Darkness descended. Lightning flashed outside the window and thunder boomed, startling her. The lights in the room blinked off and then came back on. Brook pulled the blankets closer. Wiggling down between the mattress and the wall, she tried to become as small as possible. Following another loud crack of thunder, the lights went off and stayed off. Crazy patterns crawled around the room; dazzling brightness alternated with menacing shadows. Rain cascaded between the bus and the window. The storm sounded as if it were in the room with her, surrounding her, cursing her.
She wept. Her mind raced frantically away from thinking about what she had just endured. She pushed away even thoughts of Clark because the yearning for him hurt so much she could not bear it. Riding waves of pain, she let the tears flow until there were no more to tears to cry.
After a while the house grew quiet. Brook crept painfully to the door and pulled it open a crack, listening. Hearing nothing but the rain outside, she eased into the hallway and tiptoed towards the living room. Lightning illuminated the room for a long moment, and she could see Pete and Gina sleeping on the fold-out couch. Their bed filled the small room; she would have to go across it to reach the door.
Carefully, moving mere inches at a time, Brook stepped onto the mattress, swaying slightly to retain her balance. She had only taken two small steps when fingers wrapped around her ankle.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Pete’s voice came from the dark.
Brook yelped, jerked her leg free, and fell across the bed and onto the floor. Jumping to her feet she yanked the front door open and darted outside, only to be grabbed around the waist by Pete. “Noooo!” she screamed into the pouring rain.
Pete dragged her back inside although she fought him with all her strength. Jase, awakened by the ruckus, appeared in the living room. Pete threw Brook into his arms. “Bitch almost got away.” Grabbing a flashlight from the table, he filled the room with wobbly light. He headed for the bathroom and returned, drying himself with a towel.
“I’ll be damned.” Jase held her tightly by the upper arms. “No way did I think she’d try again, especially not so soon." He hollered down the hallway. “Benny!”
A minute later, Benny appeared, hair sticking on end and eyes droopy with sleep. “What? What the fuck is going on?”
“The bitch tried to get away.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“You brought her here; she’s your responsibility. You’re gonna crash on the floor outside her room.”
“Fuck that. Fucking tie her up or something.” Benny turned away.
In a single move, Jase shoved Brook aside and grabbed Benny by the throat. “Don’t give me no shit. You do what I say or you’ll never do nothing. You understand?”
Benny choked. “Sure, Jase. I’ll do it. But how about I just sleep with her?”
“Damn straight you’ll do it, and no, you won’t sleep with her. You fucked up by bringing her here; you’ll sleep on the fucking floor. You’re on fucking guard duty, you stupid dick.”
Before Jase returned Brook to her prison, he stared intently at the cowering woman. “Let me give you a little advice. You don’t want to try running off again. You see, I got me a brand new chainsaw and I’ve been faunching at the bit to try it out. I bet it would slice through your legs like a fucking hot knife through butter. How far do you think you could run without any feet? You just keep that there in mind.” He looked at Benny and then at Brook. “Now don’t be causing Benny no trouble or I might have to cut something off of him too.”
He glared at Benny as he shoved Brook through the doorway. “Tomorrow, you put a fucking lock on this door. I don’t want to be woke up again.”
Jase moved down the hallway toward his own room.
Cursing, Benny tossed the couch cushions onto the floor outside the bedroom. He slammed the door closed, mumbling, “Should have dumped the bitch before. Should have shot her in the fucking head.” Before long, he began to snore.
Brook crept back onto the filthy mattress and burrowed under the edge. She pulled it up over her body, finding comfort in the weight, a sort of security she did not feel on top of the mattress. As the storm raged outside the window, she cried silent tears.
Her mind in a frenzy, she envisioned breaking the window with the chair, squeezing between the bus and the side of the house, and dropping to the ground. Running. But logic told her the plan wouldn’t work. There couldn’t be more than six inches of space. Even if she was able to make it out the window, she would more than likely become wedged, trapped. She wouldn't put it past these monsters to leave her there until she perished.
In another fantasy she imagined breaking the window, wrapping the broken shards of glass in a torn up piece of sheet for a handle, and stabbing her way to freedom, jabbing, slicing. Jase would be the first she would cut. She would watch his blood flow over her wrist and hand, relish the look of surprise on his face. But she soon recognized the lunacy of that plan as well. They would kill her for sure. Probably with the same piece of glass. Weighing heaviest on her mind was Jase's threat to use a chainsaw on her. Brook pulled her knees to her chest, held her feet in her hands, and imagined him cutting them off. There was no doubt in her mind he was cruel enough to do it.
Panic sent her into a quiet hysteria. After an indeterminate time, her crying eased and finally subsided. Her breathing slowed, and she fell into exhausted sleep. The storm raged on outside and then spent itself. Silence reigned.
Chapter 8
Lance pulled Old Reliable as far off the road and up into the trees as he could. After packing the travois, he covered the truck with camouflaged netting. Hefting the first load, he set out for home. Bruised purple clouds hung low over the mountains. Lance measured the sky with a knowing glance. All hell was about to break loose; he was certain of it. He hated to leave his truck here, but he doubted he would have time to finish unloading all his purchases, get Old Reliable to town, and ride his bike back before the rain hit. I should have left earlier, he thought, or not dawdled in the stores.
When he reached the cabin with the second load, Gilbert was waiting for him, her head cocked expectantly. He was glad to see her. It would make this chore much easier and faster. She approached Lance and reared up on her hind legs, placing her front legs on his shoulders. He felt the bite of her hooves through his jacket, and laughed as she nearly knocked him off balance. This was a ‘Gilbert hug’ and Lance appreciated it, although it could be a bit overwhelming.
“Whoa, girl.” Lance released the travois and backed away, allowing her to drop to the ground. She began nudging his side, trying to nose into his pocket. With a gentle touch, he pushed her away.
“Now, you know better than that.” He patted the firm wedge of her neck, avoiding the sharp tips of her curved horns. He sometimes wished he had dehorned her when she was young, but he hadn’t wanted to leave her defenseless in the wild, and Gilbert did like to roam. She had an incurable case of wanderlust, but she always came home. His other goat, Belinda, did not rush to greet him. She never did.