Stevan Mena: Transience

The ghastly smell of the burlap bag that suffocated her for most of the trip lingered on her face and hair. Her own dripping sweat still reeked of its pungent, mildewed odor. It had made her want to vomit. Now the remnants of its awful smell kept her focused as she raced through thick, jagged branches, determined to live. Sharp stones jutting from the uneven ground jabbed and sliced into her bare feet mercilessly. No fear of injury. The alternative was death.

She maneuvered through the endless woods, glancing back just once — he was gaining on her, only a few strides behind. She threw her forearms up to cover her face and dashed right through serrated bushes, the thorny brush ripping up her thin white sundress, tearing at her soft flesh. She imagined she was a rabbit, sprinting from a hungry dog. The analogy kept her from breaking mentally, kept her body moving.

As he dragged her from the car, her captor hadn’t noticed her bindings had come loose. She’d been patiently working on them during the drive as rusty, pointed springs jabbed into her skin through the ripped vinyl and yellow foam of the backseat. When the time came and she felt an opportunity, she took it; landing a swift, crushing kick to his groin that doubled him over in surprised shock. She untangled the rope from her hands, tore the bag from her head and disappeared into the dark woods.

Her legs began to burn as she picked up the pace, certain he must be right behind her. Just then something hidden in the tall weeds caught her foot and yanked her down hard. Her face smashed against the dirt, which pushed up her nose and into her mouth. The smell of roots and earth conjured images of dying, repelling her bruised face up off the ground like a reflex. She twisted around to see what had tripped her.

Her right foot was caught beneath a raised tree root. She pulled desperately and felt her calf muscle tear, an awful searing pain. She silenced a scream, squeezing the muddy grass till it squished through her fingers. She could hear heavy boots trampling the wet leaves just a few yards behind.

She pulled again hard — stomping with the heel of her other foot. The thick root released, slicing up her ankle as she threaded it free. She clawed back to her feet, pushing off a nearby birch to propel herself forward, off balance. Pure adrenaline now.

She ran with her head down, sprinting madly. She lost her bearings in a thick of tall trees, stopping to grip one as if it were a muscular hero who’d arrived in the nick of time. Disoriented, confused, every direction looked hopeless, no clear path back to civilization.

Sunlight was just breaking through the trees. Not more than a mile away, sleepy commuters fought traffic on their way to work.

Behind her, his grotesque, out of shape panting closed in. She spotted a patch of thorny bushes, crouched down and held her breath. She locked every muscle — just another shrub, no moving parts. The rabbit was invisible. The thumping footsteps slowed down just a few feet away. She could smell the leather of his boots. The noise of his heavy gasping swung back and forth like a Doppler as he turned in place, scanning.

He made a sound, like a snarling dog, irritated, and ran off. She waited until everything was silent before she breathed again. She slowly stood up, craning her neck to make sure the coast was clear, then dashed in the opposite direction.

There was a steady hum reverberating in the distance just beyond the tree line. The road? She bolted towards it, her rubbery legs staggered as she fought to stay upright. She skidded down a steep incline of mud and dirt, twisting her ankle on a protruding rock that nearly toppled her over. She grabbed a low hanging branch and reached around to balance herself against the trunk, her fingers dipping into oozing sap.

The dirt path curved up ahead. She plotted her next move and flexed to run when something stirred in the shadows. She froze, backing up.

A small squirrel darted up a tree and disappeared. She exhaled and took a step forward, realizing with horror that something bigger had spooked the animal from its hiding spot. The lumbering shape emerged, stepping out onto the path in front of her.

Their eyes met — both surprised to see each other. He smiled a lucky smile, wiggling the fingers of his dirty work gloves with glee. She blinked first, backing up a step. He leaped at her, his arms outstretched, grabbing her torso. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that escaped was a whimper as she narrowly dodged his grasp; her slick, sweaty skin slipping through his fingers. She crawled for her life on all fours like a frightened animal. He grabbed her blood soaked ankle with both hands, falling with all his bodyweight onto her leg.

She drew back her knee to her chest and planted a heel first kick to the top of his head, forcing him to release his grip. He reached out again but she was too fast; he came up empty, his nails scraping along the back of her calf. She scampered to her feet and ran, kicking dirt up into his eyes.

The trail ran downhill, giving her some momentum. She heard a loud, grassy thud, followed by an angry groan that sent shivers up her neck and made her face red hot. She looked back to see his head pop up from under the brush. He had fallen hard, it looked like he might have hurt himself, badly.

A chance .

She scaled a small hill hoping to see the busy highway. But the roaring sound she’d heard was not the road — but a river. Too far and deep to cross, the foamy water rushed fast and loud. She winced in frustration but kept moving, limping on empty to the river’s edge.

She crumpled into a heap along the muddy banks, as if her bones suddenly went soft, her fatigued muscles pushed past failure.

She weakly extended her bloody hand into the river, the icy cold water sent a jolt through her system. She shook her head and let out a gurgling, primal moan. She put one hand in front of the other and crawled through the mud, her bruised, bleeding fingers sinking into the wet ground.

As her adrenaline receded, it allowed the pain to flow. Her left arm was especially damaged, probably broken during the fall, and she had to favor her right to keep moving. Within seconds, the pain was too much. Her last ounce of strength evaporated, her elbows bent and she planted face first.

She felt her flesh going numb. She listened to the roar of the water, its hum almost soothing. Just loud enough to drown out the approaching footsteps. She prayed that maybe, if she lay perfectly still, the dog would not see the rabbit, and pass by.

“So, you do like to get dirty.”

He jabbed his boot under her ribcage, flipping her onto her back. She spit up, gasping breathlessly. His grimy perspiration dripped into her eyes and mouth as he leaned forward, blocking out the sun above.

He brushed her mud-caked hair from her eyes with his filthy hands. “You were really pretty,” he said between gasps of exhaustion.

The past tense of his words lit a fire of defiant rage. She lashed out with every ounce of life left; kicking, clawing and biting. He clamped down on her throat with both hands in a vice-like grip. She felt her head swell, her eyes bulged in their sockets. The dog had the rabbit in its jaws.

She clawed ferociously at his face, her fingernails tearing off at the quick. He straddled her chest, his weight preventing her ribcage from expanding. With her airways completely blocked, she went into a claustrophobic panic, nearly lifting him off the ground with heaving thrusts from her hips. Her legs couldn’t get any leverage, slipping in place on the slick wet ground. Her lungs pounded for air as she began to lose consciousness.