Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (27 page)

After trudging up the gentle little river for about half a mile, they headed toward the far shore, just some ten yards away. The water was deeper in the middle, and they actually had to swim, which they did with a great deal of clumsiness. Holding Pam's head above water was now of secondary importance, as they fought for their own survival. She took a deep breath and tried to stay relaxed as they dragged her clumsily along with them, her head mostly underwater.
Not so good at swimming, eh boys? I'll remember that!
she thought, cataloging any advantage she may have, however slim.

Upon reaching the other side, they all took a few minutes to cough and splutter. Pam lay still, pretending to have drowned. The man who had hit her with the stone grabbed her painfully by her cheeks with his large, rough hands to check to see if she were breathing. She gasped, and spat on him for effect. He growled something incomprehensible, then let her go. Pam took this opportunity to make a quick study of the surrounds. They were at the bottom of a steep, root-choked bank. It would be tough going no matter how you sliced it, and she could see that her captors were nearly exhausted. The slog upriver against the current, however mild, had garnered a heavy tax on their remaining energy. Pam, on the other hand, had used the river as an opportunity to rest and refresh. Right now she was at the peak of whatever strength remained to her on this long, terrible day. Adrenalin began to course through her body, a good feeling, filling her with a crazy kind of courage. Terrain like this was second nature to an experienced birdwatcher and naturalist like herself, she had scrambled up far worse in search of sightings. She allowed herself the tiniest of grins.

The men started to climb through the maze of hanging tree roots, dragging her along the first few feet with much trouble. Pam then allowed them to see that she had come around somewhat. She moaned pitifully, not all an act, and began to grab for handholds on her own. She had to, in any case. If they should let her slip from their grasp, it would surely mean damage to her, a fall down this dangerous a slope with her injury might even prove fatal. The men loosened their grip, and watched her to see if she could actually climb. She did so, slowly, and with frequent moans of pain, bringing herself to a level where her feet were above their heads. Satisfied that she could make it on her own, they followed, none of them showing much aptitude for the exercise, faces gray with exertion and the fear of falling. Without their realizing it, Pam was now two arm lengths above them.

They had made a big mistake. They had greatly underestimated her. Pam's ruse was paying off.

Being much lighter, and well-versed in the art of tree climbing, the course was a lot easier for Pam than for the big, clumsy men. She looked down to see that she was now well out of the reach of all four of them. There was still a good six yards of hard climbing to go. With a happy grunt, Pam kicked it into overdrive, making her way up through the tangle of roots at more than twice the speed of her former captors. Don't throw me into that briar patch, Brer' Fox! She almost broke into a whistled chorus of
ZippityDooDah
, but decided to save her breath for her eminent escape. Having noticed her sudden rapid progress, the men became alarmed, shouting at her to slow down, or a least that's what she assumed. Whatever they said, it sounded like it was in French, and she was going to ignore it anyway.

She reached the top far ahead of them and laughed aloud, exhilarated. Yes, her head hurt from the sudden burst of activity, but the fizzing adrenalin allowed her to ignore it. Pam looked down to see four very angry faces, now about three yards below her. She noticed a couple of decent sized rocks at her feet.

"Should I?" she asked herself aloud in a slightly delirious tone. "I should." She picked the first rock up, a heavy fellow, twice the size of a softball, and carefully aimed it at the sweating face of the man who had knocked her out last night. "Payback's a bitch!" she shouted as she heaved the thing straight down at him with all her strength. He was able to dodge slightly, instead of a hit square on the nose it glanced off of his cheek with a satisfying crunch, and then slammed into his shoulder. He yelped, and lost his grip, falling back down to the river bank with a thud. Now she had the second rock in her hand, a bit smaller, but with some nice jagged edges, and hurled it down at the next bad guy who happened to be closest. He had ducked his down face against the bank to protect it, so the rock hit him smack dab in the back of the head. A deep, ragged wound filled rapidly with blood as it fell away. The man's hands went limp, and he slid downward, managing to land hard on top of her first victim.

Her two remaining foes were in terror of her now, and were climbing back down as fast as they could. Pam reached down and shook the dangling, vine-like root one of them was hanging onto. This happened to be the man she had hit on the hand the other day, which she could see was still bruised and sore. Her sabotage had the desired effect, he lost his hold, falling in a tumble, then rolling across the narrow shore all the way into the river. She frowned to see that all three of her victims were still moving. She had hurt them, but not killed them.
Too bad.

Before she could arrange a treat for the fourth man, he had reached the bank's bottom while keeping his feet. This was "mister-stick-in-the-ribs," who had been spared having to carry her, and still had a bit of moxie left, despite his injury. He shrieked at her with bare hatred as he worked open a tightly sealed canvas bag. Pam called down to him in a mocking tone, "Don't fuck with Captain Pam! Haha!" As she took a moment to gloat and catch her breath, the man pulled out a very large and deadly looking downtime pistol. He began to load it as quickly as he could, cursing throughout. It was time to go!

"Sorry, can't stay!" she called back as she began to run through the forest. The going was a bit rough here, the kind of underbrush that loved the dampness near a river impeding her progress. She headed downstream, in what she was pretty sure was an easterly direction. Realizing she was going to hurt herself trying to make speed through this kind of terrain, she veered away from the bank into the woods. The forest floor opened up somewhat, but also grew steeper, she was on the side of another very large hill. Behind her, she could hear the shouts of her would-be kidnappers, rallying. They were down, but not out for the count. They would be following her, soon.

It was getting dark, which may or may not be in her favor, depending on whether they had torches or not; she didn't. Pam realized they still had her rucksack, the very thought of which gave her a stab of emotional pain. Hard to lose, that. After a few more minutes of running through the dimly lit bush, the pain was more than emotional, her head filled with a now familiar, mind-numbing pain. The adrenalin was all gone. This was going to be a problem. She was having a hard time staying on her feet, and knew that she was being careless, leaving a fairly obvious trail. There was just no time for trickery, she had to put distance between them fast, then she could move smarter. That is, if she could move at all.

A wave of dizziness came over her and she fell down, hard against the moss-covered stones of the hillside. She forced herself to breathe deeply, using pure willpower to gain mastery over the pain. This is what she feared might happen, the exertion of her escape catching up with her, allowing her injury to bring her down. She had to keep moving, but running wasn't going to be an option. Tears came to her eyes.

"Think Pam, damn it all, think!" she spoke to herself in the tone her father used to use when she was a kid crying over some little predicament. "Do something about it!" she said, wanting to shout, but keeping her voice low. She knew they were coming, slowly, but inexorably following her trail. If they found her now, whatever happened tonight might be the end of her. She closed her eyes, pushing the pain in her head down, making it bend to her will. She would move now, and she would not pass out!

Getting to her feet, Pam suddenly smiled, a weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. She had gone through her slim catalog of advantages and found something she could use. She knew what to do! Careful to not move too fast, she changed her course, making a beeline back toward the river. She went as quickly as she could, constantly aware that her brain was very unhappy, and wanted to shut down for repairs. She couldn't allow that , she needed it rather badly right now, so it would just have to wait till later to fizzle out again. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard a crashing sound from back the way she had come, far, but not as far as she would have wished. Gritting her teeth and squinting her eyes, Pam continued toward the river, praying under her breath all the way. She fought her way through the underbrush, and finally stood on the bank, looking down at the shadowy water flowing quietly through the dusk. She had to get down, and fast.

The bank wasn't as high here as where they had climbed up, but it was steeper, which was bad. Then she saw that the river looked deeper here, too, a natural pool formed at a bow in its course; that might be good. There were tree branches growing out over its surface, some almost reaching the pool's middle. She knew what she should do, but Christ, she wasn't a kid any more, and she certainly was not Tarzan! Hearing more noise from her pursuers as they drew closer decided her on the matter.

Picking the sturdiest looking branch that also reached the farthest, she shimmied out onto it, lying on her belly with her arms and legs gripping it tightly. It was slippery with moss, but she hung on, literally for dear life. Slowly, slowly, she inched toward the deep water. The noise made by her pursuers was getting louder, they had discovered her new course by now, and were following it. Pure, seething hate for the men who were torturing her so filled her with a surge of energy. Grimacing, she worked her way farther out onto the ever-thinning branch, which was beginning to droop under her weight. Just a little further. A shout came from the hillside above, they were almost on top of her! Pam shimmied faster until the water below was at its darkest shade in the fading light. She held onto the branch with her hands and carefully slid off, lowering her body until she hung with her feet dangling a good twenty feet above the water. Her head pounded, a wave of dizziness beginning to form, she had to let go—now!

The instinctively terrifying sensation of free-fall made her gut do several flips before she hit the water. She went deep, submerging well over her head from the momentum, but mercifully her feet never touched bottom. She started to black out, but another surge of survival adrenaline shot through her. With a strong frog kick she broke the surface, and continued swimming downriver, taking a deep breath and using an underwater breast stroke to carry her away from the area, hopefully unseen. She surfaced when she had to, forcing herself not to gasp as she took each precious breath, then went under again. Pam was a very good swimmer, thanks to her outdoorsy girlhood; the hot summer days spent frolicking in the rivers, lakes and swimming holes of rural West Virginia had taught her well.

She made good time, and it wasn't too long until she had swum around the bend, her passage now hidden from her point of entry by a grass-covered, sandy point. She paused to listen, and heard angry shouts from upstream. It was fully dark now, and she doubted the men, none of them strong swimmers at all, would dare pursue her in the water. Pam smiled, and moved in a lazy stroke down the deep middle, the cool, soothing water feeling like the hands of angels carrying her to safety. For a while this pleasant thought bore her along in an almost painless state, the gentle music of rippling water became a heavenly chorus of harps, encouraging her exhausted soul to swim on.

Still, she knew it wasn't over. Oh, far from it. She wouldn't be able to continue swimming all night long, the insistent ache still coiled up in her head would insure that, and it wouldn't stay dormant much longer. Even if she could simply float down the river until morning, the water would eventually sap her core temperature, and she might succumb to hypothermia, even here in the mildness of a tropical stream. She would have to leave the safety of the water at some point and continue on land. Yes, she had gotten a big jump on her pursuers, but they would follow, she knew it. She was not out of the woods yet, not even close. She was in trouble of the worst kind. Tears fell from her tired eyes, thick, salty drops absorbed by the blessed river, as Pam continued to swim into the darkness.

****

To be continued . . .

Ein feste Burg

Written by Rainer Prem