In Constant Fear (33 page)

I didn't regain total consciousness, not immediately, but I did have a kneejerk reawakening of my instincts. I tried to scramble up, to right myself before I knew what was wrong, everything slowly untangling and telling me what there was to know: that I was in a lot of pain, though I couldn't immediately say where.

I did a quick inventory: my head was a jagged mass of smashed crimson stalactites, my nose a pump run dry—but it was only when I tried to get up that I appreciated my right leg was the epicenter of my agony, that that was where I'd sustained the most damage. I could see blood seeping through my pants and out onto the ground, and a lot of it, too.

The Bitch turned, saw I was conscious and trying to struggle up, and came over and stamped on that damaged leg as hard as she could.

J-e-s-u-s!
I gave out with a real howl as the pain took me right to the edge of unconsciousness again, falling back down, even in that moment knowing what she'd done: that she'd crushed my leg with her damn prosthetic to make sure I didn't try to escape.

“
Shit!
” I gasped, praying for that pain to subside even by a single degree.

“Just stay there,” she snarled. “I need you alive, but that doesn't mean in one piece.”

Again I slumped back, not even sure I was capable of breathing, let alone going anywhere. Now I understood why she hadn't killed me back at the Commune: she'd foreseen a situation like this and kept me alive a little longer.

She took a few paces away, to where the clearing slightly dipped from us and again called out to the surrounding forest, “Lena!” she yelled, her voice every bit as powerful as the rest of her body. “I've got Clancy!”

God knows where I got the energy; maybe there's a little reserve that sleeps in us all until it's called upon to save others, but suddenly I was also calling out, “Lena, run! Get away!”

The Bitch whirled around and with one leap stomped on my leg again, this time grinding her heel in for good measure. Jeez, I thought she'd severed it clean off.

“I'll tell you if I want you to speak,” she told me, “but thanks for letting her know you're really here.”

Goddammit, I was such a fool. I so desperately didn't want Lena to give herself and Thomas up, but I'd handed Nora Jagger the one bit of leverage that might persuade her to do just that.

“Lena!” the Bitch called out again. “Give me the baby. You two can go.”

She smiled in my direction, as if she was being surprisingly generous, and I immediately knew why: she knew nothing about the Doc operating on me and was under the impression that, no matter what, there was no escape for us: that the implant would ensure I'd end up killing Lena anyway.

“You've got five minutes,” she shouted. “If you're not here, I'm gonna start pulling him apart.”

“
No, Lena!
” I shouted, and promptly received a kick in the ribs for my trouble.

I wasn't feeling separate pains anymore; they'd all fused into one that throbbed and pounded so hard throughout my body it was making me wanna throw up.

Several minutes ticked by, the Bitch calling them off one by one, letting Lena know what she was planning on doing to me, that she'd start by pulling my arms out of their sockets—and ya knew she wasn't joking.

“Two minutes!” she shouted.

I really didn't know what to expect—I guess I was hoping that Lena was so far away she couldn't even hear us—but not more thirty seconds or so later she appeared on the far side of the clearing, and if I'd imagined she wouldn't bring Thomas with her, well, I was wrong.

“Well, well,” smirked Nora Jagger gleefully, “the little maid.”

Lena stayed where she was, thirty-odd yards away and down a slight slope, moving her head slightly from left to right as if giving herself the opportunity to map out the immediate area. “Let him go,” she said.

“I would,” the Bitch taunted, “but he's having a bit of trouble walking.”

Lena didn't need to see to know what that meant. “Don't you hurt him!” she shouted.

The Bitch did this little shrug, like it was all a bit late and unnecessary. “Give me the baby—you can fix him up,” she replied.

Lena never answered, just stood there biting her bottom lip, plainly having no idea what to do, and the Bitch burst into laughter, so enjoying the expression on her face, her total vulnerability. “You can always have another baby,” she said.

Still Lena didn't speak or move, almost as if the situation was so unbearable, she'd found a way of hiding it from herself. She hugged Thomas that bit tighter, keeping him to her as if it might attach him in some way.

“Lena,
run
!” I begged, but my words were futile and we all knew it:
she
was gonna make this decision, not me.

“Why do you want him?” she asked, looking down at Thomas all safe and secure in his blanket, having no idea what sort of threat he was under.

“To raise him as my own,” the Bitch answered, though I didn't think she sounded that sure about it. “He'd be quite the status symbol.”

“I'd rather see him dead,” I said.

“Well . . . we'll see how it goes,” she replied, turning and giving me an unnerving smile.

“Lena!” I called again, but she just shook her head.

“I've told you before, Clancy . . . I love you both more than life itself, but I'll choose you over everything.”

I tell ya, that really shocked me. Just at that moment I would've preferred something else—for her to have despised me.

As if she'd finally made her mind up, that there was simply no other way, she pulled back the blanket and buried her face inside, kissing Thomas, hugging him to her, and even from where I was, I could see she was crying.

“
No!
” I cried, barely able to believe what she was doing, but again she ignored me, slowly collapsing down onto her knees, gently placing Thomas on the ground, leaving him on the far side of the clearing as if that was how these things should be done, that she wanted some leeway before she inspected me and affected the exchange. Once more I cried out in protest, but she walked determinedly away from the little guy, and I'll tell ya, knowing how much that had to be hurting—knowing how much it was hurting
me
, seeing that tiny blue and white bundle left all alone on the ground—was pulling me apart a damn sight more effectively than Nora Jagger ever could.

“
Lena, no!
” I called, but there was no point anymore.

There was no confrontation between her and Nora Jagger, no angry words, as if it would be too much, that she simply wasn't strong enough. She found her way to me, helped me to my feet, a whole trainload of pain tearing through me from head to toe.

“As good as new,” the Bitch smiled, obviously taking a certain pride in the agony etched on my face. “Well—as
old
, maybe.”

Lena never said a word, just supported me as I limped away, following my directions, moving us along as quickly as I could manage. I guessed she needed to put as much distance as she could between her and what she'd done—or maybe it was more 'cuz she didn't trust the Bitch and wanted to get away before she tried something.

I didn't look back but I could sense she was still watching us, enjoying seeing what a broken couple we were, smugly believing she could key me anytime she wanted, that I'd end up killing Lena.

Over and over, I told Lena not to worry, that we'd get Thomas back—but all she did was to shake her head, as if we'd finally been beaten; as if we simply had to accept what'd happened: that our little miracle had been stolen from us.

We got halfway up the slope, despite my shattered leg still able to find a kinda harmony of movement, almost at the spot where I'd first seen Nora Jagger in the clearing—as much as I told myself not to, I couldn't help but look back.

My heart just about drained and imploded: at the very moment that I turned, the Bitch was picking Thomas up off the ground, handling him awkwardly to the point of carelessness—to have to give up your child was bad enough, but to have to leave it with a monster? Who knew what would happen to the little guy? No matter how innocent now, one day he might turn out like her, even carry on where she left off . . . And I couldn't help but reflect on the fate of Arturo's heart, how the Bitch was snatching everything from us that we loved and taking it with her to damnation.

Lena tugged me on, not aware why I'd hesitated, that I was going through a thousand agonies. I tried to pick up the pace, to follow her lead, but couldn't resist one final glance back . . .
Jesus!
What I saw froze me colder than the fridges of Hell. At last I knew why that woman had wanted Thomas and it was just as the Doc had feared: not to fulfill her maternal instincts, not to raise him as her own—but to destroy any hope he represented, any possibility of a better world.

She had that familiar blue-and-white bundle raised up over her head like some ceremonial priestess about to commit a sacrifice, I opened my mouth to scream out in protest, but before any sound
came out, she smashed the little guy down onto the ground, stamping on him for good measure.

“
Nooo!
” I wailed. “
Jesus, no—!
”

“Keep going!” Lena urged, trying to make me move faster.

“
Lena! . . . Oh my God!
” I cried, not knowing how to tell her what I'd just seen, but she just kept pulling me on, even trying to increase my speed. “
No!
”

“It's not Thomas,” she suddenly announced.

“What?” I gasped, so shocked I almost stopped in my tracks.

“Keep moving! It's not Thomas.”

Again I hesitated and this time I was abruptly yanked on. “Who is it?”

“No one! A plucked pheasant Sheila had hanging up. Thomas is with her—hopefully hidden away by now.”

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry—I mean, I thought I'd ridden out the “dumb old big guy” title but I immediately bestowed it upon myself again. I guess I'd been so unsettled by everything that'd happened things had passed me by without being properly questioned. Had I really imagined Lena would give up Thomas like that—for any reason at all? And once I'd reaffirmed that, it was so obvious what'd gone on, I couldn't imagine why I'd assumed anything else.

When she'd gone into the shelter, Lena had done the switch, wrapping Thomas' favorite blanket around the bird and leaving the little guy where he was for Sheila to retrieve later (she must've given him a little something with his feed to make sure he kept quiet). Even breaking that branch at the edge of the clearing had been deliberate—dammit, I'd thought it'd been unusually clumsy for her! She needed to make sure the Bitch followed, and once she was drawn away, Sheila could hide Thomas somewhere safe.

It was a simple but brilliant plan—for sure it fooled me—and it would've worked perfectly if it hadn't been for one thing: Lena hadn't known that the Bitch would cripple me, that she was gonna damn near break my leg and make it impossible for me go anywhere in a hurry.

I did all I could to keep going, to respond to Lena's urging, moving faster than I would've thought possible and was doing my leg any good at all. But I couldn't keep it up for long and soon I noticed her repeatedly looking over her shoulder, knowing Nora Jagger would be after us, that she'd chase us down and tear us
both
to pieces.

We made our way into the thicker part of the forest, doing everything we could not to leave any clues, me checking every time I felt more blood oozing down my leg and getting Lena to scuff over the stain, but it wasn't foolproof by any means.

It didn't take us long to realize we were hopelessly lost, and worse still, with an overcast sky there was no sun to give us any idea of even the general direction we should be heading.

My leg was so painful that eventually we had to stop for a while, scrambling deep into some bushes, both of us grateful for the rest.

“The more lost we are, the harder we are to find,” I told Lena, though I wasn't entirely sure that made any sense—even to me.

“Maybe she gave up and went back to see what happened to the Bodyguard?”

“That's not gonna improve her mood, is it?” I said, trying to make a bit of a joke, but it wasn't exactly humor material.

Lena paused for a moment, as if she thought she'd heard something, eventually deciding it was nothing to worry about. “She probably
wouldn't
bother going back—they're not going to look for us at night, and we could be miles away by morning.”

Despite her begging me to leave it a little longer, I insisted on dragging myself up and getting moving; along the way looking for anything that might be familiar, that might help us find our way back to the Commune. For sure I wasn't in very good shape; a couple of times missing my step, almost toppling over and bringing her down with me, yet again having to stop, to wait a while for the pain to subside.

“Can you manage?” Lena asked.

“Yeah. I'm fine,” I replied, though she didn't look that reassured.

From there on she insisted I took the “easiest” route, even if it meant veering off course—smoothing out the hills as much as I
could—but actually, the terrain was getting that bit more rugged, with sheer drops in places. I came across this deer track that ran right along the top of a ridge, though it was so narrow that in trying to make sure she had enough room, I almost went over the edge myself.

“Clancy,” she complained, “
I'll
go first; you hold onto my shoulders and direct me.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, reminded of that time on the tandem when she'd “steered” me. “We're a team.”

She stopped for a moment and kissed me on the cheek. “And always will be.”

I don't know how far we went like that—me steering Lena, looking for the easiest route down so we could get over to the other side, still having no idea what direction we were going in—but suddenly I felt her shoulders go as rigid as stone.