Chapter Twenty-Five

Sunny

 

“Ow, that’s too tight!” I faked a wince as Romando wound braid around my wrists and ankles, tying me to the chair.

He didn’t loosen the bonds or grace me with a reply. He treated words like they were kel, and the man was a cheapskate. He’d spoken very little, begrudgingly grunting when he had no other choice. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like me. But I intended to work with that. I’d planned to make myself as unlikable as I could be. Given his aversion to conversation, I’d kept up an unrelenting, steady filibuster.

Before long, he’d beg Darq to take me back.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He finished knotting the braid around my ankles and then moved to one of the cabinets to pull out a kel bag. I spotted a couple of knives before he snapped the lid closed.

“Can I go?” Maybe in the open, I might have a better chance to escape. Thus far, my prospects while tied up inside hadn’t been favorable.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You talk too much. You’ll scare away the animals.”

“What animals?”

He didn’t reply.

“Are you hunting? Are you trapping?”

“Both.”

“I promise I’ll be very quiet,” I said with an ultra-straight face.

“No.”

“How long will you be gone?” How much time would I have to try to work these knots loose?

He didn’t answer.

“You never take me anywhere,” I whined. “It’s work, work, work. We never talk anymore. You’re not seeing anybody else, are you?”

He looked at me like I was insane.

“If you consider me to be your mate, then you should desire my company,” I said.

“I do not desire your company.”

“Then let me go.”

“I will not do that.”

“So, you don’t like me, and I make you miserable, but you’re going to keep me anyway.”

“Darq cares for you. He will mourn for you. What makes my enemy miserable brings me joy.”

“Revenge is a cold companion,” I said. “You were going to get first choice in the next shipment. You could have gotten a female you liked—now you’re stuck with me.”

A flicker of acknowledgement glinted in his eyes before he stomped to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him.

To my dismay, I heard the snow skimmer start up. I’d hoped he’d go on foot and if—when, be positive—I got free, I could ride the vehicle. On the other hand, since he needed a vehicle, maybe he was going far, far away—which could buy me more time.

I counted to three hundred to be more certain he wasn’t coming back to retrieve a forgotten item. The last thing I needed was for him to pop in and catch me trying to escape.

If I could get my hands in front of me, I’d have more flexibility. Doing my best Houdini, I twisted my wrists, trying to loosen the bonds a little so I could work on the knots. Unfortunately, my fingers didn’t bend backward.

“That’s not going to work,” I muttered.

Okay, if I couldn’t move my arms, maybe I could dislodge the chair. If I stood up, perhaps it would slip down, and I could free my arms. I leaned forward, but with my ankles tied to the legs and my arms behind me, my own weight kept me firmly seated.

Plan A and B had failed. On to C. I hoped I didn’t run out of alphabet. If attempting to stand hadn’t worked, maybe falling would. I threw my weight side to side. The chair rocked, left, right. Left, right. A little more... Come on. Over, over…

Splat! It toppled, and I landed on my arm. It felt like I’d been punched in the biceps.

Wiggling and flexing my body, I used my feet to pull the chair away and slipped my arms off the chair back. My wrists were still bound, but my torso was no longer confined to the chair. However, my lower half still was. Have you ever tried to stand without having the use of your arms while your legs are attached to a piece of furniture?

It can’t be done.

I kicked, trying to inch the bands down the legs. The chair back sprang up and thumped me. Kick…smack. Kick…smack.

Finally, one ankle slipped off. With that foot, I pushed the chair off the other. My legs were free! Exhausted, I lay there, panting for a moment then marshalling my strength, I attempted to stand.

Still couldn’t do it.

I cursed Romando in two languages. It seemed like I’d been working at this for hours. I wanted to cry. I did cry. A tear trickled from my eye. Hope sagged.

I can’t do this. It’s impossible.

Suck it up! You can do this. Remember army boot camp? Hiking through the leech-infested, alligator-riddled swamp? Shopping on Black Friday? You’ve survived worse. You didn’t beat the crap out of yourself with a chair to give up now.

Okay, just let me rest.

You don’t have time to rest! Romando could return at any moment. Get your butt in gear, soldier!

Man, I could be a real hard-ass. But I was right. I had to get to my feet.

I drew my knees to my chest and rolled from side to side, rocking harder and harder. Almost…almost…and then the force of motion propelled me onto my knees. I scrambled to my feet and hustled to the cabinet.

I nosed it open, carefully grabbed a knife hilt in my mouth, and set it on the table so I could twist around and grab it with my hands. Kel hide had some give, and all my twisting had succeeded in loosening the bonds around my wrists. However, my fingers still wouldn’t bend the way I needed to saw through the kel hide.

If I couldn’t move the knife against the bindings, maybe I could move the bindings against the knife? A ewer of drinking water rested on the table. It was thoughtful of Romando to leave it for me—even though he’d left me tied to the chair unable to get to it. Moron! Or maybe he’d intended to mock me. Asshole! With my chin, I nudged the ewer to the edge, pulled the cork out with my teeth, and then picked up the knife in my mouth and dropped it handle first into the vessel. About three-quarters of the blade protruded.

Turning my back, I sawed the binding against the knife. I couldn’t press hard because I’d knock over the jug. If the knife fell on the floor, picking it up would require yoga poses I hadn’t perfected yet. How many traps had Romando set? How far had he gone? Time was running out.

I was so close to getting free, the urge to hurry beat like a drum, but I controlled my movements. As the knife sliced through the kel strip, and the cut widened, it formed a groove to hold the knife in place, and sawing got easier and faster.

At last, bindings gave way with a snap.

I threw on my kel. I shoved the knife into a sheath and tossed it into a bag along with some other supplies: a tarp and a length of braid to rig a shelter, some dried meat, a couple of fire-starter stones. I took a big gulp of water from the jug then recorked it and put it in the bag, too. Without knowing where I was or how far I was from my own camp—or any camp—I had to be prepared to spend at least a day in the wilderness.

Hugging my supplies, I ran outside.

Trees, denuded of greenery, their trunks and limbs blackened, stood like dark skeletons against the snow. Visits to the latrine had left footprints, and tracks from Romando’s skimmer led away from the camp. Other than those markings, the ground was unmarred. I had no idea which direction to go, but regardless of my choice, I would leave a trail.

I scowled at the cloudless sky. Where was a good storm when you needed one?

I eyed the skimmer ruts. Hmm…what if I walked in those? If I heard a hum, I could leap into the brush until it passed. Romando wouldn’t expect me to head in his direction. It was so crazy, it could work.

He’d probably set the traps near a water source where animals would go to drink. Most camps were located with easy access to water. So, there was a good chance the skimmer tracks led to a stream, which I could follow to a settlement for help. I could end up in Romando’s camp, but I thought—I hoped!—they wouldn’t re-kidnap me for him.

What other choice did I have? I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t just charge into the woods to perish in the next blizzard. And that’s if I succeed in eluding him. Most likely he’d hunt me down and recapture me.

So following his trail was the way to go. I set off, but I’d only gotten to the edge of the clearing when I heard the hum.

Son of a kel!

The skeletal trees in the immediate vicinity offered no cover, and the greenery beyond was too far away to reach in time. Even if I managed to make it, my footprints would be as good as an arrow pointing the way.

My gaze fell on the outhouse.

He’d look in there for sure.

But, would he look in the latrine?

Oh yuck. It was bad enough when I’d been ignorant, but now that I knew…

It’s my only chance. I reversed and tore down the track, toward the hut then veered off to the outhouse. I ducked inside, shut the door, and peered into the pit. Ugh. There wasn’t much to see, but I knew what was down there.

The hole was much shallower than the one at the meeting place, maybe a meter and a half deep. Sturdy-looking roots poked out of the ground alongside it. If I couldn’t manage to climb out again, I could toss the braid around the roots to help pull myself out of the pit.

Yuck. Yuck.

The skimmer hummed louder, as if it had pulled up next to the hut.

The engine shut off.

I jumped into the latrine.