Chapter 10

Darcy

A week has gone past with no word from Pete, and I’m starting to relax. After our next six rest days I return to work. My co-workers haven’t been strangers in the meantime, they’ve been dropping around, checking I’m doing okay, and that my erstwhile assailant is staying away, each trying to reassure me in their own way that they’d do the same for anyone of our crew who was in difficulty.

Back together at the station, Slade puts on his captain’s hat and is wearing a serious expression. He gestures at us to sit down. He doesn’t need to tell us we are going to want to hear this.

“While the recent wildfire was contained and put out, we’ve had reports from State Forestry Service’s firewatchers checking the conditions on the mountains,” Slade tells us. “They’re particularly concerned about the area above the foothills to the south of the Santa Catalina Range.”

“Where the Aspen Fire was? Back in 2002?”

As Truck asks, I recall that was a bad one. It took out over three hundred businesses and homes, all but destroyed the town of Summerhaven, and caused untold damage to the infrastructure, phone and electric lines, streets, and sewers. I shudder. It had burned for a month. We deal with smaller fires as a matter of course, but that one left so many homeless it preys on my mind. Before my time, of course, but we’d all heard about it.

“Not so much there, Truck. Further north. We’re more worried about the forest that didn’t burn that time.” Slade wipes his hand over his face. “The forecast is for temperatures to rise, and humidity levels are extremely low. There are a lot of snags, many trees are dead where they stand, and those that are living have moisture levels at the bottom of the scale. Red flag warning has been issued,” Slade observes, then thinks. “No large-scale evacuation alert needed though. There’s no structures in that part that they’re most worried about.”

“Infrastructure?” Hammer asks.

“Cell phone tower and power lines,” Slade informs him. Then continues, “Extra posters and warnings have been erected. And we’ve got adverts running on TV.”

“Are they going to ban the public from the area?” I wonder aloud.

“Not yet, not unless something sparks. Just hoping they’ll take notice of the warnings.”

“Can’t warn a lightning strike.” That’s Truck’s contribution.

There are many factors we need to keep into consideration, but the likelihood is that area will burn, and we’ll be right in there fighting it. A large out of control fire could easily spread to areas where there are people living.

“Obviously dispatch will call us in if and when we need to get involved, but I just wanted to remind you that we’ll be the IA for that area.” Yeah, we don’t really need another reminder that in the absence of the national firefighting teams, we’re the initial attack team called in for wildfires in that locality.

Slade nods at the captain. “We’re going over strategy and preparedness today. Make sure everyone is up to date.”

The shift begins slowly, and Slade has three hours in which to drill the importance and positioning of lookouts, communications, escape routes, and safety zones into us. None of us are bored, and reminders can’t hurt when it could be a case of our life or death. Then the speakers blare out and we’re being dispatched. Turns out it’s to a fire in an apartment, caused by a faulty appliance. We bring that under control, make sure no sparks remain, and then return to the station house. Hammer starts making coffee, but before we can drink it we’re being dispatched again. This time to a burning car on the highway.

Twelve hours into our shift, and we get the first reports. A wisp of smoke has been spotted exactly in the area predicted. On high alert, we wait for the updates on the situation. It’s being dealt with by the local crews for now, and our assistance isn’t needed. There’s no breeze to speak of, and they seem to have successfully put the fire out, losing little more than a couple of acres.

After our twenty-four-hour shift, we’re able to stand down, relieved that the wildland fire had been easily contained.

“Er, Flash?”

“Yeah, Truck?” I notice he’s standing with his phone in his hand.

“A couple of buddies are home on leave and want to know whether I can meet up with them today. It means driving to Phoenix, and I’ll need to leave now.”

His phrasing makes me grin. “I’m not your mother, Truck. Of course you can go.” I laugh. “You don’t need to ask my permission.”

But he’s still frowning. “I won’t be able to follow you home.”

I sigh. He’s been checking out my house after every shift, but as so much time has gone past, I’m convinced Pete’s moved on and I really don’t need his help.

“For goodness sake, Truck, I don’t need a babysitter.” I cup my chin in my hand. “There’s been no contact from Pete since the day he was arrested, and he’s made no move since he was released. I doubt there will be now. I’ve got my security system, so I’ll be fine.”

It’s the answer he wants, but which he feels guilty receiving. I prod him with my hand in the direction of the entrance. “Just get gone, Truck. Go let your hair down for once.”

“What hair?” He laughs, smoothing his hand over his shaved head.

I might have reassured Truck, but as I drive toward my home I start to feel nervous. Oh, pull yourself together. Pete’s not going to be there waiting. It’s early in the morning, and remembering his behaviour, he wouldn’t even be awake at seven am. Giving myself a mental shake, I stop off to grab some breakfast before continuing my journey home. Driving up, I park on the driveway, then, food sac in hand, I approach the front door, fumbling in my purse for the front door key. Just as I’ve found it, a hand grabs at my arm.

My meal ends up on the ground as I give out a very girly squeal and turn to face my nightmare.

“It’s just me, Darcy.” He looks down at my spoiled breakfast, and then up at my face. He sounds both calm and apologetic. “Darcy, I am so sorry.”

His presence puts me on edge, and I don’t want to make him angry. I shrug and dismiss it. “It’s just food.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t apologising about that. But I’ll own that too.” He gives me an intense look. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. My head was all fucked up. I really thought there could be something between us, but you kept putting me off. I hated the thought of you being with someone else even though you weren’t mine. I got to the point when I had to lash out, and regret so much that that was at you.”

“You’re on drugs.” If he hadn’t been, I doubt he’d have tried to shoot me.

For a moment it looks like he might deny it, then shrugs. “I’m clean now.” His sincere tone is meant to convince me.

Can someone get clean so fast?

“Look, Darcy, I’m no addict. But I was feeling so low with your rejection, someone offered me something to take the edge off, and it affected me badly. I had such a reaction because I’m not used to taking the stuff.” As he sees he’s not doing a good job of convincing me, he tries again. “Tell me, honestly, all the time we were together, did you see me take drugs?”

I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t been taking any, just that he hid it well.

“Pete. We were never together. You were a housemate, that was all. If you read anything else into that, well, that’s on you. And don’t think you’re taking a step inside this house. I’m not having you back. You’ve blown it. I’m sorry.”

“I know you’ve moved on. You’ve had a whole raft of men going in and out of the house recently.” A harshness appears in his voice.

I flinch. He’s been watching me. “I couldn’t move on, as anything between us was all in your mind. Not that it’s any of your business if I’ve got a man or not. You blew your chances of staying with me when you raised your hand to me.” Why am I standing here talking to him? “Pete. There’s nothing more I have to say to you. I’d like to go into my house, now.”

“Let me come in. We should talk.”

He’s not getting inside. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I’m feeling very uncomfortable even speaking to him like this. There’s an edginess about him that has suddenly appeared, which makes me uncomfortable.

He brushes his hands through his hair and takes a breath, looking like it’s an effort to keep himself calm. “You’ve still got my stuff. My clothes and all that. I’ve been getting by, but I need to have it back.”

He’s lucky I never got around to giving it away. “You wait out here. I boxed it up.” I glance behind him, but don’t see a car. “Your clothes are in a bag, do you want that now? Take the boxes when you’ve got a ride?”

A half smile comes to his face. “Clothes will be fine.”

“Step back a bit then, I’ll go inside and bring them out.” I don’t want him close enough to barge through the door.

The smile disappears, and his mouth turns down. “I understand. I’ll wait at the end of the walkway.”

I watch, making sure he’s putting sufficient distance between us, and then put the key in the lock and open the door. I stop the alarm beeping. Not wanting to have him on my property one moment longer than necessary, I all but run to the closet where I’d left the garbage sack full of his belongings and take it back out.

As I’m opening the door he’s there and pushing inside. Keeping the bundle between us, I try to push him back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss, my fear rapidly rising. “I don’t want you here, Pete.”

“Well that’s just your bad luck. Here’s where I’m staying.” It’s only now in the light I realise he hasn’t given up his habit at all. His pupils are dilated.

The boys have been teaching me some moves, but faced with a real live and large assailant, everything I’ve learned goes out of my head. Escape. I can’t run past him as he’s blocking the door. But my bathroom’s got a lock on it and my phone’s in my purse, which is still over my shoulder.

Pushing the trash sack hard in his chest with all my weight behind it, I take that split second of surprise and run for the bathroom. He swings for me, trying to hold me back by the strap of my purse, but only succeeds in ripping it away from me. Then I’m in the bathroom, slamming that door and throwing the lock. That’s when I realise the window’s too small to climb out of, and having left my purse in Pete’s hands, I’ve no longer got my phone. Fuck.

Frantically, I try and think. The window’s alarmed. I haven’t tried it before, but presumably a sound will go off if the glass is broken. I wrap my hand in a towel, grab a bottle, and swing it with all my might against the glass.

Slivers come flying around me, but there’s no sound. Did I switch off the window alarm as well as the doors?

Shit! I can’t remember. Maybe Truck did by mistake. What the hell do I do now? Loud banging sounds, and the wooden door bulges against the lock. Pete’s trying to kick in the door.

Quickly I look around for a weapon. I’ve got shampoo bottles, but they’re not much use. I search through the cabinet, but there’s nothing I can find. Only a bottle of antiseptic, and a small pair of scissors in the first-aid kit. Could I really stab a man?

I must do something, else he’ll hurt me again and this time he might not stop. For all that he sounded reasonable and contrite, I’m dealing with a deranged man.

That door’s going to smash into me if I don’t move away. I push myself back until I’m touching the back wall next to the toilet, my meagre weapons in my hands. The frame’s cracking, the door’s moving. Any moment now…

It burst’s open, and Pete’s there, his face twisted in fury. I try to throw the antiseptic into his eyes, but my aim’s off, and while some reaches its intended target, most covers the bottom of his face.

I hold my scissors in my hands. He sees, and smirks. Yes, he’s right, an inch-long scissor blade’s not going to cause much damage.

With a cry of rage, incensed that my home’s been invaded, I throw myself forwards, aiming a kick into his balls. I hit him, hard, and he goes down. But he’s driven by something that’s giving him additional strength, and as I go to move over him, his muscular arms come around me, holding me tight. He’s panting but overcoming his pain. If I’d been wearing my firefighter’s boots I could really have hurt him, but my light sandals I’d worn back from work haven’t incapacitated him enough.

I struggle to get out of his grip, but his arms have imprisoned mine. He oomphs as I get in a few kicks, but it doesn’t stop this beast of a man from getting to his feet, taking me with him.

I scream, hoping a neighbour will hear and raise the alarm, but there’s no sound of anyone coming to my rescue, and my puny attempts to get loose don’t deter him. Although I’m not light, his inhuman strength has him half dragging, half carrying me into my bedroom, and he throws me on the bed, covering my body quickly with his.

A heavy slap to my face stuns me, and for a second I see stars. He lifts a little and I don’t register what he’s doing until he’s got a wicked looking sharp knife in his hand.

Is he going to kill me? Try to rape me. “Pete, you don’t want to do this.”

With a painful grip on my hair, he forces my head back and puts his knife to my neck. “I’m just going to give you what you were begging for all the time I was living here. You asked for this, Darcy. You were flirting with me.”

My mouth drops open. “Pete, no. You’ve got it wrong.”

“Then why else did you invite me to stay? Relax, Darcy, and I’ll show you what you were missing. After you’ve had me you’ll never want to let me go again.”

Oh yes, I will. And he’s not having me.

He’s lying across my legs, too heavy for me to move, but I haven’t stopped struggling. I’m not going to allow him to take this from me. He’s laughing at my puny attempts to get him off me.

I’m a fucking firefighter. Muscular and fit. But he, he…. Much larger than me and driven by drugs, it’s nothing for Pete to overpower me. I’m at the mercy of a madman, irate and wound up. In direct contrast, my scissors might not have worried him, but the knife that he’s holding certainly concerns me.

I try to buck him off, but that blade comes straight back to my neck. “God help me, Darcy. If you don’t keep still, I’ll cut you.”

The look in his eyes shows me he means business. I swallow, unsure what to do as he leans over me, using his weight to keep me down, and he starts to cut off my clothes. I want to struggle, to protest, but I’m wary of that blade slicing my skin.

Talk him down. It’s the only thing I can do.

“Pete.” My voice comes out too shaky, so I try again. “Pete, you wanted to talk. Let’s talk then, shall we?”

He sits back on his heels between my bare legs, a tight grip on my ankles to keep them in place, allowing me to feel the cold steel of the blade he’s still gripping against my skin. The last item of clothing he hasn’t yet sliced off are my panties, and for now they’re a barrier I want to preserve.

“I think we’re done with talking, don’t you?” He’s eyeing me like a piece of meat, licking his lips, and, oh Christ no, having shifted up, his ass now trapping my legs, he puts his free hand over the crotch of his jeans and he’s fondling his cock through the denim, his other still waving the knife threateningly.

“You’re right, Pete. We could have been good together, I just didn’t give you a chance.” I lie. “We could try again. You can move back in.”

His head cocks to one side. Am I reeling him in? But his next words chill me to the bone. “But I’m moving in anyway. Oh, no, pet. I’m not going anywhere again. First I’m going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.” The knife flashes once again, and the last barrier between us disappears.

“You don’t want to do this,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice reasonable, while inside I’m screaming. “You’ve already got a charge for assault with a deadly weapon.”

“Oh, my lawyer got me out of that. Said those biker scum friends of yours were lying. The gun wasn’t registered, no proof it was mine or that I fired it.”

That’s not what the forensic evidence shows. He’s totally lost it. But the police released him.

I try pleading with him. “Look, we were friends. Let me up and we’ll talk about this.”

“I’m done with talking. Seems I’d do better to show you how good we could be together instead. One taste of my dick and you’ll want more. But keep fighting, Darcy, you’re making me hard.”

Good together? He’s delusional. But Jesus, he’s opening his zip, and now he’s stroking his naked cock, pre-cum leaking out. I close my eyes to shut out the picture, now ignoring the knife, thinking being cut can’t be worse that having him violate me, I start struggling.

Suddenly I’m pinned to the bed by his heavy weight and I open my eyes to see him looming over me. I’m still thinking this is it, but he’s opening the drawer by the side of the bed.

“No condoms? What woman doesn’t keep condoms?”

“This woman.” Will that stop him?

“Used them all up, more like. With all the men you’ve had going in and out of this house over the past week or so. Proper little whore, aren’t you? Couldn’t even stay faithful. I’m going to remind you how much better than them I am. No matter. I’ll just take you bare.”

Bare? A drug addict who might well use dirty needles.

I breathe in, tensing my muscles, and then push as hard as I can, but my efforts don’t even budge him.

He laughs, a high-pitched giggling sound. “Oh, keep moving like that. This is going to feel so good when I’m inside you. I’m going to get the ride of my life, I can tell.”

“Nooo!” I scream as loud as I can as he lines himself up.