No Going Back

13

Long before the rope gave way, the sharp burr of tin plate blunted, caught in the strands and snapped off. Frustrated, Jay screamed into the ground, but would only allow an almost silent exclamation by pinching the sound in her throat. Though she rocked back and forth, straining against her ropes, she could not snap them. It was a pointless waste of energy, as was the way of anger. Better that she concentrate on finding some other protrusion to snag the rope on. It was a difficult search to undertake, bound the way she was, but by twisting and contorting and throwing one scapula almost out of joint, she discovered the protruding head of a bolt where the planks had been bolted together. No sharp point, but the threads were abrasive against her thumb. She had to lie on her side, hook the rope over the bolt then hurl all her weight towards the head of the grave. Not once, but over and over again. Jay set to a rhythm, jack-knifing open and closed, pulling at the strands of the rope with each jerk of her body. It was tortuous, but she felt a sense of impending success and set to the task with new fervour. If her captors suddenly threw back the lid of the coffin they’d probably think she was having a fit.

Exhaustion beat her.

Jay collapsed on her chest, sucking in air that felt as thick as oil. Pain flooded her arms and shoulders, burning like fire as her muscles cramped. She sobbed as she writhed against the agony.

This was hell.

Yet compared with the terror and humiliation and God knows what else Nicole and the girl were enduring it was nothing.

Ignoring the pain and the rebellion fronted by her cramping muscles, she went at the bolt again, ripping harder and harder. When she halted this time, gasping and sweating bucketfuls, she could feel that the rope had frayed and was almost eaten through. With a surge of energy she yanked her hands wider and felt the rope weaken. There was no sudden loosening, but she could feel each strand pulling free. She uttered a wordless groan, snatched at the free lengths of rope and applied concentrated effort on one point. Her arms sprang apart, the knuckles of one hand tearing as they struck the old bolt, but she didn’t care. She was free!

Actually, she wasn’t: her legs were still bound and she was chained inside the coffin-like structure, but that meant little now. At least she had hands to work with. First she untied the lengths still wrapped round her wrists. The surge of blood returning to her fingertips stung like crazy, but was also welcome. She twisted round on to her back again and fanned her hands over her chest, promoting circulation. If the structure had indeed been the size of a coffin she’d have been finished, but there was room to manoeuvre now that she had more mobility. She could pull her ankles towards her backside and it was only the task of a minute to undo the ropes there. With that done she took a moment to steady herself, because the trickiest phase of her escape plan still remained. As she lay, sucking in air, she understood that she didn’t have time for this. She was putting off the real task.

Escaping through the tin sheets and the chains that held them in place wasn’t the difficult part; it was doing so without alerting her captors to what she was up to. She had no idea how close they were to her prison, and any untoward noise might bring them running. She could just lie there, wait for them to open up the grave and then leap out at them like a vampire. Only that idea was just ridiculous. She had no way of fighting the men, and all she’d achieve would be a quick death. No, better to escape from the grave before they returned, make her way to civilisation and bring the police back. That idea died swiftly as well. Even if she was able to get away and to make it across the desert, her escape would be discovered before she could return with help. The men would murder Nicole and Ellie, then disappear. No, somehow, some way, she had to get out of her prison, release the girls and get them all to safety. To do so successfully would be a gigantic task for anybody, but both Nicole and the girl were relying on her, and Jay would rather die than not try.

She tested the tin sheets.

Although the chains held them in place when met with direct pressure, Jay found that they were ineffective when sliding one sheet under the other. Thank God the corrugations ran vertically because if they’d gone horizontally then she’d have never moved them. She found she could gently move the sheet closest to her head until she’d made a space a little larger than a mailbox slot. Gratefully she sucked in fresh air, hot and stifling but still better than the stale atmosphere she’d been inhaling since God knew when. She listened, dreading a shout of anger as one of the men charged over to take hold of her, but the shout didn’t come. Curling her fingers over the top edge of the tin sheet she pushed it further towards her feet.

When she’d cleared enough space she wriggled out the hole, peeping out like a groundhog alert to danger from above. She had been prone for so long that the blood rush made her woozy and her vision blackened at its edges. She clung to the tin sheets to avoid slipping back inside the coffin again. If she was to pass out then she doubted she’d get another chance at saving her friends. Fighting the rush, she pushed free with her shoulders, then grabbed at the orange earth to help claw her way out. All the while she listened for a shout of alarm.

Finally on her hands and knees she rearranged the tin sheets, closing the gap she’d made. The first her captors would know of her escape would be when they unlocked the chains, threw back the sheets and found only empty space. She’d love to see their faces. Then again, she’d rather never see any of them again.

Her limbs felt cramped and sore and it took her a few steps before she fell into a rhythm that didn’t threaten to pitch her on to her face. After all that time in near darkness the sudden intrusion of sunlight felt like needles piercing her retinas. She staggered away from her prison, heading for the only form of cover she could detect nearby. It was a mound of junk, master of which was an old lorry that had all but rotted away. Reaching the truck she moved round the rear of the cab so she could use the empty windows to peer back the way she’d come. Leaning against the corroded metal, the heat from it almost scorching her palms, she searched for any sign of movement between her and the cluster of wooden shacks. Nothing was apparent, but then she began to wonder about the men; Samuel in particular. Was this some new torture that he’d devised? Was he watching her from behind his stained curtain, allowing her the illusion of freedom before snatching it away from her once more? She wouldn’t put it past the sadistic piece of crap to take pleasure from something like that.

Her gaze wandered from the ranch to the nearby pool of water. What she’d do for a mouthful of that was best not mentioned, but she knew she’d be chancing her luck to get there and back before she was spotted. Just the sight of the pool reminded her of how thirsty she was, and she wished now she’d kept her eyes on the ranch instead. It was such a temptation she could barely deny herself. She crouched, hands folded across her stomach, lids squeezed tightly as she pushed aside her own needs. An argument raged inside her; if she wanted to release Nicole and Ellie then she’d need all her strength and wits about her, and without water she had neither. But if she chanced sneaking to the watering hole and was seen then her plan was finished. She slowly opened her eyes; her mind was made up.

She needed water.

Stumbling around through dehydration she was no good to anyone. It was one thing growing balls as her dad said, but quite another doing anything with them when she was bone dry. If she could make it to the pool, quench her thirst, then she’d be in a much better position to help her friends. It was funny how she was now thinking of both Nicole and Ellie as friends; she didn’t know the younger girl from Adam, had merely spent time as a captive alongside her during the trip back here, but already they shared a common bond that transcended that. Somewhere along the line Ellie had grown as important in her mind as her best friend was, and Jay would do anything to free them. After she quenched her thirst.

It had been eerily quiet for hours now. Not since last night when the sound of screaming had filtered into her prison had she heard proof that her friends were still alive. What if they were already dead? What if they’d been moved elsewhere? She didn’t think that was the case because at no time had she heard the engine of the pick-up growl to life, or the commands of the men as they ushered her friends on to the flat-bed. She was certain that any of those sounds would have roused her from her sleep, exhausted as she’d been.

No, they were still inside one of those buildings, and most probably asleep if the men had left them alone. Perhaps they were tethered as she’d been her first night, and gagged so they wouldn’t disturb their captors’ rest. The bastards would want to be on top form for more partying tonight.

She needed water, but more than that she needed a weapon. There was no way she could match even Brent, let alone the cowboy or Samuel, in a physical confrontation. She didn’t fancy her chances without a gun. Not that she knew the first thing about firearms, but surely they were easy enough to handle. She’d watched plenty of movies and was pretty sure she could figure out how to pull back a hammer and then squeeze a trigger. Could she kill, though? Before she’d have said no, have screamed no, but now it was different. After what those three had done to her and her friends she’d gladly exterminate the lot of them.

But all that lay around her was disintegrating paper, plastic drums and empty tin cans. Forget the weapon, go for the water. Maybe down by the watering hole she’d find a stone just the right size to fit in her palm.

Gathering herself, she leaned out past the front of the truck. It was a three-hundred-yard dash to the pool and ordinarily she could cover that distance in no time. However, here and now, stealth was her best option. Not that she was prepared to belly-crawl the entire way, but she had to stay low, moving from one piece of junk to the next. She lined up a mound of broken machinery about fifty yards away, decided that was an achievable first leg.

She rose up, ready to push herself hard, and that was when something detached itself from the rubbish pile behind her. She was only aware of movement, a sudden rush as the air was compressed between them, and then hands clamped on to her, one round her waist, the other shutting off the cry of denial she let loose.

Samuel, she realised. The sadistic bastard had been watching and waiting all along.

When she was dragged backwards, forced down on to the sand, she wasn’t thinking about her own selfish needs any more, but how she’d failed her friends: how would any of them be saved now?