Jack Kilborn - Endurance

I can’t see him. That means he can’t see me. Stay calm.

“Will y’all marry me, Debbie girl?”

Teddy was close enough to kiss. He had to know she was there. Sweat rolled down Deb’s forehead, stinging her eyes. She closed them, willing, praying , for Teddy to go away.

“Teddy and Debbie, sittin’ in a tree. K...... I...... S...... S...... I...... N…...”

Deb lashed out before he could say G , making her hand into a claw and raking her hundred dollar manicure across his face. He screeched, and she scampered past him, crawling as fast as she could. She smacked her forehead into a joist, didn’t stop to assess the damage, and continued hurrying until she felt a cool breeze. Air flow potentially meant an exit. Deb paused, trying to sense its direction, and adjusted her course.

“The wedding is off, bitch!”

He was right behind her again. Deb plowed ahead, reaching a wall. She tried to go left, then right. Each way was blocked off.

Dead end. I’m dead. I...

Then her hand touched something solid and familiar.

A ladder rung. This is a ladder.

Ladders were Deb’s nemesis, and a large part of the reason she never tried to mountain climb again. If she couldn’t take ten vertical steps, how was she supposed to scale a sheer cliff face?

Previous ladder experiences—even with small step ladders—tended to end badly. And out of all her prosthetics, the Cheetah’s were the most ill-suited for ladders. The backwards curve meant she had to push her legs out behind her to take a step, which was awkward and threw off her balance.

“Gotcha!”

Teddy grabbed her around the thigh. His grip was iron, and his fingers palpated her quadriceps, stroking intimately.

Deb screamed, bringing her arm forward, then jamming her elbow back. It connected with his face.

Teddy grunted, releasing his grip. Deb kicked out backwards, felt her Cheetah bounce off of him. He knocked her prosthetic aside, so hard it almost came off.

He’s too fast. Too strong. There’s no place to escape.

I need to try the ladder.

Using only her upper body, Deb lifted herself up the first four steps. The darkness was absolute, and she had to work by feel. Grabbing a rung with both hands, she did a chin up. Then, holding it with one arm, she stretched up her other arm for the next rung.

Pull.

Reach.

Grab.

Pull.

Reach.

Grab.

Once she got the rhythm, she ascended quickly. And she no longer heard Teddy behind her. Maybe he—

He’s got my leg!

Deb pulled, her arms shaking, but she didn’t move an inch.

He’s going to drag me down. How long can I hold on for?

Deb hooked her elbow over the rung, waiting for him to tug.

Teddy didn’t tug.

Why isn’t he pulling?

Deb almost laughed hysterically when she figured it out.

It’s not Teddy. My Cheetah is caught on the rung.

The curve of the prosthetics acted like a hook, and it had apparently snagged onto the ladder. Deb lowered herself down a few inches, arched her back, and freed her leg.

But now her adrenalin had run out, and her arms were shaking from the strain. Going up any farther was impossible. She needed to get a foothold, rest for a moment, or else she’d lose her grip.

Deb prodded around with the tips of her Cheetah’s, trying to feel for a rung. Her leg found purchase. She tested it, easing herself down. It bore her weight. She stood there on one leg in the darkness, getting her strength back, straining to hear any sound of Teddy.

Where is he?

Maybe he can’t climb ladders. Maybe he isn’t strong enough.

Maybe he—

Deb almost fell when her foothold moved.

Oh, fuck.

I’m standing on him.

She scrambled to get a better grip on the rungs, and then began to ascend again, her tired muscles be damned. Fear gave her speed and strength, and after seven more rungs she reached up for the next and met with a ceiling.

A dead end?

Can’t be. Why have a ladder that takes you nowhere?

Holding on with one hand, her chin resting on the top rung, she pushed up with her free palm.

The ceiling moved, because it wasn’t a ceiling at all. It was another secret entrance.

Deb pushed it aside, then chinned-up into the open space. There was a thin strip of light at face-level, and Deb realized she was looking under a door. She hoisted herself up, pulling herself into this new room. Then she moved the board back and stood on top of it, her head brushing against something.

Coat hangers. I’m in a closet.

Then the door flew open, and Deb was hit in the face so hard it knocked her down.

# # #

Felix stared out the rear window of the police cruiser. A tow truck hauling a Corvette passed them going in the opposite direction. It was the only other vehicle he’d seen in the last thirty minutes.

“Where are you taking us?” Cam asked the Sheriff.

He’d asked that same question at least a dozen times. The Sheriff had yet to answer.

Felix wondered what was happening. Was this going to be some sort of backwoods justice? Take them deep into the woods and beat the shit out of them?

No. The Sheriff would have done it already. Why drive for this long? There were plenty of woods around here where no one would here the screams.

So what does he want?

Felix’s mind switched back to Maria. His brief elation that she was still alive had turned into a deep-rooted, sick feeling.

They’re raping and bleeding her. They’ve been doing this for a whole year.

The enormity of the horror she had endured made Felix want to scream.

I have to save her. I have to. I can’t let them do this to her for one more day.

But alongside the outrage and the pain, Felix felt a twinge of something shameful. Something he had a hard time facing.

Is she even Maria anymore?

He couldn’t shake the image of her, gaunt and gibbering, her mind completely fried because of her ordeal.

What if, when I finally find her, she’s a vegetable? What if she’s so traumatized she can no longer take care of herself.

Felix clenched his jaw.

Then I learn to change diapers.

I love her. I’m going to save her. Both her body and her mind.

But Felix didn’t see how he was going to save anybody, handcuffed in a squad car being taken someplace other than the police station.

He glanced at Cam. The younger man didn’t seem scared. If anything, he seemed hyper.

Not for the first time, Felix questioned whether bringing Cam along was the right decision. On one hand, Cam loved Maria just as much as he did. To leave him languish unjustly in a psychiatric institution was wrong, especially when Felix needed help looking for his sister.

On the other hand, Cam had been in the institution for a reason.

For ninety-five percent of the time, Cam seemed entirely normal. But every so often Felix would catch him talking to himself, and saying some pretty bizarre shit. And several times over the last few months, Cam seemed to zone out completely, even when Felix was yelling in his face.

Then again, if I had his history, maybe I’d zone out too.

Still, the enthusiasm he showed while breaking John’s fingers was definitely not normal. Willingly hurting another human being—even if that person was a kidnapper and a rapist—was really dark stuff.

“We’ll be okay,” Felix said, more to reassure himself than Cam.

“I don’t think so,” Cam said. “I think he’s taking us somewhere to kill us.”