happily. She tried to think happy, like her mum taught her to. She remembered climbing around the rocks and swimming with Annie; it was just yesterday but seemed a world away already. She tried to block out the nauseating stench and the pain of a thousand burns and bruises, all yelling out for attention, and to pick out the dull warmth of her pink sunburn, the only pain she’d be feeling if she was back in the holiday apartment with her mum and dad, Danny and Julie, her pipsqueak brother and baby sister, and her friend Annie.
3.
The pickup shuddered to a halt and for a moment there was silence. The door squeaked open and slammed shut and footsteps circled around to the back. Sharp, metallic scrapping made Emily cringe as the elephant crate was slid out from beside her. Light flooded through little holes in her sack, beams of gold that cut through the thick air turning the spots on her bikini orange. There were voices, but she didn’t understand a word they said. Her sack was dragged off the pickup and she hit the ground with a thud.
Shadows blocked out the golden light and she was poked and prodded. There was a tearing noise as her sack was cut open and she was tipped out into the dust. Looking up, she saw dark people silhouetted against the pale morning sky. A strong hand reached down and picked her up by the hair.
Ouch!
Hoisted high, she found herself face to face with stubble, gold teeth and dark glasses. Rough, chubby fingers squeezed her cheeks and forced her mouth open to see her teeth.
Big mistake mister!
Emily bit those fingers as hard as she could, heard a yelp of pain and found herself back in the dust. There was laughter and a strong boot sent her sprawling.
‘A lively one, they said.’ Emily looked up to see bright green-brown eyes looking down at her, the rest of the face hidden behind a blue scarf. ‘Tu parle francais? Sprechen sie Deustch? Habla Espanol? Do you speak Engleesh?’
She spat at him. She didn’t like these people.
‘Engleesh. Yes!’ said the man. ‘What’s your name?’
She didn’t say nothing.
‘How old are you?’ he asked. ‘Nine? Ten?’
She didn’t tell him.
She spat again. He didn’t even blink when it went in his eye.
‘You’re a mess,’ he said, as he pulled a curved dagger from his belt.
This is it, this is the end! she thought.
He flipped her over on her back and deftly cut the cable ties on her wrists.
What a relief!
‘Clean up, we must go. The ladies will get you clothes,’ he said.
He hoisted Emily in the air and threw her. She braced for more pain but landed with a splash and come coughing and spluttering to the surface. After the confines of the sack the water was cool and pleasant. Palm trees surrounded the muddy pond she was in. The early morning sun painted the dates orange, the same orange as the sand and rocks. There were camels too, like she’d seen on tele. Orange ones.
Parched, she gulped down the thick brown water then threw up.
Women wearing tents washed the blood and oil, poo and vomit away, then rubbed Emily down with sand. It hurt and reminded her of her sunburn and Annie. She hoped Annie was okay and not full of bullet holes. After she’d rinsed off in the cool water of the pond, she was pink all over like a piglet. The ladies laughed at her, poking her piggy pink flesh to make it go white. They gave her a tent to wear over her bikini, dark red, like the wine her dad drinks and ten sizes too big, coming down past her ankles and dragging in the sand and dust.
The bright blue man came back. With a smile in his green-brown eyes, he said, ‘You smell better now. I hope you feel better too.’
She didn’t.
‘Excuse my manners,’ he said. ‘I no introduce myself. My name is Saleem. I’m the leader of this caravan. We will cross the desert. Don’t run away, it’s as useless as jumping ship at sea. You will die. To stay alive, you stay with us. You learn Arabic and our language, Tamasheq. We’ll give you a few days to find your feet then you help like everyone else.’
Emily spat at him again. She knew she shouldn’t. He was friendly, not like the man with the gold teeth. The men and women laughed at her.
‘A feisty one this time,’ he said, then yelled something in a funny foreign language.
There was shouting and grunting as people and camels rose to their feet and got underway.
Emily was too shattered, too sore, too upset and too tired to really take in what was happening. She plodded along, next to a huge camel, trying not to get under its hot water bottle feet, which would squash her flat if she wasn’t careful.
The sun rose higher in the sky, turning up the heat and the light until she was in an oven filled with whiteness. She plodded and plodded, all the time being careful for the hot water bottles.
As soon as I can, I’ll run away and be back with Mum and Dad, eating fish and chips in the rain.
Soon she felt too terrible to think. Her feet burned and her throat was so dry it hurt. Not wanting to give in, she kept plodding, keeping the dark blob of the camel on her right and putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to trip over her tent.
Her head started spinning and she staggered and fell. There was laughter, shouting and the jingle of coins and she looked up to see money changing hands between the veiled men.
‘You’re a tough one,’ said Saleem. ‘Eighteen kilometres, the best yet.’
She snarled at him and, getting to her feet, staggered on until she collapsed.
Splosh!
Water was thrown over her and she was hoisted up onto a camel.
4.
The next few days were as much of a nightmare as the voyage in the sack. Every inch of Emily’s body ached and screamed. The nail in her head had gone but the burns on her bottom made her jiggle around, as she tried to sit on a wobbly camel without her bum touching anything. Her feet were blistered, her lips cracked and sun burnt. Her body crawled with nits, ticks and bugs, and her stomach had revolted. She shouldn’t have drunk the pond water; her guts felt like they’d been turned inside out.
The flies were picking on her; like the bullies at school. She couldn’t run from them, they buzzed around and flew into her ears and eyes doing their best to drive her crazy.
The wind arrived, blowing dust everywhere and filling her world, even her bikini bottom with crunchy grit.
Saleem came to visit Emily, his bright blue scarf hiding his whole face except just the tiniest gap for his eyes. ‘Tsul, how are you?’ he asked. ‘We’ll stop here for a few days. The weather is bad and it’s still too hot, too early in the season to head into the desert. Rest, eat and get strong.’
‘Where are you taking me? What’s gonna happen to me?’ she asked in a raspy voice.
Seeming not to hear, he turned and walked away.
The wind howled. The fine dust got in Emily’s eyes and made her cough and her nose stream.
She was sick, her body burned hot and she couldn’t st
op shaking. Voices echoed and the world around her was light and dark blurs. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning and being dogged by nightmares from home.
Charlene and her gang were chasing her, they were hot on her heels, hassling her, pushing her, taunting her, laughing and jeering. There was no escape, she was in a labyrinth of deep pulsating sound and back alleys, junkyards and abandoned factories. They outwitted her at every turn, suddenly coming from the front or the side or turning the sound up when she thought she’d left then behind.
The ladies brought her tea that tasted like toothpaste and spoon-feed her rice and yucky tasting medicine.
Horrible as it was, the medicine seemed to work and slowly her strength came back and her appetite returned. Things started to seem real again. She didn’t like being the desert with the stinking camels and the dry dusty wind that shook the tent. Emily thought of her mum and dad. Tears ran down her face, washing crunchy grit into her mouth.
They were on holiday in Spain, their first real holiday ever. Emily’s mum won the trip at bingo. Spain was full of light, warmth and happiness. Even the bugs were happy; they chirped and sung, happy to be in the sun. Emily loved the people, the space and the beautiful old villages. Her mum and dad had their hands full looking after Danny and Julie, so Annie and Emily ran free, exploring the beach, chatting to the boys, swimming, diving off the rocks and sunbathing. She’d never been away from the grey of her hometown before, never been away from the bullies.
Her mum and dad must have gone home by now. Her mum would be having kittens like the time when Emily was little and set off to see the world. All the police cars came looking for her with their sirens and flashing lights because her mum thought she’d been abducted by the man that stole girls and did horrible things to them. Her mum used to love her back then. Now Danny and Julie had arrived she didn’t love her no more, not like before anyway.
Her dad would send someone to rescue her; she knew he would, like the police or Thunderbirds. Maybe he’d come himself, he’d sort this lot out.