Deadly past, p.2
Deadly Past, page 2
His destination was to the small private island, owned by the man who was funding their entire operation. His connections within both Canada and the U.S. allowed him to establish a permanent blur on satellite or internet-mapped images, meaning the Cessna’s approach and arrival to the island would also be hidden.
As the plane neared the island, he closed the throttle, cut the engine, and let the current pull him the final stretch toward the dock. The lapping sounds of the water against the hull on the floats and against the rocky shore were like a call welcoming him home and he let out a deep sigh of relief as he stepped out of the plane and onto the dock.
The cabin was dark and he knew that even though he failed to reach the lead agent, that he would have received the message that he was coming. His stomach twisted in pain, the pills had worn off during the flight and were failing to suppress the sting of the toxin that was slowly killing him.
He climbed the steep hill at the end of the dock, and he struggled with each step he took. Fallen branches and dried leaves were piled on a patch of rock waiting to be lit for a bonfire, and a faint hum of the pumphouse drifted down from behind the cabin. Other than that, there was no noise.
There was no warning. No stabbing pain. No violent attack. When he collapsed at the top of the hill, his body surrendered to the toxin, and his limbs were paralyzed. The pills he took less than an hour earlier, dulled his senses to the approaching pain and shielded him from any warning. His heart was weakening and he could no longer find the energy to gasp for air or scream out for help. He fell to his knees and then forward on his hands.
Dry pine needles pierced his palms and loose rocks pressed against his flesh. Every tissue on the surface of his skin violently reacted to the slight breeze or the temperature change. His body was shutting down, and although he didn’t know how long he had, he knew it wasn’t long.
His face pressed against the cold rock and he turned toward the water, and eventually, his entire body dropped. He landed with his arms folded under his torso, but even if they hadn’t been compressed by his fall, he wouldn’t have had the strength to reach out. He was completely still. Paralyzed by the toxin. But his eyes remained focused on the boot that stopped beside him. They were black, scuffed, and marked with dried mud.
He recognized them and knew who they belonged to. He knew who was wearing them and what the man had come for. What he didn’t know was how long he had been standing there. His breath was growing weak, and his heartbeat was ragged.
The man turned his fallen friend over, unzipped his coat, and slipped his hand inside. He slid the envelope out of the pocket and focused on the man’s eyes as he lay motionless, unable to fight back.
The agent watched as his friend walked away, holding the envelope and the proof he had fought so hard to obtain.
The clouds cast a shadow across the island and the faint glow of the orange sunrise tinted the rock near the water. His body stopped shaking as his chest tightened with each painful, labored breath. He had failed. And as he lay dying it was the image of his wife and son that remained with him as he took his final breath.
Chapter 3
Present Day.
Despite the glare of the setting sun that crept through the small crack in the roof and streaked across the dirt-covered planks, the chill from the near-frozen ground was making its way into the space where Chloe huddled. A tremor crawled through her body each time she considered her situation.
Her eyes darted toward the shadow on the floor, as a cockroach scurried across the bottom of her mattress before it made its way through the space in the wall, disappearing into the grain storage bins. On the first night she arrived, the sight of the pests caused her to scream. Much to the delight of the men who watched her every move, and they both laughed as she jumped back, trying to avoid being near it. Chloe learned to fear the men more than the roaches, but less than the rats, who also seemed to find their way next to her in the middle of the night.
Enough weeks had gone by that she knew they had kept her locked up for several months, but not quite the length of two seasons. She saw some people leave and others arrive. However, never on their own accord, and as of a week ago, only five remained.
She didn’t know where they came from or where they were going. No one asked because everyone was afraid of the answer. Apart from a few girls, Chloe spoke to no one. She didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention. Instead, she focused on an opportunity to escape and after a long while, it finally presented itself.
She attempted to break free once before, and the painful echoes of the cries for help tugged at her conscience. Others, just like her, wanted to escape and be free from their nightmare, and her instinct was to turn back. However, it was her slight hesitation that gave her captors just enough time to reach her.
Within minutes, Chloe was back where she began, along with the others who were being held in individual units. Latched in like prisoners and sedated every evening, there were few opportunities to break free. Chloe was one of the last people to be brought to the holding cells, and she still had some energy left to fight and some hope of escape. Within the first few nights of being abducted, Chloe realized that much of both were lost to the other captives.
But it was when Chloe looked into the blank eyes of the young teen in the cell next to her she vowed to not give up fighting for her freedom. With what little strength she had left, she plotted her escape once again.
Although she had lost track of the number of weeks, she knew it had only been two days since the last time she tried to break free. It was guilt that caused her to turn back the first time, but now she couldn’t risk missing the last opportunity she had for freedom, and she would block out the voices of the other prisoners and focus on her escape.
No matter what the cost.
Although her plan was simple, she knew it would take a miracle to pull off, and she patiently waited for the right moment.
A yellow-tinged light from the far end of the room flooded the dark space as the shortest of the two men kicked it open. Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. Although she never would have described either of the two men as ‘good people’, he was the least offensive.
He was thick, however, he wasn’t fat or strong. He walked with a casual gait, and he wore his sandy brown hair in a shoulder-length feathered cut, one that most boys rarely attempted but it seemed to work for his round face. Chloe thought he could be mistaken as a friendly member of a choir group instead of the mastermind that had been responsible for her abduction.
The rattling of the small bowls on the metal tray echoed in time with each of his shuffling steps as he made his way and then stopped at each unit.
Units were what Chloe preferred to call them. As opposed to cages, which is what they were, separated only by thin sheets that hung from the metal bars. Rudimentary in their structure, built for containment and housed in a fifty-year-old barn that sat in the center of a derelict farm. It was a place where no one would question the coming and going of their truck in the middle of the night, and far enough away from anyone who could hear the screams of the captives inside.
Initially, Chloe shared her space with three other girls, but over the last week, people were being transported away and they kept the five remaining souls separated.
Chloe counted under her breath. She was at the furthest end of the row of units, counting each of his steps as she lay motionless, facing away from view. She steadied her breathing and focused on the plan she had worked out over the last twenty-four hours. Everything needed to look natural and unplanned if this was going to work. She was too weak to fight either of the men holding her in the barn, so she needed to work around that if she was going to escape. And ever since her first escape attempt, extra care was taken to keep her under tight watch.
“Supper,” he announced as he slipped his key into the lock and then swung the gate open. “It’s your favorite.”
The mocking tone didn’t rile Chloe the way it did the first few weeks, instead it deepened her resolve to escape. As he bent over to place the tray on the floor, Chloe stood from where she lay on the mattress and stumbled on her first step, falling forward and onto the tray.
“Damn it!” he yelled as he tried to avoid being knocked to the ground.
Chloe fell to the floor and scrambled to her feet when the guard nudged her with his foot, holding a piece of bread hidden in her clutches. As he stooped to pick up the tray, muttering obscenities under his breath, Chloe pushed her back against the bars of the cell and grabbed the padlock. The distraction worked better than she had hoped and gave her just enough time to push the squished piece of bread into the lock.
He picked up the bowl, still half full of the watered-down broth, and placed it on the floor next to Chloe’s mattress, and tossed the bottle of water beside it.
“Make it last. That’s all you’re getting until morning,” he snapped. Then he pulled the familiar blue and white pills out of his pocket and watched as Chloe placed them on her tongue. He squeezed the bottom of her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and poked his finger along her cheek to make sure she swallowed.
He pushed past Chloe and pulled the gate closed and slipped the padlock back through the latch. As the guard cursed her clumsiness, he focused on wiping the stain of the soup from his pants and didn’t notice the absence of the clicking sound as he pushed the lock closed.
“Lights out and don’t make a sound!”
They were the last seven words Chloe heard every evening just before she lost consciousness, and she swore that this would be the last time.
She waited until the sounds of his footsteps faded to a shuffle and then disappeared completely before she tugged the padlock and twisted the shackle out from between the bars.
They kept the outer door of the building unlocked until after their last inspection of the night, and she counted on their strict routine and lack of deviation from their schedule as she dashed through the empty building. Chloe clenched her teeth and tightened her diaphragm, making as little noise as she could. She ran through the darkened room and tried to silence each step and breath in the cavernous space.
Heavy black chains hung from the roof beams and a long row of tall metal jugs, rusted and dented with wear, lined the wall next to the exit.
She thrust her body against the thick wooden door and struggled against the weight, which was now exacerbated by the heavy haze clouding her conscience and was robbing her of a clear focus.
An unrelenting wind rattled the side of the old barn, knocking the hardened and weathered planks against the heavy beams, masking the sound of the hinge as it squealed against the rust that coated the metal.
A cast-iron latch bar was all that stood between Chloe and her freedom. The oversized door, which reached over ten feet high, hung crookedly and wedged tightly into its frame with corroded metal hinges. The last fifty years had also shifted the oversized panel, causing it to drag into the hardened ground with each opening. Each sound the metal bar made, echoed in the surrounding space. She couldn’t be sure if the sound of the door scraping across the ground or the howling of the wind seeping through the slight opening would reach the farthest end of the building, but one thing she knew was that she needed to work quickly. Each squeak of the iron handle, or scrape of the wooden door, threatened to reveal her escape.
The effects of the sedative were taking hold, blurring her vision, and slowing her movements. Her hands and mind moved at different speeds and made the work of wiggling the bar loose and opening the door difficult.
Finally, after several attempts, she lifted the bar from the latch and pushed the door open. Chloe squeezed her lids shut and shook her head before forcing her eyes wide and peering out into the night, praying that she’d remain unnoticed as she forced her body through the opening.
And then she ran.
This time refusing to look back - for fear that she wouldn’t have the strength to continue to run.
Her bare feet felt the sting of the cold that settled into the ground at nightfall and jolted her entire body awake. With only a slight glint of light on the horizon, Chloe broke into as fast of a run as she could manage, crossing the vast field with only her willpower to guide her. Unaware of where she was going, or if she was even heading in the right direction.
Each step brought an uncertain landing on either an uneven surface or a sharp rock. Biting her lip was the only thing she could do to stifle the scream that was rising in her throat each time a twig or stone pierced the bottoms of her feet. She didn’t care if she wouldn’t be able to walk after tonight if it just meant being free.
The steely gray of the storm clouds threatened rain, but tonight, they also protected her from being seen by the full moon that was nestled behind them. Silver-fringed clouds pushed over the hills and cast a dark shadow over the barn. The faded wooden exterior perfectly concealed the steel walls and padlocked cells inside. To any passerby, it looked like a neglected farm along the side of a rural road. But for Chloe and the few remaining survivors, it concealed the worst nightmare imaginable.
The bitter, chalky taste of the pills was clogging her throat, and Chloe could feel her legs weaken under its increasing effects. She knew from experience that she had less than half an hour before disorientation would engulf her. Until then, she had to focus on reaching the road.
Chloe’s pace slowed and she could tell by the pull in her muscles and the angle of her body that she reached a hill. Her breathing became heavier and each muscle in her leg was fighting her steps as she made her way to the top. Chloe’s foot landed in a shallow hole, twisting her ankle and buckling her leg at her knee. The painful heat seared up her calf and through her thigh, setting her escape back several paces as her body spiraled backward, landing her at the bottom of the hill.
She scrambled to her feet and hobbled the final distance until she reached the gate. The swelling around her ankle brought a searing heat to her skin and a stabbing pain with each move. She tugged the rope and pulled the latch loose and hobbled through the gate, letting it fall closed behind her.
Free from the shadow of the trees, Chloe could see a faint haze of light in the distance. She had reached the road and could hear the distant hum of traffic over the hill. The cold pavement brought a tingling relief to the bottom of her feet and she stumbled against the pain as she made her way toward the light.
Her head swayed as her neck wobbled and she focused on the memory of her mother as she pushed against the effects of the pills that were fighting to pull her under. It was the argument and the last words they yelled at each other that Chloe replayed in her mind. Over the hours and days and weeks that she was being held, she thought of little else.
How trivial their fight seemed now, and she longed for the overprotectiveness that she was so eager to shun.
A bright yellow light pulled her away from her thoughts as it stretched across the top of the pavement where the road curved over the hill. Growing in intensity and height as the truck mounted the peak.
Chloe stumbled across the pavement and lifted her arms over her head, hoping the driver would recognize her signal for help. The horn blared as the lights came closer, but Chloe refused to move.
Death would be preferable to being back where she started less than a half-hour ago. The truck driver would save her - one way or another.
As she fell to her knees, the brakes screeched, the sound rebounding off the dense forest that lined the opposite side of the road. It would only be a matter of time before she was free from the hell she had been living. Chloe closed her eyes, no longer having the strength to either scream or cry, and collapsed on the ground.
Sounds grew hollow and more distant as she faded into unconsciousness, but it was the sour scent of coffee and heavy fuel that pulled Chloe’s eyes open.
She was staring into the panicked eyes of the driver, who was shaking her awake, and he didn’t stop until Chloe pushed her body sideways and was sick across the pavement. This, the driver quickly assessed, was not a stranded hitchhiker. He lifted Chloe and cradled her thin, shaking body in his arms.
His rough, burly hands and smoke-filled clothes overwhelmed her as he lifted her into the cab of his truck and closed the door.
Every action lingered, as if Chloe was watching a scene play out on a broken movie projector. She and the driver, each playing the roles of two miscast characters in a horror film. Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but she was unable to make the sound that her lips were forming. She could feel her body being moved into the cab of the truck, and the door being closed beside her body, and then her head tumbling uncontrollably into the back of the headrest. A pine air freshener waved under the rear-view mirror and her arms pushed against a discarded paper bag that held the half-eaten remains of a burger. And again, she felt like she was going to be sick.
The driver climbed into the cab, slammed the door shut, and mumbled something about being lost and getting to a hospital as Chloe’s eyes closed.
For the first time since she had been abducted, she felt like she could stop fighting.
The engine rumbled, and the truck lurched forward as the driver shifted into gear. Chloe tilted her head and gazed out the window and across the field that she had just run through. The clouds had cleared, and the slim silvery lining had transformed into a bright beam that illuminated the barn and the path she ran.
Chloe’s breathing became steady as the truck moved away from the barn and the nightmare she had been living. The driver peppered Chloe with questions, but she didn’t have the energy to answer, and tears without the sound of sobs rolled down her face. He eventually fell silent as he steered his truck toward the highway and headed directly to the hospital.
