Angelina's Oak

by Jesse Reiss

Chapter 13

  Angelina began doing what she was told, walking cautiously towards the man with the gun. She thought about the pepper spray and cell phone in her backpack and realized she didn’t have the courage — while being faced by a man with a gun — to try to pull either out. “You want that coin? Is that what you want?” she mustered up the courage to ask.

  “Smart girl. I hear it’s worth a lot of money.”

  “You can have it. Just leave us alone.”

  “No problem. Toss your backpack over to the side there and come closer.”

  She did as she was told, slowing approaching him. She was now standing five feet before him, her chest heaving from the deep breaths she was taking to try to steady her nerves. Her head came to the middle of his chest. The man shoved his gun back behind his waist and looked down at her, smiling. “My, you are far prettier than the photos I saw in your house.”

  Angelina looked away, avoiding the man’s stare. She could smell his stale alcohol breath and cheap cologne from where he stood—a combination that reminder her of last Thanksgiving where she and her mother volunteered at a local food pantry, feeding the homeless.

  He stepped towards her and reached out a hand, stroking her face. She pulled away sharply. “Just me and you on the mountainside. Kind of romantic, isn’t it?”

  “We aren’t alone. You are being watched.”

  He looked around, seeing no one. “Oh yeah? Who is watching us?”

  “There are people in that tree watching you.”

  He looked over at the large oak and laughed. “What, little tree elves?”

  Angelina stood there, her heart pounding and said nothing.

  “You could work for me, you know? I’d take good care of you. And you could take care of me, you know what I mean?”

  Revulsion formed in Angelina’s stomach and she shuddered at the thought of what this man would do to her, given the chance. Her mother had taught her that if a man pulls a knife or gun on you, you do as they say and give them your purse or wallet. They had never discussed something like rape. How is a woman supposed to cooperate when a man is threatening to kill her for carnal use of her body? How is she supposed to live with herself knowing she let it happen, if she survived? An answer came clear to Angelina and she spoke. “I’d kill myself before that happens.”

  The man laughed in his throat and shrugged. “Well, that would be okay. A little necrophilia might be enjoyable.”

  She didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.

  The man pulled out a small cell phone and hit redial. He waited a moment and spoke. “I’ve got her…Yeah, up in the park…No — you get little mommy to give it up to you and then call me back…We’ll see about that…I’ll send you a picture you can show her…Don’t make me hurt this little cutie…”

  He hung up and directed his attention back to her. “They call you Angelina? You could be an Angel to me.” He laughed and pointed the gun at Angelina’s head. She winced and instinctively moved her head from the line of sight. “Don’t move bitch,” he said calmly as he raised his cell phone with the other hand and snapped a picture. He punched some buttons on the phone and placed it back in his jean pocket. He grabbed her arm tightly, his large hand easily circling her forearm and began pulling her back up the trail.

  They passed the tree and began to climb the trail towards the road where Angelina and her mother had parked a few days earlier.

  After they had gone approximately two hundred feet, Angelina saw the red Ford Taurus parked up ahead on the road and guessed it was the man’s car where he was taking her. She felt frail and helpless. Her stomach churning and she felt like puking. She looked back at the oak, wondering if anyone there could see her or could do anything. She knew there was no doubt she was being watched, but like Thomas had said, he could scream and yell all he wanted, but no one could hear.

  From near the topmost branches, there was movement. The owl soared out of the tree like a missile shot from a battleship. It flapped its wings and lifted up into the air, rising high above. It made no sound at all. As she was dragged closer to the car, Angelina spun her head to watch the bird soar a hundred feet above her, its wings spread out in a perfect symmetry as they beat silently back and forth for the bird to gain height.

  High above them its wings collapsed back on themselves and like a rock dropped off a cliff, it began to plummet. As it neared its target the wings burst out wide again and the tail feathers fanned out like a Phoenix.

  “What you looking at?” the man asked, turning his head upwards.

  He had no time to react to what was coming. Razor sharp talons, spread the size of his palms, plunged into his face and tore inwards as the four-foot wingspan flapped strongly to give the bird flight. As soon as it happened it was over and without a sound made.

  The man released Angelina and fell to his knees, howling in pain. Blood poured from deep gashes that ran inwards toward his nose from his chin, cheeks and brow. His left eyelid hung loose over a mess of pulp that was once a cornea.

  Angelina took off, running for the tree as fast as her legs could take her. She cut corners by leaping off small ridges and dirt mounds. She fell, scraping her knee and immediately got back up, ignoring the pain.

  Howling again and gasping in pain, the man steadied himself. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from his right eye. Able to see, he reached for the gun behind his back. He pulled it out and looked up, searching for the bird, which was now circling above, getting ready to make a second dive.

  Angelina tore through the canopy, scratching her arms and face on the branches. She reached the tree trunk and started to climb as fast as she could.

  Outside the tree’s canopy the man was circling in one spot with the gun pointed upwards at the bird. He fired a shot and then another. The bird continued to circle.

  He fired a third shot and the bird broke from its smooth flight pattern, one wing bent back at an odd angle. It began to fall from the sky, like a plane shot down. It landed with a crash into the branches.

  “Gotcha!” the man yelled and scrambled to the tree after Angelina. He pushed the pain that was tearing through his eye and face out of his mind — it didn’t matter when he was on the hunt for his prey. This time he would spare no wrath in the punishment he would inflict. Images of making the girl beg and scream ran through his head, feeding his adrenaline. He could see her through large gaps in the canopy as she scrambled to lift herself from bough to bough. He took aim with his one good eye and fired.

  A bullet smashed into the bark besides Angelina’s head, bits ricocheting into her face, feeling like sharp needles. She flinched and continued to climb. Another bullet missed entirely and then she was at the bough. She looked back as the man ducked under the canopy to get a clear shot at her. She felt herself being yanked forward along the bough.

  As the man cleared the canopy he looked up, expecting to shoot her point blank.

  She was gone!

  He wiped more blood from his one good eye and ran around the tree’s trunk, his gun pointed upwards, trying to find her.

  Angelina was panting heavily and shaking. She stared down at the man as he looked up right to where she should have been and where she was, but didn’t see her.

  “You’re safe now. Don’t worry,” a deep voice said. She looked down at the thick black arms that were around her waist and looked up at their owner. It was a man with skin as black as night. He had large facial features with friendly eyes. He had a grey jumpsuit on and a thick noose around his neck that hung down his side to the ground, like a long ponytail.