The Medusa Deception

Chapter 2

SHE HEARD THE commotion before opening her eyes. A fetid smell of livestock and nervous sweat permeated the air. Crouched on her hands and knees, a hard, uneven surface dug into her kneecaps. She was in some kind of cage, approximately a four-foot cube. Slim lengths of bamboo were lashed together with Jute rope, encrusted with chicken and other animal waste she'd rather not think about.

The cage, stacked atop others, was draped with a burlap sheet covering the top and most of the sides. Amid clucking and bleating, she heard a growl and dared not look too closely into the cage below. Crawling forward, careful not to upset her precarious perch, she inched her head to the front for a better view. The scene appeared artificial, like an old sepia photograph of the pioneer days — the crowd in shades of beige, the sky gray, the dunes beyond a muted gold.

Beyond the horde of people was a woman in a black tattered dress, with long, matted black hair, bare feet and deep green eyes. Bedraggled and dirty, her arms were bound to a large wooden stake set firmly in the sand behind her.

She seemed absurdly calm, radiating confidence, power and strength. Her piercing stare at the crowd incensed them, causing more ruckus and unease. The villagers exuded a palpable energy of hatred and fear. Bravado shouts toward the bound and helpless woman accompanied the rattle and clank of stones in their hands, more in sacks and piles at their feet.

Mandy blinked in disbelief.

A loud shout accompanied the hurling of the first stone.

It struck the woman's forehead. Her head recoiled, diverting her gaze to the livestock pens where Mandy crouched. Their eyes met. A rivulet of blood trickled down her cheek; her eyes widened. A barely discernible smile crossed her lips. Averting her eyes to the sky, she breathed, "She lives!"

The woman began to struggle; the crowd jeered. A barrage of stones flew impacting her flesh from every angle. Mandy tried to yell at them to stop, but her voice caught in her throat. She could hardly breathe. No one would hear her anyway, over the din.

A stone smashed into the woman's temple. Her head lolled to the side and drooped forward.

Mandy couldn't stand it. With all her might, she inhaled deeply and screamed, "Stop!" The sound was deafening, like a sonic blast.

People froze, stunned. In the reprieve, the woman at the stake regained consciousness, garnered her strength, and twisted free of her bindings with ease, as if she could've done so all along. A communal gasp arose from the crowd at her unexpected freedom. Raising her arms, she spun around and around, uttering a deep, primal incantation.

The sand swirled, became a torrent, then a blinding twister. In the mass confusion, those who could, fled. Those left behind were stranded in their tracks, blinded by the sudden onslaught of sand, garments held over their faces in order to breathe.

Mandy sheltered her face with both hands, stealing glimpses through the slits between her fingers, her eyes stinging from needles of sand. The swirl concentrated and drew in, obliterating the woman from sight. With a flash of light and thunderous crack, she was gone.

As fast as it began, it was over — with nothing left behind except an empty stake in the center of swirled sand. The last vestiges of the angry mob hunkered in sandy heaps. Silenced.

On her knees in the cage, Mandy's gut clenched. She hugged her chest, rocking, her fingernails digging painfully into her arms.

* * *

MANDY CAME-TO ON the cold black and white linoleum tile, her face inches away from the base of the toilet centered in a ring of grayish, fuzzy mold. She wrinkled her nose. Gingerly, she pried herself off the floor and got to her knees.