The Lost Hearts (26 page)

An amorphous voice of caution warned her to keep her eyes closed, that once she opened them, she would be forced to participate
in a nightmare.  But before the ominous whisper coalesced into lucid thought, her lids began to lift and shards of light cut at her eyes.  Shapes and shadows wavered in her vision.  She blinked them into focus. 

She could make out a wooden structure, dayli
ght squeezing through the shoddily-constructed window and open door.  She was level with the ground, bare and black.  Her stomach lurched when she inhaled, and her eyes focused on the layers of soiled linens beneath her head.  She heaved, and all the blood in her body seemed to push upward like a tide against the walls of her skull. 

“Welcome back.” 

Alexis wasn’t sure she’d really heard it.  The sound was almost laced with laughter, with mocking.  She raised her head and lifted her eyes.  At the back of the room, a long-limbed man with a pointed face watched her through silver beady eyes.  He took a drag casually from his cigarette, and he let its smoke filter slowly through his nostrils. 

Alexis swallowed hard.  There was no moisture in her body, and her tongue scraped against the roof of
her mouth.  “What’s going on?” Alexis croaked.  She felt the crown of her head rip, as though the length of a sword stripped her mind into pieces.  She couldn’t think past it.  She couldn’t imagine anything that came before this room, this man.  She blinked at him, still adjusting her focus.  She saw that his eyes didn’t leave her, that his thin lips curled into a curious smile.

He too
k another drag of his cigarette and leaned back on the stool.  “You got hurt out there in the jungle.  We found you,” he said shortly, and his brow folded in saccharine concern.  “And now you’re here.  Safe and sound.” 

Alexis felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand in animal-like response.  Even if her mind failed to produce answers, every atom of her being shudde
red at his chilling demeanor.  He leaned forward now, his arms folding over a knee.  “You want to tell me what a pretty young thing like yourself is doing in the middle of the New Guinea Highlands?”

Alexis frowned,
and she curled her arms around her ribcage tightly.  She shook her head softly.  “I….I don’t really understand what’s going on.”  Suddenly her mind burst with fragmented images.  She remembered they had left the village.  They had ridden all day.  Lewis.  “Where’s Lewis?” she ejaculated almost involuntarily.

The man lifted a brow in exaggerated distress.  “I’m afraid your friend was badly injured, too.”  He waved
the cigarette in his long, skeletal fingers.  “He didn’t make it.” 

“No,” Alexis choked.  Her face gathered tightly in grief, and hot tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.  She heaved again, this time from the anguish of
her loss.  She closed her eyes and buried her face in the stinking bed clothes.  In a flash she remembered him on the forest floor, convulsing in her arms, blood everywhere.  But she did not want to remember this.  She could not believe a single moment could rip up the roots of her entire world.  She was positively lunatic. 

“There, there,” said the man.  His voice was the quiet whisper of a snake.  He stood
tall and moved to her, looming.  Alexis recoiled in alarm. 

“Who are you?” s
he whimpered.

That smile
again.  He flicked the cigarette to the ground and his hand vanished into the deep pocket of his grimy trousers.  She saw a coil of rope appear.  “My name’s Solomon.” 

Chapter T
wenty-Three

Binda’s hooves raged against the earth in rapid strikes, and chunks of moist soil spit violently outward in their wake.  Trevor leaned forward in the saddle to minimize his body’s resistance against the wind.  He was just minutes from the place he saw her last.  His eyes blinked out beads of sweat that poured from the crown of his head.  Trevor jabbed the horse’s hindquarters, willing her to exceed her limits.

Two
days now they had raced through the web of the jungle, stopping for rest only when he thought Binda would falter.  His blood pumped furiously with adrenaline, his mind as singularly focused as an animal with only an instinct to survive.  He
must
find Alexis.  He had not shaken the awful twisting of his gut since the morning he woke with the chill of death that seeped into his dreams.  He couldn’t name the terror in his heart, but he felt it as keenly as a blade shredding his own skin.

Trevor gulped, fighting the urge to vomit.  He couldn’t afford to let the sweeping panic carry him now.  He couldn’t afford to let himself imagine what would happen if he found her harmed, or worse, gone from this world.  He shuddered as the thought ricocheted uncontrollably through his mind.
  How would he ever forgive himself for leaving her?  He barreled toward the village, the familiar image of the huts rising shallowly along the valley floor coming into view.  He knew he was not merely rescuing Alexis from danger.  He was obeying his heart’s command.  He knew now, with the very lining of his heart, that he belonged to her.

***

“You shouldn’t a been hangin’ around the jungle like that.”  Duval sat back in his chair, his thumb grazing the blade of a hunting knife.  His eyes were an inbred blue, and they chastised her from the unruly mane of yellow hair and beard.

Alexis
lay crumpled against the floor and tufts of rotting cloth.  She made no effort to cry.  The tears simply spilled from her eyes as her mind reeled with images of Lewis clutching his side where the spear had penetrated his rib cage.  She heard the man who called himself Duval, but she did not respond.  She knew nothing good awaited her, and she resigned herself to it.  She was dead already.  Lewis was gone.  Trevor was gone.  She was nothing but a speck on a map, worlds away from anything or anyone beloved.  She would die here.

“You
don’t say much,” Duval remarked, spinning the knife handle meditatively in his hand.  He stared at her a moment.  “That’s better, though.  Wouldn’t do to have you hollering.”  A woman’s voice called from outside, and Duval shot up from his spot in the corner.  “Be quiet,” he warned, pressing the blade of the knife against his mouth as a warning before he slipped out the door. 

Moments later, the door creaked open and Duval appeared with two tin bowls.  He set one on a shoddily constructed
table beneath the shack window and turned to face Alexis.  “You’re probably getting hungry,” he laughed.  Alexis stared blankly at the ground.  Duval set the bowl on the floor, and his large chubby fingers grasped her around the arms and lifted her to sit against the splintered wall.  Alexis squirmed uncomfortably, the flesh on her wrists beginning to rip beneath the tightly knotted rope. 

“You sure are pretty,” Duval said, his eyes creeping along her body.  Alexis flinched in disgust.  Duval chuckled.  “Well, it don’t matter.  I’m not the one with my hands all tied up.  I’d be careful, if I were you.”  He took the spoon and stirred at the gluey white sludge.

“Ain’t much to look at, but it’ll keep you full.”  Duval lifted the spoon to Alexis’ mouth.  Alexis turned her head, her jaw clenched tight.

“Now that isn’t very grateful behavior
, miss.  I could let you starve,” Duval said, his voice rising with self-importance.

Al
exis looked at him squarely.  “Then let me starve.”  Her voice was raspy, but dead set. 

Duval threw the spoon into the porridge and his hand snapped to her chin.  He grabbed her hard.  “Don’t think I won’t,” he growled. 

A shadow passed by the window and the door flew open.  Solomon towered in its frame.  “What the hell are you doing?”

Duval drew back and shot upward.  “I’m just trying to feed the young woman, is all.  She’s being difficult.”

Solomon pulled his hat off and tossed it onto the table.  His hair was long and greasy, streaked with blonde and the beginnings of gray.  He lifted his brow at Alexis, like a parent investigating the culprit in a sibling quarrel.  “Is this true?”

Alexis cocked her head defiantly. 

Solomon shook his head in exasperation.  “We don’t have time for this,” he hissed at Duval.  “Just got word from our scout.  He says he’s been watching the village and there are no signs they knew we were anywhere close by.  Our guys are ready to go.  I’m thinking we should launch our attack early morning, go in from the west this time.”

Duval stroked his beard thoughtfully.
 

“Are you ready for this?”
Solomon asked.

Duval cleared his throat
, a little indignant.  The question seemed improperly directed. “You know I’ve been ready, boss.”  He nodded at Alexis.  “Have you decided what we’re going to do with this one?” 

Solomon squ
atted down to his captive.  His corpse-like fingers brushed her chin which glowed pink where Duval had grabbed her.  “We’re about to be very rich men with no need for stinking shacks and porridge.  What do you think about that?” 

Alexis felt sick and then fire in her stomach.  From nowhere the energy to rebel flared in her gut.  She spit on his face.  Solomon didn’t
even flinch.  He wiped her saliva from his cheek and brushed his hand against his pant leg.  He turned slowly to Duval, a sly smile spreading over his face.  Before Alexis could see, he’d cocked his hand and she felt the flat of his palm connect with her face with savage force.  He sank forward, bringing his eyes just inches from her.

“Be real careful, woman
,” he snarled, his caustic breath filling her nose. 

Alexis writhed against the wall, and the binding cut fresh into the flaming welts on her wrists.  Solomon snickered.  He
brought his hand to her throat and let his fingers encircle the soft skin.  It was like holding the velvet petals of a beautiful flower in his palm. That he could simply crush her if he wanted excited him.  He traced his fingers along the delicate fabric of her cotton button-up shirt which splayed open over her chest.  “I have a good mind to teach you a lesson, woman,” Solomon unleashed his heavy breath in her ear.  Alexis gagged. 

It had been too long since he felt the firm flesh of a wo
man beneath him.  And even then the prostitutes whom had opened their legs for him could never look him in the eye without recoiling in disgust.   Solomon eyed her for moment, his gaze intensifying as he breathed her in, felt the silkiness of her skin beneath his fingers. She was a burden, a liability.  But he could not bring himself to dispose of her.  Not just yet. 

Duval cleared his throat
again.  “We should get ready boss.” 

Solomon rose to face his partner, hunger still swirling his eyes. 

“What are you going to do?” said Alexis.

The two men swivele
d in surprise.  “She speaks!” exclaimed Solomon, slapping his knee in comedic bewilderment.  He flashed a grotesque smile and sauntered over to his stool where he pulled out his tobacco pouch.  “If you must know,” he said matter-of-factly, “we’re about to strike it rich.”

“Boss,” Duval interjected
timidly.

Solo
mon waved his hand dismissively and placed a pinch of tobacco in the rolling paper.  “There’s gold up here.”

Alexis felt sick.  Suddenly the fragments were pulling
together.  She remembered the day they were attacked.  She remembered the painted men with war in their eyes.  “Let me guess,” she said, imagining the fate that awaited this village.  “You’re going to murder to get your gold.”

Solomon held up the white paper, tightly rolled.  He watched her as he ran his tongue over its lip and sealed it closed.  “Well, you don’t think they’d just hand it to us, do you?”

“Boss,” Duval coughed.  His eyes were wide. 

“What, Duval?”
Solomon spat. 

“Maybe
we shouldn’t go around talking-”

“What?  You think she’s going to get up, walk out of here, and go tell someone?”  Solomon swatted at the corpulent man as though he were a fly.  “Now,” he continued, his tone dipping soberly.
  “You wanna tell us what
you
are doing here?”

Alexis’ lids closed over hot tears.  She wanted to forget it all, to push it as far down until she couldn’t even remember he
r own name.  She shook her head.

“Ah, there, there.”
  Solomon leaned forward and his brow folded over his beady, silver eyes.  “You hit a spot of bad luck there in the jungle, is all.  You’re in good hands now, isn’t she, Duval?”

Duval’s gaze shifted skeptically between the pair.  He couldn’t grasp the game his boss was playing at, but he didn’t like that his attention had strayed from their plan.  Duval scratched his chin, shook his head, and retrieved his porridge from the table.  He sat uncomfortably in his chair against the wall.  As he swallowed a tasteless spoonful of white sludge, he noticed Solomon watched him under an arched brow.

“Why don’t you finish that outside?  Then go gather the men.  I’ll meet you in an hour on the hillside by the creek.” 

Duval’s bearded mou
th hung open in disbelief.  He tossed the spoon into the bowl and shoved upward from his chair.  He slammed the door behind him.  The shack was quiet now, and Alexis became intensely aware that she was alone and helpless with this repugnant, murderous man.  She squirmed against the wall, her arms numb and bloodless in their binding.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions now.  And it’s important you answer them.”  Solomon struck a match and lit the cigarette.  “I need to know what you’re doing here.”

Alexis leaned into her legs which she folded as close to her chest as possible.  It wasn’t defiance that kept her lips sealed, but her spirit’s inability to relive the scope of the last two months.  She didn’t believe her soul could contain the wonder, happiness, heartache and bereavement that she had discovered in these hills.  Her face swelled as she tried once more to suppress the memories.

“You see,” Solomo
n said, “I’ve got other matters to tend to.  So I can only afford to ask you nicely once more.”  He flicked an ash onto the floor, a cold metallic gleam passing over his gaze.  “What are you doing here?”

Alexis swallowed hard.  “I’m an anthropologist from America.  I was conducting
research on tribes in the Highlands.”  The words split as they left the dry husk of her throat.

Solomon grinned, his small teeth yellowed and corroded from cigarettes and years of neglect.  “That’s better.”  He ran his finger
s through his stringy locks.  “An anthropologist, you say?  You’ll have to understand my surprise.”  He paused to take a drag from his cigarette.  “You mean to tell me that it was just you and that man going around these hills to study some tribes?”

Alexis nodded slowly.  The pounding in the crown of her head had suddenly returned.  “Yes,” she said, praying that he would not see through her lie. 

“Just you and the one man.  Isn’t that a dangerous errand for a young woman?”  Solomon chuckled.  “Well, obviously, we can see that it was.”  He nodded at her defeated figure, an amused smirk pinching the sallow gauntness of his face.  “Who knows you are here?”

“No one.”
  Alexis shook her head.  “I mean, my father and the museum I work for know that I’m in New Guinea.  But no one knows that I am here exactly.”

“Who was that man?”

“Lewis,” Alexis breathed, her chin quivering.  “Lewis is my guide.” 

“And who knows that Lewis was here?”

Alexis flinched. 
Was.
  “No one.  I mean.  I’m sure his family knows he was going out into the Highlands.  But our route wasn’t predetermined.  We’d been trying to locate a tribe and were only following leads.”

“And where was the last
place you found your
lead
?”

“In a village three days south of here,” Alexis lied. 

Solomon nodded and cleared his throat.  “You’ll have to pardon my disbelief, but that’s a far-fetched story.”  Smoked gushed from his nostrils.  Alexis stared lifelessly at the floor.  “Then again,” he mused, “any story you tell me to explain what a young American woman is doing alone in New Guinea would sound unbelievable.” 

Solomon stubbed out the cigarette on his boot.  He positioned himself to face her squarely, and he let his eyes crawl over her.  Alexis cringed under the weight of his gaze.  She knew that he could have no use for her other than the one evident in the way he looked at her now.  With such intense hunger.  She knew that once he’d had his fill, she would be snuffed out, and tossed on the jungle floor. 

Once more she gagged as a whirlpool of images sucked her into its center.  She imagined her father, alone and consumed in sorrow.  To have lost the two women of his life in such similar circumstances.  To never have answers, though maybe that would be better, she thought.  He would never forgive himself.  Alexis’ spirit buckled under the crushing sorrow.  She thought of Lewis, one of the kindest men she’d had the privilege to know.  He lost his life because of her.   For this she would never forgive herself.