The River Runs Dry (26 page)

…

Jessie lay in the darkness of the warm basement, her forearm aching from the cuts that her captor had inflicted on her. She touched at them, her fingers shaking as they ran over the sticky blood and the sliced skin and flesh. They stung intensely, causing her to quickly retract her touch and grimace in agony.

But the physical pain in her arm was nothing compared to what was going on in her head. There was no warmth there, only a deep, sinking feeling that was already engulfing her. She could see no light on the horizon, no future now. There was only death, only fear and terror and pain and torture.

She could hear the woman opposite her mumbling lightly, a madness infecting her. She looked like she'd been there for months, and in the brief moment when she got a look at her, she knew what she'd been through. All Jessie could think of now was what was to come. Every waking moment would be lived in fear of the door opening above, the stairs creaking in her ears. Only in sleep would she find any relief, her nightmares no worse than her reality. But it would never last, even in her unconscious state she'd know what she'd wake up to. A living hell.

She whispered to the woman in the darkness as she mumbled lightly, desperate for human contact.

“How often does he come down?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Tracy continued to mumble, her words indistinct from one another. If Jessie could see her she'd know she was staring, just staring at the wall, staring at nothing, at blackness, her hands cradled over her ears.

“Please....please speak to me,” Jessie said again. “please talk....”

But she got no reply, just the endless muttering of the woman who'd been too long in the cell, too long in the dark, too long living in fear of the man above.

Jessie felt warm tears spreading down her cheeks, unable to restrain an impossible urge to cry, to sniff and groan loudly. She could hear herself, the moans bouncing from wall to wall, echoing up the stairs and through the floorboards.

Then she heard the woman speaking again, her words growing more clear. “No...no....he'll come. Be quiet....be quiet.....” she said, but there was nothing Jessie could do to restrain herself.

“Shhhhhh. He'll come again....don't make him come,” the woman repeated as Jessie's cries rang out through the basement.

Then a noise was heard up above, and thin streaks of light once more shot down through the floorboards. Then the creaking, the sound of footsteps, and the door opening again.

Jessie tried to stop, holding her hands against her mouth and nose and trying to quieten herself down, but the noise still escaped, so much louder in the complete silence around her. Then the loud sound of creaking came round the staircase to the right, and light came flowing down into the room as a light flickered and turned ablaze on the ceiling.

“I like it quiet round here,” came the voice from above. “Every time I get disturbed, I punish. I had to suffer the same, so why not you?”

The words came drifting down the stairs, closer and closer, as the man slowly descended once more into the basement.

Jessie fell silent at the sound, waiting again for the devil to appear. She looked at the woman opposite, who was once again cowering and shivering and turning away, hiding her face in her hands so as not to look upon her tormentor.

He rounded the bottom of the stairs and stopped, swinging his head from one girl to the next, both of them turning away and shielding their eyes from him. It was silent for a minute or two, only the lightest sound of breathing slipping from the man's mouth.

It was broken by a sudden sniff from the woman opposite Jessie, her shivering, shaking body suddenly letting out a breath of air. It was all he needed as he stepped towards her, crouching down in front of her with his back to Jessie.

As he approached she started pleading, begging, saying it was Jessie who'd made the noise.

“It was her, she was crying....it wasn't me. Please....please no.”

It didn't stop him, he didn't care. Jessie watched as he grabbed at her hair and pulled back her head, lifting her chin to the ceiling. He slapped her hard, across the face, back and forward several times, each hit getting harder and harder. Jessie could see her cheeks reddening, even beneath the filth and dirt and dust, as she yelped in pain. But she never even tried to fight back, her arms shivering by her sides, free from any chains and shackles.

She'd been broken. Maybe she'd tried to fight him off before and only got worse punishment as a result. Maybe that's what he wanted, maybe it was why he left their wrists unbound.

Jessie looked on at the scene playing out with a mixture of fear and disgust. She hadn't been broken, not yet, and she wasn't going to go quietly. If he came at her, she'd fight to her last breath.

He twisted harder as he landed an even more ferocious slap, his shirt lifting from his pants and revealing the handle of a knife sticking out of the back of them. Jessie's eyes dropped to the blade, an urge shooting through her to lunge forward and try to grab it. It was too far. She'd never make it, not with her foot chained to the floor. But maybe they'd be another way....

She shouted suddenly, shrieking at him from the other side of the room: “leave her alone you coward. It was me....I was crying. Why don't you punish me instead.”

When he turned and looked at her with burning eyes she felt an immediate pulse of regret. He stood slowly and walked the handful of paces it took to reach her. But this time she didn't cower, this time she didn't back off. She stood up herself and faced up to him as he approached. He stood almost a foot above her, his head tilted down as he stared at her through black eyes.

“Oh, you really are just like her,” he growled. “I'm going to enjoy this.”

Then he lifted his hand, high, and swung it down on her, aiming his open palm right at her face. She knew it was coming, saw it a mile off, so quickly moved closer towards him and wrapped her arms around his body. His arm came to a halt as it crashed into her and he tried to step back, but she was quick, her movements fast, burrowing straight into him and reaching round his back.

Her fingers felt quickly for the handle of the blade, her right hand snaking around it and pulling it from his pants. It all happened so fast as she stepped back again, his own hands rushing to his back to try to take the weapon from her. But she felt a surge of energy, of strength, ripping herself away and back towards the wall.

He stayed where he was, a smile growing on his face as he lifted up his hands in a gesture of defeat.

“You've got me,” he said mockingly. “Go on, try to stab me.”

He was only a few feet away, more than an arms length, but she took the bait, lunging quickly forward and thrusting the blade as fast as she could at his stomach. He reacted fast, stepping back with a couple of quick strides and taking himself beyond the reach of the shining metal. She came at him again, stabbing hard and fast and moving forward, but was suddenly stopped by the chain at her ankle, locking her to the floor. She jabbed, reaching forward, but it was no use. She could move no further.

He stood in front of her, just out of reach, and laughed.

“You thought you could get me? Just like that? Foolish girl.”

He didn't give her time to think as she panted ahead of him. If her movements had been quick before, taking him off guard, his were more so, launching himself like a cat towards her. She tried to swipe at him but his arms were faster, grabbing at her wrist and squeezing tight. His other hand gripped at her other wrist, locking down her limbs as he pushed her back towards the wall. He was strong, aggressive, his black eyes piercing her with fury and anger.

Then he slowly slid his strong hand over her wrist and towards her fingers, crushing her hand as he laced his own fingers around the blade. She cried out in pain as her bones were squeezed together, and before she knew it, the knife was in his hand.

He lifted it quickly to her neck, forcing her chin up as he held her against the wall.

“Maybe I should just end you now,” he growled.

“Do it,” she whispered. “Just kill me.”

He slid the knife slowly along her neck, the sharp blade slicing her skin like a paper cut, drawing the lightest touch of blood from the slit.

“No,” he said, a pleasure in his voice. “It won't be that easy for you. You're going to suffer first....and then I'll kill you. You're going to experience pain like you've never felt, torment and terror and fear. Look at the floor, look at that woman. She's your mirror, a vision of the future. Soon....soon you'll be just like her.”

A fear grew in Jessie's eyes at his words as she looked down on the woman, still cowering on the floor, covered in dirt and grime, her body littered with scars and burns.

“Yes...yessss,” said the man, staring at her pupils as they drunk in the image. “You're going to be just like her.....”

Before he finished speaking he lifted his head quickly and looked up to the ceiling, his eyes widening. The hand holding Jessie's wrist against the wall tensed suddenly and the knife pressed slightly harder against her neck. His eyes grew wider still as he listened, his face intense.

And then Jessie heard it too, the sound of an engine, rumbling slowly across the earth above. It was quiet, but distinct in the silence of the basement, and was moving closer and closer with every passing moment.

The man glanced his eyes at the floor, at the woman who still clamped her hands to her ears and rocked gently from side to side, and then back at Jessie. She thought of crying out, of shouting suddenly to get the person's attention above, but the stare of the man in front of her told her not to make a sound. He pressed the knife closer to her skin, ready to cut her throat at any moment.

They stood in silence for a minute as the engine rumbled to a stop outside the house. A door opened and shut with a light thud, then silence once more. A moment later they heard the sound of a knock at the door, and then a voice calling through into the house.

“Hello, is anyone home.”

Jessie recognized the voice immediately and her heart almost burst from her chest. She locked eyes again with the man holding her against the wall, her voice threatening to rush out of her and signal to Jack where they were.

She looked down to the floor to see the woman sitting against the wall, her eyes now wide and looking up to the sound of the voice. Jessie begged her with her eyes to shout out, to make a noise, but she looked lost, as if still trying to work out what was happening.

The Butcher took no chances.

In a flash he pulled the knife from Jessie's throat and swung his fist at her face. She felt his large, closed, hand come crashing into her cheek, causing her brain to rock in her head. The impact sent the world blurring quickly as the darkness closed in again, the Butcher dropping her slowly to the floor so as not to make a sound. Then he turned, quickly, and rushed towards the other woman, grabbing at her mouth before any noise could escape.

He gave her the same treatment, knocking her out with one hit, before turning his eyes back to the stairs, back up into the house, and the intruder above.

Chapter 27

The sky had darkened considerably by the time Jack rolled up towards the rocky outcrop that had acted as his beacon in the dying light. Within a short time of leaving the main track he'd put on his headlights, looking out for wide cracks and fissures in the parched earth as he gradually made his way forward.

He veered slightly to the left and right, shooting his high beam forward into the distance in his search for a shack, a barn, a property of some kind. Half an hour turned to an hour as he searched, side to side, across the dusty plains, avoiding large boulders and prickly shrubs as he covered as much ground as he could.

But always, always he continued towards the outcrop in the distance, following in the line of the tire marks he'd seen etched into the dirt off the track behind him.

It was well over an hour by the time he got there, driving up towards the ragged rocks, looming over him as he approached. He drove straight past them, and beyond saw the same wide plains that he'd been looking at for hours.

He stopped the car for a brief moment and turned off his headlights. As they died his eyes grew accustomed to the night sky, the veiled stars offering little light from above. Clouds blew past with the wind, shielding the light of the moon and casting wide shadows over the dark earth beyond.

Yet when they parted, when the moon found a view through them, the land was suddenly lit with a glow, one that illuminated the horizon and the silhouettes of natural landmarks in the distance. His eyes moved slowly from one to the next, drifting over awkward shapes of rocks and dead trees. But one shape caught his eye, a square set back near to a bundle of boulders, it's roof triangular and it's sides straight.

Jack stood for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the growing light as the clouds moved aside and the moon and the stars shone their life onto the dying earth. Then his pulse began rising, steadily rising as he looked upon the shape of a house, set back in the distance against the rocks, shielded far from any track or trail.

Then a light appeared, as sudden as a flash of lightning, within the property. It was faint, shielded by darkened windows, but clear enough to make out in the darkness around it. Jack turned, stepping backwards towards his car, and climbing back inside. He turned the lights on again, and quickly the vision of the house ahead faded from view as the immediate earth in front of him sprung to life.

He moved forward once more, creeping ever closer, veering around obstacles in his way. The light ahead began to grow more clear again as he neared, the shape of windows growing visible as the light from inside shone out from behind curtains. He wanted to turn off his lights, to creep forward like a silent ninja, but couldn't, the land below his wheels too uneven and unpredictable.

Instead he dimmed the lights as much as he could and rumbled forward slowly, trying to keep the sound of the car to a minimum. The house continued to grow in clarity as he approached, a rickety old shack that appeared to be long abandoned. It looked like something out of a nightmare, stark and lonely in the middle of a barren wasteland.