The Return of Cassandra Todd

by Darrel Nelson

  Cassandra moaned, and Turner went to her side, ignoring Brad’s injunction to stay away from her. There was a noticeable bump on the side of her head. When he gently touched it, she moaned again. “You didn’t have to hit her, Brad,” he said grimly.

  “She had it coming.”

  Ignoring the muffled pounding from the bathroom, Brad stepped toward Turner and pointed the gun at Cassandra. “Are you going to tell me where the documents are, Pancake, or do I shoot her in the leg?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Brad took aim.

  “Wait!” Turner cried, as an idea suddenly sprang into his head. “They’re outside.”

  “Outside? I already searched your car.”

  “They’re hidden under a log.”

  Brad studied Turner dubiously.

  Justin continued pounding on the door, and Turner could hardly resist the urge to rush to his aid. But that would be foolhardy, he knew.

  Checking to make sure Cassandra was breathing freely, he led Brad out onto the porch and pointed toward the bushes that he and Justin had explored two days earlier. “Over there,” he said.

  “Why under a log?”

  “Cassandra was worried someone might search the cabin.”

  Brad grunted in disgust and waved the gun. “Get moving.”

  Turner proceeded toward the bushes. “How did your guys find us?” he asked, fearful that the information had been wrung from Loretta and Mary at great cost.

  “Just keep moving,” Brad directed.

  Turner’s heart rate quickened as they approached the log, which lay in a small clearing. “Lift that end,” he said. “And I’ll lift this one.” He deliberately chose the end closest to the cabin.

  Brad walked to the far end of the log and kicked it several times as though testing its condition. The sound of winged activity came from within and Turner hoped Brad didn’t hear it. Or if he did, that he didn’t recognize it for what it was.

  “I’ll warn you right now,” Turner said. “It’s heavy.”

  Brad smirked. “Maybe for you.”

  Turner took his stance. “Lift on the count of three.”

  Brad balanced the gun in his left hand and took a firm grip on the other end of the log with his right hand. “Okay, one . . . two . . . three!”

  On three Turner only pretended to lift, but Brad gave a mighty heave and the rotted log broke in two. A swarm of angry wasps came swirling out of the opening like a living dust devil and swarmed over the two men in an instant.

  Even though Turner had anticipated the attack, he wasn’t prepared for its intensity. He was stung on the face and arms several times before he could even blink. Brad dropped the gun and yelled and batted the air with both arms. Turner darted into the bushes, grateful for the cover the thick foliage provided. He heard Brad scream in pain, and he could tell by the fading sounds that Brad was headed for the lake at full speed.

  Wincing from the wasps’ venom, Turner raced for the cabin. He only had a short time to revive Cassandra and free Justin. If he failed, they were in real trouble because next time Brad would be far less forgiving than the wasps.

  CHAPTER 35

  CASSANDRA REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS as the water splashed on her face. She opened her eyes to see Turner standing over her, water bottle in hand. “We’ve got to get out of here!” he said.

  Her head felt like it was going to explode, and she tenderly rubbed the goose egg on her right temple. She made an effort to focus her eyes. “Justin . . . where is he? Where’s Brad? Did you tell him where the documents are? What happened?”

  “No time,” Turner replied, helping her to her feet. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Your face!” she said in surprise.

  “Wasps.”

  She looked at Turner in confusion. He let go of her to see if she would remain steady. She wobbled slightly and then looked around in alarm. “Where’s Justin?”

  “Locked in the bathroom,” he said, heading down the hallway.

  She followed, limping painfully but determined to keep up.

  Inside the bathroom, Justin’s desperate cries had softened to muted whimpers.

  Turner pulled the wedge free and pushed the door open. Cassandra hobbled ahead of him and found Justin curled up in the bathtub in a fetal position, his thumb stuck in his mouth, his cheeks stained with tears. But what alarmed her the most was Justin’s listlessness. His eyes were open but unseeing.

  Stifling a sob, Cassandra picked him up and cradled him against her. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

  “We’ve got to hurry,” Turner said, taking Justin from her.

  She wiped back tears and limped toward the front door, following Turner.

  “This way,” he said. “We’ll slip out the back window.”

  Cassandra looked at him questioningly.

  “In case Brad has eluded the wasps and is on his way back,” he explained. “We’ll hide in the woods. Then I’ll head for town tomorrow morning to get the police once I know Justin is stable.”

  Cassandra opened the window and took Justin from him so he could climb out. Then she handed Justin to him through the opening and followed. Her son was still only making whimpering sounds, his eyes staring vacantly ahead, and the sight of it broke her heart. She stroked his head in concern and asked, “How are you doing, sweetie?”

  He lay in Turner’s arms like a rag doll, a thumb stuck listlessly in his mouth.

  “We’ve got to keep moving,” Turner urged.

  “Which way?”

  He pointed south. “Away from the road that leads to the highway.”

  The layers of pine needles provided a soft cushion to absorb their footsteps. The spongy quality made walking a little easier, and Cassandra did her best to keep up with Turner. They had to be as swift as possible without making any noise. The trees would absorb a certain amount of sound, but the deep serenity would emphasize any telltale snapping or rustling noises. And though she doubted Brad’s tracking abilities, he might still hear them.

  She wondered if they should try returning to the cave. When she made that suggestion, Turner shook his head. The trailhead was in the opposite direction, toward the cabin, he explained, and Brad might be lurking there. Plus the mountainside was too open to risk ascending it from this approach. Brad might see them and follow in pursuit. They had to remain on flat ground and use the thick foliage for cover, while putting as much distance between the cabin and themselves as possible.

  They continued bushwhacking for what seemed an indeterminable time to Cassandra. She had no idea how far they had traveled because she couldn’t get her bearings. The lookout tower was not visible, and the lake was somewhere behind them. All she could see were trees, and they all looked alike. But Turner seemed confident in charting their route, and that was good enough for her.

  She focused on keeping up with him, but the pace began to tell on her. With each succeeding step, her limp became more pronounced and the pain more intense. She missed the crutch Turner had made for her, but desperation kept her moving.

  She gritted her teeth and pushed on. Just when she thought she couldn’t go another step, Turner stopped and pointed ahead. They had reached the base of the mountain. The forest floor rose almost vertically, climbing the southern slope.

  “We’ll make camp here,” he said.

  Cassandra slumped to the ground and leaned against a tree. She took Justin and cuddled him in her arms, stroking his head and looking into his eyes. Her chest tightened when she realized that his eyes were still not looking back at her. A light had gone out. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, her voice filled with dread as she looked at Turner.

  He knelt beside her and put a hand on Justin’s forehead. “I think he’s in shock.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Turner cleared his throat. “It’s known as acute stress reaction. In first aid training we learned about it. It’s a psychological condition that happens in response to some traumatic event.”
<
br />   “Like seeing his father attack his mother,” Cassandra muttered, her chin trembling. “What can we do?”

  “It often resolves itself in time. For now we need to keep him hydrated and as comfortable as possible.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to build us a shelter for the night in case it rains again. And it will be good camouflage in case . . . ” He left the thought unfinished.

  Cassandra cuddled Justin protectively and watched Turner gather deadfall from the forest floor. He dragged several fallen poles into the clearing and leaned them against a large pine bough overhead. In a short time he had hauled enough to form the framework of a semicircular lean-to. Then he gathered pine boughs and laid them across the poles to complete the walls.

  She began to feel thirsty and wondered what they were going to do for water. Turner had mentioned that it was important to keep Justin hydrated, but she had seen no trace of water since they had left the cabin. And they’d certainly had no opportunity to bring water with them.

  Glancing up at the sky, she wondered if rain was the answer. Perhaps Turner would dig a hole again to trap rainwater like he’d done at the cave. But the sky was clear and did not promise any precipitation. Her gaze returned to Turner, and she watched him work. His confidence and efficiency was evident, and she found that calming. She trusted him, and with that trust came reassurance.

  “All finished,” Turner said at length. “This should work fine.”

  Cassandra looked at the lean-to in admiration. “Are we going to sleep on pine boughs like they do in the movies?”

  “I’ve never found them as soft and comfortable as survival books claim. A knobby branch always seems to burrow into your back in the middle of the night. No, the forest floor will be more comfortable.”

  He carried Justin inside the lean-to and set him gently down. Cassandra followed and inspected the interior. “Great job, Turner,” she said in admiration. “And it sure smells better than the cave.”

  Turner chuckled. “Rest here while I look for some water.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. I was worried about that. You said we need to keep Justin hydrated.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She lay beside Justin and combed his hair with her fingers.

  As she worked, she sang to him and prayed that she’d see some sign of response. But none came.

  Turner returned shortly. “I found some Solomon’s Seal near the bottom of the slope, in a shady area.”

  “What’s Solomon’s Seal?”

  “A flower with large, curved leaves that can hold water. There’s some there now from yesterday’s rain. Come on.”

  He picked up Justin and climbed out of the lean-to, leading the way to a stand of tall, graceful flowers. Cassandra accompanied him, relieved to see tiny jewels of water glistening in the hollow space where each leaf met the stem.

  Turner broke off a curved leaf and gently poured a few drops into Justin’s mouth. The little boy swallowed weakly. Cassandra broke off another leaf and followed suit, and together they sipped the collected water until they quenched their thirst.

  They returned to the lean-to and Turner got them settled. Then he left for a short time, returning with a handful of berries. “Here, try these,” he said, offering some to her.

  “What are they?” she asked.

  “Mountain berries. There’s a stand not far from here. Chew on them to get what juice you can, but don’t swallow the pulp. The berries aren’t ripe yet and could give you a stomachache.”

  She tried one and pulled a face. “They’re tart.”

  “But nourishing.”

  They ate in silence, spitting out the pulp and savoring the juice until the berries were gone. Once, Cassandra thought she heard a voice calling, long and distant. She glanced at Turner to see if he heard it. He did. The voice soon faded, and they didn’t hear it again.

  Feelings of regret tormented her as she wondered how many times Justin had seen Brad abuse her, both physically and emotionally. The direct abuse against her was indirect abuse against Justin because he was sensitive and vulnerable. And the direct abuse he had received—being abandoned by his father and locked in the bathroom—had traumatized him severely. Only time would tell how badly he had been scarred.

  They laid low for the rest of the day and made a return trip to the stand of flowers before bedtime. Justin still wasn’t responsive, and Cassandra was determined to provide for her son’s physical needs. She didn’t know what to do about his psychological needs.

  Back at the lean-to, Turner sat in the open doorway and stared vacantly ahead as the darkness deepened.

  Cassandra checked on Justin to make certain he was comfortable and then crawled over beside Turner. “You seem awfully quiet,” she said.

  “I was just thinking about what happened during the mudslide yesterday.”

  Cassandra shuddered. “Based on what you told me, it must have been frightening.”

  “It was. But that’s not the part I’ve been thinking about. When the trail collapsed and that guy and I went careening down the slope, I could see we were headed straight for the cliff. I tried to fight my way out of the mud, but it was impossible.”

  Cassandra looped her arm through his and pressed tighter against him.

  “I thought I was going to die.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So I asked God for help because I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “He heard your prayer,” Cassandra said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “And mine.”

  “Just when I was about to give up, a thought came into my mind more forcefully than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  “What was the thought?”

  “Don’t fight against the current. Swim with it and work your way diagonally toward the edge.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m a good swimmer thanks to my years at Camp Kopawanee, but the idea of swimming with the current would never have occurred to me. But I followed the prompting and worked my way diagonally across the slide and was able to grab onto a bush at the last second. My feet were actually dangling over the edge.”

  Cassandra shuddered. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through because of Justin and me, Turner. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “Being with you and Justin has been an incredible experience,” he continued. “And it’s given me a chance to reconsider some things in my life. I’m grateful to . . . you.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder once more. “When you were gone so long, Justin and I prayed for you. We asked that you would be protected and able to return to us. And our prayer was answered.” She took his hand. “Miraculously.”

  He squeezed her hand in return.

  “But now we need another miracle, Turner. For Justin. Will you . . . ” She hesitated and then continued. “Will you pray with me for him?”

  Turner reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Yes,” he replied simply.

  They closed their eyes and bowed their heads together. The moon peered over the mountain peaks, washing the trees in silver and filtering through the pine boughs to the front door of the lean-to. And a gentle evening breeze descended the western slope and breathed along the branches, murmuring in approval.

  CHAPTER 36

  TURNER WAS SUDDENLY awake. Someone was shaking him, and it took a moment to clear the sleep from his brain. Cassandra was bent over him, both hands on his shoulders. “It’s Justin,” she whispered. “He’s worse.”

  Turner blinked away the last of the sleep.

  “He keeps moaning, and he’s running a fever.”

  He climbed over to where Justin lay tossing and turning, and put a hand on his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

  A fever, Turner knew, was not necessarily a bad thing. Turning up the heat was one of the body’s defense mechanisms in fighting germs that cause infections. It made the host a less comfortable place for them. But
Justin’s condition was of a more serious nature—he was comatose—and warranted medical attention.

  “What are we going to do?” Cassandra asked, her voice thin and urgent.

  “We need to get his temperature down.”

  “How?”

  An idea came into Turner’s mind. That was happening a lot lately. “We’ll carry him to the lake and give him a sponge bath. That will help temporarily. But we’ve got to get him to a doctor.” He looked into Cassandra’s eyes. “Brad is going to have to drive him to the hospital.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not letting Brad near him.”

  Turner put an arm gently around her. “It’s the only way.”

  “You’re going to be asking mercy from someone who is incapable of giving it.”

  “I don’t see that we have a choice.”

  She studied his face for a moment and nodded in resignation.

  Turner picked up Justin and cradled him in his arms. With Cassandra by his side, they headed for the lake.

  It seemed strange that they were actually going in search of Brad, considering what they had already done to escape from him. But as Turner glanced at Justin, the paradox didn’t seem so ludicrous after all. The little boy needed medical help fast, and only Brad had the power to see that he got it.

  The proposal Turner was going to make was simple and straightforward. He would turn himself and the documents over to Brad in exchange for Justin receiving immediate medical attention and Cassandra being allowed to make a new life. But the proposal was also unrealistic, and Turner knew it. It was naïve to think Brad would attend to his son first before exacting revenge on them, but it was a gamble he and Cassandra had to take. What other choice did they have?

  Turner didn’t know how much bargaining power he actually had. Would Brad accept his terms or reject them on principle? Did he want the documents badly enough to delay his gratification in exacting revenge? It was a gamble to be sure, and the stakes were high. And personal. But Turner had no intention of dying in the bargain. He would find a way to outwit Brad and escape once more. After all, Brad was in Turner’s world now.

  When they arrived at the lake, Turner gave Justin to Cassandra while he removed the little boy’s shirt and pants, exposing his skin to the cool morning air. Then he scooped up a handful of water and cupped it in an attempt to warm it slightly.