part0014

Zoe snapped her head in the direction of every creak, clink, and clunk. But to no purpose. There was nothing but blackness and the burn of the abrasive burlap rubbing against her nose and forehead.

With every inhale of recycled air, the coarse fabric adhered to her lips and nostrils. Her bruised and broken ribs screamed in pain. Panic surged again. Zoe dug deep to fight it. Screaming was not an option. Giving him a reason was not an option. She couldn’t have endured another crushing blow.

Unsure of how much time had passed, she estimated eternity. She imagined the faces of her mother. Her father. Her little brother. How disappointed they would have been. She caught a glimpse of the motion in the wooded lot as she passed. She felt the pit in her stomach before it all happened. She could have run. She wanted to run. But she hesitated. Debilitated by fear, instead of motivated by it. This was her fault, and now she would give anything to tell them she was sorry.

Beneath her, the hard, hollow floor rocked and swayed. Her body shifted back and forth, tugging on the rope that had been tightly wound around the outside of the sack. The pressure caused the burlap to bite into the bare skin of her neck, arms, and legs.

Outside, the dulled clanging of the buoys, squawking of the gulls, and slapping of the water left no doubt in her mind that she was in the belly of a boat. Where, exactly, she didn’t know. But the rumble of the motor told her they were on the move.

Zoe tried to steady her mind. If she were to survive, she would need to think. She would need to be ready. As it was, she was just beginning to admit to herself this was really happening. Her father had been right all along. He told her there were bad guys out there. That she needed to protect herself. Since she was a little girl, she remembered thinking it was stupid. This was her town. Everyone was nice and friendly. No one was going to try to steal her or hurt her. She had never been more wrong about anything in her life.

She rolled herself to her back to take the pressure off her aching left shoulder. She panted. Pining for just one breath of crisp air.

The terrifying events replayed in her mind. Not in any coherent order, but in flashes. She strained to remember. To fill in the gaps.

She had been walking home after leaving Tyler. She remembered him offering to walk with her. It was sweet, but she didn’t want to take the chance that her parents would see him. Anyway, it was a short walk. And she was perfectly capable, she told him.

She remembered walking along the edge of the roadway. The overgrown lot to her right, dark and quiet. Did she hear a rustling?

The next thing she could remember was the hands. Clamping around her chin and over her mouth. She was being dragged by her head. Had she seen a man? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t visualize it happening. She could only feel it. The pain in her neck, as if her captor tried to rip her head from her body. Knocking the wind out of her as he thrust her to the hard ground. The scratchy twigs and leaves all over her body. And most of all, the incredible strength.

Zoe knew now that there had been a man. But at the time, it hadn’t occurred to her. At first, her chaotic mind was convinced that she was being attacked by a bear. She felt a twinge of embarrassment at recalling the notion. There were no bears on the island. She had never even seen a bear in person. Yet, it was the first thing that came to her mind.

She remembered the hand leaving her face and retreating into the darkness. She had tried to call out. She had tried to push out the words, “Help me, somebody.” That was when it came. As if a boulder had fallen from the sky and landed on her chest. She heard the crack and felt him try to force her life out of her lungs. She waited for death. It didn’t come. Instead, the foul-smelling bag slipped over her head. Hands ran along her sides and her feet were lifted high above her head.

Looking back, she had been aware she was being carried. The pressure of the man’s shoulder pressing into her abdomen as she bounced with each step. His forearm along the back of her legs. But at the time she had been consumed with the pain, stabbing into her lungs and stealing her breath. Maybe if she had paid better attention. Listened more closely.

They had somehow gotten to the boat. Were there other people nearby? Could she have missed her opportunity to call out one last time?

The slapping of the water on the hull transitioned to more of a lapping. The motor fell silent. Panic rose again. Zoe knew there would be a destination, but she wasn’t ready.

Heavy footsteps preceded the sound of wood grinding against wood. Then there were hands around her ankles. The edge of a wooden step scraping along her back. She was being hoisted again. The shoulder, the forearm. With each bounce, her chest caved. Then she was weightless.

For a split second, the pain released. Her stomach dropped. And then the concrete floor came up to meet her, bringing the pain back with it. Tenfold.

Light beamed through the mesh. A flash of brown burlap filled her view, then receded into darkness again. There was a tugging and then the pressure of the rope released. The bag slid along her body. She knew what it meant. She was about to come face to face with her captor. She would be ready. To study. To remember.

As the last bit of harsh fabric ran over her forehead, the bright beam of the flashlight blinded her. She bent her knees and used her arms to push herself into a half-seated position.

The outline of a man hovered behind the searing beam. Zoe blinked and blinked, hoping her eyes would adjust. The smell of mold, urine, and excrement accosted her.

The light bouncing off her illuminated her immediate surroundings. Bright colored graffiti covered the filthy concrete floor and low ceiling. A few feet away was the faint outline of what looked like a rusty metal gate. The silhouette of the man moved toward it.

Zoe squinted. She peered past the blinding light to get a look at the man’s face. She couldn’t quite make out his features with any detail. He was wearing a white hat. Though old and dirty, the hat’s bright color reflected the light, making it stand out from everything else in view. Zoe had seen the same hat a million times in her life. It was part of a boat captain’s uniform. She was sure of it.

With the clanking of metal and the squeal of the gate swinging open, Zoe heard the man’s voice for the first time. “Get in,” he said. It sent chills down her spine.

Despite her best effort to avoid it, the tears found their way down her cheeks. “Please,” she whimpered. “I just want to go home.”

“Get in,” he repeated. There was no emotion. Not even anger.

She didn’t want to get in. But what was she going to do? Fight? The man was stronger than she had even thought possible. She had no idea where she was. If she could get to her feet, she could run. But to where? Outside of the flashlight’s beam, there was only pitch darkness. And she had no doubt that a refusal would only bring more pain.

Zoe crawled toward the gate. The man stepped back, keeping the beam fixed on her as she moved.

As she passed through the opening, the light reached the back of the small concrete cell. Her pulse quickened, and the hair stood up along her neck and arms.

In the shadows, Zoe saw two girls, each cowering in opposite corners. As quickly as they appeared, they faded back into the darkness.

Zoe’s mind churned as iron bars clanged shut. The jingle of keys gave way to the sound of footsteps as the last bit of light disappeared around the corner.

“Are you okay?” Zoe called out, “Where are we?”

There was no response. Could she have imagined the two girls? Was this a waking nightmare?

Zoe slid herself on her back side, a few inches at a time, until she could reach out and feel the cool concrete wall. She pushed her back against it, drew up her knees, and wrapped her arms around her shins. The pitch darkness played tricks on her brain. Were there actually girls in there with her? Were they ghosts? Evil spirits? What else was in there with her? Her whole body was frozen with fear.

“Please,” Zoe yelled. “If you’re there, say something.”

“Shhhhhhhh.” The hushing came from her right. Zoe swung her hand but caught nothing but air. “Are you real?” she asked.

“Be quiet.” The words came from her left. It was a whisper but still clearly a girl’s voice. “The Captain doesn’t like when we talk.”

A strange sense of relief washed over Zoe. She had been attacked, beaten and imprisoned. But at least she wasn’t crazy. She dropped her own voice to a whisper. “Who’s the Captain? Where are we?”

“Go to sleep,” the girl on the right said.

“We have to do something,” Zoe said. “We have to get out of here.”

There was no response. And after a few more attempts, Zoe got the hint that there wouldn’t be.

Zoe closed her eyes and tried to rehash the events that brought her there. Maybe this time she could remember all of it. And maybe, if she were lucky, sleep would follow.