by Blake, Zoe
Bright hazy spots of color.
Slowly Phoebe came awake. Desperately, she tried to hold on to whatever she could sense, some sort of anchor to bring her back to consciousness.
The cold hard feel of the ground.
The smell of pine needles and…what?
The raucous shouts and chanting
Bright spots of orange and red.
Languidly, everything was becoming clearer. Nothing was distinct though, as if she were experiencing it all underwater. Lying on her side, she tried to move her arms, to push herself up to a sitting position but it was no use. Her arms were secured behind her back. Willing her limbs to move, she tested her legs. They too were tied. Gradually her senses were awakening, coming out of their drugged fog.
She was lying in the grass.
It was the smell of wood and…gasoline.
Male voices were chanting…Burn the Mad Monk! Burn the Mad Monk!
Flames. Fire. Dancing fire surrounding her.
A primal surge of survival ripped through her body. Using her core, Phoebe forced her body into a sitting position. She was in an enclosed place. Large black poles formed a sort of teepee around her. There was no exit. Just one continuous circle of poles. Through the cracks in the poles she could see indistinct forms and torches.
Oh my fucking god! She was inside the bonfire.
A shower of sparks rained down on her bare feet as curls of smoke began to wisp and move between the wooden poles. Panicked, Phoebe shifted backwards. They must have lit the bonfire. Finally, finding her voice, she began to scream with every ounce of strength she possessed.
Burn the Mad Monk! Burn the Mad Monk!
As the flames began to spread from pole to pole, the chanting became louder. No one could hear her screams. Phoebe tried to kick at the wooden poles but it was no use. She knew from watching the men build the wooden teepee that would become the bonfire, that they had secured each pole with heavy wire to prevent the structure from collapsing. Why! Why hadn’t it occurred to Michael or her that Mrs. Ludtz would be attracted to the bonfire? It was perfect. It would allow her to succeed where she had failed with the first two victims.
It would allow her to burn her victim alive…to burn Phoebe alive…to fulfill the lore of the wendigo.
The confined space was now brightly lit as the flames traveled from pole to pole. She choked as thick smoke began to surround her. She gave out one last feeble scream before collapsing backward.
Her thoughts were of Michael and what could have been.
“Michael,” she cried out with her last breath.
* * *
“Did you hear something?” asked Michael as he watched the flames from the fire begin to creep up the poles, lighting the night sky.
“Can’t hear nothing over all this shouting,” groused the sheriff. “As I said, there’s no trace of her. She’s crazy but not so crazy as to have alluded all detection until now. Maybe the robe was to throw us off the scent. She could be halfway to California for all we know.”
Michael crossed his arms over his chest as he took in what the sheriff was trying to tell him. “No,’ he disagreed. “I think the only reason why she alluded detection is that no one thought to really look into the matter until Phoebe came along, otherwise we would have easily learned of the connection between Mrs. Ludtz and the first victim. I think the woman is no longer stable or thinking clearly. She’s here all right.”
They had searched the woods and surrounding area. There was no trace of her.
Once again, Michael was relieved to know Phoebe was safe and sound in his home…in his bathtub or perhaps his bed. He smiled at the thought of how her green eyes sparkled as her pretty cheeks tinged with pink when she’d been caught disobeying. Damn she was fun when she was mad! When this was all over, he was going to ask her to stay. He wasn’t sure how life with him at the academy could compete with all New York had to offer, but he was damn well going to try. In the short time he had known her he now couldn’t imagine life without her. She was so full of energy and fire. Challenging him at every turn. He loved how she stood up to him. Never intimidated by his rank or even his size.
After learning her true name, he had devoured every article she had ever written, admiring her all the more for her intelligence and commitment to a story. Although, those articles also had him clenching his fists in frustration and fear. It was obvious this was not the first time she had run headlong into danger for the sake of a story. The one about the mafia and the sanitation scandal came to mind as did the one about the sex trafficking ring. It was only a matter of time before she got herself in too deep. Well, as far as he was concerned, she had him to protect her now. Whether it was in New York or at the academy, he planned to be by her side. He just hoped she felt the same way.
Lost in his thoughts, he watched as the dark outline of the teepee made from wooden poles was engulfed in flame. Soon it would reach the stuffed dummy meant to be the mad monk effigy.
Again, he thought he heard a scream.
“You don’t hear that?” he asked the sheriff again.
A midshipman standing nearby responded, “Isn’t it great, Commander? We put a small speaker in the dummy so that it would sound like the mad monk was screaming!”
The sheriff shook his head. “Sounds damn creepy to me, but then I never understood this whole mad monk night business anyhow.”
Michael was only partially listening…there was just something about that scream.
“God damn it! Everyone stop. Silence!” roared Michael.
Every midshipman immediately stilled at his command.
There it was again but fainter…Phoebe.
“It’s not the speaker. Phoebe is trapped inside the bonfire,” shouted Michael as he lunged toward the burning wooden structure.
Strong hands pulled him back. Michael fought against the restraint.
“Commander! Stop! You can’t just pull on the poles, the whole thing could collapse on her,” advised Mark Dobson.
Michael stopped struggling. Jesus Christ! Phoebe! He needed to think, to strategize. Taking in the scene, he calmed his mind and focused. Surrounding the bonfire were buckets of sand and numerous fire extinguishers for safety. He also reasoned that it had to be Mrs. Ludtz who put Phoebe there, which means the woman had to have found an open space in the poles to push Phoebe through. If he could find that space, he could drag her out to safety. Praying to god she was still alive.
“You’re right, Captain. Organize the men. Grab the buckets and extinguishers and get the flames out. Sheriff, go left. I’ll go right. Search through the flames for any gaps in the poles,” shouted Michael.
Michael began to circle the large structure searching for a gap. Desperately listening for Phoebe’s cries. If she was still screaming it meant she was still alive and there was still hope. He could hear the shouts of alarm roll through the midshipmen like a wave. Everyone sprang into action.
He met up with the sheriff on the other side. “Anything?”
“No. We need these flames out,” responded the sheriff, his jaw tight with anxiety.
“My men are working on it. Keep looking.”
Michael kept up his search. Fear gnawed at his gut. The only frantic thought in his mind played over and over again.
I can’t lose her.
I can’t lose her.
I can’t lose her.
Finally, he saw his opening. A midshipman had tossed a bucket of sand at the base of the bonfire. Michael could see a small gap. He would barely be able to get his arm and shoulder in but it would have to be enough. With Phoebe’s petite frame, he was certain that was how she’d been forced inside the structure. Falling to his knees, he shouted for help as he braced his hands against the still smoldering poles. Ignoring the intense, searing pain from the heat, he pushed his arm through and swung it in an arch, searching for her.
Nothing.
He swung his arm around in an arc again.
Nothing.
She was in there. He was certain of
it.
Shoving his shoulders against the two poles, he looked up to see the now compromised structure as it shifted and groaned.
“Get back! Get back!” he shouted to his men.
“But Professor Phoebe, Commander! We’re not leaving her to die!” exclaimed one of the midshipmen from her class as the others nodded resolutely.
Michael swung his arm again. This time he felt it. The soft fabric of her pants. Running his hand down her calf, he latched onto her ankle as if both their lives depended on it.
Because they did.
There was no life for him without her…of that he was now certain.
“Ready men? Pull on my legs!” shouted Michael.
He could feel strong hands grab his legs and yank hard. When his right arm cleared the structure with Phoebe’s slim leg, he reached his left arm in to grab her other ankle.
“Pull,” he shouted.
“Heave,” yelled Captain Dobson to the men.
Michael’s body slid along the now muddied ground. The sound of splintering wood rent the air. The structure swayed.
“Heave, men! Heave!”
Another pull and both Michael and Phoebe were free of the structure but not out of danger. Rising to his legs, he swept her inert form into his arms and ran, shouting for his men to follow.
They had barely cleared the space before there was the ghastly sound of wood splintering and cracking. One by one the poles began to fall like dominoes, till there was nothing but a still smoking heap of logs.
Michael fell to his knees with Phoebe still clasped in his arms. Breathing heavily, he could only hold her.
Never in his life had he been more afraid.
She was so still.
He didn’t want to look down into her face. Didn’t want to confirm what he feared…that he had been too late. That he had failed to protect his love.
“Commander,” said a gentle yet anxious voice.
Michael looked up into the determined eyes of one of his midshipmen. He had a first aid kit at his feet.
“Commander, you have to put her down. We have to check for signs of…signs of life.”
His men had taken off their robes to create a makeshift bed for Phoebe so she wouldn’t be on the cold ground. Michael laid her down gently. Black smudges of soot marred her nose and mouth, the rest of her face was deathly pale. Pinching her nose between his two fingers, he pressed his lips to her own and breathed. He could hear the distant sirens from the ambulance as it drove up onto the grassy quad.
He breathed again.
And again.
Nothing.
“God dammit, princess. You better not fucking die on me. I command you to open your eyes,” he shouted in frustration.
Her eyelids fluttered then opened. Her beautiful green eyes shimmered with tears.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to talk to me like that,” she whispered. Her voice hoarse and raw from the smoke inhalation.
Michael’s own eyes teared up. Cupping her face with his hand, he replied, “Finally, a command you obeyed!”
The rest of their conversation was drowned out by exuberant shouts of “Hooyah!”
* * *
The paramedics placed an oxygen mask over her face and strapped her to the gurney. All the while, his men looked on anxiously. It seemed he was not the only one Phoebe had charmed in her short time at the academy.
Looking over his shoulder, Michael saw the sheriff standing nearby. “You had better hope you find that woman before I do, Sheriff,” he warned.
The sheriff nodded. “Wouldn’t blame you one bit, Colonel. You head on to the hospital. We’ll find her. Don’t you worry about that.”
Michael gave the older man a nod before hopping into the ambulance beside Phoebe.
Chapter 15
Two weeks later
“After stealing a fisherman’s boat and leading the local police in a chase across Buzzards Bay, the suspect Anne Ludtz was finally apprehended with the help of several midshipmen and their Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Lawson, who also gave chase in the Puller Academy boats. She is currently under psychiatric care as she awaits a trial date on two counts of first degree murder and one count of attempted murder,” read Henry out loud. Picking up his cigar, he took a long drag before turning to Phoebe. “Helluva job, Wilson. Helluva job!”
Phoebe plucked the cigar from his fingers and snubbed it out in the ash tray on his desk.
“Hey, it’s after noon! I’m allowed,” complained Henry.
“Let’s just say I have a whole new appreciation for life and you should too,” responded Phoebe as she took a sip of her usual mocha latte, wrinkling her nose at the harsh, burnt coffee taste. It wasn’t as good as the mocha lattes from the little cafe Amber and she frequented in Buzzards Bay.
Buzzards Bay.
She actually missed the place. Missed the raw beauty of the bay at sunrise. Missed the challenge of lighting a spark in her midshipmen students about Dickens or Shakespeare. Missed the camaraderie of the other teachers.
She especially missed Michael.
For days after the bonfire, he never left her side. He even insisted on sleeping on a cot in her hospital room rather than going home to rest.
If she hadn’t been certain before, her time spent together with him then with his constant caring attention, sealed her fate. She was head over heels in love with the man.
It was a strangely wonderful time. Sure, she had to suffer through chest scans and blood tests and the whole gamut to make sure there wasn’t any real damage from her brush with death but through it all…there was Michael. He entertained her by reading poetry. She especially loved when he read from Lord Byron. His dark, deep voice was a perfect match for the moody, mercurial poet’s poems. They talked for hours about their childhoods, his time in the military and all sorts of the silly things people talk about to get to know one another.
They talked about everything…except the future.
It seemed like neither wanted to broach the subject. Whether it was because they were afraid what the other may say or even more afraid of what they might not…talk of love and a future together remained unspoken. Soon it came time for her to leave, to return to her old life in New York.
Secretly, she kept hoping he would command her to stay…but he didn’t.
He just let her go.
Since then there had been long phone conversations and emails, mostly about the case against Ludtz. No mention of her returning to the academy…or love.
And worse…she had sent him the article on Ludtz earlier this morning and hadn’t heard a word from him. She had to be fair in her reporting. Phoebe had hoped he would understand that. It wasn’t her fault the Navy looked the other way for so long. She did her best to be impartial and not lambaste them like other reporters would have done, but the truth was the truth, besides the Navy made good in the end. If it wasn’t for Michael’s help, Ludtz may never have been found out and caught.
“Are you even listening to me?” groused Henry.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked what you plan to do next. What have you got for me?”
“There’s talk of a bribery scandal about to break in the mayor’s office,” responded Phoebe absentmindedly.
Henry nodded. “Could have some legs on it. What else?”
“Um…there’s that thing about the tainted rice in China. A source tells me some of it might have made its way into US products.”
“That thing that killed all the kids?”
Phoebe nodded her head.
“That sounds promising. Nothing like a good scare to sell newspapers.”
“Uh huh.”
“Wilson. Are you even paying attention? Ever since you got back from that Buzzard assignment it’s like your heart isn’t in it anymore.”
She could never get anything past Henry. “You’re not going to like this…but I don’t think it is.”
Henry nodded sagely. “Is it that commander fella; the one you wrote
about?”
“Why would you say that?” Phoebe shifted in her seat as her cheeks began to heat.
Henry held up the newspaper, giving it a tap with his index finger. “Because you make the guy sound like Batman and Superman all rolled into one.”
Her cheeks grew even hotter. “You’ve been hanging around Jimmy and his stupid comic books too much.”
Pointing at her with one stubby finger, Henry rejoined. “And you’re ignoring the facts.”
Phoebe toyed with the cardboard sleeve of her empty mocha latte cup. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You love him, Phoebe. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
She looked up and met Henry’s sympathetic eyes. “Yeah, but what does that get me? I have a career. Women from my generation aren’t supposed to give that shit up for love.”
Henry shrugged. “There’s nothing to say you can’t freelance once in a while and besides…to my thinking…it’s more what you’re gaining then giving up.”
“You’re my boss. Aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to stay?”
He nodded. “I’m your boss…but I’m also practically a father to you…and I say to hell with this dog and pony show. Go get your soldier!”
“Marine,” said Phoebe without thinking.
“Is there a difference?”
Phoebe jumped up and gave Henry a hug around the neck. “I’ve been told many times there is.” Laughing as she grabbed her shoulder bag and prepared to leave, Phoebe was already checking her phone for flights out of New York when there was a huge commotion outside Henry’s office.
She opened the door to see Michael marching through the Ledger offices in full dress uniform.
He looked magnificent, over six feet of impressive uniform, muscle and…anger? Uh oh…he also looked pissed as hell, thought Phoebe as she took in his lowered brow and clenched jaw.
Phoebe defiantly placed her hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she prepared to meet him head on. “Nothing I wrote in that article was untrue, so if you got a problem with it, then you are not the man I thought you were!”