Primal Promise

Twenty-Six

"Good." The man spoke into the phone at his ear. "I'll let them know." Cutting a hate-filled look toward CJ, sitting unbound across the room, he dropped his gaze back to the phone only long enough to dial. The phone at his ear, he sneered, locking eyes with his prisoner. "Go." a single word spoken with no time for reply before he ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket.

The years had seemed to rush up on the old man since this morning.  His face bore a quartet of scabbed lines that ran from his eye to his jaw, the skin glossy with antibacterial gel spread over it, too large a surface for a bandage unless he wanted to cover up half his face like the Phantom of the Opera.  She was glad. It wasn't very kind, but she took perverse enjoyment in seeing her handiwork.

After she'd clawed his face, he'd fled the room, but when it had grown quiet, he'd come for her with all his little cronies in tow.   Together they'd fled the trailer camp to a small A-frame ski cabin further down the mountain.  

The room was cramped, a wood-burning stove taking up the center of the space, surrounded by benches and a single small table seemingly made from scrap wood.  There were few windows, and none of them opened more than a crack.  In winter, it likely was a welcome spot of shelter from the cold.  In the summer, it was a sauna.  

The room was lit by a half dozen flickering oil lamps.   So many light sources ensured that everything cast countless shadows of various potency around the room, lending the small room a very creepy vibe.  She was no longer bound, for which she was glad, but there were too many of them.   

The old man was watching her constantly.  Outside, the others were prowling about.  Occasionally she'd see a shadow drift over the window to prove it.   She hadn't seen Rusty when they'd left, but for all she knew he might be out there too.  So, she would bide her time.  Somehow she knew that her moment was coming. 

The door opened and Doug entered in a cloud of pungent cigarette smoke.  "They're here."  He grinned, his filthy A-shirt speckled in blood.  

"Excellent."  The old man smiled and tugged at his cuffs beneath the still fine suit jacket's sleeve.  "Make her ready." 

The dreadlocked blonde ground out his cigarette into the floorboard before stalking toward her.   She rose even as he pulled her up off the short bench she was sitting on.  He twisted her around, stepping behind to wrap one arm around her neck.  He was taller, and she had to rise onto her toes to keep his arm from choking her. 

Her nails bit into his forearm in an attempt to pry his crushing grip from her airway.  He snatched her right wrist and wrenched her arm outward and down, holding it away from her, heedless to the other hand's nails.  

"I'd calm down, Cuz, or they're going to get it a whole lot worse."  He hissed into her ear as a crowd pushed through the door.   

Two men who she'd never seen before half shoved, half drug a trio of women into the room.  All were barefoot, their hands cuffed behind their backs.  The muffled sounds coming from under the black pillowcases they had over their heads implied the girls were gagged as well.  

They stumbled forward into the room and gathered into a clump like the last few Cheerios in a bowl.   The men were not discernible in any way other than the label 'sketchy'.   They just looked unpleasant and dangerous.  Their heads turned toward her, but behind the sunglasses their emotions were unreadable. 

The old man moved toward the girls, eliciting muffled squeals of fear when they felt his touch, turning them this way or that in his inspection.  Seemingly satisfied, he removed a very large stack of bills from the inside pocket of his jacket, holding it out to the closer of the two men.  "As agreed."