It took a moment for Julia to get her bearings but when she did she realized the car had landed in a ditch with its airbags deployed. Her body buzzed and all she knew was that she wanted out of the vehicle.
She released the seatbelt latch and tried to open the door. The car, resting at an angle with the driver side door slightly elevated, made it difficult to accomplish. Julia maneuvered herself so as to force it open with a leg, but the damn thing wouldn’t stay open so she could exit the vehicle.
The engine was still running and a sound of escaping fluid could be heard. The passenger side of the car had suffered the brunt of the impact; the driver side headlight cast light on a crop of corn.
Julia switched off the engine but left on the lights. Her chin quivered as she cried. She couldn’t stop now; she wrestled to open the door.
Then, over the sound of hissing steam, she heard it. Footsteps. Boots crossing pavement.
“No!” she cried when the door flew open and a flashlight beam blinded her.
“There you are,” an angry voice said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
The light moved in an arc as the man roughly pulled her screaming from the vehicle. A stench of sour sweat registered before the arcing flashlight beam crashed to her temple. Then everything went dark.
Chapter 2
Consciousness found her in the backseat of the truck. It rode stiffly, jostling her, with a popping sound of rocks. A gravel road. She desperately needed to flee the vehicle, even if it meant jumping out at any speed, but Julia didn’t see that as a possibility.
She wept silently so as not to alert the man that she’d regained consciousness. That piece of information remained her sole advantage, as minute as it seemed, and she didn’t wish to give it away. But what could she do? She lay sprawled face-down across the rear bench seat, wrists duct-taped behind her back, ankles and knees similarly taped. Wriggling like a worm remained her only possible action and even if she could somehow kick open a door, launching herself out of the vehicle would only leave her dead or injured and ultimately caught again. The man hadn’t bothered to tape her mouth shut, which seemed odd and Julia bit back a devil tongue.
His words echoed in her mind:
There you are. I’ve been looking for you.
Looking for me? Julia thought. What kind of backwoods weirdo am I dealing with?
She silently sobbed as she cursed Chad’s act which had ultimately landed her in this life-threatening situation.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, but she didn’t need to wait long before reaching their destination. She could tell by the slowing and turning of the vehicle. A pack of dogs howled a greeting as the truck rolled to a stop and its ticking engine fell silent.
“Go on, git,” the man told the dogs.
Metal rang as he shut his door, then opened hers. He’d opened the door at her feet and, by the ankles, dragged her halfway out. Then as he rolled her onto her back, she kicked with all her might and connected with a shoulder, thus forcing him back a step.
Teary eyes burned with hate as she glared at the man. He’d parked in front of a large metal farm implement building with a mounted halogen lamp flooding the area in light and she could see him plain as day. A 40ish man with leathery, sunbaked skin and a few days’ growth of beard. He wore denim jeans and a Henley with sleeves pushed to the elbow.
“Damn it,” he said. “Why do you always fight me?”
“Fight you? I don’t know you.”
Snagging an ankle, he attacked her with a hand to the throat and pulled her into a sitting position. He said, “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you either,” as he tossed her over a shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Goddamn it, let me go!”
Julia, thrash as she did, managed only in riling up the dogs, of which she counted three big, friendly canines.
“Settle down,” the man commanded with a swat to the rump. “I’m sick and tired of your shit.”
“My shit? My shit?”
Julia, terrified for her life, broke into a tirade of screams, “Let me loose,” “You crazy fuck,” “I don’t know you,” “Help,” “Rape,” and heaven knows what else.
Tears streamed from her eyes as he led her into a small ranch house and ultimately down a flight of stairs into a basement. Being slung across a shoulder prevented her from seeing much, but it was obvious the basement hadn’t been finished. When he carried her into a room and flipped her onto a cot, she screamed bloody murder.
My god…
The floor and three walls were formed of concrete, with the exception of the wall with the center-hung door. The room offered no windows and only a single bare lightbulb mounted to a floor joist. The man obviously intended to keep her imprisoned in the basement. The room had been plumbed with a toilet and sink, and in addition to the cot stood a dresser. But what terrified her most was a heavy duty chain bolted to a wall.
Run! Julia’s mind screamed as the man reached for the manacle at the end of the chain.
Somehow she found the dexterity to worm her way off the cot and onto her feet. However, she only completed two hops toward the door before legs were cut out from under her and she went crashing bodily to the concrete floor. Her shoulder took the brunt of the impact but she also banged her head and pounded a knee. Both throbbed as the man clamped the manacle around an ankle.
“That ought to keep you from running off again,” he said.
“Again? You crazy fuck, I don’t know who you think I am, but you have the wrong goddamn—”
A backhand to the mouth halted the tirade.
“You always had a sassy mouth. Hell, I enjoy a little spunk as much as the next guy, but you need to learn a lesson and you need to learn it good and well. Now scream all you like. Go on, I know you want to get it out of your system. You always do. But it won’t do any good. You need to know you go whoring around, it’s eventually going to catch up with you.”
Sassy mouth? Whoring around? Learn a lesson?
Well, he was right about the mouth but Julia realized she needed to shut her trap now since, reaching into a pocket, he pulled free a pocketknife and folded out a large blade.
“Hold still,” he said, “I’m just going to cut away the tape.”
Julia fearfully allowed him to do so. He ripped away the loose tape quickly, freeing her hands last.
“Please…” Julia, weeping, tried a new approach, “I’m very sorry for whatever it is you think I did. I won’t do it again. Just, please, let me go.”
“See,” the man said, “that’s the problem. I let you go before, but I obviously can’t trust you to your own devices. You made me do this.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“Because I love you.”
Chapter 3
Because he loves me? For heaven’s sake, my own boyfriend, the man I love, doesn’t love me. But a psychopath has me chained in his basement out of love, Julia thought as she wept, curled in a ball on the cot. The man had left the room to a volley of poison-tipped curses. She could hear him tromping around upstairs now. At least the sheets on the cot were clean, as if he’d been expecting her.
She hugged knees tight to her breasts, wondering what she might do. Nobody knew where she was and nobody’d be searching for her until Chad returned home sometime tomorrow. Knowing him, and his predictable desire to delay a severe tongue lashing, that could be tomorrow evening.
That could be nearly twenty-four hours from now.
And what if Chad assumed she’d taken off to her mother’s house like she’d done once before? Without any cell phone messages from her, he’d likely assume avoidance on her part. What if he went out with friends? Or busied himself with a new art project after becoming inspired by the Texas tramp? He’d lose all track of time, with nearly the entire weekend spent before anyone seriously considered her missing.
The car!
Someone would notice the car. Registered in Julia’s name, the wrecked car wouldn’t go unnoticed. Sh
e’d be considered missing! Or…
She was reminded of abandoned cars in St. Louis. It seemed every time they stayed the night in St. Louis, inevitably, on their drive home Sunday morning, there would always be one or two cars left in the breakdown lane with blaze orange warning stickers left on the windows by traffic cops. Would the vehicles be seriously addressed for 24-48 hours? Julia wondered. Except a crashed car would be a different story, right? The vehicle would need to be towed. Police would be involved. They’d want to know what had happened.
Oh, god, you’re so fucked, Jules. They’ll think some drunk asshole veered off the road and into a ditch. They’ll never assume… Wait!
All the damage to the rear of the vehicle would indicate foul play, or hit-and-run at the very least.
You’re still fucked, babe, Chad’s condescending tone rang in her head. You overreacted at the party, just like you always do. You stormed out in a hissy and landed face first in a big pile of cow shit. Even if the local sheriff knew you’d been kidnapped, how the hell do you expect anyone to find you? No, dear, this time you are the one who’ll never live this down. That is, if you live at all.
Julia hugged her knees tighter. The right knee throbbed from where it had banged the floor and her shoulder ached, too. She also realized that her nose hurt from the impact of the airbag, although she assumed nothing more serious than perhaps black eyes. She didn’t think anything had been broken. Her pelvis ached from where the seatbelt had prevented her from flying out the windshield. Banged and bruised, Julia assumed that physically she remained okay. Her dress had torn at the split, allowing for more exposed thigh. She’d lost a shoe and broken a heel off the other. She’d bought both shoes and dress (and new set of earrings) specifically for the night’s event. In retrospect, all she’d needed was to adopt a goddamn twang, not look her best while trying to support her boyfriend.
Chill the eff out, Jules, she told herself. Save it till later when you tear Chad a new asshole, once you get out of here.
If she could get out of here.
You’re losing it, girl. How many times do I need to tell you to get a grip? See if there’s anything you can use to escape. Or as a weapon.
Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?
Julia forced herself into a sitting position, then slowly stood. The knee throbbed and when she moved she found it noticeably stiff. The rattle of the chain dragging across the floor unnerved her but she had no choice. First she went to the small sink. Mounted above it was a mirror. Not a true mirror. Polished metal that offered a reflection.
You’re a mess, Julia thought. She started water to running and, splashing handfuls onto face, managed to wash a trickle of blood from a nostril. The airbag hadn’t blackened her eyes and while her nose was tender to the touch, it seemed all right. She’d split a lip, so she rinsed out her mouth and drank water from the tap before going to inspect the dresser.
The dresser, a cheap, particle board unit obviously from a discount department store, had seen better days. It had been filled with outdated women’s clothing, their styling at least 20 years old.
She found nothing else of use except hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, bar of soap still in the package, and a plastic tumbler. The man obviously wanted her to maintain hygiene and appearance. She found nothing of use as a weapon, with the exception of the toothbrush. She’d seen a movie where convicts had turned a toothbrush into a knife but Julia had no idea how to do so, and even if she had a real knife, the thought of going up against the man in such a way sent shivers down her back. She could also, possibly, break the light bulb and somehow use it to cut or slash but that again remained a desperate act.
Jules, Julia told herself, these are desperate times.
Looping the chain around his neck and choking him to death seemed a better option. However, none of these scenarios seemed foolproof. The last thing Julia wanted to do was infuriate the psycho.
The unlocking sound of the door behind her startled Julia. He’d taken the effort to bolt the door shut, despite the fact the chain secured her to the wall. The chain didn’t even appear long enough to reach the door, but Julia vowed to check soon.
The door opened and the man strode in carrying a bottle of wine and stemware. He’d showered and dressed in newer denim jeans and an oxford shirt. His short hair remained damp.
“I thought we’d celebrate,” he said.
“There’s nothing to celebrate,” Julia said.
“Are you hungry, perhaps? Sorry, it’s late and I didn’t think to offer.”
“No, I’m not hungry and I’m not thirsty and…” Julia nearly went off on a rant about how she didn’t want to be here and that he was a psycho kidnapper but decided to try to keep her cool for the time being. The situation seemed volatile. The least little thing might set him off.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the cot.
Reluctantly, Julia sat. She cringed as the man joined her, a bit too close for comfort, their shoulders bumping.
A corkscrew had already been inserted into the bottle. The man, handing stemware to Julia, went about popping out the cork. The corkscrew might serve as a handy weapon, Julia thought, but with its business end blunted by cork, it wouldn’t work as an immediate weapon. Perhaps if she could squirrel it away somehow. He placed it on the cot, on the opposite side from her.
“Please,” he said again, “drink with me. A toast.”
“Okay,” Julia agreed. I’ll play along for now. Besides, I could use a drink. I could use an empty bottle even more. Right upside your head. Or its jagged broken shards slashing across your face.
He poured them both a drink, and then, holding up his glass, said, “To us. To reuniting. To long-lost love.”
He drank from his glass and gave her a disappointed look. “Go on, drink.”
Julia wouldn’t dare drink to his toast, but the moment had passed and now it felt safe to take a sip. The red wine tasted sweet and not half-bad despite obviously being a discount bottle.
When the man moved closer, to place an arm around her, Julia grew stiff, shifted away, and said, “Wait…”
“What?”
“Please, don’t. Enjoy your wine instead.”
Smiling, he drank again. Deeply, until he had drained the glass.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he reminded her. “I look often, but it isn’t often I spot you.”
Oh, no, Julia thought, here goes the creepy shit.
He set the glass on the floor along with the bottle, and continued, “I go crazy without you,” as he leaned closer. “I go crazy when I don’t know where you are. When you’re out, getting into trouble.”
“Whoa,” Julia said. “Please, let me finish.”
“Yes, sure. Where are my manners?”
In the truck, along with your sanity, I suspect.
The man cooed as he combed fingers through Julia’s hair. In another situation Julia might have found the man ruggedly handsome. She often found herself attracted to older men, and despite his age he carried it well, she now realized with him freshly showered. Chad, five years her senior, had always stuck close to his rural roots without completely succumbing to an out-in-out redneck aura. This guy, however, seemed like a rural male attempting an air of sophistication and falling a bit short but not from lack of effort.
If you didn’t have a screw loose, Julia thought, you might attract a woman, instead of needing to run one off the fucking road.
“You’re not drinking your wine.”
“I want to savor it.”
His smile faded. “You’re stalling. Drink it or set it aside. There is more for later.”
“Okay…” Okay… Chill, man.
Julia downed the wine, set aside the glass. With knees pressed tightly together, she braced herself for what came next.
With eyes closed, he leaned in for a kiss.
“No,” Julia said, thinking on her feet, “Not now. Please.”
“Bullshit!” He grabbed a handful of hair,
which caused her to scream. “It’s him, isn’t it? Kiss me. Show me you still love me.”
“You’re hurting me!”
“You hurt me first. You’re killing me!”
Julia wished she were killing him. With scalp on fire, terror struck deep in her core. When he forced his mouth to hers and pressed in his tongue, Julia, acting on reflex, slapped him hard across the face.
“Oh, so that’s how you want it,” the man yelled. “You always did like it rough. I try to be sweet but you never appreciate that.”
“Please, no. Don’t. I like it sweet. Let’s have more wine.”
“Shut up!”
A slap across the face snapped her head sideways. The situation went from bad to worse and soon the man was groping Julia’s body. Hand squeezing a breast, the other groping her ass. Julia flailed arms and legs at him, kicking, scratching, doing little more than exciting him further, so she attempted to squirm away.
She no more than had rolled away when she realized the folly in her action. A length of chain looped around her neck and tightened until it cut off airflow.
Oh, god, he’s going to kill me!
Hands shot to her neck as she struggled for air. That’s when, shoving her face-down, he pinned shoulders to the cot. That hand, pulling taut the chain and pressing down between shoulder blades, kept her occupied with trying to live. The other hand displayed his true intentions.
He’s going to rape me!
The hand slid up her skirt and took hold of her panties. Something special she’d ordered from Victoria’s Secret for Chad to unwrap later tonight. The man jerked them down to her knees.
Please, don’t kill me, Julia, sputtering for air, thought more than said.
Icy terror coursed through her veins as she sensed the movement of the man unfastening his pants.
“I wanted to be sweet,” he said. “But oh, no, you had to fuck it up. You’ll blame me later, when we both know you do this because that’s what you like. You’re a little brat and you know it. Don’t want to drink the wine? Fine. There are other ways we can enjoy it.”
Insanity Road Page 2