MissTaken: Ch7

    If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend you go to this page which has links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 7

Jessica was awake before the first faint hint of dawn began to lighten the sky. She peered out of the window; the coal-black cat was still there. A panther? She couldn’t remember if they were just in Africa, or if they were a South American creature too. Maybe it was a black jaguar, or maybe panther was another name for a black jaguar.

Oh, well, it wasn’t all that important just now. Quietly, to avoid disturbing the cat, Jessica grabbed the pack and slipped between the seats into the back of the VW Bus.

“Mer,” She whispered, shaking her, “Sarah, time to wake up.”

Both girls groaned.

“Hey,” Jessica said as she gently shook the other two girls, “time to wake up, we need to go.”

It took several minutes and a considerable amount of shaking and urging to get the four girls to a semi-awake state. Merideth looked out of the van windows with glassy eyes. The second her gaze fell on the large cat, she sat up, her spine ramrod straight and her mouth agape. Her eyes now wide and clear, she gasped and pointed. “We can’t leave the van! There’s a lion out there!”

“Perhaps not fully sober,” Jessica said to herself, reconsidering her evaluation of her friend’s state.

“Don’t be silly Mer,” Jessica said, without looking up from her examination of the pack “This is Mexico, not Africa.”

The dark-skinned girl gasped, fully awake as well. “Pantera,” she hissed. All four girls were awake and panicking.

“Aah, so a panther then?” Jessica asked in a barely interested tone.

“The four girls ignored her, all talking at once, to everyone and no one.”

“It’s. Just. A cat!” Jessica said, raising her voice and cutting off their gibbering. They all stopped and stared at her, as if unsure they had heard her correctly. “It’s just a cat,” she repeated, softer this time. “They chase mice, play with string, lay around a lot…”

“Uhh, Jess,” Meridith said, “pretty sure that is a deer. It’s definitely not a mouse.”

“Yeah, it’s a deer.’ Jessica glanced out the window. “A bit bigger than a mouse, but not that much different. A rodent really. They sneak around at night, get into your garden, damage your trees. They’re a bigger, more destructive …tastier rodent.”

All four girls stared at her, brows furrowed, trying to decide if she was teasing them, or if she had lost her mind.

“Look,” Jessica continued, “It was out hunting last night, it has a nice, big, tasty snack, so it’s probably ready for a nap. It has no reason to chase after us. We are going to get out of the van on the opposite side, and we are going to walk slowly toward the river over there while staying close together. We aren’t going to go near the big cat, we aren’t going to stare at the cat, and we aren’t going to run. It may be big, but it is still a cat, if we aren’t threatening it or it’s meal, and we don’t look like we might be fun to chase, it won’t have any reason to take any interest in us, okay?”

Jessica opened the side door and stepped out. She paused for a moment, then turned, addressing the two strangers. “Oh, by the way, hi. My Name’s Jessica, Jessica Hansen. My friends call me Jess. She extended a hand to the blonde, who was the closer of the two.

The blonde girl stared at her hand for a moment, then up to her face. Her eyes hardened and she lifted her chin proudly as she stepped from the van. “My name is Alyona Kostenko”, she said. She stared challengingly at Jessica as though inviting a confrontation.

“Alyona,” Jess repeated, grabbing Alyona’s hand and shaking it vigorously, “pleasure to make your acquaintance! Love your accent! Where are you from?”

“Ukraine,” Alyona responded tersely, maintaining her posture of challenge. She was a full head taller than Jessica, and by her grip and her stance, this fashion model of a girl could hold her own, if it came to a fight.

“Ukraine? You’re a long way from home! How’d you end up here?”

“Long story,” she quipped, “After introductions, perhaps.” Alyona then stepped confidently past Jessica, walking in the direction of the river.

Jessica turned her attention to the dark-skinned girl as she exited the bus. “Hi,” she said with a smile, extending her hand again.

“Leticia Mora,” The girl said, shaking hands with Jessica.

“Habla Ingles?” Jess queried.

“I hear some,” The girl nodded, then smiled timidly, “I speak… no so good.”

“Jessica nodded. You understand we are going?” Jess pointed toward Alyona.

“Si,” Leticia nodded. Then she looked back at Sarah and Meredith, still huddled together in the van. Timidly, they climbed out to join the others.

Jessica smiled reassuringly. “Let’s go.” She said, gesturing with her head. She started forward, and the other three followed.

Jessica could feel a palpable rise in collective anxiety as they moved to where the van was no longer between them and the panther.  She slowed her pace slightly and moved to the side to place herself between the cat and the three girls.

“Just keep your eyes on the river and keep walking,” she said. “Let me worry about the kitty cat.” The three girls quickened their pace, closing the gap between them and Alyona. Jess glanced over her shoulder. The cat lay with its front paws wrapped around the small deer carcass. It eyed her with a look of half-interest, its tongue lolling out, almost like a panting dog.

Alyona stopped at the edge of the river and turned to watch the progress of the others. “Where to from here?”

“About twenty feet farther down,” Jessica pointed, “where that slide of rock runs right into the river. We’ll cross the river there.

Alyona looked at her dubiously, then at the river. “The other side is rock, maybe taller than me.”

“Yup,”

“Ten feet farther down is sand. We can just walk out.”

“We could,” Jessica agreed, “but we’d leave a trail.”

“You think they will try to find us?”

“Yup. Probably find the van later today.” Jess stepped gently on the loose rock, so as not to disturb it, and made her way down to the water’s edge. She took off her shoes and socks. The water was relatively clear, and the bottom seemed smooth and free of sharp objects. “Doesn’t look like we’ll get more than knee deep. I’d recommend you keep your shoes and socks dry. Less likely to get blisters that way.”

Alyona arched an eyebrow. Then, shrugging, she pulled off her heels and stepped gingerly into the water.

Jess took note of her other companions’ footwear. Their shoes were all of the semi-provocative variety. Unlike Sara and Meredith, the shoes Alyona and Letecia were wearing must have been supplied by their captors, judging from the poor condition and fit. Still, even the best fitting heels were no good for back-country hiking.

Although the slow-moving section of water was no more than 20 feet wide and got only slightly deeper than mid-calf it took a long time to cross. The other girls moved slowly, halting often to probe the smooth rocks and occasional squishy spot of mud. Up ahead, Meredith froze, every muscle in her body tensed as she stared at Jessica over her shoulder with petrified eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica asked.

“Something touched my leg.” She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gosh, what if it’s a leech, or a piranha, or… or a crocodile?” Sarah whimpered, searching the river.

“It’s none of those things.” Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was more than likely a leaf.”

Meredith didn’t look convinced. “But—”

“Meredith, keep moving. You’re fine, I promise.”

Meredith grimaced, but she lifted her foot and continued across the river.

Jessica sighed. One crisis averted, how many more would she have to face? Hopefully they’d all be as minor and easy to solve.

 They stopped under the small cliff face on the other side as Jessica assessed it. It wasn’t really that daunting—maybe one foot higher than she could reach with her feet flat.  She turned and appraised Alyona. Then, she turned to Leticia, “You know how to tie a good knot in a rope?”

Leticia nodded affirmatively.

“Okay,” Jessica pulled a length of rope from the pack, “I have a rope here. If Alyona and I boost you up, do you think you could tie it off to a sturdy tree and throw the end down to us?”

Another nod.

“Give your shoes to Meredith. She’ll toss them to you once you are up.”

Jessica looked at Alyona as she positioned herself at the base of the rock. Alyona moved forward beside her and bent her leg slightly creating a stepping point. With help from Alyona and Jessica, Leticia climbed from knees to hips to shoulders. The two then used their hands under Leticia’s feet to push her up onto the top of the rock. She disappeared from view for a minute, then they heard a grunt, and a rustling of leaves. A bundle of rope appeared, uncoiling as it dropped, the end coming to a stop about three feet above the water.

Meredith tossed Letecia’s shoes up to her, then one by one, they each tossed their own shoes up to Leticia.

“Sarah, how about you go up next?” She glanced at her friend and performed a double take, frowning. Beads of sweat dripped down Sarah’s forehead, and her face was pale with dark circles beneath her eyes.

“Sarah, are you okay?”

“I think so,” Sarah responded feebly.

“Withdrawal.” Meredith eyed her with compassion. “They’ve been drugging us for the past several days. Heroin, probably. We are all likely to be a mess in the next day or so. Hope you have a good hiding place in mind, not too much farther from here.”

“I’m okay,” Sarah insisted unconvincingly, her voice weak and her legs unsteady. She took the rope, preparing to climb.

Alyona stepped next to her and braced her knee again.  “I’m easier to climb than rock wall, save your strength.”

Jessica braced herself on Sarah’s other side, smiling encouragingly. “Nice and easy.”

Sarah struggled, but, with the help of Jessica and Alyona from below, and Leticia from above, she managed to get onto the Rock. Meredith followed her.

Jessica bent, extending her arms down and interlacing her fingers to form a step, “Your turn, Alyona.”

Alyona Placed one foot on Jess’s hands. She reached as high as she could and grabbed the rope. Then, kicking off Jessica’s hand and pulling at the same time, she launched herself up. She released with one hand and placed it on the top of the rock. Her knees connected with the flat of the rock and she smoothly shifted forward and up to her feet, all in one smooth graceful motion, like an Olympic gymnast.

Jessica removed the rucksack from her back and tide it to the rope. She instructed the girls to raise it. They quickly did so, then the end of the rope returned.

Jessica took a deep breath, exhaled, wiped her hand on her hips, then reached up and grabbed the rope. Jumping would be less effective, as she would have to launch directly out of the water. Instead, she placed one foot against the rock, leaned back, then placed the other foot.

“No, no!” Alyona shouted down, “too much effort! Just hold the rope, and we’ll pull.”

“Okay.” Jess wrapped her arm in the rope and let it relax. She heard Alyona bark an order, then was pulled upward, she walked up the rock wall, then shifted forward at the top placing her palms on the top, Alyona grabbed her shoulder and helped pull her the final distance.

“Thanks.” Jessica said.

Alyona waved her hand. “Which way?”

“Upstream. We’ll stay close to the water, so we can use the trees and bushes for cover.” Jessica gestured with her eyes toward the strip of green. As the forest area they were in thinned, giving way to the rock and scrub of the desert, the greenery marked the river’s path through the otherwise barren hills ahead. She estimated they were a better than a half day’s hike from her base camp at a fast pace. She knew that was out of the question, yet she hoped they could make it before nightfall.

Feet were dried as best they could against clothes and shoes were collected.

“I think we have problem,” Alyona said, holding her shoes in front of her.

“She’s right,” Meredith said, “These shoes can be tricky to walk in on flat ground. They are likely to be lethal out here. Somebody will wind up with a broken ankle.”

“Pass me your shoes,” Jess said, holding her hand out to Sarah.

Sarah passed them to Jessica, who snapped the heel off before handing them back.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s better than walking barefoot.”

The other girls did likewise and slipped the now flat shoes back on their feet.

It was slow going.  The route was rough, with heavy vegetation as they followed the winding, upward path of the river. Sarah needed frequent stops to catch her breath; she was sweating, shaking and feverish. The other girls started to struggle as well as the day progressed.

“How long does withdrawal last?” Jessica asked Meredith later in the day, as they walked side by side through the scrub.

“Several days to a few months,” Meredith said. “Worst of it will be over in a couple days.”

 Jessica looked back at Sarah, who had stopped again and was leaning against a tree.

“I’m worried about her,” Meridith looked back as well. “I don’t know if she will be able to go much farther.”

“Let’s stop here for a few minutes,” Jessica said, “and rest our feet.”

Leticia smiled gratefully as she sat down, her back against a tree, peeled off her shoes and began massaging her feet.

“You were right,” Alyona whispered to Jess, pointing through the small cluster of trees they were presently using for shade. From their current position they could see down to where they had crossed the river from the Volkswagen. Five men stood right about where they had entered the water.

“Everyone get down and stay still and quiet,” Jessica hissed, and the girls obediently crouched beside her. It was noon, and they had come quite a way from their starting point, but it was better not to take chances. An accidental reflection, or a flash of bright color might catch an eye; a careless conversation might carry farther than expected. The men might have binoculars, or a gun with a scope.

She watched the men through the foliage. The men stood close to one spot for a minute, looking around. One of them pointed across the river. The men conversed for a while, and another man pointed downstream. Then, two of the men began to make their way across the river while the other three fanned out into the trees. One of the two in the water waved his arm and then pointed into the water. The second man joined him as the others walked back to the water’s edge.

Jessica’s heart sank. Had he found a patch of disturbed mud? She thought of her climb up the rock face. Her feet had been clean of mud before she started the climb, and surely by now the wet footprints would have dried, leaving no trace. Still, she found herself holding her breath as the men continued across the river, eyes intently searching the water in front of them. They were below the rock face now, searching the bank, and then the water farther downstream.

They turned back to the three on the far bank, and one raised his arms in a gesture of frustration before exiting the river and moving downstream.

So far so good, Jess thought. Although she felt only slight less worried. The smallest thing—a broken branch, a shoe print—could give them away. She had been careful to lead them where the ground was hard, or where there was enough random clutter on the ground that any disturbances they made while crossing would blend in with the rest of the noise.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe we shouldn’t stay here,” Jess whispered, “in case they start searching back this way. Better to get moving now, while we have some distance. If we stay right near the water, and stay low, until we get around that bend, we should be okay. We’ll have the hills for cover after that. We’ll go one at a time, and I’ll go last and try to cover our tracks.”

MissTaken: Ch6

   If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend you go to this page which has links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 6

Jess heard the surprised yell from Marcos, and the sound of scrambling boots on loose rock. Her eyes went wide. “Oh crap!”

Thinking quickly, she released the emergency brake and moved the gearshift to neutral. The van began to roll backwards, and she turned so she could watch out the rear window as the vehicle picked up speed.

“This should be interesting,” she murmured. “What were you thinking Jess?”

The van was gaining speed. She glanced forward as Marcos clamored back onto the road. He was fifty yards or so away. He raced forward, brandishing his pistol. He fired wildly at the van but didn’t connect once.  The van rounded a corner in reverse, and she could no longer see Marcos.

Jessica tapped the brakes to keep the speed manageable on the narrow, winding road. But not so much that Marcos was likely to catch up. It was difficult to maneuver the van in reverse. The high, narrow rear window obstructed her field of vision, making it difficult to time the turns properly. She did her best to hug the uphill side of the road—better to bump it than to go careening over the edge.

She was navigating a sharp inside bend, when she realized there was an abrupt outside bend and a steep drop-off, she hit the brakes hard to shed speed, then released them as she jerked the wheel to make the bend, The left side front wheel, was nearly over the edge, breaking off loose dirt and rocks and sending them tumbling below. The body of the van tilted precariously outward, the right-side wheels almost lifting off.

Jess heaved a sigh of relief as the vehicle moved away from the edge. She continued down the winding road in a backwards descent for another ten or fifteen minutes, but the effort of managing the vehicle in reverse was fatiguing her. She was also becoming concerned about their ex-captors. How much longer before Juan returned with a vehicle? It wouldn’t take long to catch a VW bus, coasting in reverse.

Also, sooner or later they would run out of mountain. Probably sooner than later. The road was mostly following the river, and they were getting very close to the same elevation as the river now. There had been a few brief stretches of level and uphill on the road, but Jess had managed to build up enough speed to coast through them to the next downhill run. However, there was one uphill section that had her worried. Steeper and longer than the rest, it loomed before her in the back window.

The van began its way up the incline, tilting Jess forward in the driver’s seat enough she had to push back against the steering-wheel to keep her back against the backrest. Sky appeared out of the rear window as they neared the top of the hill. They were getting closer, but their speed lessened with every second. They had slowed to maybe five miles an hour as they reached the top and cleared the hump.

Jess exhaled, her shoulders sagging as the van started picking up speed again.

Ahead the road curved with an outside bend to follow the mountainside away from the river. Then an inside bend, then another outside bend. As she rounded the first bend, she looked out the side window at the second upcoming outside bend. The slope of the hill was relatively gradual. Roughly twenty yards down, a grove of oak trees started, and the river was another twenty or so yards beyond that.

She bit her bottom lip. Would rolling over the side work? What if she hit a tree or rolled and crushed them all?  She couldn’t continue to coast forever, hoping for a better opportunity. She maneuvered through the inside turn, applying the brakes lightly to shed speed. Out the back window the next outside bend was approaching. Now was the time to do it if she was going to.

“Hang on ladies!” She shouted. “The ride’s about to get bumpy!”

Jess turned the wheel to the right to follow the bend, then twenty feet into the turn, she spun the wheel hard left. The rear wheels were almost perpendicular to the road when they went off the edge. The bottom of the van scraped ground, then the front wheels reached the edge of the road, Jess straightened the wheels and tapped the breaks. Trying to control the rate of descent down the slope, which seemed considerably steeper now she was on it. She was worried if she gave it too much brake, the bus might just end-over and cartwheel down the hill.

The ground was also bumpier than it had seemed from a distance. The van bounced, tilted and careened its way down the slope as Jess fought the wheel, trying to maintain at least the illusion of control over the bucking vehicle. Her half-conscious cargo, thrown about like store mannequins, were heaped in an awkward pile of arms and legs at the very back of the van.

The trees were coming up fast. Jessica gritted her teeth and applied more brake, fighting the wheel to guide the van between two large trees, now looming on either side. As she passed those, she pulled hard right to thread between another cluster of large trees. She caught a smaller tree nearly dead center, snapping it off and sending splinters of wood flying. Jessica yelped but fought the instinct to close her eyes as she jerked the wheel to the left, panting under the exertion.  They traveled deeper into the woods, a few lower branches slapping the sides.

There was nowhere left to go. A large tree loomed directly behind; Jess slammed on the brakes. Moments later the back of the van hit the tree, and the van came to an abrupt halt. There were cries, more of surprise than pain, from the tangle of girls. Jessica felt the breath forced out of her, and she was driven into the backrest by the force of the sudden stop.

Jessica lay still for a moment, catching her breath and letting her arms stop shaking from the exertion of fighting the unruly van.

“Is everybody okay?” Jess asked. “Is anything broken?”

The number of distinct groans she heard reassured her that everyone was still alive and conscious. Looking at the pile of arms and legs, nothing seemed particularly out of place, and no blood was visible, so it didn’t appear there were any serious injuries.

She slipped out of the van on trembling legs and braced a hand against the side of the vehicle to steady herself as she looked around. They were fairly deep in the trees, but better not to take chances.

Removing the hatchet from her sack, she hurried to lop off a number of smaller branches and arrange them over the hood and sides of the van, in an effort to camouflage it. Looking up the hill, she could see several small but discernable indicators of their path down the hill. She couldn’t do anything about the dislodged rocks, broken branches and exposed tracks in the softer earth leading to them except pray her captors didn’t notice.

Jessica was arranging the last branch when she heard an engine.

She slipped behind a large tree trunk for cover and peered around. A car came into view around the first outside bend, moving fast and kicking up a large dust cloud behind it. She followed its progress, shifting to keep the tree trunk between her and the vehicle as it advanced, then passed the point where she had left the road. The car continued out of site around the next bend.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jessica returned to the van to check on her companions again. She climbed back into the driver’s seat and peered over the backrest. They all seemed okay—relatively speaking. They were too out of it to be especially coherent, but they had managed to disentangle themselves from each other, so everyone was at least semi-conscious, and arms and legs appeared to be functioning. She’d have to wait for them to sober up to be certain. She twisted in the seat and stuck her head out the driver side window, looking at the sky speculatively. They were probably going to be spending the night here. Oh well. The van was shelter at least.

Jessica began an inspection of the van interior, looking for items that would be of use. She found a couple of empty beer bottles, a half-eaten sandwich, and a pack of cigarettes on the floor of the passenger side. In the glove compartment she found some loose papers, a handgun, two spare magazines, several loose rounds, and a few shotgun shells.

She removed and examined the pistol. It was a dull gunmetal gray with brown, plastic grips. The word “Colt” was engraved on the side, followed by “Super 38 Automatic” in smaller print. To the right of the text was an engraving of a rearing horse. Her daddy had a similar Colt 1911 38 Super, only his was shiny silver, with pearl handles. His was well cared for, whereas this one looked neglected.

She checked the safety, removed the magazine and cleared the chamber, then inspected the gun. The slide seemed to run smoothly enough; The trigger had more play than it should have. She dry-fired the gun. The hammer snapped forward powerfully. There was no holster to be found, so she stuffed the gun, spare magazines and loose shells into her sack.

Jessica crawled between the front seats into the back of the van to continue her exploration. Behind the passenger seat she struck gold. A weathered rucksack lay on the floor. She opened it up and emptied out the contents for inspection: a piece of camo netting, a pair of binoculars, a small first aid kit, a roll of electrical tape, flashlight, Swedish fire steel, and a metal canteen. The canteen was empty but smelled of something alcoholic.

She returned the items to the rucksack and transferred the gun and shells she had just deposited into her bag as well. She slipped the handle of the hatchet into a loop on the back of the rucksack, designed for that purpose. She tucked the arrows into an open side pocket, and the now empty bag into the main compartment of the rucksack.

Jessica peered out the window. The light was fading fast. She crawled back to the front seats and rolled up the two side windows. Back at her camp she would be huddled next to a campfire now, hopefully with something to eat. Since they had the van for shelter, and nothing to cook, a fire was pointless; they were close to the road, and she didn’t want to risk being seen.

A glance over her shoulder confirmed the girls were asleep. She sat in the passenger seat and thought over the details of the dream the previous night.

“I think you should try North instead. I think you will find the hunting more productive,” Her grandma-great had said. Lucky coincidence? Jess wasn’t much of a believer in luck. She adjusted the backrest as far down as it would, settled in as comfortably as she could, and closed her eyes.

“Grandma Dalton,” Jess mumbled, sleep taking hold of her, “If you can hear me, thanks. For rescuing my friends.”

Jess was awakened at some point in the night by a panicked whisper.

“Jess,” Came the hiss from Merideth again. Her words still slurred, but the tone of panic suggested soberness was returning.

Jess snapped to attention at the rustling sounds outside.

“I hear it Mer” She whispered back keeping her voice low. Jess reached into the rucksack and withdrew the pistol. Using it would be a last resort. The report of a fired handgun would give away their position, and her rescued companions were still in no shape to run for it.

The sounds drew closer, the sounds of something rustling through the leaves and grass on the ground. She heard no whispers or footfalls. Slowly, Jessica raised her head in order to peer out of the window. She couldn’t see anything from the passenger side of the van. The sound seemed to be coming from the driver’s side of the vehicle.

The sounds stopped. Jessica tightened her grip on the gun as she flicked her gaze about in the darkness searching for some clue to what was out there.

Jessica lowered her head and slithered from the passenger seat to the driver’s seat. She worked her way up so she could peer out. Still nothing. The small sliver of moonlight passing through the dense foliage provided little help in separating shadow from darkness.

Then she caught a faint movement of blackness against blackness, close to the ground. She looked to the side of the movement, to use her peripheral vision. It helped a little, but not enough to identify anything. Too close to the ground to be a person—unless they were crawling. However, the movement wasn’t right for that. It wasn’t going anywhere. The motion was in place. It reminded her of something she had seen before. A memory of the ranch flashed in her mind. A late evening, with heavy shadows on the northeast facing slope. She was riding a horse, next to her father, looking for a missing calf. He father stopped abruptly and pointed up the slope. In the deepening shadows she could make out the carcass of the calf, being dragged up the mountainside by a cougar. The movement and sounds outside were similar enough to ease her worry. She relaxed her grip on the gun.

“It’s just a big cat, Mer.” Jessica whispered, returning the gun to the rucksack. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Meredith rolled over to sleep, and Jess did likewise.

Grandma Dalton was in her rocker again. It seemed strange, since they were sitting by a campfire, next to an olive green, square, canvas tent. The stars above her were unfamiliar. Beside her, a coal-black cat was curled up, purring softly with an unusually large mouse carcass between her front paws. She examined Jessica with cool, uninterested eyes.

“This is a pretty spot.” Grandma said.

Jessica looked around. It was dark, but she could still make out tall, inviting trees and hear the soft babble of a nearby stream. The grass under her was cool and soft. The air smelled of lilacs and roses. Jessica breathed deeply and sighed.

“Can’t stay though,” Grandma said, her tone stern. “Storm’s a comin’. Need to get moving at first light if we’re to stay ahead of it.”

The cat stretched, yawned, then casually swatted at its prize a few times.

MissTaken: Ch5

  If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend you go to this page which has links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 5

Jessica spent the next few days making rope baskets from the cordage. She coiled and shaped thicker cordage while she used thinner cordage to bind the coils together. She narrowed the openings and added rope handles to a couple of the smaller baskets, so she would be able to use like canteens. She gathered some lumps of pitch and dropped them into the rope jugs with hot rocks from the fire, shaking them about until the rocks cooled. After doing this a few times, she filled them with water and checked for leaks. She repeated the process until she was satisfied the smaller two containers were watertight. The larger container leaked a little bit, but as she intended to use it only to carry dirty water from the river to the cistern, minor leaking wasn’t a serious concern.

Jessica also made a couple baskets by weaving together thin, flexible branches, to be used for storing extra meat or other sundries. She used the last bit of cordage and some sticks to build a basket fish trap. She placed this in the river, hoping to add a little variety to her sparse diet of mostly tiny, somewhat crushed rodents caught in the deadfall traps.

Jessica also spent time working on the bow, adjusting the limbs, and shaping the arrow rest until she was able to hit a two-inch target consistently at twenty yards.

As the sun went down, she decided to try her hand at catching birds.  Many birds would sleep, or at least rest in the trees at night. Maybe she could sneak up on one in the darkness and catch it.

She made her way back to the cluster of trees and discovered the first flaw in her plan. Even with the moonlight, the treetops were shrouded in darkness, making it difficult to pick out the shapes of roosting fowl.

She did manage to locate a few birds, but no matter how slowly or carefully she moved, they always seemed to sense her approach and took flight before she was close enough to make a grab at them.

After a dozen disappointing attempts, she abandoned the effort and returned to camp. She lay down and drifted off to sleep.

“What plans tomorrow?” Grandma Dalton asked. She was in her home again, sitting on the couch, while Grandma Dalton knitted in her rocking chair as in the previous dream.

“I think I’ll head down the draw tomorrow.” Jessica said, “I saw deer sign when I was down there a few days ago, checking the fences.”

Grandma stopped knitting, looked skyward, then turned her gaze to Jess. “You know, dear,” she said, “I think you should try north instead. I think you will find the hunting more productive.”

 “Grandma-great?” Jess was puzzled by this suggestion. “North is higher up into the mountains and high desert. I don’t think I am more likely to find deer there, and with less cover, it will be much harder to get a good shot.”

The old woman returned to her knitting. “You do as you like. But I really do think you should go north tomorrow.”

Jessica woke early the next morning, and in spite of the late night, she felt well rested. “A full belly, enough water and a soft place to sleep,” she reasoned.

She hurried through the morning routine of checking the traps, refilling and sterilizing the cistern, and making breakfast. The traps were empty this morning, but for one rodent a bit bigger than a mouse or a rat. It wasn’t especially tasty, but it was food, and she wasn’t in a place where she could be picky. She needed to start working out some vegetation that would be safe to eat. An all meat diet would get old after a while. The only non-protein nutrition she had taken in over the past few days had been some pine needle tea she brewed, just for a break from drinking boiled water.

Her dream from the night before kept slipping to the front of her mind. She had definitely been in her home, talking to her ancestor. However, the geography of the conversation didn’t fit with anything at home. It did fit with her current geography and plan of action, though. She intended to go south to hunt deer, so the description of “north” in the dream fit here.

Nevertheless, just as in the dream, she couldn’t figure the sense of going north instead of south to hunt and gather more cambium for rope making.

But Grandma Dalton seemed quite insistent that she should go north.

Why? She couldn’t shake the feeling it was more than just a random, meaningless dream.

What if the feeling was her gut trying to tell her something? Was it worth the risk of following the pull north? She really needed to establish a better food supply. It was the next key step in thriving: First shelter and fire, then water, then food, then conveniences.

Without shelter, you could die in a matter of hours. Without water you died in a matter of days, and without food you died in a matter of weeks. Once you were solid on those, the sky was the limit.

She had constructed a primitive “cooler” to store surplus meat in—she had piled rocks at a secluded point on the river to create a circular fence where she could sink any meat in her woven baskets. Water flowed through it to keep it cool and extend its life for a few days, yet fish and other scavengers wouldn’t be able to get in. Not as effective as the ice-cold mountain streams where she spent her summers, but still better than open exposure. Now she just needed a surplus of meat to put in her “cooler”. A haunch of venison would definitely supply that, and it would be considerably more enjoyable than her present rat or squirrel diet.

Using a small piece of rope, she tied the loops of one of her water bottles to her belt. She stuffed her arrows and the hatchet into her sack, gathered it and her bow, and slipped out of the cave. She stood, looking north, then south. She heaved a deep sigh of resignation, shook her head, and turned north to start following the river upstream.

She had traveled no more than an hour when she came to a shallow gravel-bottomed area that was an ideal crossing. The water was clear, and the stones in the stream bed were worn smooth by centuries—or perhaps millennia—of water flowing over them, grinding and polishing them. She took off her boots and socks. While she had the second, pilfered pair of socks, she only had the one pair of boots. The resulting blisters wet boots would likely create were something she preferred to avoid if possible.

She made her way across, gingerly placing each footfall after a tentative exploration with her toes to make certain the rocks she was stepping on were as smooth as they appeared, and that they were solidly in place and wouldn’t slip, revealing unpleasant surprises underneath.

Jessica made a mental note to make a pair of moccasins from some of the animal pelts or cordage, just so she would at least have a backup pair of shoes if hers got wet.

She made it across without incident, dried her feet against her jeans, then replaced her socks and boots. She moved away from the river a bit and continued to parallel it as it wandered in a north-northwest direction. The ground began to steepen and climb in front of her as she moved forward over the rocky terrain, dotted with the occasional squat bush which had somehow managed to send roots into the barren soil and find enough nutrients to survive.

Above her, Jessica saw a high point with a stand of evergreen trees. She could scout the area from higher ground if she made the climb.

It was slow going, the ground mainly slide rock, which shifted treacherously underfoot.

As she neared a crest, she thought she could hear voices in the distance. She stopped walking and listened. The ragged sound of her own panting filled the air around her, muffling any other sounds. She held her breath, and cocked her head, straining to hear. She could pick out two male voices now. They sounded like they were yelling.

Jessica expelled her breath as an icy tingle shot down her spine. Should she turn back? It would mean losing all her progress and needing to start afresh the next morning. A waste of time if the voices didn’t belong to her captors. She needed to at least check the situation out before retreating.

Jess slowed her pace, and moved more carefully over the loose rock, to limit noise as much as possible. She came over the crest onto a dirt road cut into the side of the mountain.

The voices were coming from farther up the road to the north, around a bend.

Jessica crossed the road, hurrying into the stand of evergreens on the other side. Crouching, she slunk toward the sound of the voices. She scanned the trees for any sign of movement, anything that looked out of place, while monitoring the terrain to avoid dry branches or other debris likely to make noise under her footfall.

She plotted her course forward, favoring areas with darker shadow and thicker cover. She was getting close enough to make out words. The two distinct male voices were angry. They were trying to get their car running and were arguing about what they should do next.

“Angel’s gonna be pissed if we don’t have these four to the mine by tomorrow night. He was already threatening to feed us to his dogs for losing the other one, we can’t afford another slip up.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, man!”

Jessica froze. She knew those voices. The first was Juan, the second belonged to the one Juan had threated to kill for groping her. Jess fought to control the wave of panic threatening to overwhelm her. She dug her nails into her sweaty palms and inhaled, counting slowly to five in her head. She held her breath for five counts, then slowly exhaled for ten. She couldn’t afford to crumble now. The hadn’t found her yet. And they weren’t going to. Maybe she could use this to her advantage, by gathering information to stay one step ahead of them.

She willed herself to take another step forward, crouching lower.

“Look, we can’t be more than six or seven miles from Ixlayotla,” Juan said. “I’ll walk to the village and get a car. If we hurry, we can still catch our ride tonight. You stay here and watch the girls.”

“What, you want me to just sit here for hours?”

“Yes, I do. Keep your eyes on the girls, and keep your hands off them. They end up hurt or missing, it’s your head Marcos.”

Jess peered through the branches of the shrub she was using for cover. She saw Juan walking away up the road. Marcos stood, pointing his handgun at Juan’s retreating back.

“Point that pistola at me again, and I’ll cut your hands off,” Juan shouted without looking back. Marcos lowered the gun and kicked at the road, sending up a small dust cloud.

Jess remained motionless, staring at the beat-up van. Were her roommates in there? The image of Meredith from her dream returned. She looked from the van to Marcos who was pacing randomly, kicking at the dirt, and muttering expletives under his breath. He stabbed his pistol at the air occasionally to punctuate a particularly acid phrase. She noted that while he spoke Spanish, he seemed to favor English expletives.

She shifted her gaze from Marcos to the gun in his hand, then back to the van. What was she going to do? What could she do? She looked at Marcos and the gun again.

Jessica considered the bow in her hand. She had taken a four-point buck two years ago. She had located it in a meadow in the early evening when she was getting ready to return to camp. She spent an hour carefully slinking around the edge of the meadow to the downwind side, slipping quietly from bush to bush. She had moved to within twenty yards of the deer when she posted up, drew, and released. The slap of the bow startled the buck, but the arrow had already found its mark. It went cleanly through the buck’s side, hitting the lungs and heart. The animal jumped once in surprise then dropped, lifeless, to the ground.

She was no more than twenty yards away from Marcos. The thought of firing an arrow at a human being, even one as disgusting as Marcos, caused her stomach to twist and her throat to tighten. She could feel the adrenaline shakes in her hands and arms. She had felt that with the deer as well, but then it was with a sense of anticipation. Now it was pure dread.

Marcos kicked at the ground again, muttering more expletives. He stomped across the road, looking down toward the river. He paused mid-curse, staring at something out of Jessica’s view. He glanced around, as if to make sure nobody was watching him, then began to work his way down the slope and disappeared out of site.

 Don’t just sit there, Jess, move, a voice hissed in her mind.

Jessica scrambled forward, uncertain what she should, or could do. The hood was up, and the driver’s side door was open. She peeked at the engine—she couldn’t see anything obvious, but she really didn’t expect to. She had done a little work on tractor engines back home, but she was no mechanic. She had felt pushed by an otherworldly power to move, would divine providence smile on her again? Would the engine start for her, when it hadn’t for them?

Listening, she could still hear Marcos descending. He wasn’t particularly agile, given all the slipping, stumbling and stomping sounds she heard. He wasn’t moving very quickly, yet he was moving farther away. She listened for a minute more to his retreating sounds, then slipped into the driver’s seat. Looking in the back, she could see four girls on the floor, hands tied.

One looked like a native. She had dark skin and dark hair. Her features reminded her a little of native Americans. The second was a tall, striking, athletic-looking blonde with exotic features and full lips.

Her throat caught as she examined the other two. They were her roommates.

“Sarah? Mer?” she whispered. Meredith opened her eyes slowly; she moaned and tried to focus on Jessica.

“Jess?”

“Yeah Mer,” Jess said, “It’s me.”

Meredith tried to rub her face, but her movements were slow and uncoordinated, “Why are you here?” The words came out slurred, a bit like she was drunk, but not quite the same.

“I’m gonna get you outta here.” Jessica said with quiet conviction. She twisted around to face forward. She slipped out of the van, and carefully lowered the hood without latching it, that would have to wait until after they were away.

Jessica slid back into the driver’s seat and checked the radio to make sure it was off. She turned the ignition key one click, lights came on. The battery was probably good, then. She took a deep confident breath, set her jaw, pressed the clutch to the floor and turned the ignition. The starter emitted an unpleasant screech. The engine didn't turn over.

MissTaken: Ch4

 If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend you go to this page which has links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 4

Jessica woke in the morning chilled, stiff and sore. She moved to the firehole, threw some fresh fuel in, and gently blew the embers back to life. Huddling over the fire, she let it warm and loosen up cramped muscles.

A memory came unbidden to her mind, of camping with her family. Of waking in the morning and warming herself by the campfire her father had built—he was always the first one up. She could hear the sizzling of bacon and eggs on the cast-iron griddle and smell the aroma of the bacon mixed with wood smoke. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled.

Jessica shook her head, clearing away the memory.  The pleasant aroma faded, but the pinch of hunger in her stomach remained. She stretched, took a few deep breaths of the morning air, then took a moment to orient herself.

She was at the bottom of a ravine which wound its way down through the mountainous terrain from northeast to southwest. She could see smoke to the northwest, maybe ten or so miles away, beyond the edges of the valley that she could see. Possibly a village on or above the river.  Or maybe a valley or two over. Difficult to tell what the terrain might do between here and there. No road close to where she was though. Nothing could be seen to the south that looked like people. Her exploration did find a better place to use as base camp. Up one of the draws just north of where she had camped was a steep hill, almost a cliff. At one point the cliff turned sharply, and in that corner was a small pocket. It was difficult to see, difficult to reach, and provided good cover, shade, and shelter. It seemed a good spot to lay low for a while.

How long would be long enough? How long before they tired of hunting her? For now, she needed to focus on thriving.

She made several trips back and forth from a wooded area near the water to her new hideout, hauling pine branches and dry wood.

Jessica used some of the branches to fashion a roof in the one exposed opening. This would prevent anyone seeing a fire from above, and it would let any rain run off the edge, rather than pooling in the sheltered area. She used more branches to create a soft bed.

Satisfied with her creations, Jess stepped out of her small pocket in the rockface. She squinted against the burning light. She shielded her eyes form the sun and pursed her lips. In all the excitement over the finding and setting up the new location, she’d neglected to make water her priority. Now she would have to handle that in the midday heat.

Reckless, Jess. How could you forget something so vital?

Unable to wait for cooler temperatures, she made her way down to the river again, bottle in hand. The water was clear, which was good. She filled the empty bottle, then collected one more load of dry wood and returned to the new base camp.

As Jess got a fire going and dropped the bottle in, she realized she needed to come up with a different solution for sanitizing the water, the bottle wasn’t likely to take much more of this treatment.

She peered out of the opening, scanning the area near the river. Dirt, rocks, brush, and trees. What could she do with any of those? She recalled a show she had watched on making clay. Could she do that? She would need to find dirt with good clay in it. Then extract the clay, shape it, dry it. Were there other steps she didn’t recall? How long would it take to find a clay deposit? Would she even be able to identify it on her own?

C’mon Jess, Keep it simple. What else would work? She sifted through other survival tricks she had learned or read about. She remembered a book she’d read explaining how native Americans made dugout canoes, by using fire to hollow out a log to make the sitting area. If it could keep water out, it could also keep water in, right? Fill a small canoe with water and it is a cistern.

Down to the river she went once more, searching for a log. It wasn’t long before she spied a recently felled evergreen tree. It appeared to have taken root on an unstable hillside, which had sloughed off. There were still green needles, but it was beginning to dry out. The base of the tree was roughly ten inches in diameter.

She set to work with the hatchet, clearing away branches, then chopping a section out at the base, she hefted the two-foot log in her arms and made her way back.

The log was too heavy and awkward to carry while climbing to the new hideout. She removed the rope from her waist and tied a loop around the log. Looping the remaining end around her waist, she tied it off. She then began the climb, allowing the rope to drag the log up behind her. She winced as the rope dug into her hips but continued upward. Once she cleared the ledge, she pulled the rope hand over hand to drag the log the remaining distance. Exhausted from the exertion, she lay on her back, breathing heavily.

“C’mon Jess.” she murmured encouragingly after a few moments rest, “You got this.” She needed water. She needed calories.

Using the hatchet Jessica cut away wood from the log to flatten one side, to keep it from rolling. Once she had a stable base, she began chopping at the top, roughly carving out a trough. The going was slow, and the inside was very rough.

She piled the shavings in the trough, and using a hot coal from the fire, she set the shavings ablaze. The fire was hot, she backed away a couple steps and shielded her face with her hands. As the burn progressed, the fire crept up toward the top of the trough. Jessica quickly grabbed a long stick and beat at the flames, keeping the fire back from the edges.

After the fire had burned out, she used the blade of the hatchet to scrape out the burnt wood. The inside of the trough was now deeper, and considerably smoother. She made one more trip to the water to collect a large handful of mud, which she applied to the edges of the trough, to keep them from burning. Then she filled the trough with more shavings and lit them.

She repeated the process again and again, forming a smooth, deep trough. She continued to work into the evening. As the sun set, she opened the bottle she had removed from the fire a few hours earlier and drank deeply. Then she settled down on her pine bed and slept.

Next morning Jessica continued burning, cleaning, and deepening the trough in the log. By late morning, she estimated the trough was large enough to hold a little over a gallon of water. Now it was time to try out another trick her father had told her about on one of their family camping trips.

Jess made several trips back and forth, collecting water in the bottle and pouring it into her wooden cistern. She collected handfuls of smooth, clean, roughly golf ball sized rocks on each trip also, which she piled in the fire. Once the rocks were well heated, she used a couple of sticks to fish a few at a time out of the fire and into the cistern. After a few minutes she removed those rocks from the cistern and replaced them with a few more fresh rocks from the fire. In time, the water in the wooden cistern began to boil. Jessica grinned. It was working. She continued swapping rocks, keeping the water boiling for ten minutes.

Jessica smiled contentedly, giving herself a mental pat on the back. She had a process for producing a gallon of clean water—enough to keep her hydrated for a day. Next, she needed to work out a better way than the little bottle to transport the water. She would waste a lot of time and energy making so many trips to the river every day.

Another wooden cistern or bowl would be easy to make, but it would be heavy and awkward to carry. Jess chewed on her bottom lip as she considered clay pots again. She'd only seen how to do it, and it seemed like a lot of work, and they would probably be fragile.

She recalled seeing a jug made from rope, in a museum once. The placard had explained how they used pitch to make it watertight. She didn’t have enough rope to make a jug with, but she knew how to make rope from trees. She had done that with one of the old ranch hands once. He had stripped the cambium layer just under the bark from a tree and laid it out to dry. A few days later, he separated it into little strands, and then twisted the strands together to make cordage.

Of course, she needed to work out food also. That would probably need to come before more efficient water transport. Then again, perhaps she would be killing two birds with one stone by trekking back down to the oak trees she had gone through on her way to this spot.

A nice straight oak branch could be fashioned into a longbow, and a bowstring could be crafted from some of the cordage made from the cambium layer. She had watched her father and brother do that one summer.

Jessica’s brow furrowed as she chewed on her lower lip. It would take most of a day to get to the oaks. Finding a good piece of wood for a bow stave and collecting cambium would likely consume a day. Three days of walking, with no food, and very little water. She frowned, scanning the horizon.

There were clusters of evergreen trees here and there, just a few minutes’ walk from where she stood. She could collect cambium for cordage from them, which would work as well as oak, maybe better. And she was certain to find pitch on them as well. It would likely be harder to find a good, straight, knot-free piece of would for a bow stave, and the softer wood was almost certain to produce an inferior bow, but perhaps good enough.

She grimaced, frustrated by the indecisiveness she felt. In survival situations, the margin for error was often slim. She didn’t want to make the wrong choice.

She wasn’t even sure what there was available to hunt in Mexico. Probably deer. There were deer practically everywhere in the world, Some form of big cat no doubt, and some type of canine—wolf or coyote of some sort. Deer would be preferable. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of eating dog or cat. She wasn’t in a position to be picky just now, however.

There were probably plenty of smaller critters around as well – rabbits or squirrels or something. Maybe that was the place to start.

She spent the rest of the day building a few primitive figure-four deadfall traps using larger logs or big rocks for the deadfall, and smaller twigs and sticks for the trigger system. It was quick work notching them, and they were fairly easy to set up on worn areas near and leading to the river. She found herself increasingly grateful for her childhood on the ranch, and her father’s broad knowledge of bushcraft.

That night, once it was dark, she threw a handful of green material on the fire to produce smoke. Holding her breath and closing her eyes, she stepped into the billowing cloud to take a smoke bath. The smoke would kill the bacteria that had been colonizing all over her body for the past few shower-less days; not as nice as a hot shower and clean clothes from the dryer, but better than stewing in her own sweaty stench for who knows how much longer. It would also mask her human odors from animals.

* * *

Early next morning, Jessica checked the traps. She found a half-eaten rabbit in one trap, and nearby tracks that looked like coyote. She collected what meat she could and took it back to roast over the fire.

A quick, unsatisfying meal, a big drink of clean water, and she made her way to the nearest cluster of evergreens.

Jess set to work peeling away bark and stripping out large sections of cambium. She was careful to take only one vertical strip from each tree, leaving the bark mostly intact and running the full length of the tree. She didn’t want to kill the trees. 

Jessica was also pleasantly surprised to discover a few oak trees among the conifers. She found a stout, unblemished branch about five feet in length, and roughly as thick as her wrist—an acceptable piece to fashion a bow from.

Jess shouldered the strips of cambium along with the branch, and made a hasty return trip, arriving at her camp just before dark. She stoked up the fire, drank most of the water remaining in the cistern, and spread the cambium out to dry before settling into to her bed, exhausted.

Over the next couple days, the traps provided a couple of unrecognizable, partially eaten rodents. Jess scowled, as she collected the scraps.

“Stupid, lazy, good-for-nothing welfare coyote,” she grumbled as she stomped back to camp to cook the remnants. She ate the meager meal in two bites, and she wondered if she used more calories collecting and preparing it than she received from eating it. This coyote was making her life ten times harder than it needed to be with its opportunistic scavenging.

Jessica worked on shaping the branch into a bow, and on separating the cambium into long, thin strips, which she then twisted together to form cordage. She had to take frequent, short breaks to rest her weary eyes and sluggish fingers. Her mind was less focused with every hour that passed. She tried to keep her movements to a minimum to conserve calories as she worked, but her sparse diet was beginning to take its toll.

Selecting one of the best lengths of cordage, she fashioned a bowstring.  She had also found a few stray feathers in a nest while poking around in trees, and she had managed to locate a chunk of obsidian, from which she had broken off a couple decent, flat, triangle-shaped pieces. Using various shaped rocks, she experimented chipping and flaking off material to put a good edge on the triangles and to add notches at the bases to attach the newly made arrowheads to straight sticks. She used some of the finer cordage she had created to fix the arrowheads and the feathers firmly in place.

 She was able to manufacture a half-dozen satisfactory arrows with the materials she collected. She had a few more arrowheads and there was more obsidian left. Sticks were readily available—straight sticks somewhat less so, but enough time looking would turn them up. Feathers were a trickier problem. She saw birds occasionally, but she didn’t have a good way to catch them. The bow was not the ideal weapon for bird hunting.

Perhaps she could make a sling? She grimaced, remembering the time she had tried using a sling her brother had made a few years ago. Hitting the broad side of a barn required luck—for her at least. She would have to give the feather idea more thought.

For now, she took the bow and arrows out to the open space by the river and made several practice shots at a cluster of bushes, getting a feel for where to aim at various distances. She broke one of her arrows in the process but managed to recover the fletching and arrowhead for re-use.

After an hour or so of practice, she picked a good observation spot near one of her frequently pilfered traps and kept watch as night fell. There was good moonlight, so she had excellent visibility of the trail.

It must have been close to midnight when a rabbit came up the trail, triggered the trap, and let out an abbreviated squeal as the large boulder dropped, crushing the head. The body protruding from the rock convulsed briefly, then went still. Jess remained watchful from her post. Not more than an hour later, a coyote came into view. It made its way boldly over to the rabbit and began picking at it.

Jess nocked an arrow, drew, and fired. The arrow left with a twang, and she made a mental note to do something to dampen the string. An instant later the coyote yelped as the arrow struck. The coyote turned and made to flee; the arrow had struck its hindquarter in a glancing blow, tearing flesh, but not sticking. The coyote stumbled, trying to get its legs, then took off. Jess scowled.

“Oh well,” she muttered, and she walked down to the trap. “At least he’s not likely to mess with my traps again soon.” She collected and field dressed the rabbit, found the arrow, and returned to camp.

She slept well that night after a good, filling meal and dreamt of her home. She was sitting on the couch. Nobody else was there, save an old woman, sitting in an old rocking chair, knitting. She didn’t recognize the chair, but she’d seen the woman in a family history book. It was her three times great grandmother. Or was it four greats? Maybe five? She couldn’t remember. Her father’s-mother’s-something-something.

At any rate, she was definitely great. A frontiersman’s wife, she had lived on the ragged edge of civilization. Her husband had been a scrapper, family lore said he would have his horse walk on his back to loosen up tense muscles. Grandma Dalton was by all counts his equal in sheer strength of will, though not so rowdy, nor short tempered.

“Nice evening.” Grandma Dalton observed, not looking up from her knitting.

“Yes, mam.” Jessica responded. For some reason, she felt the ‘mam’ was important. This gentle, yet solid matriarch deserved respect, though she did not command it. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“How are you feeling?”

“A little tired.” Jess replied, “It’s a lot of hard work—lots to do around the farm.”

“Yes, dear, it is” Grandma Dalton looked her over critically. “Hard work keeping a house in order. You should get some rest child.”

“Yes, mam.”

“Off to bed with you, and don’t forget to say your prayers. Don’t let yourself get so busy running about that you forget to talk to God.”

“Yes, mam.”

As soon as Jessica woke the next morning, she got on her knees. “Dear God, I’m sorry I haven’t been taking time to pray lately. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. I promise I will do better. Anyway, thanks for all your help. Thanks for that snake when I needed food, and for that perfect branch I made my bow from.”

Jess paused, “Please bless my family and let them know I am okay,” she paused again, “and please keep my roommates safe,” she whispered. She tried to find the right words to ask for a way for them to escape, her mind turning over a dozen implausibly miraculous scenarios, she finally settled for, “Please help them, Amen.”