She pulled over into the opposing traffic lane and moved slowly to the head of the line passed a half dozen law enforcement vehicles from various agencies. Uniformed peace officers stepped out into the rain with their guns drawn. Over the din of the rhythmic drops on the roof and windshield of her truck, she heard the loud thump from the blades of a helicopter overhead and looked up as it passed by.
The road ahead dipped down and as she crested the drop off, what she had been looking for appeared on the road to the right. She pulled her weapon and stepped from her vehicle.
The license number matched the plate of the Dodge Ram she had pursued since this morning. With her black waterproof FBI jacket on her back and ball cap on her head, she crept toward the burgundy truck. There didn’t seem to be any movement but she took no chances. Behind her, other officers backed her up and over a field to the left, the helicopter hovered ready to give chase. She knew the suspects could have been lying on the seats, so she began to give the pickup a thorough search. First, she checked the bed. With the exception of some farm tools, it was empty.
She held her gun in front of her with both hands. With her right forefinger ready for action on the trigger, she approached the cab. A quick tug opened the back door on the driver’s side. The seat area was empty. Through the cab, she could see both the doors on the right side of the truck stood open. She stepped to the front door and, through the window, found it too had been vacated.
She holstered her weapon and shook her head. The suspects had fled again, but which way and in what?
Meanwhile, the dim light offered by the doom light in the car, and the bruises and blood smeared on Natalie’s face, made it difficult for Rudy to see whether she had turned like Hank, the pallor of death, or if she was just discolored from the abuse she had suffered. If she took breath at all, the effort so shallow, her chest didn’t rise or fall. He patted her gently on the cheek and called her name. She didn’t respond.
He tore the masking tape, ripped it away from her mouth, and removed the diaper gag. The bite-mark impressions she had pressed into the soggy mess, he knew came from a combination of frustration, fear and rage. He found a bottle of water on the front seat and poured some the contents into the palm of his hand. He stoked her forehead with hopes the coolness would bring her around.
“Come on, Natalie breathe,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “Breathe! Don’t let the son-of-a-bitch win. We can beat him.”
She laid on her side in the backseat with her arms and legs still tied behind her. Her right cheek rested on the cushion next to the infant seat. He tipped her head gently and began to pour water slowly into her mouth. When she started to cough, he felt the tension begin to recede like storm-waves at the shore of Lake St. Claire near his home in Detroit. She took a deep gasping breath, and then another and another. And when she opened her eyes, they began to flick up, down, left, and right in a frenzy of panicked confusion.
Everything around Natalie seemed dark, foreboding, shapeless and distant. Nothing came into focus. Nothing made sense. She didn’t know where she was. Only moments before she had been filled with blissful euphoria as she drifted devoid of effort within reach of a place beyond her senses, beyond her dimension. But then something, without her consent, brought her back. Back to a place she somehow knew she desperately didn’t want to be, back to a reality filled with terror. Then suddenly she floated as if carried on the wind and a voice called her name; no, not her name, her name was Amy.
“Natalie,” Rudy said after he slipped her out of the back seat of the car. He clutched her to himself and carried her into the corral with the broken gate. A pile of hay against the wall of the barn looked like a comfortable place to rest, so he laid her there with such care, even if she had been fully conscious she wouldn’t have known the difference between his arms and the dry bed on which she now lay.
The knowledge she was alive gave Rudy hope. Tony having killed the man in the field had left him despondent. He wondered when it would be his turn to have that blazing lead bore a hole through his brain. If Natalie had died in the backseat, he felt he had nothing left to live for, so bring it on. Natalie had been right. He had crossed a line and couldn’t go back. So, whatever happened to him, his only redemption now would be to save Natalie.
On his knees beside her, he began to peal the masking tape from her blond hair. The strands tugged against her scalp, but she neither flinched nor moved her eyes away from his. She laid still and transfixed.
“I know this must hurt but I’ll have it off in a minute.”
After he finished, he started on the knots in the white nylon rope that bound her hands and feet.
“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Tony, as he walked into the corral.
While he tended to Natalie, Rudy had tried to put Tony out of his mind. Nothing Tony could do to him now would be worse than what he deserved.
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I’m untying her.”
“Did the whore ask you to, lover boy?”
“No, and I’m not asking you for permission either,” he said and continued to pour his attention to the tight knots. “Look at her Tony, she’s not going anywhere. As it is, you almost killed her. She’s too weak to run and even if she could, where’s she going? It took you, me and a car to move that damn door. She sure the hell can’t do it by herself.”
“Damn it! Remember, she’s the enemy here. She’s got you so twisted up. She already got Hank and she’ll kill you too if you give her a chance.”
“Maybe she should kill me just like Hank, I deserve it, but I’m untying her anyway. I don’t give a shit what you say.”
“All right, but damn it, if anything happens, I’ll be on you like a dog sniffin’ its own shit,” Tony said, and walked away.
“She needs to eat.” Rudy said, as he finished the last of the knots. “I’m giving her some food and water.”
He didn’t wait for consent and it didn’t come anyway. As he walked across the corral, he coiled the nylon rope and dropped it on the ground next to the four by four post to which the gate had been tethered at one time. He stepped to the car, and grabbed a plastic bag with some food and water from the front seat. When he stepped back to Natalie, still wrapped in her black leather coat, he saw her eyes had slid closed again. Grateful to hear shallow breathes, he sat down beside her and cradled her head in his left arm. With his right hand, he put the bottle to her lips and began to pour slowly. When she revived with a small cough, her stopped pouring and smiled down at her.
“Here,” he said and held out the bottle to her, “take this.”
While he continued to hold her head up, Natalie lifted the bottle to her mouth and began to sip.
“Oh isn’t this touching?” Tony shouted from across the barn. “She’s got you pussy whipped, lover boy.”
Rudy turned but in the darkness couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. “Shut the hell up,” he said, more to himself, but loud enough Tony would have heard.
Rudy turned back to Natalie and saw part of the reason for her distress. Her nose had clotted with blood. He wanted to win her allegiance back, so he took off his sweatshirt, moistened the sleeve with water from another bottle and handed the wet garment to her.
“You might want to clean your face,” he said with hope that the gesture would mellow her anger toward him. “It’ll make you feel better.”
She took it and before she used it as a washcloth, she said, “I’m cold. I’m so cold.”
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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