You Are Mine

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You Are Mine Page 5

by Ricky Fry


  But it was all too much. The long days crammed in the back of the van. The shackles. The chains. And the striking realization that I really was as helpless as I’d suspected, despite my best efforts to deny the truth of my worsening situation.

  Then the world spun, and everything went black.

  I couldn’t say whether I’d been out for hours or only a few minutes, but when I opened my eyes, the van was stopped in the parking lot of a roadside rest stop. The double doors had been opened wide, and a fresh breeze cooled my clammy skin.

  Travis came around from the back and unlocked one side of my handcuffs before passing me a water bottle. “Splash a little on your face. It’ll help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t mixed up the towns, none of this would have happened.”

  I didn’t want to forgive him. His apology seemed genuine, but there was still something about him I didn’t trust. I took a long sip from the bottle and tried to think of something to say.

  He spoke again first. “We’ve got another scheduled stop in about an hour. If you can hold tight until then, we’ll get you out of the van and stretch your legs for a few minutes. I know it’s a long ride, all this crisscrossing around, but after Idaho Falls, we’re headed straight to Portland.”

  I took another sip and nodded.

  “That’s my girl,” he said as he fastened the handcuff back around my wrist.

  That’s my girl?

  I wasn’t anyone’s girl. Maybe that’s what had always bothered Matt. He wanted to think of me as just another possession, like that stupid car he’d brag about to friends.

  Instead, I’d always been independent. A partner? Sure. But a possession, something to dress up and drag along to fancy company dinners to make the other guys in the office drool? Not my style.

  At least Travis was back to being friendly. Another stop would do us some good, and I’d find out soon enough if he was really telling the truth about Idaho Falls. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if he wasn’t.

  Ruby smiled. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “You had me pretty worried about you.”

  “I’ll be okay.” In truth, I still wasn’t so sure. But I didn’t see much use in sharing my lingering concerns with her.

  “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

  “Yes, but not since the years after my mom died.”

  Her smiled curl down into a frown. “Maybe you should talk to somebody about that. I mean, I know it sounds a bit silly. But believe me, it really helps.”

  I tried imagining Ruby, quirky but resilient Ruby, spread on some therapist’s couch. “Yeah, maybe. I’ve been seeing one here and there. But between you and me, I’ve spent most of the years since my mom died just trying to survive on my own.”

  I could see the love and compassion in her eyes. “You’ll be alright, Spencer. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know.”

  “You’re a true friend, Ruby. Maybe the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  It might not be easy for me to tell you this, but I love you.

  TEN

  As promised, Travis pulled the van into a roadside truck stop with a big rotating sign in the shape of a donut. The road had narrowed down to two lanes, and low mountains rose up on all sides.

  “This is gonna be hard,” he said, “on account of Monica not being here. I’m sure you girls won’t be any trouble. Help me out, and I’ll buy us all a box of donuts.”

  “I have to pee real bad,” said Ruby. “Is it alright if I go first?”

  Travis leaned in over me to unbuckle her seat belt, and I could smell the coffee on his breath. Then it was Ruby’s turn to shuffle around me, snorting and saying she was sorry as she bumped my knees.

  When Ruby was out beside the van, Travis produced a long chain and locked it securely to the links in the center of her handcuffs. “I hate to do this,” he said. “But I’ve got to use a lead chain since I’m not inclined to follow you into the bathroom.”

  I watched through the mesh cage over the window as they went off towards the restaurant and the bathrooms, Ruby shuffling along in front of Travis as he held the other end of the chain.

  Minutes passed. Travis had taken the keys along with him, and the van, devoid of any air-conditioning or ventilation, began to warm up in the mid-morning sun.

  It’s the moments when you have nothing to do but wait, that your mind starts to wander. And as I sat in the back of that stuffy van, I relived everything that had happened over the last few days. The creepy winks and smiles. The milkshake and the brush against my knee. Monica’s mysterious disappearance in the middle of the night. And the words Travis had whispered to the poor girl strapped to the bench seat as he looked me in the eyes: Good girls live. Bad girls die.

  I wondered then if I might be able to escape. Maybe when it was my turn to go to the bathroom, I could find some way out the back. Maybe I could choke him with the chain, grab the keys to the van, and make a break for it with Ruby. He’d have the handcuff keys too. If I could get the shackles off, maybe we’d have a chance. Where we went from there didn’t matter. I only wanted to get us as far away from him as possible, even if that meant turning ourselves in at some police station a hundred or so miles down the road.

  Am I crazy? It was certainly a crazy idea. The sensible thing would have been to wait and see if Monica’s replacement was actually waiting for us in Idaho Falls. But what if it was all just a big lie? Maybe then it would be too late to do anything about it. Maybe by then, we’d both be dead. No, I had to take the chance. Something deep inside, some feeling down in my gut, told me it was the only chance I was going to get.

  I worked it all out in my head. I’d play along nicely and wait until we were headed back to the van. Then I’d stumble, pretending to trip over the shackles. When he bent over to help me up, I’d make my move.

  I was so lost in thought I didn’t see them come back to the van. I jumped when the door opened.

  “You okay?” Ruby held a box of donuts between her cuffed hands.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s getting pretty hot back here. I think I dozed off for a minute.”

  Travis unlocked the chain and helped her back into the seat, reached across my lap again to fasten her seatbelt, and then unfastened mine. “I’ll put the A/C on when we get back on the road.”

  Then it was my turn to climb out. I took a moment to steady myself as Travis locked the long chain to the handcuffs around my wrists. Then we shuffled off together toward the restaurant, Travis guiding me like some master walking a human dog on a leash.

  A tiny bell above the door dinged.

  “Back again?” said an enormous woman behind a long counter. Local news flickered and flashed on a TV in one corner, but the woman’s attention was focused on a gossip magazine. She’d hardly bothered to look up as we entered.

  By now, I’d become accustomed to the stares and ignored the whispers exchanged between the few patrons, mostly old truckers, spread out on stools in front of the counter or milling about the aisles stuffed with junk food and pornographic magazines.

  “This way,” said Travis, pointing to a swinging door that led to a long, back hallway.

  When we got to the lady’s room, he unlocked one of my cuffs and told me to go inside. My hands fumbled nervously as I dropped the pink pants down around my ankles, Travis still holding the long length of chain outside the door.

  You can do this. Just breathe, Spencer. Breathe.

  I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror on the way out and was shocked at my own appearance. Who was this girl, who only weeks before, had been sipping cocktails with her friends in a trendy Portland bar? Now she was somewhere in Idaho, no makeup on her face, bags underneath her eyes, with her hands chained to her waist.

  This, too, shall pass. Someday, this will all be behind you.

  The chain between my ankles clinked as we shuffled back out along
the counter. We’d almost made it to the door when something on the TV caught my attention. It was the outline of a body in some muddy ditch, a white sheet draped over the top. Beneath the image, bold letters flashed across the screen: FEMALE PRISON GUARD FOUND DEAD IN A ROADSIDE DITCH. OFFICIALS IN UTAH BELIEVE TWO FEMALE PRISONERS ARE THE SUSPECTS. THE WHEREABOUTS OF ONE ADDITIONAL GUARD ARE STILL UNKNOWN.

  My heart leaped into my throat. My worst suspicions were true, even the ones I’d never allowed to become fully formed thoughts in my head. Travis had murdered Monica as we slept and was taking us somewhere to rape us or torture us, or worse.

  He must have seen the news too because he took me by the arm with a firm grip and forced me toward the door.

  “It’s him,” I said to the woman behind the counter. “The dead guard—he killed her.”

  The woman looked up from her magazine and glanced at the television. The news had already moved on to a local story about the fire department raising funds for the county animal shelter.

  “Please,” I said, digging in my heels and fighting against his grip. “It’s him. You have to help us. He killed her, and he’s going to kill us too.”

  “I’m so sorry for the trouble,” he said. “These prisoners will try anything to escape.”

  The woman only shrugged and went back to her magazine. The little bell above the door dinged again on our way out.

  This is it. Now or never.

  How I’d rip free from his grip and get the chain around his neck with my hands still cuffed, I didn’t know. But I knew at that moment, beyond any shred of doubt, that if I didn’t succeed in escaping with Ruby, we were both going to end up dead.

  My muscles tensed, and I braced for a fight. Just as I was about to wrest free, a police car pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop beside us. A badge on the side of the door read: BEAR LAKE COUNTY SHERIFF. At least I knew where we were, even though I had no real idea where Bear Lake County might be.

  An older man in a brown uniform exited the patrol car and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. “How’s it going there? You having some trouble?”

  “No trouble,” said Travis. “This one’s just not making it easy on me. Been causing problems all the way down from Montana.”

  “You need a hand, son?”

  “Thanks, officer. But I don’t want to bother you.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother. Say, you headed south then?”

  “Yes, sir, all the way to Albuquerque.”

  I couldn’t believe how easily the lies rolled off his disgusting lips.

  “You be careful now. Word came over the radio this morning; they found one of your kind dead in a ditch just across the Utah state line. Strangled, they said. If you ask me, the world’s really going to shit.”

  Travis raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “That’s us,” I screamed. “He killed her! He killed Monica, and he’ll kill us too.”

  “Now I see what you mean,” said the old deputy. “She’s a real head case, eh? You sure you don’t want some help getting her over to your van?”

  “Her bark is worse than her bite.” Travis laughed. “You stay safe out there, officer.”

  “I could say the same to you, young man.” The deputy raised a gloved hand and tipped his hat. “It’s a crazy world—just keeps getting crazier by the day.”

  I watched the old man disappear into the store, all my hopes for a rescue disappearing with him. Still, I fought Travis all the way back to the van with whatever strength I managed to muster. I fought like my life depended on it because I was convinced it did. But with my hands chained to my waist and my legs in shackles, it wasn’t much of a fight.

  He swung the van door open with a burst of violence and forced me inside. Ruby screamed too when she saw what was happening. The pink box on her lap fell to the floor, and colorful donuts rolled under the seats.

  I kicked with both feet and screamed along with her, landing one good blow to his face before he pinned me down with all of his bodyweight. When the seatbelt was fastened, and the fight had gone out of me, he leaned in close, so close I could smell his putrid breath, and whispered in my ear, “Good girls live. Bad girls die.”

  ELEVEN

  The tires kicked up gravel behind us as the van tore out of the parking lot. I was still struggling against the chains, though tiring quickly. When I looked down, there was blood on my wrists and a blue donut between my feet.

  Ruby, whose expression was both shocked and confused, cried as she begged me to tell her what had happened.

  “Now look what you made me do,” said Travis from behind the steering wheel. “We were all getting along so well. You just had to go and mess it up.”

  “Please,” Ruby said, tears running down her face and falling in darkened spots on her pink shirt. “Please, somebody, tell me what happened.”

  “He killed her,” I said. “It was on the TV, Ruby. They found Monica dead beside the road.”

  “Oh my god.” Ruby’s face turned a pale shade of gray, and I thought she might pass out.

  “Hold on a minute,” he said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “She’s dead, Travis. You saw it yourself.”

  “That doesn’t mean I killed her. Look, Ruby was right. I never should have let her walk away like that. Poor Monica probably caught a ride with the wrong person. Things happen all the time out here on these empty roads.”

  I knew it was insane, but I found myself wishing for a split second what he’d said was true. I was looking for something, anything that might give me some hope we’d make it out of this alive.

  And the van! The van has GPS. Someone still knows where we are.

  There was only one problem with his story. “If that’s true, then why’d you lie to the sheriff’s deputy?”

  “Look, I was shocked, same as you, when I saw that Monica was found dead. I guess I panicked. I thought maybe they’d blame me, just like you’re doing now.”

  “That a lie. He’s lying, Ruby.”

  “Wait a minute. It ain’t nice to call people liars. This is all just a misunderstanding.”

  “Call it in,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You know, pick up the phone and call the corporate office. Let them know what’s going on. If you do that, I’ll believe you about everything.”

  “You’re a prisoner, Spencer. You’re hardly in a position to be making demands.”

  “Do it. Put it on speakerphone so we can all hear what they have to say.”

  “I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, your dear old friend Monica, in her hurry to walk away from the job, took off with the duty phone.”

  Oh, he’s good.

  He was so good I was almost ready to believe him. But as the road wound further up into the mountains, we passed a big sign, clear as day: WELCOME TO WYOMING. FOREVER WEST.

  Ruby saw it too. “We’re not going to Idaho Falls, are we?”

  “No,” he said in a flat voice. “You got me, okay? We’re not going to Idaho Falls.”

  Ruby screamed again, and I did too.

  His gaze met mine in the rear-view mirror, a sparkle in his eyes I’d never seen before as if the truth had somehow set him free.

  “I’m doing you a favor,” he said. “You really want me to take you back to stand trial? You’d end up in prison. Where I’m taking you will be so much better. Believe me, nobody will ever find you there, and that’s the truth.”

  I thought I might vomit, but instead, I gathered myself up and twisted sideways, chain digging into my stomach until I finally managed to undo my seatbelt.

  “Don’t do it, Spencer.”

  But it was too late. I didn’t care what he said. He was crazy, and nothing he could say or do would change my mind. “Fuck you,” I said, working onto my back and kicking at the wire cage on the window with both feet.

  “Please, don’t make me stop the van.”

  But I wasn’t listening. I kicked and
kicked until the wires bent and the window shattered.

  I’d rather throw myself onto the road, hope that some trucker comes along to offer me help than spend another minute in the van with that psycho.

  Ruby was still crying in the seat behind me. “Please, Spencer. He seems really mad.”

  Travis beat his hands against the steering wheel as he pulled the van over and brought it to a stop alongside the two-lane mountain road. “I told you, I’m only trying to help. But you won’t listen, so now I gotta stop being the nice guy.” He climbed down from the driver’s seat and went to the back of the van, then came around to the side and swung open the door. “It’s your fault,” he said. “Don’t forget, it’s you who made me do this.”

  I pivoted on the bench seat with some previously unknown strength and kicked at his face. Another blow found its target, and blood ran from his nose.

  Now I saw it—the rage in his eyes. He climbed on top of me and pinned me beneath his bodyweight again. I closed my eyes and screamed until I felt something, a rag or old t-shirt maybe, forced into my mouth and tied tightly around the back of my head. I thought I might die, unable to scream or breathe as the air pumped desperately in and out of my nose. Next came the straps, the same ones they’d used to pin down the girl from Denver. I wondered how long it would be until I pissed myself too.

  It was only a few seconds before I felt the adrenaline surging through my veins, the feeling of claustrophobia overwhelming me. Again I thought I might pass out.

  But whatever horrors might have come in the days that followed, what I saw next would remain burned in my memory forever. No words could ever describe the look of terror on Ruby’s face as he dragged her screaming from the van along that empty stretch of mountain highway. She cried and begged him to stop, the pitiful cries of someone who knew they were about to die and could do nothing to stop it.

  I would have screamed too if my mouth wasn’t already gagged. Tears welled in my eyes and ran into my nose and threatened to drown me.

  The last thing I remember of Ruby was her calling my name, and the moment our eyes made contact as he forced her, kicking and screaming, to an unmarked grave.

 

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