MissTaken: Ch2

 If you haven't read Chapter one, you may want to start here first.

Also, this page will have links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 2

Jessica continued northward through the night. The going was slow, she had to be cautious in the dim light not to step in holes. She had to be careful of the wildlife as well. Snakes were hunting rodents, and scorpions were out and about as well. What other poisonous, venomous, carnivorous or otherwise dangerous creatures lurked in the darkness? Spiders? Wild dogs? Big cats? And what about plants? Was she likely to stumble through a growth of poison ivy, or poison oak? This wasn’t her stomping grounds; she didn’t know the local flora and fauna.

The sky began to lighten, and a line of red appeared on the horizon, signaling the impending dawn, she crested another hill, and found herself looking down on a small town.

Jessica wasn’t sure if town was really accurate, but that’s the word that came to her mind first. It was a cluster of a dozen or so houses scattered in a clear-cut area, sort of surrounding an open area that might pass as a park. A dirt road passed through the central area as well, leading off in either direction. A few of the structures appeared to be concrete blocks, with tile roofs. Most however were a mixture of scrap wood, rusty metal, and thatch.

Jessica considered the rude little village thoughtfully. It wasn’t much, but it was civilization. Perhaps she could get some food, or at least some clean water to drink. Maybe she could even find a phone to call the police. If there was no phone available here, someone could surely give her directions to get to one. For some reason though, Jessica couldn’t shake off her uneasiness about the place. She worked her way toward the town cautiously, sticking to clusters of trees for cover.

Jess made her way undetected to the edge of the town and watched from a thick growth of brush as the town began to awaken. A young boy emerged from a house, a small dog at his heels. He picked up a stick, and the dog went wild, shivering in ecstasy. The boy threw the stick and the dog raced after it, barking madly. It picked up the stick and thrashed it about for a moment, then raced back to drop the stick at the boy’s feet. As the boy picked the stick up, the dog raced off in the anticipated direction the stick would be thrown. After a few moments, the boy was joined by another boy and two girls, engaged in an early morning game of tag.

A tired looking woman shooed a group of hens out of a doorway with a broom. Two older, weatherworn men greeted each other and sat together on a bench, exchanging stories while sharing a cigarette.

Jessica ducked deeper into the bushes at the sound of a motor approaching. A jeep drove into sight, carrying two men in uniforms. As the jeep stopped, the woman disappeared into her doorway. The passenger exited the jeep and strolled over to the two old men on the bench. He greeted them pleasantly, but the wary return greeting given by one of the old men suggested that this man was known to them, and his pleasant demeanor was a façade.

The reactions of the locals reinforced Jessica’s own misgivings. She tucked her head down, making sure her face was covered, and she drew her arms in front of her, covering as much of the bare skin as she could. She modulated her breathing, taking slow, shallow breaths to minimize any sound.

A man—probably the husband—came out from the same doorway the woman had disappeared into moments earlier.

The uniformed gentleman turned and greeted him. “Carlos, buenos dias! Como esta?” His voice carried as he spoke, as though he intended the whole town to hear.

“Bien.” Carlos walked slowly toward the uniformed man, his gaze wary and hist steps hesitant as though he were approaching a coiled rattlesnake. “What brings you here so early?”

“A young woman is missing. Gringa, about five and a half feet, tan, dark hair with a hint of red. Very pretty girl.”

Jess froze, the man was describing her.

“No gringa’s here” Carlos shook his head slowly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh,” the uniformed man looked down, then off to the side, squinting.  “If you see her, you will be sure to hold her for me? She is the property of Los Caballeros Templarios. They are very concerned that she be returned to them in perfect condition.”  He paused. “I am certain there will be a reward for her safe return.”

He returned to the jeep and moved to climb in, turning back to Carlos at the last second, his brow furrowed in concern, “Of course, if something happens to her, and they think you are responsible …”, his voice trailed off ominously.

The woman, who had returned to the doorway gasped, she wrapped her arms protectively around a young girl about nine or ten years of age. Carlo’s eye’s were wide with terror as he looked to the woman and child, then to the other children.   

The man turned his attention to the two old men on the bench. “Good day gentleman,” He nodded pleasantly, a cruel glint in his eye, as he settled into his seat. His driver started the engine and the jeep continued through the town.

Jessica remained motionless.

“I suppose I should feel flattered. I wonder just how much I am worth to them?” she quipped to herself, in an effort to lighten her mood.

“Actually, it would be helpful to know.” It would give her something to use to estimate how wide a radius they would be willing to search—how many resources they would invest in her recovery. She was within the expanding search radius, and it was unlikely she’d be able to outpace it. However, on the upside, her trek to the town suggested she was in rural area with rugged terrain. Lots of forest and mountains would hamper search efforts and make it easier for her to stay out of site, even with the locals enlisted. The downside: she was ill equipped for an extended trek. Her gear consisted of the clothes she was wearing, and the few sundries she had pilfered from Miguel’s room.

What would the weather be like? How hot would it get here? The temperatures on the coast had been pleasant enough, but she had no idea how far they had been moved. Or in which direction. Still north of the equator she supposed, as the north star was still visible at night. Most likely still in Mexico, but no longer on the coast. Beyond that, it was anybody’s guess. She could probably learn the name of the town with a little sleuthing, yet since she didn’t know the geography of Mexico, it would bring her no closer to knowing her location.

Ixtapa, the town they had been abducted from was in southern Mexico, which was… what? Something like a thousand miles from the US Border? That would take somewhere around a month, assuming the weather was good the whole time, she didn’t have to stop to deal with blisters or other injuries, and she was able to consistently find sufficient food and water as she was going.

Water. The thought made her aware of her dry mouth and parched throat. She was going to need water, soon. She was going to need a way to carry it, and a way to purify it. Food would be nice too at some point, though that could wait a while. A few days, maybe even a week or two, if need be, though that would leave her low on energy, which would affect her strength, endurance, mood, and mental acuity.

She thought of her roommates again. Thus far she had kept a good mental note of direction and distance to return to them. The farther she travelled, the harder that would be.

And how long would they remain at that location anyway? Just long enough to get them ready to sell, she reasoned. A value had been affixed to her; she assumed the same applied to them. They were livestock. They were a product—an inventory to be moved. The longer you held onto it, the higher the cost and the lower the profit. She shivered at the thought of it, but that was the way it was. Simple economics.

Jessica clenched and unclenched her fists in indecision. She couldn’t leave her roommates, she had to help them. She couldn’t help them. How could she help them? She couldn’t….

She couldn’t stay here any longer. She was too close to the village. The kids, or the dog, would inevitably find her if she stayed put. She had to move.

Move where? Where was she? Where could she go?

Her abductors would watch the roads more closely, she reasoned. A college girl partying in a foreign country finds herself abducted. What would she do? Find civilization. Go to the police. So that is where they will look first. Was the guy in the jeep the police? She had no idea what Mexican police looked like. She had heard they were corrupt, that they could be bribed. She was advised to keep bribe money in her wallet just in case.

A friend had told her about visiting Mexico the year before. On the way back to the airport, they were pulled over and accused of speeding, her friend was certain the car they were in wasn’t capable of exceeding the posted speed limit. The police officer told her friend they would have to come to the station, fill out forms, go to court… It would be very expensive. Two twenty-dollar bills exchanged hands, the police left, and her friend made it to the airport just in time to catch his flight.

“Hey, God,” she said softly, glancing skyward as she moved through the brush, away from the village. “I am in a real pickle right now. I am feeling awfully alone, and I don’t know what to do. I’d really be grateful if you could give me a little guidance—point me in the right direction. And please, look after my roommates. I don’t see how I can help them, but I know you can.”

She slowly turned about, facing every direction briefly, hoping for some inspiration or impulse to guide her choice.

Nothing.

She looked back to the town. That would be the place to find supplies. It wasn’t very big, less than a hundred people. Not likely she could keep her head down and go unnoticed. Besides, she had no money, and even though her circumstances were dire, she still wasn’t keen on the idea of stealing.

Rustling sounded in the brush behind her.

She ducked into the thickest brush she could find. A young boy shuffled into view, eyes searching the growth around him.

“Gringa?” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, looking around guiltily, “Are you there?”

Jess watched him uncertainly. How had he seen her? She had been so careful. He looked to be no more than 10 years old. A stick of a boy, with a thick head of straight, dark hair.

“Gringa?” He whispered again, looking around nervously, “I have food for you.”

Cautiously she emerged from her hiding place. “How did you know I was here?” She asked.

“Abuela,” He shrugged, “she said you were here, she told me to bring you this sack, and to make sure nobody sees me.”

“So… you won’t tell anybody you saw me then?”

He furrowed his brow. “Abuela would kill me.” He held the sack out to Jessica.

“How did your… Abuela know I was here?” she asked as the took the sack from him.

The boy shrugged again. “She knows almost everything. He turned and walked toward the village. “Good luck gringa.”

“Gracias,” She called out to him softly. He didn’t look back. He returned to the village and resumed playing as though nothing happened.

Not wanting to take chances, Jessica hurried quickly away from the village—south, more or less—back the way she came. After several minutes she changed direction, moving west, then northwest, to circle the village. Her selected destination was a taller, heavily forested mountain nearby. She reasoned the thick vegetation and rough terrain would prevent vehicle travel, and she hoped that from that vantage point, she might be able to see something which would give her a clue as to where to go, or what to do.

Travel was over rolling ground, with trees growing in thick clusters, separated by areas of grasses. She remained in the trees when possible, and she sprinted in a crouch across open areas when there was no other option. Twice she had to cross narrow roads. Checking carefully for anyone who might be able to see her, she would sprint across and drop to a crouch in the bushes on the opposite side, listening for any indication she had been discovered. Satisfied that her crossing went undetected, she continued onward.

By noon, she was in heavy forest, which appeared to go unbroken now, all the way to the top of the mountain.

She paused at the base of the mountain to rest her legs. Her head ached. How long had she been awake for now? Apart from an hour or two of drug-induced unconsciousness, she guessed it was close to thirty hours since she last slept. That would explain the light-headedness. Her sweat-soaked t-shirt clung unpleasantly to her body. Her exposed arms were sticky with sweat and streaked with dirt. They were covered in small scratches from branches.

Jessica opened the small sack and examined the contents. A loaf of bread, a bottle of water, and a shawl. She broke off a piece of the bread and chewed on it. It had a nice aroma, a hard crust and a spongy middle. It must have been freshly baked that morning, or the night before. The bottle was a typical plastic bottle. The seal was broken. She stared at the water. It looked clean, but there could be parasites in it. Reluctantly she set it aside.

The shawl could help protect her bare arms and neck from the sun but would probably be too hot to wear. It might come in handy if temperatures dropped at night.

Jess examined her arms; she could see redness of the early stages of sunburn. She needed to do something about that right now. She retrieved the bottled from the sack again, opened it, and poured a small amount on the dirt at her feet. She mixed the dirt and water with her fingers until it was a thick mud, which she spread over the exposed skin of her arms, neck, and face.

Jessica shook her head to clear a wave of dizziness that passed over her. She was beginning to feel the effects of forgoing sleep the previous night now. She would need to find a safe place to rest. She needed to keep a clear head. Sleep would be crucial.

She closed the sack and continued onward, moving carefully through the thick vegetation. She planned to reach the summit a few hours before night fall, giving her a chance to survey the surrounding area, and plan her next move.

The going was slow, the vegetation was considerably thicker and lusher than the high desert areas she normally hiked with her family. She had covered hundreds – maybe thousands of miles of Utah desert land over the years. Hiking and camping had been part of her life as far back as she could remember.

Halfway up the mountain, she paused to catch her breath. Glancing at the sky through the canopy, she caught a glimpse of the sun. It was lowering already. She bit down on her lip and gazed at the forest in front of her. The chance of her making the summit by nightfall was slim.

Jessica abandoned that effort and began the search for a safe place to sleep. What would be safe here? The area was teeming with life. She had been listening to the cacophony of bugs, birds and who knows what else most of the day. No doubt activity would pick up at night as the various nocturnal dwellers awakened.

The forest had been mostly oak trees. As she climbed higher, there were increasing numbers of pine and fir trees. Not the skinny lodgepole pines she was accustomed to, these were large trees with wide bases, bunched impassably close together. She selected a particularly imposing grouping of such trees which would provide cover and restrict the movement of larger predators. Using the SOG, she began hacking off several smaller branches. She moved enough greenery to create an entry to the base of one of the largest trees in the grouping.  Ants scurried up and down the trunk.

Fire ants? She had heard of them on the news and knew they could be deadly but had never seen them. The news reports had been From Texas, would southern Mexico’s climate support them? Even if they weren’t fire ants, they’d be poor bedmates.

Better find a different place.

She moved to a smaller cluster of trees. Pushing in among them, she found a small clearing. It was mostly bug free. The trees, while smaller were still large enough and thick enough to impede the passage of larger creatures, she thought. Cutting more branches and using the smaller pieces of rope she had taken, she fashioned a very rough, very makeshift lean-to shelter. It wasn’t as good or sturdy or protecting as the ones she and her brothers made when then were camping out on the ranch, but it would serve. She cut several younger boughs and laid them in the bottom to serve as a bed.

Now, what to do about nighttime critters? Fire was a good critter repellant. It would also be a great beacon for anyone looking for her. The surrounding trees might provide a sufficient screen.

Jess poked at the earth with the tip of the knife, testing how easy it would be to excavate. The blade slipped though the ground easily, so she kept going, an idea forming.

She would build what Grandpa Hansen called a Dakota fire hole.

He had showed her how to build them once on a hunting trip. The fire would burn nearly smokeless, and the light would be difficult to see, even from quite close. She had asked how he learned to make it, and he had mumbled something about Indian lore learned from the pioneers and passed down through the generations. That meant it was probably something he had learned, or at least used during the war and didn’t want to talk about it.

She hurriedly dug a hole, roughly a foot in diameter and a foot deep. She then moved a foot away and dug another hole, this one a smaller tunnel, angling down to connect with the first hole at the base. She gathered some dry pine needles and small twigs and placed them in the bottom of the larger hole. Scouring the surrounding area, she found several larger, dry twigs which she broke to uniform, one-foot lengths. She constructed a tee pee in the hole, centered over the pile of twigs and pine needles. The needles and small twigs were the tinder – they would catch fire and burn easily. They would generate enough heat and flame to catch the larger twigs – the kindling - on fire, which would then catch larger logs on fire. She collected and cut a few chunks of wood for this purpose, trying to estimate how many it would take to keep the fire going through the night.

Now she needed a way to start a fire. No problem, she had built fire bows before with her dad. She selected a couple of chunks of wood with flat surfaces, and one straight, dry stick roughly one foot long and a little thicker than her finger. She cut a sturdy, but slightly flexible branch, and tied a piece of the smaller rope to each end, like a bow with a loose bowstring.

Jessica used the knife to dig a small divot in the larger piece of flat wood, then dug a similar divot in the smaller piece of wood. She chopped at the edges of the smaller piece, taking off sharper bits and shaping it until she could hold it comfortably in her hand.

She cut a point on one end of the stick and placed the point in the divot on the larger piece of wood. She then looped the rope of the bow around the stick. Gripping the smaller, flat piece in her left hand, she placed it on the top of the stick, with the end in the hole she had carved. She gave a few experimental draws of the bow. The looped rope rolled roughly, turning the stick. A few more practice-draws, and Jess began to increase the speed.

The friction wore the ends of the stick and the divots, so the stick moved more smoothly, spinning clockwise and then counterclockwise as Jessica drew the bow back and forth. Before long, small tendrils of smoke began to appear where the stick and divot met. She continued to draw the bow as the smoke increased. In the dimming evening, she could see a small red glow. Quickly she tipped the board, knocking the glowing embers onto a file of dried pine needles and dry grass she had prepared. She scooped up the pile and the embers and gently blew on it. More smoke appeared. The embers glowed brighter with each breath, then between one breath and the next, a flame appeared. She carefully blew a few more times at the base of the flame, feeding it more oxygen, then dropped the burning mass into the hole.

The wood in the hole caught fire, drawing oxygen through the tunnel.

Jess pulled the plastic bottle full of water out of the sack and examined it. She removed the cap and gently squeezed the bottle until the water was right to the rim. She replaced the cap tightly. Examining the bottle once more to be certain there was no air left in the bottle, she placed the bottle into the fire hole.

Her dad had boiled water in a paper cup once.

“The water reaches a temperature of 100 degrees celsius and stops,” he explained. “Paper doesn’t burn until over 200 degrees celsius. The water keeps the paper from reaching that temperature, so the water boils, but the cup doesn’t burn.”

Sure enough. The top of the cup burned, right down to the water line. And that was it, the water boiled in the cup. Jess didn’t know the melting temperature of the plastic, but she was confident it was higher than the boiling point of the water. She would leave it in for an hour or so—that should make it safe to drink. Maybe she’d leave it overnight. Couldn’t be too careful.

In the last bit of evening light Jess gathered a few more handfuls of wood to keep the fire going through the night. She ate another piece of bread, and then tied the sack in a tree away from the lean-to. So as not to invite any hungry critters that might smell the bread directly to her bed.

She would have to do something about water tomorrow. That would need to be top priority. She would need about a gallon of water every day to stay hydrated. She laid down under the lean-to and fell asleep.

She dreamed of the day she left for college. Her car was loaded, and she was hugging each member of her family. Joseph, her sixteen-year-old brother was of two minds. He was sad to see her leaving, but he was also eager to move into her room. Thirteen-year-old Sam and twelve-year-old Elizabeth were bickering with each other—they were always bickering.

Five-year-old Emily, her baby sister, was crying.

Jessica hugged Emily close.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” Emily cried.

“I’ll be back to visit, baby,” Jessica reassured her. Emily had been a surprise addition to the family, and since Mom had been diagnosed with cancer not long after she was born, Jess had stepped into the role of mom for Emily. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

The image morphed in the dream. Emily began to stretch, her long, straight, blond hair began to curl and turn flame red. Eyes shifted from blue-grey to emerald green. Her voice became deeper, richer, as she repeated “Don’t leave me!”

It was no longer Emily she was holding. It was Meredith, her roommate, pleading.

“I’ll see you soon—” Jess woke with a start, her cheeks wet with tears, and her promise echoing in her mind.

“Heavenly Father, please help me,” she cried. “Please help me! I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I’m so alone.”

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.