The Game

THIRTY-NINE

Lucille was waiting near the van’s doors when they opened. She had been on her feet as soon as she had felt the vehicle coming to a stop. She’d been sat on the mattress positioned across the width of the back compartment and next to the front wall. The mattress was queen sized and newly purchased. There was no protector or linens and no pillow, but with her back against the padded wall, it was comfortable enough that she had no aches or pain from the long hours of travelling. She didn’t sleep though. She couldn’t.

He had her son.

In time she had become used to the darkness and the constant rocking and swaying and noise and the heat of an insulated room with no ventilation. The pain in Lucille’s head had eased throughout the day, but she felt sick with fear and weak from the hours of crying and screaming. She hadn’t drunk anything since leaving the restaurant, however long ago that was now. Her throat was dry and her lips cracked and sore.

She didn’t know where she was. She could have been taken south to Spain or north into France, but she didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. They could have reached almost anywhere by now.

This time when the door opened, light didn’t flood inside and sting her eyes, though she had been braced for it. Outside it was dark. Night time. The blond man stood alone against a backdrop of starry sky and flat countryside. He held a backpack in one hand. For the first time Lucille saw him with her vision unimpaired. He was tall and powerful, dressed in loose jeans and a loose workman’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms covered in fair hair. He looked to be somewhere in his forties, his skin weathered and tanned. His lips were thin and surrounded by a short beard that reached high on his cheeks. The blond hair was clipped short and even across his head, receding at the temples and flecked with grey. Blue eyes that caught the starlight and reflected it like those of a wolf stared at her and she forced herself not to cower.

‘Where’s my son?’

‘How’s your head?’

‘I want to see him.’

‘I would have been aghast had you not. He’s sleeping in the cab.’

‘What do you want with us?’

He didn’t answer. ‘Your eyes are focusing better, aren’t they? I imagine the headache has dulled over time too. That’s good. Could you turn around so I can see the wound?’

‘Let us go. Please. I’ll do’ — she paused and breathed to stay composed — ‘anything you want.’

He stared at her. His wolf’s eyes didn’t blink.

Her heart hammered. She braced herself, disgusted and terrified, but thought about Peter and how she would willingly endure anything to save him.

The blond man stepped forward. He held up his hand. Lucille looked at it. It was large and calloused. A monster’s hand. She swallowed and reached for it.

Laughter.

A loud, coarse sound that permeated every inch of her being and made her wince and shudder.

‘You need to fear me, Lucille,’ the blond man said once he’d finished laughing. ‘But not in that way.’

An image flashed through her mind: a bench, pigeons, a man feeding them.

‘I know you,’ she said. ‘From the park.’

‘Excellent,’ the blond man replied. ‘You’re over the worst of the concussion if you remember me.’

‘How long were you watching us for?’

‘Does it matter?’ he asked. ‘With that knowledge could you bend space and time and travel back to warn yourself of my presence? And if you were able, would such a warning do any good? Could you stop me? Could anyone?’

‘God will punish you for what you are doing.’

‘When he has already done so by granting me life, how can any further punishment be worse?’

Lucille couldn’t stop the tears. She wanted to be strong. She didn’t want him to know how terrified she was. But she couldn’t help it.

‘Give me back my son,’ she wept.

‘When he wakes he can rejoin you.’

‘He needs me.’

‘He likes it up front. It’s fun. I let him win almost every game we play. Not all, of course, otherwise he’ll suspect. He’s a smart little child. You should be proud of him.’

‘What do you want with us? Why are you doing this? Don’t hurt him. Please, don’t hurt my son.’

The blond man said, ‘You should know, Lucille, that there is no safer place for Peter in all this world than at my side. You should also know that whether it stays that way is up to you.’

She sobbed.

‘Take your time,’ he said.

It took a little while until she was able to hold back the tears. She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist.

He hoisted up the backpack and placed it inside the rear compartment of the van. ‘In there you will find some water, food and basic medical supplies. There are also some clothes and other items.’ He gestured to the countryside behind him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you out earlier and I may not be able to do so again for some time, so go and relieve yourself now while we have the opportunity.’

Lucille peered at the countryside. Low verges lined the road. Beyond were fields that stretched to the horizon. There were no lights, no sign of human habitation.

‘Where are we?’ she asked.

‘That does not matter.’

‘Where are you taking us?’

‘Find yourself a quiet spot. Climb over a verge into one of the fields.’

She looked at him.

‘I’m not going to come with you,’ he said. ‘Can’t leave a young child on their own even for a few minutes, now can we?’

The words stung her deeply. More tears wet her cheeks.

‘I’ll stay here with Peter,’ the blond man said. ‘Take all the time you need.’

She glanced at the road, then looked away in case he’d seen. He had.

‘I won’t try anything,’ she said.

‘You’re an intelligent woman. You know this isn’t some deserted track, so there’s a reasonable chance a car might pass. You know you could flag one down to help. But you also know the occupants will fare no better than those soldiers.’ He shrugged. ‘Or maybe you’ll get lucky and a convoy of armed police will happen by. But could they stop me before I ripped your boy’s head from his neck? It’s an interesting question. How does one weigh the odds of that which is beyond common comprehension?’

The blond man held up his hand again and she took it. He helped her down from the van and onto the road. Standing next to him, without the artificial perspective gained from the height of the van’s cargo deck, she realised just how weak and insignificant she was in comparison. If he didn’t want her body she had no weapon to use against him. She was powerless.

‘I won’t try anything,’ Lucille said again.

His wolf’s eyes shone in the starlight. ‘I know you won’t.’