Текст книги "Hope To Escape"

Автор книги: Jack Parker

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER NINE

The first sensations began as a constant vibration mingled with light thumps that jostled everything just a little. Then, sound harmonized with the movement. The resonance came low and unsteady, no real pattern to the reverberation. The thumps were accompanied by low percussive thuds in a cadence without rhythm. Intermittent crescendos swelled and whirled in abrasive pitches, rising and fading in short intervals. The sense of sight returned at last, but it wasn't very helpful. Everything was dark. Painfully bright lights came and went with the crescendos at distant moments, stinging the eyes, and revealing a solid black environment.

It was a while before Ess was able to regain enough consciousness to comprehend her surroundings. She was in a vehicle that was in motion. There were no stops or sharp turns, and it felt like it was moving very fast. She lay across the backseat, where she had no view of the driver or the scenery outside. Her last memory had been of her apartment. She could not fathom how she ended up here. All she could recall at the moment was fear, and so she became afraid to move.

It was obvious from her lateral position that she wasn't buckled in, and the jostling of the vehicle shook her enough to make Ess aware of her restraints. Her wrists and ankles were trussed together in away that rendered her immobile, but did not hurt her.

After this long assessment of her situation, true panic set in. This was wrong, all wrong. She tried to think, but it was difficult to focus. All Ess remembered was that she had been home, and now she wasn't. For a moment she suggested to herself that it was a bad dream, but she knew that she was too alert to be dreaming.

With this panic came shivers. As frightened as she was to move, she couldn't keep herself from shaking. She concentrated on getting her breathing under control while tears stung her eyes and the taste of bile crept up her throat.

She knew that she needed to concentrate on getting herself away from this situation. The reasons for her abduction could wait; the freedom from her abductor could not. With the panic clouding her mind, no escape ideas would surface. Ess damned her inability to think under pressure.

Suddenly, she was sliding across the seat as the vehicle took a turn without slowing down. Her head slammed into the vehicle door, then her body was flung to the floor, causing her to release a few painful whimpers and groans. After several uncomfortable seconds spent trying to recover herself, she felt the car screech to a stop, jolting her even more.

The noise of the driver's door opening startled her, and she began to kick and pull at her restraints. Then, the back door opened at her feet. She looked towards it and saw all hope of freedom blocked by a large silhouette. The man was in black, and his features were unclear in the dark, adding to his ominous figure.

He leaned into the car's cabin, and reached for her, pulling her up off the floor. With little effort he hauled her back onto the seat, and bent over to reposition her. Without thought, Ess reacted.

With all her might she kicked at him, hitting him hard in the stomach with her knees. She heard the wind leave his chest as he doubled over. This put his head in just the right position to strike again; so she did, making contact with his face. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could feel his nose break.

He collapsed on the floor of the vehicle, with his legs hanging out of the door. As he held his hands to his face, and struggled to regain his breath, Ess reached towards her feet to work at the knot that bound her ankles. She tore at it with her fingers, bending and ripping her nails in the process. After a few seconds, the knot started to give.

The man regained his breath, and began to vocalize his pain. This made Ess more desperate as she continued her struggles. She was numb to the ache in her fingers while she worked to free herself.

Finally the rope began to unravel. She kicked and pulled, liberating her legs. Her wrists were a different matter, but they could wait. Ess wiggled her way out of the vehicle, trying to avoid the man on the floor.

She was just about out the door when the man had enough control of his pain to notice her attempted escape. He growled and grabbed at her arm. She reacted by screaming and flailing, managing to knock him in the nose once more with her elbow. He screamed in response and let her go so he could cradle his face again.

She edged her way to the end of the seat, and stood on the ground. Looking around her, she saw only darkness and trees. She was in the middle of a forest somewhere, lighted only by a half moon. The pavement beside the vehicle was only a narrow country road. The faint sound of a passing car could be heard in the distance, letting her know that she was near another road. Perhaps it was the road they had just turned off of a few moments ago.

Before taking another step, she turned back towards the man in the car. Just then, he looked up, making eye contact with her while cupping his hand against the blood gushing from his nostrils. The look in his eyes spoke fury. That stare told her that, if he caught her, he would seriously harm her, or probably kill her.

It wouldn't take much for him to find his footing and chase her. She glanced down at his legs, which were still hanging out of the car. In that instant she had an inspiration: man's greatest physical weakness.

Ess took one quick step closer to him, and, before he could counteract, she lifted her foot and slammed it between his legs. He let out a low-pitched howl. She wished she had been wearing high heals instead of tennis shoes, but her kick was effective enough. Besides, now she needed to run.

Ess turned and dashed through the woods in the direction she assumed the other road to be in. Keeping her balance and jogging at an adequate pace was difficult with her arms bound at her wrists. The night had become cold, and she wasn't clad for it, but adrenaline kept her warm and kept her going.

* * *

Max drove through the darkness, cursing himself for the way this night had turned out. Actually, his cursing extended further back than this evening. It began the day before when his lifelong fixation came crashing down on him. Had he known what his art would lead to, he would never have wrapped his fingers around a chisel or a paintbrush.

Once he caught a glimpse of Esther at the art gallery that day, he couldn't resist discovering more about her. It became important for him to know that she was doing well. He wanted her to be safe and happy. Initially, he told himself that all he intended to do was check up on her from time to time. When, after two weeks, he couldn't pull himself away from his views of Esther leaving work, Esther stopping for coffee, and Esther taking the longer route home so that she could enjoy the effects of the autumn weather on the changing leaves, he realized that he didn't have control of himself after all.

He also began to realize that he wasn't the only one watching her.

Now he drove down the highway, a few miles outside of the city. He couldn't remember the exact location of his destination, since he had only been there once, but he kept his eyes on his surroundings, trying to look for any familiar signs of the turnoff. He doubled back twice already, sure that he must have already passed it.

If one hair on that perfect head so much as appeared out of place, Max didn't think he would be able to contain himself. Esther had given him his first and most significant show of kindness. He swore that, if he ever found her again, he would repay her somehow. If he could do so by helping her like she had helped him, it would be an honor and a privilege. Now, however, this honor could only be tainted with the bitterness of knowing that he put her in this current danger in the first place. What a hard pill to swallow.

His reflections continued to be self-loathing and self-berating as he sped along. All Roden's hard work with him over the years had regressed in the past two short weeks, and the doctor's impending disappointment became another bitter pill for Max.

As his eyes darted around for any familiar landmark that would jog his memory about the turn-off, something in the distance attracted his attention. On the side of the road, he could barely make out an object from the edge of his headlights. As he got closer, it turned out to be human.

The person waved both arms in the air in an awkward looking motion, apparently flagging him down. How unfortunate. A person this far out along the highway, was not likely to meet with many other passersby as the night wore on, and those passersby might be questionable in integrity. He knew he couldn't leave a person in need out here in the woods, even if it interrupted him in his quest. He slowed his car down, and managed to stop on the side of the road just a few yards past the stranded person.

As he got out, he saw the person running towards him. It was a woman, looking rather desperate in her hurried gate, tripping over herself to get to his car. As he stepped towards her, he recognized her. It was Esther!

It couldn't be possible. The very woman he was looking for, the one that slipped through his fingers the first time he tried to save her, now appeared right before him in the middle of nowhere. The opportunity to protect her had literally been delivered to him a second time.

She made it to him, her breath heaving in exhaustion and fear. She tried to speak, to explain herself and to ask for help, but her words were coming out in rapid jumbles. Max had to catch her as she began to collapse in fatigue. He noticed that her wrists were bound together, and the state of her made him angry.

"Don't worry. I've got you." Without saying another word, he guided her into the passenger's seat of his car.

She fell into the seat like a rag doll, where she continued working to catch her breath. Max tried his best to be respectful as he picked up her legs and slid them into the car. He reached over, and fastened her seatbelt around her, avoiding eye contact because his guilt rose at the sight of her suffering. After he saw to her comfort and safety, he shut the door, and ran around the front of the car to the driver's side.

As he opened his door, he heard a metallic bang from behind him in the distance. A moment later, a small object crashed into the open door. Esther screamed in fear, trying to express to her rescuer the need for their hasty departure. Max looked in the direction from which the bang had come. Someone shot at them.

A second shot resounded, and the glass shattered in his back window. He dunked into the car, grateful that he had left it running as he shifted into drive. His foot slammed on the gas pedal, and the wheels squealed and fishtailed slightly as they threw gravel behind them. The car was back on the road in no time. Max glanced back through the rearview mirror, but could see nothing through the shattered glass.

It appeared that Esther had escaped her captor. Max peered at her, impressed at her self-sufficiency in a crisis situation. He knew, however, that they would come after her. They weren't too far behind, and he couldn't be sure they didn't know it was Max who had found her. If they recognized him, it could be harder for him to hide her from them.

Good thing he had the foresight to pack a bag for her.

CHAPTER TEN

This time, Roden watched carefully as Martin picked the lock to Max's flat. He did it quickly, without effort; and the door swung open in a matter of seconds. The entire action was very unsettling.

"What did you say you do for a living?" Roden asked, curious.

"I don't think I did say," Martin replied. He looked up with a teasing grin from his crouched position by the door. As he stood up he continued, "I'm in acquisitions."

Roden stared at him in astonishment. "Acquisitions?" Was that another word for thief?

Martin's grin widened at the doctor's disbelieving expression, but he decided to clarify. "I work for major art dealers and private collectors, obtaining fine art. On occasion, the market is open for contemporary artists. That's why I happened to be at La Donne on 5th when Manda and her friends showed up."

"Ah." Roden noted that the job description didn't exactly explain his lock picking abilities, but he left it alone.

The three reluctant companions headed into the studio apartment. Roden noticed right away that things were not right. Max wasn't a neat freak, but he certainly wasn't a slob, either. Therefore, the current condition of the young man's home shocked his psychiatrist friend. It looked ransacked. The door had been locked, and nothing appeared to be stolen or destroyed; but discarded papers and books were strewn in odd places, closets and cabinets hung open with the contents shoved to and fro, and chair cushions and pillows were tossed haphazardly about.

"Quite the bachelor pad," Martin commented.

Roden was upset. This didn't represent Max's case very well. If Max was the one who did this to his own home, then clearly his obsession for Esther had overridden any other compulsions he had. If this was his doing, then just what made him react this way?

"Well?" Manda asked, " Do you see any clues?"

Nothing appeared obvious to him other than the evident disarray. He headed to the back of the flat, and pried through Max's clothes closet. There were no clothes littering the floor of the closet like there had been in Esther's apartment, but there were several empty hangers, indicating that items were missing.

Roden searched for Max's brown leather bomber jacket without success. He had worn it all winter for the last two years, so it's absence could be significant. Of course, the night had turned rather cool, so he may be wearing it for immediate warmth rather than taking it for the long term. There was evidence that his young friend packed, but no accurate evidence of what he packed for.

"Huh," Martin spoke from the other side of the apartment. "This must be his own personal collection of Esther art."

Roden walked apprehensively over to the site that Martin commented on. He never recalled seeing any artwork of Esther in Max's home before. True, he kept several works in his studio, but Roden thought the young man had distanced himself enough from the subject to leave her there, and not take her home.

Nevertheless, there she was in the coat closet, or what should have been the coat closet. Since he was Max's friend as well as his therapist, Roden had been in this place several times during the years since Max had occupied it. Only now did he realize that he had never seen inside this closet.

The largest and most distinctive example consisted of a creamy white statuette figure of Esther in flowing garb and the wings of an angel. It must have been three feet tall, but a painted wooden crate that acted as a pedestal brought its height almost to eye level. On the three walls of the closet were numerous pictures of the idolized woman, captured in several mediums: charcoal, pencil, pastel oils. Some were displayed in frames; others were simply pinned to the wall. They showed her in varying stages of youth and maturity. One drawing, Roden guessed it to be charcoal, even displayed an old woman. She looked wrinkled and weak, but her eyes still displayed the beautiful kindness present in all the artist's Esther works.

Another portrait caught Roden's eye and held it: a drawing of the child Esther penciled on lined paper from a notebook. It looked more rudimentary than all the others, but the talent was there. It must have been one of Max's first, done at a young age, when he should have been paying attention in school.

Roden shuttered, and Manda looked stunned. Seeing the statues in the art gallery were nothing compared to this. She didn't know what to make of it, but Roden knew it wouldn't be long before she began voicing her distress, and he didn't look forward to it.

Martin spoke before either Roden or Manda could find their own words to utter. "Well, it looks like the man has been holding out on us."

"Yes," Roden responded, bewildered. "I had thought he'd managed to separate himself from this 'divine image' he created out of Esther."

"Guess not." Martin rejoined, with a shade too much entertainment evident in his voice.

"I knew he still created works with her in mind. I even congratulated him on the collection at the gallery; but I thought he had it under control. I mean . . . he did other subjects, too. Not everything he created was Esther. But I've never seen these. I had no idea he made so many – or kept so many." Roden shook himself, surprised to find that he had made this observation out loud. It was unlike him to be so indiscreet and unprofessional, since Max was, in fact, his patient. The worst part, though, was that his words set Manda off.

"You told me you were a psychiatrist! How could a psychiatrist know so little about his patient's mental illness? You said you've known him for seventeen years? But you apparently know nothing! Look at this," She tore a picture off the wall. "Does it look like he's separated himself from his work? What the hell kind of a demented freak draws picture after picture of some innocent girl he barely even met?"

Practically in tears and hysterics, she crumpled the paper and threw it in Roden's face. He worked to keep his calm, though he met few people in his life that were able to make him falter in his self-control like she could.

Manda then turned to the statue and tried to shove it off its pedestal. Martin grabbed her before she succeeded, and held her, trying to calm her. Roden could see that she was under a great amount of stress over the welfare of her friend. Manda seemed the sort of person who might be better off exhibiting her emotions. If she bottled them up, when she finally went off, it would be like an atomic bomb. So, he stood there as Manda poured out her anger, fright and frustration, and let Martin hold her to subdue her physical display.

Roden turned away from the scene as Manda's emotions continued. That's when he noticed the bare space on the wall over the desk in the corner. He took a few steps in that direction. On the wall there were still four pins piercing torn edges of paper.

The answer suddenly came to him. "I know where they went!" Roden blurted out. He turned towards his companions. "I know where they went."

Suddenly, Manda became quiet. After a few sniffles, she croaked out "What?"

"Max knows how to survive a winter in the wilderness. He did it during his senior year of college. Well, not the whole winter, but winter break and part of the spring semester. He spent some time in a cabin in the wilderness preserve up north. He was writing an anthropology thesis on habits influenced by the lack of human contact, or something like that. He thought that the best example of this study would be to act as his own model for some firsthand experience.

He didn't have a car at the time, so I drove him up there. When I picked him up three months later, he said the seclusion had been the greatest peace in his life, and that he would gladly do it again for the escape."

"Escape!" Manda cried, "You think he escaped up to the wilderness preserve?"

"Well," replied Roden, "He had a map of the preserve pinned up on the wall here. It looks like it was torn down in haste, like he grabbed it on his way out the door."

"He took her into the woods?"

"That seems like the most likely place."

"But it's huge, isn't it?" Martin added his own question into the mix.

Roden took a deep breath. It was huge, however, there were only twelve cabins on the entire preserve. The cabin Max had rented was in the southwestern corner of the wilderness. Wasn't it? Would he go back to the same cabin? Could Roden remember how to get there?

"What are we waiting for then? We're losing time." Manda seemed to come back out of her dramatic fit.

Strange to witness, but as soon as she exhausted her emotions, Manda seemed fine. Martin let her go, and as she wiped a few tears from her face and sniffed away her outburst, she said, "We need to get moving so we can catch up to them before they make it into the preserve. I expect to be dismissing this whole incident with Ess over a cup of coffee in the morning."

With all the dignity she could muster, she swept towards the door of the flat. Martin and Roden, after exchanging confounded and impressed looks, followed her out.