Black Water Creek

by Robert Brumm

  “It’s one of the little unexpected fringe benefits of my…hobby that I discovered with my second girl.” He removes his shirt and hangs it on the same hook on the door. Kelly notices long jagged scars on his back before he turns to face her again. “I find it best if I know the family of my girls. Makes it more exhilarating.

  “I could almost smell your father’s despair, taste his fear. There he was, not three feet in front of me and I held all the answers to his troubles. The feeling of complete and total omniscience is…is…” he rubs his hands together and looks to the ceiling. “Almost God-like. All I needed to do was mutter a few simple words. ‘Yes, Jebediah. I know exactly where your dear Elizabeth is. She’s safe and sound at my place down by the river. Hallelujah!’”

  He sits on the table next to Kelly, the wooden planks creaking under his weight. He rubs her cheek with the back of his hand. “Of course, there wouldn’t be much sense in doing that, now would there?”

  The table creaks as he rises again and he unbuckles his pants. He pulls them down and hangs them up, completely nude now except for his left shoe and a wooden peg leg below his right knee. The flesh above the leather strap holding the prosthetic on is riddled with scars, reminding Kelly of bubbling cheese on a pizza. She tries to look away as he turns back to her but can’t help notice his growing erection. The bile in her throat rises.

  He moves over to the chest of drawers and slides the top one open. He puts on a pair of rubber gloves and starts removing tools from the drawer. Places them on top of the dresser.

  Scalpel, bone saw, speculum.

  “You know, you’re the first red head I’ve ever had. Hopefully not the last.”

  Scissors, pliers, hammer.

  “Only one to two percent of the entire population has red hair, so I’m not too fond of my chances.”

  Ice pick, wire cutters, box of nails.

  “I read a fascinating study once making the case that red heads experience pain differently than the rest of us.” His tools laid out, he moves to the table and unties Kelly’s robe. “On one hand, the study showed your kind is more sensitive to thermal pain, yet less so to noxious stimuli such as electrically induced pain.”

  He opens the robe. Kelly’s exposed chest rises and falls as she gasps for air, not getting enough. Her arms lay limp by her side. Her mind screams but her mouth remains clamped shut. She wants to push him away but her limbs won’t move.

  “I’ll enjoy experimenting with those findings a little later,” he smirks. “Perhaps I’ll write my own paper on the subject one day.”

  He moves to the foot of the table. “You’re no doubt wondering about your condition. It’s a little concoction I made with help from a pharmacist friend of mine. It was in the sarsaparilla Mrs. MacAuley gave you earlier. Completely inhibits motor movements yet leaves the patient fully awake and aware, as you can see.”

  He grabs a hold of her ankles. “I administered it to myself once, just to see what it was like. It’s not very pleasant, is it? Don’t worry, it only lasts for a short time.” He spreads her legs and gazes between them. “Later on, we’ll use the restraints under the table. I enjoy a healthy struggle.”

  He grips her ankles harder and pulls her across the table towards him.

  *****

  Kelly realized she was sitting up and screaming before she even fully woke. Her clothes were damp with sweat. She unclenched her shaking hands, rubbing the deep indentations left by her own fingernails. Keegan sat in the corner, eyes puffy from sleep and holding his blanket. He sucked furiously on his thumb.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She crawled over and hugged him. “Mommy just had a real bad dream, okay? Everything is fine.” Kelly looked around the room in the fading light of day, surprised at how late it was. They must have slept for hours.

  She held Keegan out at arm’s length. “Are you hungry? How about some supper?”

  Keegan just nodded his head and kept sucking his thumb.

  Kelly turned on the oven to preheat and switched on every light in the house. She paused at her bedroom doorway. Instead of turning on the light, she slammed the door shut.

  Chapter 22

  Paul glanced over as the jingling bells attached to the front door announced Kelly’s presence. The irony of old fashioned bells instead of an electric alarm in an electronics shop occurred to her for the first time as she closed the door behind her. He was discussing something with Charlotte but Kelly noticed his face brighten as she came in, a knowing look before he turned his attention back to their conversation. Kelly said good morning to both of them as she passed and went into her book department.

  She took off her coat and rubbed her hands together trying to coax the warmth back into them as she stepped around the corner. The short drive to the shop from her house was definitely an advantage, but it didn’t give her truck’s heater enough time to warm up.

  Kelly switched on the monitor of her workstation and was about to log into the Point-of-Sale system when two hands clamped on her shoulders from behind. She shrieked and the hands immediately released.

  “Oh man,” Paul said. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  Kelly spun around and tried to catch her breath. “I didn’t even hear you come in!”

  Paul’s face reddened as he put his hands on her shoulders, gently this time. “It was stupid, especially after what happened last night. I’m really sorry. Just a lame attempt at me trying to be romantic.”

  Kelly smiled. “It’s okay. I’m just a little jumpy still. I had another bad dream last night.”

  Paul glanced at the entryway to the book department and stole a kiss.

  “That’s it?” Kelly asked.

  “I think it’s probably a good idea to keep things quiet for now in front of Charlotte and everybody else. It might look bad that the boss is sleeping with one of his employee’s, you know? Just for now. I’ll figure something out.”

  “I understand. Actually, it might be sort of fun, sneaking around.” Kelly reached around and swatted Paul’s butt.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t get around to calling yesterday. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Besides the bad dream, yesterday was pretty quiet.”

  “Any news from the cops? Are they doing anything or just hoping it’ll all go away?”

  Kelly looked down at the floor and dragged her index finger across the countertop. “He called me.”

  “What?”

  “Don called the next day. He practically admitted he spray painted the car before he started yelling. I hung up on him.” Kelly looked up at Paul. His jaw was clenched tight and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. She didn’t like the look in his eyes.

  “So he knows where you live. Did he threaten you?”

  Kelly nodded.

  “What did the cops say?”

  “They don’t know yet. I didn’t call them.”

  “What?” Paul threw up his hands. “Kelly, why not? He threatens you and you’re not going to do anything about it? What, do you still have feelings for him or something?”

  “Of course not! I just…” Kelly pressed her fingers into her temples. “I was so tired I just went to sleep and didn’t want to deal with it.” She didn’t like to see Paul angry. It was the first time she’d seen it and although it was based on concern for her, it still made her uncomfortable.

  “Then what’s this asshole’s address? I’ll deal with it.”

  Kelly grabbed his arm. “Paul, please. I’ll call the deputy today, I promise. I still have his card at home.”

  Paul sighed and hugged her. “You don’t deserve this.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Can you at least stay with Ed and Sue again until things blow over? I don’t like the idea of you and Keegan alone.”

  “No way. I already ran once and I’m not going to do it again.”

  “You’re a stubborn girl, you know that?”

  “So I hear.”

  Charlotte stuck her head in the
doorway. “Hey Paul, phone call for you.”

  “Be right there.” He turned back to Kelly. “Well, if you’re staying in the house at least let me bring a pizza over tonight.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  *****

  The wind rattled the windows and Kelly pulled the blanket tighter around her. The temperature had plummeted into the teens that afternoon and kept getting colder. The heater in the living room was working overtime but wasn’t doing a good job of reaching the bedroom. It might be time to consider an electric space heater.

  The toilet in the next room flushed and Paul jogged back into the room, diving under the covers. “Damn, it’s cold.”

  “Come here, you.” Kelly pulled him closer and rubbed his back. “I was thinking about buying an electric blanket but you’re a lot more fun to have in bed.”

  Paul rubbed her bare stomach. “You sure it’s okay if I spend the night?”

  “More than okay. Besides, I’d never live with myself if you froze to death after I had my way with you and kicked you out of the house.”

  Paul mumbled something and Kelly turned to face him. His mouth hung open a little and he started breathing heavily. She smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. If only she could fall asleep that easily.

  She turned on her side and pulled Paul’s arm around her. He pulled her close and mumbled again before falling back asleep. She enjoyed the feeling of his warm breath on the back of her neck. Her conversation on the phone with Don felt like a millions years ago and lying there with Paul, she felt truly happy. Probably for the first time in months. Kelly closed her eyes.

  *****

  She opens them to see the basement wall just inches from her face. She sits up on the dirt floor and looks down at her own clothes she’d worn earlier that day. The cell is brighter than last time and she realizes the door is open a crack.

  “No,” she whispers. “Not again.” She quietly sits in the dirt, not wanting to stay but not wanting to go out there either. Not wanting to run into Him again. A thump directly over her head. She thinks she might hear a cry of pain but can’t be sure.

  She hears scratching in the corner of the room followed by a squeak. Kelly scrambles to her feet and goes for the door. Whatever is going on in the rest of the house at least wouldn’t involve rats. It’s quiet in the hallway. She moves for the door at the end of the hall but hears quiet sobbing behind one of the doors. She quietly raps on the door.

  She hears the girl rush for the door. “Hello? Where am I? Please, let me out. I want to go home.”

  Kelly places her hand in the door slot and she feels the girl’s icy finger clamp them. “I can’t let you out yet, I don’t have a key. I have to go upstairs but I’ll be back, I promise.” She starts to pull away but the girl grabs harder.

  “Wait! Don’t leave me, please.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Emily.” The girl sniffs. “Emily Watson.”

  “How old are you, Emily?”

  “Sixteen next week. My momma is planning a birthday party for me. She must be so scared.”

  “How long have you been in there?”

  “I’m not sure. That last thing I remember is walking home from school but I don’t know if it was today or yesterday, or even longer. My head has been all fuzzy and strange.”

  Kelly rubbed the girl’s fingers with her thumb. “Emily, listen to me. I know you’re scared and I’m so sorry I can’t get you out of there right now. A bad man drugged you and locked you up.”

  Emily started to cry again.

  “I have to go find a key upstairs, alright? Just stay by the door and keep quiet.”

  “Promise you’ll be back?”

  Kelly hears another thump upstairs and swallows. She sighs and doesn’t want to lie to the girl. “I’ll try my hardest.”

  Emily finally lets go of her hands. “Hurry!”

  She heads up the stairs as quietly as possible yet the old treads squeak with every step. The stairway is dark, the air thick and heavy. Kelly finally reaches the top and exhales without realizing she’d been holding her breath. Beyond the door she hears crying, pleading, followed by screams of pain.

  Kelly gropes blindly in the dark, looking for the doorknob but only brushing up against cobwebs. She realized the woman used a key last time to open the door and her stomach drops at the thought of being trapped in the basement despite her unlocked cell door.

  Just as panic threatens to overtake Kelly, her hand brushes against the doorknob. She holds her breath again and tries it, almost cries as it turns freely and the door opens a crack. She peers out into the living room. It’s dark and quiet. The silence is broken by a shrill and sustained scream coming from behind the bedroom door.

  Kelly slowly shuffles for the door. She should try to find a key like she promised Emily. She should try the front door, see if it’s locked. She should search the kitchen for a weapon. She does none of these things as the bedroom door gets closer. The consuming desire to witness what’s happening in the next room is too powerful.

  The screaming and crying suddenly stops as Kelly puts her hand on the door. The only sound above her own beating heart is heaving breathing within the room. Despite her better judgment, Kelly pushes the door open.

  *****

  Somehow Paul knew it was just another dream. The fact he couldn’t make his legs move fast enough was a pretty big clue. It was a common occurrence in most of his dreams since he was little. Whether he was being chased by the boogie man as a kid, or clearing a house on the outskirts of Kunduz as an adult, it always felt like he was walking knee deep in mud.

  Although Paul knew it was just another dream, especially because he wasn’t holding his M4 despite being on point, it didn’t diminish the all-consuming terror he felt in his chest. Somebody in his fire team tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t need to look back to know it was Lushine. Behind him – Harms, Wilkin, Lukas. The rest of the squad took the second floor and should have been in the process of clearing rooms directly above them.

  He paused at the door, annoyed about the shoulder tap. They’d drilled together as a team countless times, so often they could practically clear a house blindfolded, practically knowing the other’s responsibilities better than they knew their own. Paul turned around, not coming up with a single reason why Lushine would be bugging him, and saw nobody. The hallway was empty.

  Paul looked down at his empty hands again before going for his shoulder holster. Empty. No sidearm, no knife, not even his headset so could communicate with anybody else on the net. He turned to go back the way he came, each step a herculean effort. Panic rose as the walls around him closed in.

  The door opened behind him, follow by loud staccato shouting in Pashto. Once again, Paul didn’t need to look back. He knew the muzzle of an AK was pointed at him, his life held in the balance by a single index finger resting on the trigger. He wondered if he’d feel the rounds as they pierced his skin, punctured his organs, shattered his bones. Or if his life would be mercifully snuffed in an instant and he’d feel nothing.

  His foot snagged something and he tumbled forward, a second before the hallway erupted in gun fire. The distinctive KACK KACK KACK of the Kalashnikov was so loud it vibrated the flimsy subfloor beneath him. The heavy slugs peppered the wall above him, raining dust and plaster on his head.

  The firing stopped as quickly as it started and Paul risked a glance over his shoulder. The gunman, dressed in plain fatigues, head covered with a black ski mask, cursed and worked the action of his jammed rifle. Paul seized the opportunity and scrambled to his feet.

  The gunman swung his useless rifle at Paul, barely missing him before dropping it and pulling a knife from his waistband. Paul grabbed his enemy’s wrist and slammed him into the wall. The hallway was eerily quiet despite the two men fighting to the death within. Somewhere close by beyond one of the closed doors, a child was crying.

  The gunman had a considerable weight advantage over Paul and managed to hook one of his
legs behind him. Both men fell to the floor, all the while Paul kept his eyes on the gleaming steel just inches from his face. The knife grew closer, his muscles started to quiver. The gunman screamed, his breath reeking like rotten meat.

  Paul felt his strength fading quickly. In one fluid move, he managed to deflect the knife to the side while sinking his teeth into the inside of his attackers wrist. Hot blood spurt into Paul’s mouth as his enemy screamed, this time in pain.

  The knife dropped again to the floor and Paul lashed out with his open right hand, connecting with the gunman’s ear. He screamed again and Paul managed to shift his weight and push the man off of him. The crying child was closer now.

  Paul straddled the man, both hands around his neck and squeezed. The man clawed and slapped at his face, but he kept squeezing, knowing that only one of them could leave the house alive. The intense hatred and anger of the man’s eyes beneath the facemask turned to desperation and fear as his life slipped away.

  Paul grabbed the ski mask and pulled it off, wanting to see the man’s face.

  He looked into the terrified eyes of Kelly.

  Paul released his grip and stumbled back, not onto the dusty floor of a decrepit house in Northern Afghanistan, but his girlfriend’s bed.

  Keegan stood in the doorway, holding his blanket and crying.

  Kelly gasped for air and coughed. Paul stood frozen in shock. He looked down at his hands. “Oh my God.”

  He went to Kelly and she screamed. “No! Get away from me!” She stumbled off the bed, grabbed Keegan, and ran into the bathroom.

  Paul put his hands on the closed door. “Kelly, I’m so sorry. My God, I would never hurt you on purpose! I don’t know what happened, it was…it was so real.”

  Kelly didn’t answer, just sobbed uncontrollably behind the bathroom door. Paul pictured her sitting on the floor, clutching her son in terror. He slowly backed away, knowing any more explanations would be hollow. He got dressed as quickly as possible with his shaking hands and ran out into the frigid night.