Beth Ann literally stumbled down a full flight of steps. Her hands were still tied, and the sack was still over her head, smothering every breath. Travis prodded her from behind; she would know that voice anywhere. The soft crying followed a little distance behind her, so at least that little mystery was solved; someone else had been kidnapped, too. Overwhelming fear mingled with a strange calm in each shiver.
Travis yanked her to a stop and she gasped as a pain shot through her head from the sudden movement. She heard the sound of a heavy door opening and three seconds later was accosted by the most revolting smell...ever. Her throat constricted against the mixture of urine, feces, vomit and body odor. Travis didn’t give her time to wonder where she was. He pushed her into the room and knocked her down onto a mattress that must have been on the floor, it was such a long drop down from standing. It would have been useless to struggle; she could not run or see to escape even if she could. She heard chains rattling and felt Travis wrap one around her waist tightly.
“Stop! What are you doing? Let me go!” the crying voice shouted, shaking and panicky. Beth Ann noted that she sounded young, probably a teenager, and her stomach roiled.
The slap that followed seemed extraordinarily loud, but not as loud as the resulting scream.
“Shut up!” Mr. Andrews growled through gritted teeth.
With a sudden surge of anger, Beth Ann swung her knees up hard to try and knock Travis off of her, but it had the opposite effect. He leaned closer, ripped the burlap bag off her head and brought his face to hers.
“Did you miss me?” he asked in his gravelly voice. Beth Ann narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. She could hear the young girl’s muffled crying continuing in the background as Mr. Andrews chained her.
Just as Travis shifted his weight to get into a better position, Andrews spoke up sternly. “Travis! Get your brain out of your pants for five minutes. We have work to do. Let’s go.”
Travis scowled. “I’ll be back!” he promised. As he stood, Beth Ann quickly took in her surroundings. Mr. Andrews stood in the doorway with a lantern of some sort, the only light in the room. The space was fairly large, longer than her living and dining rooms together at home. Spread around the room were several beds and a couple more mattresses on the floor like hers. Sheets were strung here and there, perhaps as partitions; but in the dim lantern light, they looked like limp, haggard ghosts. With horror she realized there were women chained to each bed. Some were completely naked and uncovered. There was something that looked like a table, and some other odd shapes, set back into the shadows at the far end.
As Travis and Mr. Andrews exited, the door slammed shut behind them, leaving the women in total darkness. Beth Ann heard keys jingling and the lock mechanism engaged. As the anxiety built up quickly and threatened to overwhelm her, the “Hell Hole” came to mind. It was a ride at an amusement park she had frequented as a child with her family. She had ridden it only once and decided she didn’t like it. But that was just a stupid thrill ride. This...this was a real hell hole. How long would she survive living in total blackness, just waiting every second of the day and night for the attackers to come?
“Help! Help me!” the young girl screamed suddenly, the chains rattling and straining.
“Shhh, save your energy, honey,” came a scratchy voice from the blackness. “No one will ever hear you, except the bad guys. So you want to stop screaming, okay?”
The screaming stopped, but the whimpers continued and the nose sniffled.
“What’s your name?”
“Abby. Abigail Fugh. Two guys broke into my house last night and...and just took me!”
“Abby?” the voice whispered.
“Wh-where am I?” the teenager asked, her voice still shaking.
But the raspy voice continued, murmuring over and over, “Abby? Oh, no! No! Dear God!”
“Where am I?” she repeated, louder.
After a pause, the woman’s voice came through the darkness with maniacal fervor. “In a nightmare! A nightmare at Mr. Andrews’ house!”
“You mean the nice Mayor?” the girl asked. She sniffed twice more.
“Oh, he’s not nice, Abby. He’s a monster! Don’t you remember? He told me I was coming to work a good job here, managing his food. Bastard!”
The bitterness in the woman’s voice now sounded more familiar to Beth Ann as she listened to the conversation. “Kristen?” she interjected.
“Kristen?” Abby echoed.
It was quiet for several long seconds. “Who wants to know?”
“Beth Ann,” she responded.
The voice started to cry softly, almost imperceptibly. “Oh...Oh, my God! Beth Ann...Abby....” Kristen’s defenses were pierced and she sobbed into her pillow.
Beth Ann let her friend cry while her heart broke. How much more suffering could they take? Finally, she had to ask. “Kristen, what happened? What...what is this place?”
Kristen was quiet for so long that Beth Ann thought she had fallen asleep. No one else in the room made a peep, not even Abby. Then she spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “They brought me here in Mr. Andrews’ truck, made me wear a burlap sack over my head.” She stopped and Beth Ann waited. “When I first got here, they kept me locked in a bedroom. One of the guys brought me some water each day to wash with, and nice lotions...and food.” She paused again. “But I was a prisoner. Any time of the day or night I could get...a visitor....” Beth Ann could tell Kristen had hesitated and changed what she was going to say. “At first I justified it for the food and nice place to live, but then...I...I couldn’t take it any more. I tried to escape.” Kristen’s voice wavered, then came back stronger, with venom. “But they caught me.”
Beth Ann had no idea what to say to her friend. Meanwhile, strangely, still no one else had said a word. She could feel the trembling, burning panic coming back with a vengeance. Maybe if she kept talking, it would help. “How many women are trapped down here, besides you, me and Abby?”
“I don’t know–we don’t talk.” Kristen said in monotone. “A woman claiming to be Sheriff Branson’s girlfriend, but she’s in bad shape. A couple of teens, maybe, and another lady they brought a few days ago, but she hasn’t spoken a single word.”
“Rachel?” Beth Ann said softly to herself, hoping she was dead wrong.
“I told you, I don’t know her name!” Kristen snapped.
“Rachel? I hope to God you’re not in this room!” Beth Ann said just loud enough to make sure that all the women could hear her. “But if you are, please listen up. It’s me, Beth Ann. Brody and Sean and Damian and the rest of the guys are going to rescue us! They are already working on a plan!” She didn’t have the heart to explain that she was part of the plan and she had botched it.
“Just...shut up, Beth Ann!” Kristen said after a long pause. Nobody named “Rachel” had responded. “There ain’t no way out of this one. I’m sorry. Abby, I’m so sorry, honey.” The springs of the bed complained as Kristen tried to shift her position. “It’s best if you just try to sleep as much as possible...and pray for death,” she mumbled. It was the last thing Beth Ann would hear her friend say in that dungeon.
Abby’s little voice broke into Beth Ann’s anxiety. “Is it true? That someone is going to rescue us? I...I wanna go home. And I want Kristen to come back to our house. We miss her!”
“Yes, I know that people are looking for us...good people. If you know how to pray, this would be a good time. It sure wouldn't hurt,” Beth Ann responded. She shivered uncontrollably, not knowing if it was the damp cold of the basement or uncontainable fear. It was fitting that the room was pitch black. Now she had actually become a part of the darkness. Finally, the exhaustion of being awake all night caught up with her and she fell asleep.
***
The clanging of metal against metal woke Beth Ann up with a start and a gasp. As the key turned in the lock, Beth Ann could sense the sudden tension in the room and her heart pounded wildly. So this is what it’s like: every time the door opens, we wonder who they’re coming for, Beth Ann thought.
In walked Mr. Andrews with the lantern. His tall shape was even more imposing from her mattress on the floor. The self-appointed mayor sauntered to Beth Ann’s mattress and crouched slowly. “It’s time you answered a few questions, Miss Dalton,” he said in his syrupy voice. “Let’s start with where you’ve been for the last week or so.”
Beth Ann prayed for courage and wisdom, then responded with the backstory she had practiced with Brody. “I have no family left in town and I wanted to see my only brother. When I got to his place, they were dead–my brother, sister-in-law and baby niece. Their house had been raided. There was no food.” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to finish. “I stayed long enough to bury them and...then I came back.”
“Uh huh,” Andrews said as he stood and started to pace slowly, the small pool of light following his feet. “But you didn’t tell anyone where you were going?”
“No! I...I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble!”
Mr. Andrews nodded slowly while he took a few more steps. “You didn’t see anyone else on your little excursion? Neighbors? Friends?”
Beth Ann could tell he was fishing for something, and she tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Well, they have an elderly neighbor couple. I did see them, but they couldn’t help me. They’re starving and distrustful...like everyone else.” She paused and tried to sound less defensive. “I don’t like you or what you stand for, but you do have food and you’ve kept us safe. And my home is in town. So I came back. I’ll keep working on the Garden Team and do my part.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mr. Andrews.” Hopefully that would do the trick.
Andrews stopped pacing and chuckled softly. “No, I don’t think you are. But you will be.” He stood at the side of her mattress. The lantern light hurt her eyes, but she could make out his military-style boots. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth....”
“I AM telling the truth!” Beth Ann shouted.
The boot met its mark before she saw it coming. She let out an anguished cry as she curled into a fetal position, arms wrapped around her stomach, choking on the bile that rose into her throat.
Andrews bent over her. “LIAR!” he bellowed and she flinched. His hot, foul breath lingered around them. Then he crouched down and stroked her hair. She recoiled from his touch, still coughing. In a soft, gentle tone, he said, “You see, Beth Ann, YOU led us right to your brother and all his rebellious militia friends.”
Beth Ann squeezed her eyes shut tighter. No! God, please no! her spirit cried.
“Yes. That’s right. Their deaths will be on you! You should be grateful that you won’t be alive to see them fall. Tomorrow you will be hanged as an example of what we do to spies.” He stood and let that sink in. Then he shook his head. “I almost feel bad, you know? You had a lot of potential. All you had to do was play along. That’s all.”
Beth Ann tried to push down the stabbing guilt and gasped out the words she’d been longing to say. “Your days are numbered, Andrews.”
He laughed, the maniacal sound reverberating off all the walls. “Oh! You must mean that little mutiny we had last night down at the courthouse. Yes, that took me by surprise, truly! I was trying to stage my own little attack and they interrupted me. It failed–sorry–but it worked in my favor. Now I have six bodies to blame on you and your friends! Oh, and this nice little lady, too,” he said, gesturing with the lantern toward Abby’s bed. Beth Ann caught a glimpse of the girl’s eyes wide open in fear, her hands clamped over her mouth.
“What?” The word came out like a croak as she looked up at Andrews.
“Oh, that’s right...you missed the town meeting! This morning I was forced to call the Tionestans together and tell them that a large group of looters has settled a few miles away. During the night they attacked us, infiltrated the town, raided the armory, and took a teenage girl. The whole town is outraged! Every able bodied man and woman is to report to the square tomorrow to take up arms and rid ourselves of this fearsome foe. Of course, after they watch the rebel’s spy hang.”
“But...you can’t do that! It’s not true!” Beth Ann cried out, the pitch of her voice high as her throat constricted.
The Mayor growled and brought his fist down on the side of her head. “Look who’s talking about TRUTH!” He stood suddenly with a huff. “Alright. I’m tired. Let’s wrap this up,” Mr. Andrews said, clasping his hands together in a loud clap that made Beth Ann jump. “How many are there?”
With the searing heat in her cheek, the blinding explosions of light in her eye, and the ringing in her ear, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “How many what?” A hoarse whisper was the best she could do.
“People! How many people are in on that militia camp you were hiding at?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Beth Ann shouted. Then she broke down crying, wondering what it would feel like to die while her friends and neighbors watched, believing she was a traitor. No trial, no representation, no way to tell her side of the story.
“What a useless...,” Andrews began. He stood watching her for what seemed like a long time. “We’re not done here–I’ll be back. And maybe I’ll send Travis down for a little visit when he’s done with his shift on night watch.”
The light left with Andrews, and the bolt locked in the darkness. Not a sound came from any of the other women in the room. She was alone yet again. Beth Ann retreated into herself, embracing the dark and hoping to simply dissolve into it.