“Everything
okay?”
Tony
turned with a jerk toward a new voice. A short heavy man with the glow of a
cigarette clutched between his fingers called out from the doorway next to his
room.
“Everything’s
fine,” Tony said.
“Okay,
just thought I heard a pop.”
“Oh,
this old rust bucket backfires once in a while,” Tony said. He felt tension
grip his muscles until they were as taut as a full sail before an angry wind.
He reasoned that his hands were out of sight to the man on the sidewalk, so he
flipped the pistol around and put the handle in his left hand. He pressed the
barrel to Natalie’s head to send a silent reminder of his earlier threats about
the price others would pay if she called out. She had begun to show
possibilities but he would have to reserve judgment for now. Right now he had a
situation to handle before it got further out of control. “Scared the hell out
of my friend. He stumbled and twisted his ankle. I think he may have wrenched
his shoulder on the way down.
“Need
me to call 9-1-1?” the man asked.
Pigs are the last thing I need. “Na,
he’ll be just fine.”
“Well
if you’re sure.” The man stood his ground and took another drag from his smoke.
“Yes,
everything’s fine sir. Thanks for your concern. Goodnight now.” Not until the
man turned to slipped back into his room did Tony feel the strain relax. He
exhaled slowly and allowed the release to renew his body.
Once
the neighbor closed his door, Tony grabbed Natalie by the left arm and yanked
her to her feet. Until now he hadn’t noticed she was naked from the waist up.
He squeezed her arm tighter and then turned toward Rudy.
“Get
her clothes,” he said. With his voice stern yet checked, he attempted to mask
the dread his sleep deprived mind still threatened. “Cover her up and toss the
light pole back in the trunk, then take her to the room!”
“What
about Hank, Tony?”
Tony
paused until his knew he could control his volume. “I’ll take care of Hank.
Just get the bitch inside quietly. We have a goddamn snooping neighbor. She’ll
attract more attention out here. Inside I’ll be able to control her.”
Tony
still held Natalie’s bare arm and could feel her shake like a nervous bird. He
didn’t care if the chill of the night air or fear caused her to tremble. But
when he focused on her face, he could see the truth in the moonlight. He knew
it well. When the Chevy overheated, hatred had stared back at him from the
trunk those few hours ago—hatred and determination.
He
waved the gun in front of her face and through gritted teeth said, “If Hank’s
dead or dies, you’re next. There’s a bullet right here with your name on it.”
He
tore his hand away from her arm, watched to make sure Rudy began to fulfill his
orders, and then turned toward Hank.
Rudy
draped the blankets over Natalie’s shoulders and put his arm around her waist.
“He’s
going to kill me anyway,” Natalie said, as she and Rudy walked over the asphalt
toward the open motel room. She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders.
In Iowa, she had been used to the cold winters, but living in southern
California for almost two years had thinned her blood enough that the cool
northern California night air chilled her.
“No,
he’s not. I’ll see to it.”
“How
are you going to stop him?” she asked
and checked the wrath she felt mount.
“I
don’t know yet, but please lower your voice before someone else gets hurt.
Tony’s not kidding when he says he’ll kill someone.”
“Has
he killed before?”
“Look,
Hank and Tony go back a long ways. Shooting Hank is something Tony’s not going
to let pass. He’s pissed and now I’m going to have to think harder about how to
get you out of this.”
The
boy with his arm cinched around her waist hadn’t answered her question, but she
decided to let it go for now. A death threat was enough pressure, but
confirmation that Tony could deliver on his “you’re next” promise was too much for
her to process at the moment. She needed time to focus, to think. All she had
been able to foresee up to this point was to find a way out of the trunk. Now
that it was done, though, to stay alive, she needed to blueprint an escape
plan.
She
had already decided she might be able to use the kid to some extent, but she
didn’t hold much hope of him being able to think his way out of anything, let
alone something as serious as Tony’s wrath. Thinking with his urges got her in
the situation to begin with. His thinking
could get them both killed. She needed control.
“Look,
you got me into this and I want to trust you to get me out, but building trust
is going to take some time. Please … I’ve been trying to remember your name.”
“Rudy.”
She
sensed the disappointment that she hadn’t remembered his name and vowed she
would have to do better if she had any chance to bring him to her side.
They
walked through the doorway to the room and she spied the food on the table. She
wanted to stop everything and eat, but she felt filthy.
“Could
I clean up and then get something to eat and drink?” she asked.
“Of
course, here’re the rest of your things.”
She
took them, tossed
the leather jacket on the bed nearest the back of the room and
stepped into the bathroom with her purse, blouse and bra. Natalie locked the
door behind her, turned the hot water on in the sink, and let the blankets drop
to the floor.
She
found soap in a plastic wrapper and as she began to wash, she poured over her
reflection in the mirror. The last time she saw her image, Amy Westerhill, the
farmer’s daughter, stared back. Now, if she hadn’t known it was herself, she
wouldn’t have recognized the girl with dark circles under her eyes. Her usual
pink cheeks were a camouflage pattern of black, blue and a sickening jaundice.
The scatter of freckles that graced her nose had disappeared, and the skin on
her face had become so drawn from tension, lack of sleep and dehydration that
her dimples refused to blossom.
As
she continued to examine her injuries, she found other evidence of the assault.
Bite marks left by Hank tore the flesh around her nipples and a large bruise
had swollen where Tony had slammed the gun into her chest. Her left side, where
Tony had kicked her just a few minutes before, was sore to the touch and had
begun to turn a reddish purple.
What
she wouldn’t give for a hot bath or even just a quick shower, but she knew that
would have to wait—I’m still a prisoner.
If Hank had survived, as soon as Tony came in with him, not only would Tony be
in a foul mood, but he would want supplies from the bathroom for Hank’s wound.
She
toweled dry, used the toilet and slipped into her bra and light rose-colored
blouse. When she had buttoned it all the way up—no exposed cleavage this time—she reached into her purse.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
All
Rights Reserved
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