Blood Games

    Helen might’ve walked over this same ground just a couple of hours ago, Abilene thought. It was probably the way Finley suggested: more than just the kid taking her away. He and some friends. One guy just couldn’t have handled someone as big as Helen. Not the kid, anyway. He’d been fairly small and thin. So he must’ve had help. Even if there’d been several attackers, however, it didn’t seem likely that they would’ve carried Helen away. They took her, but didn’t hurt her. Didn’t hurt her so much, at least, that she wouldn’t be able to walk under her own power.

    Could’ve been just one guy, Abilene thought. If he had a gun. Threatened to shoot her if she didn’t cooperate.

    ‘I hope he doesn’t have a gun,’ she said.

    Finley glanced back at her. ‘That’d sure be the pits, huh?’

    ‘Gun or not,’ Cora said, ‘we’re gonna have to take him by surprise. Sneak up on him. So maybe we’d better keep quiet for a while.’

    ‘They’ve got an awfully big head-start,’ Finley pointed out.

    ‘Yeah,’ Cora said. ‘And they might’ve stopped anywhere. For all we know, they’re ten feet away from us right now.’

    ‘Do you think we should try calling out?’ Vivian asked.

    Cora and Finley, in unison, said, ‘No.’

    After that, they stopped talking. Abilene, at the rear, listened for sounds of voices or movement in the woods around her. She peered through breaks in the trees. For a while, she held onto hopes of spotting Helen off in the shadows. Then she began to hope that she wouldn’t. If Helen were out here, she might be on the ground. Sprawled motionless. Left behind. Discarded like trash.

    Afraid to keep looking, Abilene turned her eyes to those in front of her.

    Cora’s head kept swiveling. Her short hair, the color of dry hay on top, was dark around her ears and neck where it clung to her skin in wet points and Curls. Her tank top was sodden. Her tanned shoulders looked greasy with sweat. The seat of her red shorts looked molded to her buttocks.

    By comparison, Vivian appeared almost cool in her white knit shirt and shorts. But the back of her shirt was pasted to her skin. It took on the contours of her shoulder blades and rib cage. Abilene could see the straps of her bra through the thin fabric.

    Finley, just in front of Abilene, wore her baggy shirt with its tails hanging out. It looked dark as rawhide down to her hips. There, where the shirt overlapped her shorts, it was still dry and its usual tan color.

    We’ll be lucky if we don’t all collapse, Abilene thought.

    Though her head seemed clear, she felt hot and filthy and miserable.

    She wished she’d worn socks. She didn’t like the slimy feel of her moccasins against the bottoms of her feet.

    Her denim skirt was damp and thick and heavy, but at least it was very short and air came up from below. Her panties, bra and blouse were wet and clinging. After a while, she asked the others to wait. She clamped the cool, wet pack of hot dogs between her thighs, peeled off her blouse and removed her bra. It felt good to be free of the hot, confining straps and cups. She folded the bra, tucked it under the waistband of her skirt, then struggled back into her blouse. As she fastened a couple of its buttons, Finley set down the water bottle and bag of chips. She pulled the pack of hot dogs from between Abilene’s legs.

    ‘Let’s go ahead and eat these suckers,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’

    ‘Just a short break,’ Cora said.

    Finley peeled open the plastic wrapper. She slipped out a wiener, poked it into her mouth, and held the package while the others helped themselves. ‘Gourmet breakfast,’ she said, her words garbled, the end of the frank bobbing and wiggling.,

    Abilene took a bite of the hot dog she’d taken. It was warm, moist, mushy. It tasted okay, but she suddenly felt sick as she remembered dinner last night. The sizzling dogs had tasted wonderful, then. Helen had wanted the last one. They hadn’t allowed her to eat it. They’d passed it around, instead, ‘helping’ Helen with her diet.

    Abilene’s throat went tight.

    God, she wished they’d let her have it. It might’ve been the last hot dog she would ever get a chance to eat.

    She’s all right. She’s gotta be all right.

    Abilene had a very hard time swallowing, but she managed to finish her hot dog, washing it down with a lot of water. Finley offered her another.

    ‘No thanks.’

    ‘Go ahead. Two each, then we can toss the package.’

    ‘Maybe we should save a couple for Helen.’

    Finley looked as if she felt a sudden pain. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and nodded. Cora, about to bite into her second hot dog, slipped it back into the wrapper in Finley’s hand.

    Nobody ate a second one.

    Finley shook some juice out of the pack, then folded it carefully and slipped it into a deep pocket of her shorts.

    They all drank some more water, then resumed their trek through the woods.