Fall of Venus (5 page)

We
went camping at Mount Baerstynn a couple years ago. I told my parents I was
going camping with a group of girlfriends from school, since they would never
let me go alone with Glenn. We hadn’t seen each other all summer and just
wanted some time to ourselves. It was there that I lost my virginity. It sounds
more romantic than it really was. The truth is we had gotten into a major fight
at the gas station when some guy hit on me while I was in the convenience store
getting snacks. Glenn was watching from the pump the whole time and when I got
back to the car, he was furious.

“What
was that all about?” He glared at me.

“What?”
I asked. I knew what he was referring to, but it really wasn’t the big deal he
was making it out to be and I didn’t want to feed his anger by acknowledging
it.

“Oh,
I see. You two are planning a secret rendezvous tonight, eh?” Glenn pressed the
gas pedal, which threw me back into the seat.

“Don’t
be ridiculous, Glenn,” I said. “That guy was just asking directions. I told him
we’re from out of town and that’s it. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
I grasp the handle on the door as Glenn speeds up even more.

“Pollen,
I saw him checking you out before he even approached you,” said Glenn, his
eyebrows crinkled in fury.

“Slow
down.” I said glaring back at Glenn. We were beginning to ascend the mountain
on a twisting, winding road. “So it’s my fault he was looking at me?”

“No.
But you didn’t have to flirt with him when he spoke to you.”

“I
wasn’t flirting,” I said. “Glenn, please slow down. You’re scaring me.” But he
didn’t slow down. He pressed down on the gas and zoomed past a car ahead of us.
I looked down at the steep drop off next to the non-existent shoulder of the
road. Part of me was uncertain whether I would see tomorrow, the way he was
driving.

“I
saw the way you smiled at him,” said Glenn, his hands clenched, knuckles
protruding into his stretched skin, on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,
I was smiling. So what? I smile at everybody. Glenn, slow down!”

Before
the last syllable left my mouth, the ominous whining of sirens filled the
mountainside. Glenn said nothing as he slowed down to pull over, but I could
see the fire in his eyes. The cop gave him a ticket for speeding and for not
fastening his seatbelt. I was worried he’d be arrested for disorderly conduct,
but he managed to maintain composure. After all, he was angry with me, not the
cop.

We
drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension so thick I could barely move.
When we arrived at the campground an hour later Glenn apologized for being a
dick. I apologized for, well, smiling. But if that’s what it took to keep the
peace, I was willing to do it. The rest of the weekend was dreamy and I quickly
forgot about our little spat. We hardly left the tent, except for the last
night, when I wanted to sleep under the stars.

I
look up at the sky one last time before falling asleep. There’s a dusty haze
blanketing the night sky, causing the stars to look blurry. The sky was clear
as a freshly polished window that night with Glenn. But recently this murky
haze has been taking up residence in the sky and my life itself seems to be
falling into a dark hole with little chance of escape. I just want to go home.

Chapter
6

I
carefully twist my body over to my back, not wanting to wake Marcus if he is
too close to me. But he is not there. The sun hasn’t quite lifted over the
horizon yet and it’s still somewhat dark in the cerulean dawn, but I scan the
area and, sure enough, Marcus is gone. But his shirt is still here, draped over
my shoulder. Where did he go? He was in so much pain last night; he couldn’t
have wandered off. Oh god, what if he was taken? Dragged out of here by one of
those mountain men. But why would they leave me?

I
search the area looking for any evidence of foul play, but there is none. My
pack is next to me, where I left it last night. I grab it and stand up, looking
further away for any signs of life. I still don’t see Marcus anywhere.

Panicked,
I race around our campsite in a spiral pattern, moving further away in each
rotation, calling out his name, but not too loudly, “Marcus!” And again,
“Marcus!” Even a whisper sounds too loud out here in the early hours of the
morning, so quiet and still. I swear every step I take sends echoes throughout
the forest.

The
humidity this morning is stifling; this is definitely not a good day for a
leisurely run. Sweat is dripping down my face and my breathing has turned
rapid. There’s a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. My throat begins to
swell and my mouth goes very dry. I double over and before I know it, last
night’s nuts and greens are all over the ground. That’s when I hear a rustle in
the bushes behind me. I spin around and my heart stops for a brief moment.

“Marcus,
what are you doing out here?! You shouldn’t be walking on that leg!” I attempt
to scream in a whisper.

“It’s
much better,” says Marcus. “See?” He pulls apart the gaping hole in his jeans
and all I can see is the stitching with a tiny bit of pink skin. He smiles at
me, “I had a great nurse. Besides I needed to, well, nature calls…”

“Right,”
I start, looking down at the ground to avoid staring at his ripped chest.
Of
course. Hot guys need to use the bathroom, too
.
My cheeks flush as I imagine how ridiculous he must think I am. I tug my
earlobe nervously. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have gone so far.
 
I was just worried.”

Marcus
leans over and looks at the ground behind me. “Yeah, I can see that. Might want
to wash that down.” I pull out the canteen and finish off the water. I feel
embarrassed. Not just about vomiting, but I just drank the last of the water
without even offering any to Marcus. And now nature is calling me.

“The
river isn’t too far from here. I’ll go refill the canteen,” I say.

“I’ll
come along,” he says.

“No,
I’ll be okay. Anyway, I need some, um, private time,” I respond, turning to
leave. A few steps forward and I realize I’m still holding his shirt. “Oh, I
forgot, here,” I say, handing him the shirt, still averting my eyes as if my
humility is flashing bright neon lights through them.

Marcus
smiles, “Thanks, I’ll be waiting over at the camp. We’ll move on when you get
back. I have a good feeling we’ll hit civilization today.” I can feel the
warmth of his gaze tingling on my back as I walk away, and I force myself to
shrug off the idea that he’s feeling something for me.
Glenn is waiting for
me.

As
I near the falls where Marcus and I jumped, my footsteps become slower and more
discrete, like a cat sneaking up on its prey. I hide behind a tree scanning the
area to make sure nobody is around. After about five minutes of observation I
slowly make my way to the water, keeping my head up and alert. I know I won’t
be able to hear anything over the gushing falls, so I’m constantly scanning the
area, only taking quick glances at the canteen every now and then. I fill the
canteen completely first, then drink some water with my cupped hands. “Not too
much,” I tell myself. My bladder can only hold so much and it’s already feeling
like a dam ready to burst.

On
the way back I find a cozy nook in between three trees and some shrubs. It
feels so good to squat down and relieve myself. I swear it’s one of the most
euphoric feelings a human can have, to empty one’s bladder completely. I relish
the moment, closing my eyes and taking a deep, relaxing breath.

When
I open them I see something I hadn’t expected. It’s an infinity fly hovering
right before my face. The same infinity fly that is tattooed on my temple. The
scientific name for it is B4K-92, but it was nicknamed the infinity fly for its
uncanny ability to survive. Gardeners hate them because they lay their eggs in
the stems of plants and when the eggs hatch, the larvae suck the nutrients out
of plants, which cause them to shrivel up and die. They’ve developed resistance
to every pesticide on the market. Every time the biochemical companies produce
a new pesticide that will kill them, farmers go crazy spraying it over
everything. It doesn’t take long for the infinity fly to rise from the ashes,
more invincible as ever.

The
infinity fly lands on a leaf and it almost looks as if it is staring at me with
its bulbous opalescent eyes. In that brief few seconds I spend watching the
bug, life feels normal again.

I
stand, adjust my clothing and prepare to take off to find Marcus when I hear
that familiar rustling of the leaves. The blood rushes to my cheeks when I get
the sensation I’m being watched.

“Damn
it, Marcus I told you I needed private time!” I turn around and my body is
paralyzed. Standing before me is that tall burly sideburn guy that tried to
kill me before. Victor is pointing a shotgun directly between my eyes. I
escaped death three times yesterday, but nothing can prepare you for the sight
of a double barrel positioned right in front of your eyes with a man’s twitchy
finger resting on the trigger. Looking down the long dark cylinders of the
shaft may be the last thing I see before I die.

“Hey,
perdy girl,” says Victor sneering behind his gun. Slowly, I back up until I am
against the trunk of a tree. I suppose I never would have noticed it before
since I’ve never seen him up close, be he has some kind of a tattoo on the
white of his right eye. It’s shaped like a triangle with a dot in the center.
Victor brushes the barrel of his gun against my cheek. Then down my neck. Then
he traces the outline of my breast and waist, groping me with his gun and
gawking in a way that makes me feel dirty and molested. My heavy breathing does
nothing but draw more attention to my chest, where his eyes rest.

“Too
bad your boyfriend ain’t here to rescue you this time,” says Victor in a
methodical, disturbing tone. “Earl and Ned are taking care of him right now.”
He jabs the barrel under my shirt and begins to lift it up. The icy cold barrel
sends a shiver up my spine, so different from the one I felt last night with
Marcus. I’m terrified right now, yet something burns inside me and somehow I
know I’ll be okay. I consider running. The woods are pretty dense here; I could
avoid the shotgun’s pellets. I figure I have a good shot at getting away again.
Unfortunately, my time to consider this dashing exit has run out.

Victor
grabs my shoulder and throws me down on the dirt face first. I can’t help but
let out a gasp at the strength he uses as he squeezes me. Before I have time to
react my wrists are bound together tightly with a tattered old, spiky rope that
itches my skin and irritates the healing scratches from yesterday. Then he just
sits, straddled across the back of my thighs, for a while. Minutes pass. His
gaze penetrates my skin, like red-hot laser beams. I can only imagine what he’s
doing back there, but I don’t want to. Then he sniffs and I feel his breath
against my lower back. He’s smelling me. His breath moves higher and higher
until it is just behind my neck. Now I’m really scared, not for my life, but
for what kind of freaky fetish this guy might have that I may be forced to
comply with.

Although
I expect him to touch me, he doesn’t. My head is yanked back as he pulls me off
the ground by my hair. Then my arms are pulled back beyond the range of
extension they are meant to go and I’m forced backwards. I turn my head to see
what’s happening and Victor holds a length of rope connected to my wrists,
pulling me backwards. I stumble for a while, catching my heels on tree roots
and fallen limbs. It takes me a few minutes to gain my bearings, but eventually
I get into the rhythm of walking backwards.
Why is he making me walk
backwards?
I guess he doesn’t want me to
see where we are going. No, because if I escape I will know exactly where to go
to get back to Marcus. Maybe it makes him feel superior. It doesn’t matter
anyway. What matters is that I figure out how to get away and get back to
Marcus.

“Where
are we going?” I ask, hoping he’s just stupid enough to give up the
information.

“Oh,
you’ll see shortly darlin’,” he replies.

My
heart shoots up into my throat as a booming gunshot rings out and echoes among
the trees. Then another. It stops me in my tracks and Victor stops as well. My
eyes widen and all I can think of is Marcus and his wounded leg. There’s no way
he could outrun Ned and Earl this time.

“I
guess you’re on your own now little lady. Sounds like the boys finished off
your knight in shining armor,” says Victor, chuckling under his breath. He
jerks the rope back and I trip over a protruding tree root, falling on my rear
and overextending my arms.

“Ahh!”
I gasp at the shooting pain that rips through my shoulders. Victor grabs my
hair again and jerks me back to my feet. My eyelids puff up with thick salty
tears, but I bite my tongue to keep from releasing them. It’s not the pain of
the falling, or overextending my arms, or even being yanked by my hair. My
heart is breaking for Marcus. I try to reorient myself with the backwards
walking again to avoid falling and ripping my arms out of their sockets.

I
didn’t know Marcus that long. We didn’t even talk that much, but we had a
connection. A close, unspoken connection that only close friends and family
have. And now he’s gone. Once again, I’ve lost somebody. And it’s my fault. If
only I hadn’t left him alone to get the water. Hell, they probably followed me
and I led them right to him. He was expecting me and most likely announced his
presence when he heard them coming. I try to choke back my emotions, but a
single tear escapes the invisible armor I’ve put on. And then another. They
keep coming despite my attempt to hold them back. Before I know it I’m
blubbering like a child who’s lost her mother. For the first time since I woke
up in this desolate forest I feel utterly hopeless. I’ll never make it back
home. I’ll be imprisoned and murdered by these crazy backwoods freaks. Or maybe
they’ll torture and molest me. No, I’d rather die. I’ll end my own life before I
let that happen. They can molest a corpse for all I care.

We
come to what looks like a large, open field, it’s hard to tell going backwards.
I turn and crane my neck to look and get a glimpse of a large two-story log
house, equipped with solar panels on the roof, before Victor punches my face
back with the barrel of the gun. There is a warm trickle falling from my cheek.
He must have hit the scabbed-over scar on my face and it opened back up.

Managing
the front steps backwards is tricky, but at least Victor is patient. No,
scratch that, there is no compassion. He just needs a break to light up his
cigarette. The smoke scratches at the flesh in my throat and I stifle a cough
when I reach the top step. Victor turns me around now to face the front door
and blows a cloud of smoke in my face. Even though I try to hold my breath the
tickling in my throat wins out and I have to gasp for air. This causes a
violent, choking hack that almost makes me vomit again. He bowls over in
laughter.

The
front screen door swings open and slams against the wall. An emaciated looking
woman is glaring at me with sunken eyes. Her ashen hair, which was probably
once a pretty shade of strawberry blond, hangs flat in matted chunks. She
obviously hasn’t bathed in a while. I try not to make eye contact, but I can’t
help but notice a speck of color just to the side of her iris. She has the same
eye tattoo as Victor.

“And
what the hell is this?” she says with a thick twang similar to Victor’s.

“One
a ‘dem mutants I caught in da woods,” he says.

“I’ll
make the call,” she says, as she turns back into the house. Victor storms after
her, dragging me with him, backwards again. The screen door slams into my
shoulder and the bottom corner of the door leaves a three-inch gash on my
ankle. But I’ve had so many superficial wounds over the past couple days, the
pain and the blood don’t really bother me too much any more.

“Wait,
Lucy! Not yet!” shouts Victor, still dragging me. When we stop at the kitchen I
don’t want to turn around. The smell of this place is horrendous, a mixture of
rotten potatoes and feces, mixed with a strong flavored alcohol. I don’t want
to know what lies behind me in the kitchen to diffuse this foul odor.

Victor
and Lucy are arguing, but I am so overtaken by the smell and my surroundings
that I can’t focus on deciphering their words. Just outside the kitchen, I am
facing a wall below a staircase patched with framed family photographs. It
looks like a family of four: a mother, a father, and two girls. On the right
side of the wall, the girls are very young. As the pictures progress to the
left the girls seem to be growing until, at the far left, they are teenagers. I
take in each and every one. I don’t see a single similarity to the couple
arguing behind me.

Just
past the photographs to the left, there is a door. There is something ominous
about it, but I can’t seem figure out why. It just looks like a normal door.
Something shakes me out of my quiet inner world and I catch a bit of what
Victor says, “Shut up, woman, and do as I say. I’ll do whatever I damn well
want with her and there ain’t a damn thang you can do ‘bout it!”