Chapter 3
He was alive.
The fall awoke him, or rather the landing did. No pain, but it was coming. He wondered how many more broken bones he now had, and how far he had fallen. He tried a breath and thanked the unknown for not having a cold.
First order of business, work a gap in the duct tape covering his mouth. He found the weakest spot and jammed his tongue repeatedly against it until he had an opening. Now, when they pinched his nose, he could still breathe. It meant acting as if he couldn’t breathe, but he had become quite adept. His tongue hurt, so he began to have more hope about the fall. He could still feel pain, and didn’t feel any…well, new pain.
Next, check for ability to move. His hands were tied behind him. His feet were tied together and somehow connected to his hands. Not good. No way to escape or even move. He tested the bindings. No hope of untying them.
Last, try to figure out where he was. He cracked open the eye closest to the ground and immediately noticed the tire. Not good. If he rotated his butt just when the tire started to move, he might be able to get his body in between it and its partner tire on the other side, and avoid being run over. Or, he might not.
Voices. Male. Unknown language, but all of them were. Wait...English…American? No. Very melodic. British English, maybe. He had been to Britain once, but never to America, the land of the free, and home of the fat and lazy.
The answer came in a language tone familiar to him. It was English too, but far more tortured. He heard the word, “Dentist.” Him? He knew the word. He was a dentist, or was one before the…He stopped himself. No time for reflection.
One voice was at his feet, talking away from him. The other voice from above him, he recognized as the leader of his captors, the latest ones anyway. He was amazed the voice at his feet was not subjecting itself to the voice of the leader. Another sale? He had been sold three times now, the most recent only a few weeks ago. Or was it a few months ago now? He didn’t know.
Thunk!
Something landed next to his face. He tried opening his lower eye again. Money. US dollars in a bundle. It was a sale. But the money came from above, from the pickup bed, which he could just make out at the peripheral end of his vision. He and the money had come from the same place. Not the usual method of a sale.
The negotiations were not over. His former captor, despite handing over him and the money, was hurling directions at the recipient, who was silent. Then the recipient spoke.
“Please leave, now.”
He didn’t know what the words meant, but they were both gentle and firm. Despite the yelling and directions, the recipient didn’t back down, or subject himself. Equals?
The tires started to move. He readied himself, not wanting to give away any indication about being awake, but not wanting to be run over either. However, the tires moved away and he watched them disappear from his vision into a fog. He realized his vision was limited to about 100 meters. Things were present beyond his vision; he simply couldn’t see them. He knew no fog existed in the part of the world he was in. Fog only existed during his one week in London.
He wondered if the rest of his vision would come back. For that matter, he wondered if he could ever breathe normally again, if the broken bones in various places of his body would heal, if the cuts, infections, bruises, dysentery, and so on, would ever again be replaced with normal health. He wondered…
His wondering was disrupted. Someone tugged at the tape, carefully working it free. Not yanking it as was usual. He could breathe easily again. Next, his bindings were coming off. Impossible, but true. First, his hands, then his feet, the knots worked until the bindings were loose, then removed altogether. He was free!
Someone turned him from his side onto his back. Gentle hands, not exerting any more pressure than necessary. A woman’s hands. He was certain.
Now on his back, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on whoever was touching him so carefully.
All of the teachings of his youth came crashing down upon him. All of the “No, God, no Jesus, no church, all a hoax” teachings were lost in a single second. No wonder the pain was so subdued. He was dead. He almost uttered an oath, but caught himself. Not a good time to do that.
He gazed up at her; she was just like the carvings on the mantles and table centerpieces from back home. Dressed in an all white flowing robe with even her head covered. She had fiery red hair peeking out from under the cover. And the softest looking, creamy white skin, not possible for any living person to have in the desert environment. And the greenest eyes he had ever seen, well beyond any he could imagine. With a bright light framing her face, she was a vision and he knew he was dead.
His first encounter ever, he was looking up at the face of an angel.
The fall awoke him, or rather the landing did. No pain, but it was coming. He wondered how many more broken bones he now had, and how far he had fallen. He tried a breath and thanked the unknown for not having a cold.
First order of business, work a gap in the duct tape covering his mouth. He found the weakest spot and jammed his tongue repeatedly against it until he had an opening. Now, when they pinched his nose, he could still breathe. It meant acting as if he couldn’t breathe, but he had become quite adept. His tongue hurt, so he began to have more hope about the fall. He could still feel pain, and didn’t feel any…well, new pain.
Next, check for ability to move. His hands were tied behind him. His feet were tied together and somehow connected to his hands. Not good. No way to escape or even move. He tested the bindings. No hope of untying them.
Last, try to figure out where he was. He cracked open the eye closest to the ground and immediately noticed the tire. Not good. If he rotated his butt just when the tire started to move, he might be able to get his body in between it and its partner tire on the other side, and avoid being run over. Or, he might not.
Voices. Male. Unknown language, but all of them were. Wait...English…American? No. Very melodic. British English, maybe. He had been to Britain once, but never to America, the land of the free, and home of the fat and lazy.
The answer came in a language tone familiar to him. It was English too, but far more tortured. He heard the word, “Dentist.” Him? He knew the word. He was a dentist, or was one before the…He stopped himself. No time for reflection.
One voice was at his feet, talking away from him. The other voice from above him, he recognized as the leader of his captors, the latest ones anyway. He was amazed the voice at his feet was not subjecting itself to the voice of the leader. Another sale? He had been sold three times now, the most recent only a few weeks ago. Or was it a few months ago now? He didn’t know.
Thunk!
Something landed next to his face. He tried opening his lower eye again. Money. US dollars in a bundle. It was a sale. But the money came from above, from the pickup bed, which he could just make out at the peripheral end of his vision. He and the money had come from the same place. Not the usual method of a sale.
The negotiations were not over. His former captor, despite handing over him and the money, was hurling directions at the recipient, who was silent. Then the recipient spoke.
“Please leave, now.”
He didn’t know what the words meant, but they were both gentle and firm. Despite the yelling and directions, the recipient didn’t back down, or subject himself. Equals?
The tires started to move. He readied himself, not wanting to give away any indication about being awake, but not wanting to be run over either. However, the tires moved away and he watched them disappear from his vision into a fog. He realized his vision was limited to about 100 meters. Things were present beyond his vision; he simply couldn’t see them. He knew no fog existed in the part of the world he was in. Fog only existed during his one week in London.
He wondered if the rest of his vision would come back. For that matter, he wondered if he could ever breathe normally again, if the broken bones in various places of his body would heal, if the cuts, infections, bruises, dysentery, and so on, would ever again be replaced with normal health. He wondered…
His wondering was disrupted. Someone tugged at the tape, carefully working it free. Not yanking it as was usual. He could breathe easily again. Next, his bindings were coming off. Impossible, but true. First, his hands, then his feet, the knots worked until the bindings were loose, then removed altogether. He was free!
Someone turned him from his side onto his back. Gentle hands, not exerting any more pressure than necessary. A woman’s hands. He was certain.
Now on his back, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on whoever was touching him so carefully.
All of the teachings of his youth came crashing down upon him. All of the “No, God, no Jesus, no church, all a hoax” teachings were lost in a single second. No wonder the pain was so subdued. He was dead. He almost uttered an oath, but caught himself. Not a good time to do that.
He gazed up at her; she was just like the carvings on the mantles and table centerpieces from back home. Dressed in an all white flowing robe with even her head covered. She had fiery red hair peeking out from under the cover. And the softest looking, creamy white skin, not possible for any living person to have in the desert environment. And the greenest eyes he had ever seen, well beyond any he could imagine. With a bright light framing her face, she was a vision and he knew he was dead.
His first encounter ever, he was looking up at the face of an angel.
posted by John | 8:51 AM
1 Comments:
I couldn't resist seeing what you would do with it. I wasn't certain if it would mean something to Romanians, but the National Anthem probably isn't well known in other languages. I'm not going to use it, honest.
Post a Comment
<< Home