His anger amplified the amount of energy he was accessing. Using his considerable ability to compel compliance he watched Petre meekly sit in the indicated chair. He stepped behind Petre and placed his fingers on Petre’s temples. “Show me how you found the water craft and the girl,” he ordered as his thoughts delved into Petre’s mind and retrieved the answers he sought…
Petre drew briny air in through his nose and blew an impatient breath out his mouth over the calm, sun-sparkled ripples in front of his water craft. His hands clenched hard on the railing as he surveyed the water. His day was not going well. He was sailing through the Gulf of Thulen after his fruitless, not to mention illegal, business venture in the City of Thulen. All he needed now was to rip a hole in the bottom of his vessel on some stray coral reef to make his day truly special. His eyes squinted against the new-found sun. The dark storm clouds had just passed behind him, and he could see for leagues in every direction. It seemed his was the only water craft out that day.
Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning ripped through the sky and the once calm waters boiled with rage. Bracing his legs automatically against the sudden sway of his ship, he blinked in amazement, unable to believe what he was seeing. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his eyes to clear his vision, still unable to trust his sight. Where seconds before the sea had been his only companion, he saw there was now another vessel directly in front of him. If he did not act immediately, his water craft was going to tear through the middle of the other listing ship. He closed his eyes, and with all his mental strength, he concentrated on making his vessel stop. He felt the forward breeze dwindle and the waters calm. When he dared to open his eyes, he saw there were only a few scant hand spans between the two water crafts.
Now I know a ship wasn’t there just a second ago, he thought. He shook his head in confusion and mumbled out loud, “What just happened?” Deciding immediately to investigate, Petre quickly grabbed a thick mooring rope. He tossed it over the railing to lash the two water crafts together and jumped aboard the yellow and white ship.
Funny colors, he thought to himself, curling his upper lip in vague distaste. Why would someone want their ship to be so bright? From the sleek shape and the odd type of wood which was used, Petre knew he had discovered something very valuable. He could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he calculated what the Elders would pay for such a find.
Petre walked around the slanting deck, realizing as he looked around, he did not recognize any of the equipment. His heart rate accelerated, and his mouth fell open as he licked his lips unconsciously. He was now convinced this had to be a ship from one of the old souls. If he found a living old soul, the Elders would make sure he would be set for life. He called out, “Hello! Is anybody aboard? Does anyone need help?” He paused, slowly turned his head from side to side as he listened hard, and nearly fell over when he actually heard a faint groan from the depths of the ship.
Petre found the stairs which led below, and he called out again, “Is anybody down there?” He paused again, clutching the rail and barely breathing, as he tried to pinpoint the sound he had heard. His victorious smile burst forth at the sound of another groan, and he rushed to investigate before the ship took on any more water. Once below deck, he noted some of the doors were already flung open. He quickly searched each room with the hope some people were still alive. Another sound, louder this time, issued from the last door in the corridor.
He rushed forward, grabbed the latch and shoved the door open. Another faint noise sounded. He scanned the room quickly taking note of the strange polished wood throughout the sleeping space. The noise was coming from behind the sleeping platform. Petre took the few steps which brought him around to the other side of the bed, but what he found was not what he had expected. He looked down on the petite body of a completely naked, and utterly still, woman. Her eyes were closed. Her skin was milky white. He knelt down and moved closer. Excitement coursed through him as he put his trembling hand on her cold arm. He shook her briskly and said, “Lady, are you all right?”
She groaned again as her head lolled to the side. Petre then discovered the pool of blood forming beneath her long dark hair. Petre guessed she had probably fallen and cut her head open. If he did not get something on the wound quickly, she could bleed to death, and he would lose his prize. He would never be able to get any money from the Elders if she died. He grabbed a sheet from the sleeping platform and used his teeth to rip it into long strips to make a bandage.
Petre roughly sat the woman up and propped her against the sleeping platform. Ignoring her moans of pain, he felt through her hair until he found the bump and a nasty three-inch gash. He jammed a wad of fabric over the wound and used another strip to tie it in place. With the injury covered, he struggled to lift her small, limp body off the floor and placed her on the sleeping platform.
As much as he truly enjoyed seeing her naked, he realized he would have to find something for her to wear so she could get warm and avoid shock. Petre quickly rummaged through the strange box-like things next to the sleeping platform and found what appeared to be women’s clothing. He pulled out an armload of items and dumped them on the sheet next to the woman. He then bundled her and the clothes up in the sheet she was lying on and cradled her in his arms. Petre staggered under her weight as he retraced his steps to the upper deck, awkwardly hopped across to his craft, and dropped her on his own sleeping platform in his cabin.
Leaving her unconscious, he could not resist going back to explore for additional items from which he could make a profit. He jumped across to the other craft, descended the stairs he had used previously, then down yet another flight to look for any more survivors and also to see if he could find out why the craft was listing so badly. He would not want his prize sinking into the ocean before he had a chance to sell it. While wading through knee-deep water, he did not find any other people, but he did discover the pump below had stopped which allowed the water to seep in quickly. He located the reset button on the machine and pushed it. The pump hummed to life, and the water level stopped rising. Nodding in satisfaction, he quickly ascended the stairs to continue rummaging around.
By the time Petre finished his cursory inspection, he noticed the strange vessel was sitting squarely in the ocean as she should. A slow smile spread across his thin lips as he mentally tabulated the money he would receive for selling this strange beauty and the woman to the Elders.
Maybe it was going to be a good day after all…
Elder Debbon struggled to control his anger at seeing the yacht which Petre had found. He also felt revulsion at Petre’s thoughts regarding Amanda but hoped Petre would contain his sick curiosity where the girl was concerned. He took a moment to compose his mind and then continued to delve into Petre’s recollections of the past…
First thing first, he said to himself. He hopped back to his craft and unfastened the rope line from the bow rail. He felt the deck under his feet shift slightly and adjusted his stance to compensate as he mentally maneuvered his craft so he could attach the tow line to his craft’s rear anchor bolt. Once securely fastened, he concentrated on moving his craft around the old soul craft and changed his course to the nearest Elder’s islet. During this shift, he noticed the writing on the side of the old soul’s craft which read, The Golden Jesisca.
Petre knew he would have a few days before he reached the Elder’s islet. It should give him enough time to question his new guest, that is, if she survived. With his course set, he slowly made his way back to his cabin, not sure what he should expect there. A quick visual assessment assured him the woman had not stirred from where he had left her.
She was like a magnet, drawing him to her. Before he could stop himself, he had removed the blanket from her pale, still, form and he stretched himself out beside her. His hand lightly caressed the side of her shapely, smooth, white thigh. She did not even stir. He wondered what it would be like to take her. His hand stroked the skin of her stomach. She was so soft.
Why shouldn’t I, he thought. She might die anyway, and nobody would ever know if I did…
Elder Debbon was furious with Petre’s actions. He had hoped Petre would at least have some decency, but it was too much to hope for where this depraved man was concerned. He felt dirty by just seeing the activities of this man. Moving forward in Petre’s recollections, Elder Debbon continued to review what had happened…
He wrapped the woman in a couple of warm blankets and then proceeded in routing around his cabin for some dry clothes to wear. The clothes he found were tattered but serviceable, and most importantly, dry.
Petre was ravenously hungry, and it occurred to him the woman should probably have something to eat as well. He concentrated on the empty counter beside him and it instantly filled with a thick slab of hot, juicy foxl steak smothered in béarnaise sauce, creamed corn, a baked gourd with soured cream and green onion, and a cup of java for himself and another cup filled with hot foxl broth laced with epeny for the woman. Setting the cup of broth aside to cool, Petre dug into his feast.
He was just mopping up his platter with the skin of the gourd when the woman began to moan again. He set his almost clean platter down on the counter and moved over to the side of the sleeping platform. The woman struggled to open her eyes.
After a brief conversation, Petre gave the woman some food and the drugged drink and watched with anticipation as she passed out.
While the young woman slept, Petre sat out on the deck to think about this new turn of events. His eyes lingered on the sleek, yellow and white vessel which followed lazily behind his shabby, brown craft. I don’t have to tell the Elders I found anybody in the water craft. I could just keep her drugged in my cabin until I sell her water craft. He would have money and a woman...what more could a man want? Better yet, he thought to himself, I could tell her she’s my wife, and she would be mine forever. She seems young, probably eighteen or so. I really like them young; they seem to be more adventurous lovers. Now, what do I tell her about her name? A tail wind caught the side of the trailing ship and shifted it enough for him to see the name The Golden Jesisca written on the side. “Yes,” Petre cried out loud, “I’ll tell her that her name is Jesisca.”
With her name decided, Petre stood up, took a deep breath of clean ocean air, and brushed his hands down the front of his pant legs. He turned around to go back into his cabin when he realized he would have to get all of Jesisca’s things from her water craft. Petre also wanted to search it again carefully to see if there were anything of value which he could pilfer before turning the rest over to the Elders. Who knew what types of valuables these old souls collected. Until the water craft appeared in the ocean in front of his craft, he was not even sure he believed the stories about the old souls. Now he believed.
Petre first walked to the center of the strange craft and carefully inspected the tall pole which had fabric tied down with rope. I wonder what it does, he thought. He had a central pole on his craft, but the only fabric on it was his identification flag which he only put up when he got close to landfall.
He walked through the upper main cabin which contained complicated looking equipment. He found a map of familiar land and water, but all of the names were wrong. He put it in the back waistband of his pants. Next to the map was a small, flat, round object with a dial in the middle. He did not know what it was, but it was portable, so he took it, too. He walked through the kitchen, taking note of all the shiny containers and implements. The only reason he recognized it as a kitchen was because of the food which was left out on the counter. Everything else in the room was a mystery to him.
Not recognizing anything of value in the kitchen, he proceeded down the stairs to the living quarters. The first two rooms were empty except for the sleeping platforms which had undisturbed sheets and pillows.
The next room was obviously a bathroom. There were many odds and ends in there which caught his interest. On the counter were a couple of white squares in some sort of wrapper. One was open, so he picked it up and dumped the contents out into his hand. The square was made of a dry, smooth material. He turned it over and put it up to his nose to smell. It had a clean scent.
The ship rocked suddenly, and his hip was thrown against the counter. As he reached out to balance himself, he dropped the square into the wash basin and bumped the faucet. The water rushed out of the spout directly onto the white square, which caused the square to foam up. He turned off the water and touched the square again. It was slimy and smooth. He rubbed his finger against his thumb and turned on the faucet to rinse the film off his fingers. When the water washed away, it left his two fingers perfectly clean.
This could be very useful, he thought as he picked it up and put it back in the wrapper. He rubbed the residual slippery stuff all over both hands and rinsed them clean in the basin. He gathered up the three blocks of cleaner and left the bathroom.
The last room to look through was where he had found Jesisca. He searched all of the box-like containers and pulled out anything which looked like it was for a woman. He made a pile of all her things on the sleeping platform. He would need to erase all evidence indicating she had been there if he were going to proceed with his plan to keep her. He grabbed a towel from off the floor and took it back into the bathroom. He soaked the towel, went back to the sleeping room, and began to remove the blood from the floor behind the oddly raised sleeping platform.
When the floor was clean, he took the soiled towel back to the bathroom, rinsed it out, and wrung it as dry as he could. Back in the sleeping room, he dropped the damp towel on the heap of items which he was going to take back to his water craft. He gathered up another of the many blankets from the sleeping platform, tied it around his bundle, and hoisted it up over his shoulder.
Convinced he had everything he wanted, he returned to his vessel. He took the load back to his cabin and let out a satisfied breath when he saw she slept on, undisturbed. He carelessly dumped her pile of clothes in an almost empty cupboard. As he walked around the cabin, his eyes were constantly drawn to Jesisca’s body. Petre wanted her again. The amount of epeny he gave her would keep her out through the night. He would be free to do whatever came to mind…
Not only had Petre taken advantage of an injured girl, but then he had also drugged her, and then taken advantage of her again. This man had no limits to his depravity. Not wanting to touch Petre, but wanting to find out how the story continued, Elder Debbon replaced his fingers on the man’s skull. He gasped as he saw Petre beating the woman until she was covered in bruises and cuts.
Elder Debbon was so disgusted with the multiple violations he had just witnessed he almost struck Petre dead right where he sat. Instead, he pulled his hands away from Petre’s temples and quickly left the room. Another minute spent with Petre, and he would do something he would regret.
He walked up and down the hall several times to cool his thoughts before he went back to the room where Amanda was resting. Because he had seen what had been done to her, he wanted to see how she had managed to get herself away from Petre. He sat in the chair at the head of the bed and rested his fingers on her temples and picked up her story where he had left off before…
The next morning when she groggily woke up she was still disoriented and frightened. The dream felt so real and vague impressions lingered of her friend Sherry. She was wide awake now and ravenously hungry. She groped with the pillows and covers to try and sit up. Her head was killing her. She reached up and tentatively touched the tips of her fingers to the messy bandage at the back of her skull, immediately muffling a cry of pain. The material was stiff with dried blood, and her hair was matted and crusty. She winced at the thought of the pain it would cause to remove it later. Her hand dropped to her lap, suddenly heavy with the weight of her situation. Looking around the room for the first time with almost clear vision, she realized nothing looked familiar. She covered her eyes with her hands, holding back a sob.
She heard someone outside the door and, not for the first time,
she felt a quick stab of fear. Who is on the boat with me? Will I ever remember? She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose quickly with the back of her hand. She set her mind to facing this new challenge head on. The door flew back, and a medium sized man stood framed in the opening. She could not see any of his face because the light was behind him, casting him in shadow.
The man stepped forward and Jesisca vaguely recognized his face. Relief spread through her. She released the air she was holding and inhaled a deep, steadying breath through her nostrils. The man rushed to the side of the sleeping platform and sat down. He took her limp fingers between his clammy hands and asked, “How are you feeling today? Any better? Do you remember your name yet?” He looked both troubled and eager when he asked her about her name.
She opened her mouth to reply and managed to croak out, “No.”
“It’s okay, Jesisca, I’ll take care of you. I always have,” he reassured her softly as he reached for a cup.
Her confused mind latched onto the word Jesisca and knew it sounded familiar. Keenly she asked, “Jesisca? Is that my name?”
He turned back to her nodding, “Yes, honey, doesn’t it sound familiar?”
She thought about it for a moment and had a brief flash of memory around the name. She nodded slowly and sighed with relief. “Tell me everything, please. I’m going crazy with not knowing.” But even as she asked, the room started spinning with black dots, and she was feeling hot and cold at the same time. She could not concentrate on what he was saying as she felt on the verge of blacking out as her head throbbed even more the longer she sat upright. She could see his lips moving, but nothing was making sense.
Outside Ascension Page 4