Now
CHAP is a Christian homeschool organization, and it’s fairly conservative. Which is fine
by me. I’m a conservative Christian who was homeschooled, myself.
However,
being there got me thinking.
I
only brought two of my books to sell: my Christian fiction novel “The Adulteress;”
and my historical fiction “Maiden America,” which ended up having a strong
Christian theme in order to stay historically accurate. So even the most conservative attendees (e.g. Mennonites) shouldn’t have a problem with either novel.
My
other books though? I'm not so sure. I mean, I've read plenty of Christian novels that are more graphically vivid than my secular ones, but still...
As
I stated in a previous blog, my Faerietales series was never intended to be
anything but modern fantasy. Likewise, my Dirty Politics trilogy isn’t supposed to be anything but a political thriller.
Which
means that Mennonites who decide to explore my other stories after reading “The
Adulteress” and “Maiden America” could be less-than-happy with me. Even
more worrisome is the possibility that the same could happen to one of the promising
young authors-in-the-making I spoke to over the weekend.
With
that concern in mind, I think it only fair to warn potential readers that
this series does include rough characters who don't mind their Ps and Qs. In my first few drafts, they went so far as to throw around some choice language. And while my amazing editor of an
older sister shamed me into finding creatively classy alternatives to that profanity, the H E
double-hockey-sticks word still does come into play several times.
If
that offends you, then please stick to “The Adulteress” and “Maiden America.”
Otherwise, enjoy one “heck” of a ride…
1 – Uninvited
Guests
It was
completely dark.
There
were no shadows. No shapes. No nothing.
Peering
through her peephole to figure out who had just knocked on her door, Kayla
Jeateski couldn’t see a single thing. Which wasn’t right.
It was
actually nothing short of suspicious.
She
knew the glass had been clean and clear three days ago when the delivery guy
dropped off her latest online purchase. And there wasn’t a single good reason
why it would have changed so drastically in such a short space of time.
In
crime shows, of course, blacked-out peepholes were a sure sign of tampering.
They indicated that some sinister plot was underway, and woe to the man or
woman who ignored that obvious harbinger of doom.
Kayla’s
stomach clenched in fear and uncertainty. On the one hand, she was certain she
shouldn’t investigate the situation any further than she already had. Yet sheer
curiosity warred with her survival instincts, calling her several shades of
coward for even considering that the unthinkable could happen to her.
Another
knock sounded out from the other side of her apartment door. A total of three
raps, there was nothing alarming about the sounds by themselves any more than
there had been the first time. Not in her sprawled-out apartment complex where
nothing worse than noisy neighbors ever disturbed her peace and quiet.
Whoever
was at her door – whoever had drawn her off her couch at nine fifteen in the
evening when she wasn’t expecting any visitors – couldn’t mean her any harm,
she told herself. Chances were it was a neighbor delivering a piece of
misdirected mail. So there was no need to get paranoid.
She
fussed with her dark blond ponytail, finding no comfort from the stalling
tactic.
Statistically
speaking, she wasn’t in any danger. That’s what her rational self determined
with dismissive ease. But that reasonable side of her brain still couldn’t justify
the peephole; and her gut really was protesting, saying that something about
the situation was wrong. Below her short sleeves, the fine hair on her arms
were standing straight up, and her shoulders were tense with an anxiety she
couldn’t understand.
Irritated
with that reaction, Kayla decided to go with a reasonable middle ground.
Placing her right hand on the doorknob, her fingers shaking just a little, she
didn’t move to undo any of the locks quite yet.
“Hello?”
She called through the door, her other hand braced against the cream-colored
hallway wall.
Ominous
silence was the only response.
Kayla’s
eyes narrowed further. It seemed logical to assume that a neighbor or normal
visitor would have answered. Unless, of course, he or she had already given up
and walked off a mere two seconds after that final knock. Which didn’t seem
likely.
It was
the third sign that something wasn’t right.
The
first was the fact that she never had unexpected visitors so late, especially
not when her boyfriend and best friend were both out of the country on the same
business trip. The second was the peephole. And if there was a fourth, it was
the way her insides had tensed as soon as she realized there was someone
outside.
Even
so, it annoyed her to not know what was going on. Naturally analytic, Kayla had
a strong aversion to uncertainty, and always wanted to take whatever extra steps
she could to turn hypotheses into proven facts. It was part of who she was and
what she did for a living, and it was never an easy urge to turn off.
Kayla
moved her left hand away from the wall to tug at the hemline of her medical-green
top. The gesture was more nervous than necessary since her scrubs almost never
rode up inappropriately. But she needed that final movement to secure the
courage necessary to take a look out into the hallway.
Releasing
the deadbolt first, she tensed at the loud clack it made in her otherwise quiet
apartment. The lock on the doorknob went next and then she was twisting it
open, pulling the door toward her until she could peer out above the sliding
chain she’d kept secured. Kayla might be too curious for her own good; but she
wasn’t a complete idiot, and so she made sure to maintain some precaution.
Her
eyes scanned over everything they could, from her neighbors’ solid blue door
across the way; to the light-fixture on their shared ceiling, which they left
on around the clock during the winter; to the angle of the hallway as it teed
out of sight toward the front entrance and the stairs going up to the second
floor. There was nothing unusual about the picture as far as she could tell.
Yet she kept looking for signs of something being out of place, somehow certain
the situation wasn’t nearly so simple.
No
matter how hard she strained her vision though, nothing looked wrong. There
wasn’t a single suspicious detail she could detect, and so she pushed the door
shut, her brow scrunching in confusion while she worked the other two locks
back into place.
Kayla
tried to shrug the entire experience off, but her skin was still tingling when
she took a step back from her entranceway down the short hall to the living
room. The movement brought her just about in line with the archway leading into
her kitchen, making it impossible not to feel the draft of cold air seeping in.
It felt like the room’s one and only window was wide open.
Kayla
froze where she was standing, her eyes tearing up in immediate terror from the
implications.
That
window hadn’t been open when she got up from her couch a minute ago. In fact,
as far as she knew, it had been locked for weeks. She hadn’t thought to air out
her place for at least that long when even the afternoons could be intolerably
chilly this early in February.
A
violent shudder ran down her spine, though not from the cold. The curiosity
that had led her to open the door a mere moment ago had vanished. There was
nothing inside her that wanted to see why there was winter wind creeping into
her first-floor apartment when she knew she hadn’t invited it. It took every
ounce of willpower she had to step forward and look around the corner into the
kitchen.
That
was when he attacked her.
All
she saw was black at first. Solid, seamless black covering alarmingly wide
shoulders that were exactly at her eye level.
Panic
set in before she could fully comprehend what was happening: a white fog of
terror that penetrated every inch of her being. Kayla’s mouth opened in the
first stage of a scream. But she never got a sound out thanks to one black
glove closing fast around her arm, pushing her backward in a single, smooth,
commanding motion that ended with her spine thudding against the wall.
Her
eyes flew wide with shock, and her mouth gaped open further, either to gasp air
in or let it out in the solid shriek she’d originally intended. But the impact
of her body against the solid plaster had knocked her breath away, making it
impossible to do much of anything, no matter how much she wanted to.
While
she struggled to get a proper lungful of oxygen again, her gaze flew up the
man’s shoulders to his face. That was covered in black as well. His mouth, the
very bottom of his nose and his bright blue eyes were all that showed, making
an altogether petrifying image.
Towering
over her that way, he didn’t need the ski mask with its four stark holes to be
intimidating.
Technically,
he didn’t need the gun either, though it went a far way in ensuring her ultimate
cooperation. In the first few seconds, however, she had just one physical
response. With the weapon not yet aimed at her, she went with her instincts
instead of her head.
At
least that’s what she tried to do.
Breath
back, Kayla was in the process of tensing up to fight when her assailant cut
her off again. As if he was inside her head, knowing her moves before she had
fully thought them through, the man brought his gun up to the space between her
chin and her throat.
She
could feel the hard metal pressed against her skin. It wasn’t digging in, so it
wasn’t a painful sensation per se. Yet it was still very much there, catching
one of her dark blond hairs in such a way that tickled her jaw.
The
man in the ski mask regarded her with a clinical degree of objectivity. Thanks
to the fourth hole in the fabric, she could see his mouth was set firmly, though
not too much so. And if his very blue eyes were any indication, he was nothing
short of calm, his breathing barely accelerated.
“You’re
not going to scream, right?”
Kayla
didn’t shake her head. She didn’t move at all other than the faintest motion of
her lips. “No.”
It was
excruciating to get that single syllable out; she could barely hear the sound
of it beyond the pounding of blood in her ears.
“And
you’re not going to fight and make this more difficult than it has to be,
right?”
Kayla
hadn’t thought it possible, but the question took her terror to a whole new
level. “What do you mean by ‘this?’”
“Nothing
that’s going to get you hurt,” he promised. “Just following me outside. Coming
along quietly. And doing as I say.”
Someone
from the other side of her violated kitchen window interrupted before she could
speak, which was a small mercy since she had no idea how to reply. It was hard
to think straight past the all-consuming anxiety coursing through her system.
“Everything
okay?” Cautious though the man sounded, his wasn’t the voice of a savior. He
didn’t sound surprised or afraid, just slightly impatient.
Not so
much the guy with the gun against her skin. “Everything’s fine. She just wants
a guarantee.”
That
didn’t seem to sit well with his friend. “Can’t we give her that in the car?”
Blue
Eyes shot a single look over his shoulder, and the conversation stopped like
that. It was further proof of what Kayla had already determined: that the individual
towering over her was comfortable with every aspect of being in charge.
If so,
that made it yet another factor decidedly not in her favor. If it wasn’t for
the weapon under her chin, she thought her legs might give out.
He
turned his full attention back to her. “Believe it or not, I meant what I said:
I don’t want to hurt you, and I won’t have to if you cooperate.”
She
swallowed hard, the action doing nothing to calm her down. Being inside her
apartment with him was terrifying enough. But the thought of leaving with him
was even more disturbing.
There
was nothing in her that wanted to agree. Yet there was nothing about him that
indicated she had a say in the matter. Whether she went without protest,
kicking and screaming, or unconscious over his shoulder, Kayla was very certain
he was going to win in the end.
He was
going to win, and she was going to lose. Miserably.
Her
head still craned upward against the gun, she choked on a sob.
He
made it obvious he was waiting for an answer. “You really don’t have a choice,
Lucy.”
The
name, which clearly wasn’t her own, registered on Kayla’s subconscious as a
possible slang term she didn’t know. Beyond that brief contemplation, there
were too many details demanding her attention to focus on such trivialities.
“You
have three seconds to decide,” he warned, his bright blue eyes searching her
brown ones without a hint of mischief, only unyielding calculation.
Three
seconds was an unacceptable amount of time to set when presenting such a life-changing
decision. It was inhumanly cruel. And while she already knew what her answer
was going to be – what it had to be – she still didn’t want to say it out loud.
He
cocked his head to the side in question. “One more second. Then I’m going to
decide for you.”
Kayla
let her lashes sweep downward in defeat. Then she swallowed back her emotional
horror and physical bile. “Okay.”
The
gun left her chin to fall to his side. “Good. Let’s go.”
He
pulled her away from the wall, the movement so abrupt that she almost tripped,
stumbling over her feet like she had never learned to walk in the first place.
It was his grip on her forearm that kept her standing, his fingers digging in
with bruising force.
A low
cry of pain left her lips.
His
hand loosened a little. “Sorry.”
The
apology sounded sincere and therefore very wrong coming from someone wearing a mask,
holding a gun and carrying out an aggravated kidnapping. Kayla didn’t
understand anything that was going on. None of it. Nor did she care to. The
only thing she wanted right then was for him and his friend outside to go away.
“Coming
out now,” he called in a normal voice as he led her into her kitchen.
The
evening temperature streaming through her wide-open window hit the exposed skin
on her face and arms without sympathy. It seeped through her scrubs and even
the fluffy blue socks she’d put on as soon as she got home.
She
shivered violently.
He
cast her a quick glance without breaking his stride. “It’ll be warmer in the
car.”
If
that statement was supposed to be encouraging, it didn’t work.
Another
masked man, this one lean and long-waisted, was standing outside her kitchen.
“All clear,” he assured with the confidence of someone who had trained for
trouble. The way he held his short, angular gun indicated he knew how to handle
that too.
He fixed
the weapon on her while his friend – or boss or whoever he was – went to grab a
chair from the other room. That took a mere minute though, so Kayla was
climbing across the window ledge and onto the grassy slope below well before
she was psychologically ready.
The
first thing she noticed was the stiff, freezing lawn through her socks. The
second was how her mesh screen was leaning up against the brick side of the
building. It wasn’t slashed or marred in any other way. If anything, it looked
like one of the property’s maintenance men had come along and forgotten to put
it back in place.
There
would be no real sign of foul play when she was gone; no indication for anyone
to think about calling the cops.
Her
abductors shut the window behind them, then hurried her down into the long
alley that ran behind her apartment. Tall lampposts lined the way for
residents’ safety, shining brief halos of light into the dusk. But they might
as well have been turned off for all the good they provided her that evening. The
only thing they did was allow her to see the empty cars parked up and down the
makeshift street.
There
wasn’t another normal person in sight. She was completely on her own, and she
knew it with sickening certainty.
Loose
bits of gravel bit into her soles. Yet she couldn’t slow her pace when Blue
Eyes once again had his hand clamped above her elbow, his fingers all but
touching in the undesirable embrace.
A
third man slunk out from behind one of the nearby dumpsters. Also dressed in
black from head to toe, and both hands wrapped around a gun of his own, he
barely glanced at her. His attention was on everything else around them while
he moved in the direction of a dark SUV, a Suburban from what she could tell, idling
in the middle of the lane.
It was
what she was being pulled toward too.
Parked
the way it was, the vehicle was blocking in three other cars, even if there wasn’t
anyone to complain about it at that time of night. Its lights were off and the
back windows were darkly tinted, so Kayla couldn’t see inside at all. The most
she could do was make out how someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.
It was
another frightening man, she had no doubt, even if she couldn’t detect any of
his features. Which made it four against one.
And he
was probably armed too.
Her
heart already racing, her breath coming in short gasps that didn’t seem nearly
sufficient enough, Kayla recognized that her odds had just gone from sickening
to horrific. It had her frantically wondering if she should reevaluate her
initial pledge of cooperation.
She
watched in silent, shivering dread while the two other men went around to the
passenger’s side of the car. That put a solid barrier between her and them,
offering a better opportunity to escape.
For
all she knew, it would be her last one.
The
closer she got to the SUV, the more her muscles tensed and her stomach clenched
in a wretched mix of anticipation and uncertainty. There was no way to know
which would be worse: the untold dangers of getting into the car or the very
high probability of being shot if she tried to get away. But while her brain remained
frozen in indecision, her body made the choice for her when Blue Eyes reached
for the door and swung it open.
The
internal lights went on, illuminating the soft grey fabric of the immaculate
seats. Considering all the other details she was trying to come to grips with,
the car’s interior shouldn’t have seemed so intimidating. Yet for some reason,
it was. When the opposite doors swung open at the same time and two of the
masked commando types climbed in, one in the front seat and the other into the
middle row, some part of her that wasn’t necessarily logical took over.
Kayla
barely even knew what she was doing when she twisted forward to stomp down on
her captor’s foot, her free hand curling into a claw aimed at his face.
Neither
move worked the way it was intended to.
For
one thing, her shoeless state left her at a distinct disadvantage. And even if
she had been wanting to drop a few pounds, she still wasn’t close to heavy enough
to do much damage to anyone but herself up against a brute like him.
As for
her nails, they just raked against fabric. Thick fabric at that.
Her abductor
responded by slamming her up against the side of the SUV hard enough to leave
her breathless for the second time. It only took a moment for Kayla to get that
breath back, but the brief interval gave him an easy opening to shove his gun
at someone in the car and spin her around so that she was facing away from him.
She
felt the horrid sensation of his hands curling under her armpits, and then the
equally offensive impression of being dragged into the car and across his lap.
In no
time at all, he had deposited her in the middle seat between him and one of his
masked friends, leaning away only to slam the door shut and lock them all
inside.
Before the car could roll forward an inch, Kayla
was shrieking for dear life.
I love your blogs!
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