Tracking Time

Sixty-four

”Bitch. Damn bitch.”

Maslow heard the voice. Then the crunch on gravel. A crack of thunder ruptured the sky. The noise covered his soft signal to Dylan. "Shhh." As if she could hear him and respond. There was nothing from her. A flashlight raked the area.

"Damn!" The voice was full of anger. Frightening.

Quickly, Maslow moved to the back of the cave before the light could catch him. His breathing sounded loud and ragged in his ears, but the boy didn't hear it.

"What the fuck!" He was talking to himself as he shone the strong beam on Dylan. She was out of it, didn't move. The light traveled along the ground.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated him, just for a second, from behind. Maslow was horrified by the sight of the boy, dripping wet and at the peak of his health. The monster who had captured and beaten and terrorized him and Dylan looked huge, like an athlete, a football player or mountain climber. Even in the best condition, Maslow would not have been able to take him on. Now he was weak and dehydrated. His legs were shaky at best and his head ached from the blows he'd received. There was no way he could fight him now.

The light froze on the gate bottom. The boy's attention was drawn to Maslow's sneakers stuffed under the gate and the gap where a spoke had been.

"What the fuck!" he said again. He shone the light into the cave looking for Maslow and didn't locate him at first.

Maslow had thrown himself down in the corner, trying to look as if he had given up and died hours ago. The boy kept the light on him, shifting it back and forth from the shoeless feet to his hands buried in dirt, to his head. Maslow saw the light move and kept still. He had a wild hope that the boy would think Dylan was dead and he was dead, and that he would just go away.

But the boy was angered by what he saw and squatted down to assess the situation. He saw the sneakers and the digging that Maslow had done in his attempt to free Dylan's leg. Then he shone the light on Dylan more carefully this time and saw that her hands were no longer bound. He swore again.

Maslow held his breath as the boy poked Dylan's foot. She groaned. That galvanized him. The rock was still wedged against the gate. Now he picked it up and moved it. Then he wrenched the gate away. Dylan was not so out of it that she didn't feel the metal tearing her flesh. She screamed.

Maslow screamed, too, but the boy didn't hear him. Thunder was booming in the sky, and he had something else on his mind. He entered the cave, bending low to get inside. He shone the light on Maslow. Maslow held his breath and didn't move as the boy half-walked, half-crawled closer to get a better take on him. He poked Maslow with his foot, curiously, as if he were some thing, not a person. When Maslow didn't move, he kicked him in the ankle, then in the side. The breath was knocked out of him, and still he didn't move.

Maslow hurt in new places now, and he was enraged by the arrogance of the boy. The kid didn't see them as alive, as people. He didn't give a shit what he was doing to them. The arrogance and the raw sadism was more than Maslow could bear. If he had been strong enough to kill, he would kill now. But he was afraid to move, afraid of what the boy would do to him next.

Satisfied that he was no threat, the boy turned around and concentrated on Dylan. She was weeping feverishly, talking gibberish a few feet away. The boy was interested in her.

"Turn over," he said.

She didn't acknowledge him. This annoyed him. "I want you to turn over." She didn't comply, so he rolled her over himself.

Maslow thought he would lose his mind as he saw the boy talking to her, moving her arms and her legs to suit him.

"No, no." She muttered something inaudible.

The boy paid no attention to her. "Put your arms around me and hug me," he said.

He got down on his knees. He didn't like her position and moved her body around some more. Maslow couldn't figure out what he was doing.

"Hug me."

The boy lay down beside Dylan and started pulling at her clothes.

Maslow's heart pounded. No. No! He was choking on his indignation, his rage. The boy was pure evil. Never had he seen such evil. He could not lie there and watch when the boy pulled up Dylan's skirt and rolled on top of her. Maslow rose up out of the ground and struck out like a pit bull attacking a lion.