Sweet Seduction Shield (42 page)

My heart
thundered in my chest. I could feel every... single... beat. I
thought I was dying.

Hazy images of
a horror movie memory skittered across my mind, trying valiantly to
hide from me. Something had happened. And it was
very
bad. I
tried to roll onto my side, but my movements were hindered. For a
frozen moment in time, I feared my attacker was still here, pinning
me to the ground. A whimper rose up from the depths of my chest, a
sob broke free from my mouth.

As soon as my
lips parted dirt poured in. Suffocating, tasteless, gritty. It
surrounded me, filled me, consumed me.

And I
knew
I was dying.

I struggled
against the sensations of asphyxiation and entrapment. I dug my
fingers into the dirt at my sides as though they were claws. I
firmly kept my lips compressed in a thin line and took only shallow
breaths through my nose, but the damage was done. I was surrounded
with, buried in, entombed by... dirt.

I frantically
tried to remember where I was, how I got here. Not that those
memories would probably get me out of this predicament, but it was
a survival instinct that came from deep within. I couldn't run, I
couldn't fight, so I tried to out-think my captor. Knowledge was
power, and the knowledge of escape lay in remembering how and why I
was here.

I'd been out
for an early morning run, before the store opened. I always ran
through the Rose Gardens between my house and lower downtown. Then
out along Tamaki Drive, taking in the sea and the gulls that
swooped along the foreshore. The path for pedestrians along the
winding drive is dotted with Pohutukawa Trees. I often brushed my
hands across their gnarled and rough bark trunks as I jogged
past.

But I didn't
have a memory of touching the bark, or of seeing the gulls in the
sky. I hadn't made it to Tamaki Drive, so was I still in the Rose
Gardens?

I attempted
another struggle against the binds that held me tight. I felt a
responding tug against my limbs, then the shock of something
pricking my skin, tearing at the flesh, scraping against my legs
and wrists and sides. It wasn't enough that my mugger had buried me
alive in the ground, he'd also securely tied me up with thorny rose
bushes and vines.

Differing
emotions of bristling anger and heart-stopping panic warred inside
me at that realisation.

But I hadn't
seen my attacker. I don't think I heard a thing at all. I simply
woke to this nightmare, covered in dirt, unable to call for help.
Unable to move without getting cut to shreds on thorns.

What the hell
did I do now?

Relax
, came a soft whisper, a rustling of
leaves that somehow formed words.

What
the...?

Let us
in
, said a similar voice, but this one held a
different tone than the other. Not so much the rustling of leaves,
as the creaking of branches overhead.

Oh God, I was
hallucinating. There was nothing else for it. I was about to pass
out from lack of oxygen and thought the rose bushes were talking to
me now. What a way to go. I always enjoyed nature, but right now
I'd take the concrete jungle of Queen Street over lush green lawns,
that was for sure.

I waited for the next onslaught, but the
roses
had settled down. Instead I could hear something
scratching, something stirring off to the side of my face in the
dirt. I couldn't turn towards it, I couldn't turn away. The vines
held me securely and any movement meant a thorn through my skin. A
whimper sounded in the back of my throat. I
hate
insects. Creepy crawlies are the only animal life
I cannot abide. Give me a rabid dog over the quivering legs of a
soil dwelling insect any day.

I couldn't
help it, it came from deep down inside. I struggled away from that
sound with all of my might, feeling every prick of blood and tear
of my skin. Every scratch and tug and pull against me. I struggled
for mere minutes, growing weaker by the second. Pain radiating from
every scratch, every puncture wound in my flesh. I ached from
straining, and stung from the harsh scratch of thorns. I'd never
been one to shy away from getting dirty, but this was character
changing.

I didn't think
I could enjoy nature ever again. I'd avoid parks and shun animals,
and spend the rest of my life walking paved streets and living in
tall buildings, far from the scent of soil.

It must have
been that thought that did it, because suddenly I could smell so
much. The earthy loam of dirt, the pungent smell of a budding rose,
the clean scent of newly mown grass, the crisp tang of salty air,
the ugly stench of diesel, the acidic bite of bile. I realised that
last one was coming from me and it wasn't the taste I was
responding to, but the smell. How bizarre.

My struggles
had stopped while I took the plethora of scents in. As though their
presence, and my recognition of them, was grounding, calming even.
My heartbeat had settled, my skin no longer crawling with the
sensations of insect-like feet, my nostrils no longer filled with
dirt, but filled with the delightful smells and scents of the
earth.

And... I liked
it. I liked it a lot. For a moment I just savoured it, all of it.
Even the intrusion of exhaust fumes and pollution. My nose reacted
badly to those, but immediately pulled the scents of nature around
me to soothe. As though a natural protection from the outside
world.

I realised,
from feeling trapped and imprisoned by something so very foul, I
was now embraced within it, cared for by it, comforted and cosseted
and protected from unnatural sights, sounds and smells. I still
couldn't see, and I was no longer hearing any scratching
sounds.

But, oh God,
could I smell. I wanted to sit up and see what else I could scent.
I wanted to embrace the earth around me, give worship, roll around
in the welcoming smell of dirt.

As soon as
those thoughts found my conscious mind, the earth above me shifted.
Weight lifted off my body and the vines and rose bushes that had
held me, parted and simply slipped away. I sat up gingerly, finding
myself in a deep trench at what I presumed was the back of the Rose
Gardens on Gladstone Road. Where my early morning run always took
me. I hadn't made it to Tamaki Drive, I'd only made it this far.
And fallen into an open pit in the early morning dark.

What a
dork.
Clearly I'd tripped and fallen and then
the dirt, being newly dug over, collapsed on top. Somehow making
the rose bushes and some nearby vines get tangled up in the whole
mess. My struggles had only gotten myself more entangled in them,
until I almost buried myself alive, trapped by prickly thorns. What
a friggin' freak.

I shook my head and staggered out of the pit, into a brighter
sunlit sky than when my self-inflicted ordeal began. I had no idea
how much time had passed, but by the position of the sun in the sky
I was late.
Way
late for work. I
dusted myself down, feeling soothed by the sensation of dirt
beneath my palms as I cleaned my leggings of sod.

Then I raced
back up Gladstone Road and slipped my key in my apartment door.
Traipsing dirt across the entranceway, I kicked off my running
shoes and tiptoed towards the bathroom down the hall. My efforts
were entirely wasted, as little spots of soil followed behind in a
zigzagging trail. I showered as quickly as I could, but several
hours in the dirt meant three shampoos and conditioning treatments,
as well as half my extremely expensive Lilly of the Valley
body-wash from Monsoon.

Fifteen
minutes later, no doubt half a day's pay packet, and I was pristine
clean, but weirdly still smelling the earth. It was as though it
was all around me. In the kitchen as I downed a glass and a half of
milk. In the lounge as I snatched up my latest supplier's bill off
the coffee table for work. And out on the concrete driveway of my
apartment complex as I hot-trotted it towards the shop.

I couldn't
shake the scents of nature around me. Every blossom on a tree
caught my attention, their fragrance meeting me first, calling my
eyes to find out where that delightful scent came from. Crossing
Parnell Road, to walk down the side in the sun, I could smell the
hanging baskets several feet away, before I even registered they'd
been replanted for Spring. Smells assaulted me at every corner,
they were rich and delicious, making me lick my lips and smile a
mile wide. After what had happened this morning, you'd think I
would abhor anything to do with dirt. But I seemed to gravitate
towards it, weaving along the pavement, avoiding harried
mid-morning workers, just so I could walk beneath each basket
overhead.

My deli came
into view, the planters outside appearing fuller and brighter than
those on either side. They would have been replanted at the same
time as the others in the street, by the Parnell Business Owners
Association, whom I paid an exorbitant fee to, so my shop matched
all the rest. But they looked so much better, so much more, than
those trailing the length of the street either side.

I pushed the
chiming door open and glanced around my domain. The potted plants I
enjoyed tending, and received many remarks of approval about,
looked lush and vibrant this morning. I was sure they hadn't been
as healthy last night when I left. But today their leaves were
silky and smooth, unblemished and verdant. The whole place looked
full of life.

Except for
Sonya, whose eyes expanded to the size of saucers as soon as they
met mine.

"Where the
hell have you been?" she hissed under her breath as I
approached.

"Yeah, I know.
I'm sorry I'm late, I'll tell you all about it later, when we're
not so busy." The place was packed, and with lunch just around the
corner, everyone would be wanting a flat-bread or focaccia loaf
with salad and cold cuts and some decadent home made sauce.

"Late!" she
spluttered. "That's a bit of an understatement. You're not just
late, you're..."

But I waved
her away as a customer approached and set about making a little
slice of heaven for their lunch. Sonya watched me like a hawk for
the duration of the lunchtime rush, but thankfully didn't get a
chance to wring me out. I knew I deserved it. They'd been left to
open and prep on their own, and they'd only ever had to do that
when I was sick. And I always warned them, I never simply didn't
turn up. But I was sure she'd understand as soon as I got an
opportunity to explain.

Lunch rush
zoomed by and before I knew it, Marcus and Alice were able to hold
the fort, so I walked out the rear of the shop to face an extremely
irate Sonya. I brushed my fingers over the leaves of the pot plants
that lined the back of the shop, somehow feeling braver for the
action, even if what I was about to admit would sound really lame.
Who falls into a pit and gets buried alive whilst jogging through a
park?

"Hey," I said,
rounding to face her as we made it to the kitchen out back. "I'm
sorry I'm late, but there is a perfectly decent explanation, if
you'll just hear me out."

"You didn't call. You didn't leave a message. You simply
didn't turn up," Sonya said, sounding more serious than I
had
ever
heard her before. Her face
was set as hard as stone, the water bottle in her hand was crushed
under her fisted palm. Her pale blue eyes blazed with ire, and her
rosebud lips were pressed in a thin line. I'd never seen Sonya this
angry before, and for a moment I lost the ability to
speak.

I reached out
and thumbed the leaf of a potted palm off to my side nervously. God
knows why I have so many plants in the store, even here out the
back, where we bake the bread, I had a little green corner by my
work desk. The smooth leaf sifting through my fingers calmed me
down and allowed me to find my voice again.

"I fell into a
ditch on my run. It must have knocked me out for a time and when I
woke up the sun was higher in the sky," I admitted with
chagrin.

Sonya stared at me for several long seconds, a shocked look on
her face. Then through gritted teeth she said, "You were knocked
out for
two days
?"

I stared back
at her, speech impossible right then. She had to be wrong. Two
days?

"What day is
it?" I asked eventually, through numbed lips.

"Thursday,"
she replied, the look of anger turning to something else.
Concern.

I shook my
head and slumped onto my desk chair, my face landing into my cupped
palms. It couldn't be Thursday. I couldn't have been in that ditch
since my run on Tuesday morning. No way.

"You're
kidding right?" I said in a croak.

"Oh, hell, Casey. What the devil have you been up to? Everyone
has been
so
worried. The staff, your
brother. Even Theo was asking where you had gone."

"Theo asked
where I was?" Of course I'd home in on that little bit of gossip.
I'd been flirting with the adorable, very fine looking Theo Peters
for almost a year. He was the one man I could actually use my
feminine wiles on. Or at least attempt to. I'm not sure he'd been
that affected by my unskilled flirting talents, or just humouring
me. But either way, since Theo started getting his afternoon snack
in my deli, life had taken on a new sense of fun.

"Yes, even
Theo. He was concerned as much as us." Sonya flicked her glance to
a wall clock in the corner. "And he should be here any minute to
ask again. So, honestly, you're going with passed out in a ditch in
the Rose Gardens? Is that the best you've got?"

She started chewing on a strand of her long blonde hair, a
habit I had unsuccessfully been trying to wean her from. It
does
not
look good in a delicatessen
having the staff gnaw on their hair. Dusky blonde locks or
not.