“Listen,” whispered Orrin, trying to take control of the situation, “we’ve got to look around a bit. This poor girl’s locked up like an animal. She needs our help. We’ve got to look around, and if we come up with nothing, then we get to the nearest phone and call the cops. It’s as easy as that.”
“Are you sure? What if this guy comes back?” said Andrea.
“We’re not sticking around, babe. We’ve just got to try to help, and then get the hell out of here,” he answered. “Come on. Help me look around for the key. It could be right here in front of us.”
Orrin began to hop around in search of an office or a closet or anything that someone might keep things in storage. There wasn’t anything. There were just rusted white bars and cattle stalls and a few troughs for feed. Flakes of rust flooded across the floor with the shit and the hay. Drips echoed through the dank basement, giving the environment a hollow and hopeless feel.
The captive girl rocked back and forth on the damp cot. She hugged her knees and stared blankly forwards through the bars. Her ankles were swollen and covered in filth. She had bruises all up and down her arms, and her hair hadn’t been cleaned or combed in days. What hells had she’d been subjected to were unimaginable. Her eyes were dark and sunken into her head, bags heavily formed beneath them.
Andrea splashed around the basement searching for another door or another area that might serve as a workshop or anything. Coming around the far side of the basement there was a wooden workbench that had a radio and a some tools on it, but nothing else. There were no keys to be found.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything, Orrin,” she called out.
Orrin paused and winced as a flare of pain erupted in his leg. He gasped, but then regrouped himself. Things were going to be fine. He didn’t know how he was going to get back to the car, how he would get to a hospital, and didn’t know anything other than that by tomorrow, he’d be laughing about the whole thing. He hoped. He peered through the dank cells to the girl at the back. God, he thought, how selfish he was thinking of himself at a time in her midst. He felt a retched feeling in his guts as a sense of anguish empathized with her incarceration and torture. His broken leg and soaked clothing seemed a far worry from whatever she’s survived through – and then the pain flared again. He struggled to keep his eyes open with the sudden flashes of pain.
“Andrea,” he called out. After a pause to regroup himself, he said “there aren’t any keys. Let’s find a phone or something. We’ve got to just get out of here. I can barely stand up.”
“Okay,” she agreed. With a feeling of relief, Andrea hiked up her pants and headed towards the door. As a woman, Andrea had feared being captured and being held captive. She’d had dark imaginings of what it would be like to have the worst sufferable moments. For some reason, she’d imagined what it would be like to be the victim all her life. Groups of men intimidated her. Being alone intimidated her. She never carried a weapon to protect herself though, because she feared that any weapon she could wield would be used against her. Her greatest fears all met their match in this girl that she was juxtaposed with, contained and beaten.
She doubled back and waded up to the bars and faced the girl. She placed her hands through the bars and looked at the near-catatonic girl. “Sweetheart? What’s your name?”
The girl didn’t flinch, she just stared forwards, hugging her black and blue knees. Her eyes didn’t move, but she answered that her name was Mischa. She barely made a noise. She had removed herself so far from her situation that she ignored that her might-be saviours were at her door.
Andrea empathized so greatly with Mischa that tears welled up in her eyes. “We’re not leaving you here. We’re going to find a phone and we’re going to bring the cops and we’re going to save you. I promise. We’re not going away. Mischa, I swear everything is going to be better. Help is on the way.”
She turned and got away from her quickly. She felt so connected to her that it seemed like if she stayed longer that she might trade places with her. The water slowed her path to the door. Orrin was waiting at the door, holding it open.
The sun flared into their eyes as they took for their first step out onto solid ground from the basement. The air felt different from the dank basement. The scent of being outside was rid of the filth and desperation of the milking stalls. They paused to just smell the freedom of being outside after their tortuous journey through the barn. Orrin hobbled against the wall of the barn and regrouped his energy.
“Let’s get over to the farmhouse, find the phone, and just call the cops, call an ambulance, call a taxi, whatever and get the hell out of here, eh?” gasped Orrin. He could see the end of the day ahead of him. The circumstances in which they found themselves were surely to be short lived and they’d be fine.
The farmhouse was only about 100 metres from the side of the barn. Andrea helped to hold up Orrin as the two stayed to the front door. Orrin glanced over at the gas tank between the silos and spied the gas canister that they were expecting to return to their car with. He shot it an ironic glance, not believing that their current situation was somehow connected to their brief journey out to the city’s open house. He thought about how far they had deviated from sitting back at home, complaining that there was nothing good to watch on television.
They hobbled up the stone steps to the front of the house. Orrin leaned against the side taking the weight off of his left leg. Andrea opened the screen door and twisted the knob to the house. It spun around and the door pulled open. It was heavy enough to drop out of her hands and swing back. A small hallway sat before them, facing stairs to a cellar, and a living room to the left and a kitchen to the right.
Orrin hopped through the threshold and into the kitchen. There was canned food out on the counter tops cluttering up the place. The cupboard doors were all open, stocked with more cans of fruit, spam and vegetables. Boxes of crackers and cereal laid about. There was stale and stuffy aroma to the old farmhouse. Looking along the floor, Orrin saw two large bowls with wet dog food set out. The food was nibbled at, but not finished. He could smell liver and fish and who knows what else they put into dog food.
His eyes darted around looking for a telephone. He couldn’t see anything. Beyond the kitchen there was an old table absolutely covered in paperwork. He couldn’t make out what it was all for, but there governmental papers, letters from the mail, hand written notes and photographs of people riding horses. Cabinets and shelving units were lined with ceramic model horses, embroidered decorative plates and shoe boxes.
The walls were paneled wood and the ceiling was that Styrofoam tiling used in drop ceilings throughout office buildings. He saw no telephone.
Andrea slinked to the right, going through the living room. An old television sat quietly in the corner atop of a very old radio cabinet – the kind that might have a record player inside of it, and large speakers out front. It was serving as a table for the moment, and probably didn’t function any longer. A plush couch was pressed against one wall that held more paintings of horses pulling carriages. Against the other wall was a stone fireplace and mantelpiece. More trinkets pertaining to horses lay about and dark lamps with incandescent bulbs were covered in dust. Nobody cleaned this place and it appeared only one man lived there.
Cluttered shelves were full of books, photo albums, empty picture frames and the figurines of horses. They were also covered in dust. Andrea searched quietly, but couldn’t find a telephone to call for help with. Glancing out the window, she could see shrubs and trees up against the old house, and noticed that there were dark power lines that came towards the walls. ‘There’s got to be a phone in here somewhere’ she thought to herself.
“I can’t find a phone,” she whispered loudly to Orrin.
Orrin hopped towards her in the hallway. “There doesn’t seem to be one. How could you find anything in all of this clutter?” He glanced around some more. The hallway was the only empty area. Just a small and worn throw rug was in the hall. A staircase heading up to the second floor was a prominent feature in the hall, and he figured that there must be more upstairs to search through.
“Andrea, go have a look upstairs. See if you can find some keys in a bedside dresser or a telephone or something. I can’t believe that there isn’t a phone in here,” said Orrin.
“No, there’s got to be a phone. I’ll see what I can find. You keep looking around down here, okay?”
“Sure.”
Andrea’s soggy feet slushed there way up the carpeted staircase and up and around the balustrade until she was out of sight. Orrin could hear her footsteps as she searched from room to room. Orrin’s leg was pulsing with pain, so he wobbled over to the couch and took a seat. As he flopped down, the air expired out of the couch, and he sank deeply into it. There was a tremendous amount of white dog hair all over the couch and it clung to his wet pants and shirt.
“See if you can find me a towel to dry myself off with, won’t you?” he called up to Andrea.
Andrea was in the washroom at the time, and snagged a towel before she left. There was a bedroom and a guest room up there and a standing fan that rotated around the hallway. She could feel its breeze against her wet legs and arms as it oscillated.
Stepping into one of the bedrooms, she looked at the large unmade bed and saw that there was white hair, dark hair and muddy stains all over the sheets. She sneered at the sight of all the filth where someone was supposed to sleep each night. There were more knick-knacks strewn about the room.
Light shone in through the windows of the bedroom and the early afternoon sun was beaming down on the wet earth that had been pounded by a flash hail storm only a half of an hour earlier. She looked out at a broad-leafed tree and noticed how the sun was reflecting off of the moisture on the greenery. As she watched the tree and the birds hopping from branch to branch, she noticed just beyond that a large grey pickup truck with a covered bed was pulling into the long driveway.
It rocked and bounced through the potholes as it gained momentum up the drive towards the farmhouse.
“Orrin,” she yelled. “He’s back! We’ve got to get out of here!” She darted towards the doorway and the staircase when she noticed a black rotary phone underneath a pile of magazines. “He’s back, Orrin. He’s pulling up right now! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“What?” she heard him respond.
“I found a phone!”
Andrea pushed the magazines aside, and then a buzzing ring shot out of the phone like a fire alarm. The intensity of the sound shook her heart. Andrea jumped a little, and pulled her hand away from the receiver.
The phone ringed again.
“Hey, there’s a phone down here!” called Orrin.
Andrea knew that she couldn’t answer it. They needed to call for help! She sprinted back to the window, to see the old dented truck pulling up to the farmhouse and come to a stop. The engine turned off and the door swung open.
“Orrin! Get out of the house! He’s back. He’s back!”
As the door popped open, a large and dark dog bounded out over the driver. It thumped down into the muddy gravel and circled around waiting for the driver to emerge. The farmer swung one leg out the door before another smaller terrier leapt from his lap and into the mud, as well.
The telephone rang again! It was so startling and loud that it pierced Andrea’s ears and made her heart race.
The little terrier began to bark loudly and frantically. A second leg pulled out of the driver’s side and two sloppy rubber boots plopped into the wet earth. A heavy-set man with broad shoulders and a trucker’s chicken mesh cap lurched out. He was wearing a plaid shirt and faded jeans.
“Shaddup!” the grizzly man yelled at the dogs. The dogs continued to yelp and circle around him.
The telephone continued to ring. Andrea couldn’t wait much longer. She would have to hide before she could make the call. She searched around the bedroom for somewhere to hide. She looked at the muddy bed sheets. She might be able to cover herself with those, but as she touched them she realized that the old mud stains were actually bloody smears.
Andrea face contorted with the realization and fear and disgust climbed up into her throat. She was either going to scream or throw up, and but now was not the time for either of those. She’d have to hide or escape. Those were her only options.
The ring of the phone drew the man out of his car. He reached behind the driver’s seat and snagged a large sledge hammer, and then threw the door shut. With a slight limp, he jaunted towards the house to answer the phone.
Andrea dropped to the floor to see if she could sneak underneath the bed for the time being. There was more filth on the floor, and she almost retched. There were dog bones and half-eaten chew toys lying all over. She got back up and resorted to climbing into the closet. Without even looking, she slinked through the door and gently closed it behind her. It was very dark inside, and she could feel the fabric of clothes on hangers behind her. She pressed herself up against the clothing and tried to bury herself amongst them, just in case.
But what about Orrin? He was still down there, and he couldn’t run. His leg was so badly broken that he’d have no chance to escape. The phone continued to ring, and Andrea could hear the dogs barking as the man opened the front door. She could hear the squeaking screen door open and close and the heavy footsteps of the farmer striding towards the phone.
In the middle of one of the shrilling rings, it was cut dead, and she heard the farm bark loudly, “What?” There was a long pause. “NO,” yelled a grizzled old voice. “Don’t you ever call me here again!” The phone was set down loud enough to audibly jingle the ringer. Andrea hid quietly. She didn’t suppose that the man would come up to the bedroom right away. She could hear the claws of the dogs clicking across the wooden floor as they scurried around the house. She didn’t know what happened to Orrin. She feared that the farmer would find him.
Did he get out of the house? Was he just hiding in the yard somewhere? Or is he still in here? Andrea worried and felt trapped. She didn’t know what to do. Perhaps she could slink out of the closet and use the phone, call for help, and get back into hiding? The thought was in her mind to do so, but the courage wasn’t in her heart to pull the maneuver off.
She could hear the man yelling at his dogs. It sounded like he was getting some food out for them. She could continue to hear the clattering of their claws on the hardwood. Still no indication that they’d discovered Orrin.
STAY HIDDEN AND WAIT FOR THE FARMER TO LEAVE – TURN TO PAGE: A6
CLIMB OUT OF THE CLOSET AND CALL FOR HELP – TURN TO PAGE: B6.1
Again ... if you're interested in a plot direction, let me know and next time I'll post that journey. And let me know if you like it or not.
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