"A Work In Progress"
Chapter Thirty-Eight
John lay there in the sand, tossing his head from side to side, and gasping. Every shallow breath had become excruciating—the result of his body being stretched beyond its limits.
It seemed like he'd been lying there for an agonizing eternity.
He had!
The tortured young man moistened his parched mouth and tried to talk. "Ro-oy?" he finally managed to croak, following several failed attempts.
It took his partner an interminably lo-ong time to reply. "Yeah…Johnny?"
John flashed a bitter smile up at a blurry full moon. "Maybe…the ants'll…sleep in?"
His hurting friend was forced to chuckle—and groan, as the sudden movement, though slight, increased his already intense agony by tenfold.
Gage's bitter smile vanished. He grimaced at the thought of having caused his partner even more pain. It wasn't fair! He was the one who had 'volunteered' for this! Not Ro-oy!
"Could be…worse," DeSoto determined through tightly clenched teeth—once he'd managed to regain his composure.
"Oh yeah?" John bit his lower lip and blinked fresh tears from his eyes. "How so?"
"We…could be…lying here…buck naked…and…smothered in honey," his partner lightly pointed out.
And it was Johnny's turn to chuckle—and groan. 'Leave it to Roy, to find a 'bright side' to all of this.'
Speaking of Roy…and 'all of this'…
Gage suddenly choked back a sob of regret. Oh, how he wished that he had never gotten his light-hearted partner involved in any of this hideous business!
His hurting friend instantly stopped gasping.
"Ro-oy?" John anxiously called out.
There was no answer.
John's already stressed heart skipped a beat or two. He somehow managed to lift his head up, just enough to be able to see over his left shoulder. He blinked his vision a bit clearer and stared, in complete and utter disbelief, at the empty, moonlit space beside him.
His partner was no longer lying there—even the wooden stakes were gone!
"Ro-oy," he numbly repeated, and allowed his head to drop back onto the sand.
It was happening. He was losing touch with reality.
"Reality?!" he bitterly exclaimed. "This isn't…real!…This is…crazy!" He grimaced and groaned and closed his watering eyes—tightly. He felt something brush against the right side of his heaving chest and forced his damp eyes back open.
Cathy's blurry face appeared before him.
'Now, that's more like it!' John told his cracking mind. 'What a way to go! Gazing into those beautiful blue eyes…' "No-o!" he pleaded, as the lovely apparition began to pull away. "Don't go!…Plea-ease…don't…leave me…agai—" He was forced to stop speaking, as the girl held two of her fingers up to his parched lips.
The pretty miss then pulled out a knife and began sawing back and forth on the thick leather strap that was keeping his right wrist secured to the wooden stake. At last, she was able to cut through.
"AHHH-AHHH!" the tortured man screamed in agony, as the incredible tension on his upper torso was suddenly released.
The woman stepped over the now moaning young man and immediately went to work on the thick, strong strap that was keeping his left wrist bound to yet another buried stake. Cathy cut his left arm loose and then promptly proceeded to free his moccasined feet.
"Thanks!" Gage gasped, as the blade of his beautiful rescuer's knife sliced through the last of his leather restraints. He was eternally grateful, and tremendously relieved, to finally have all that unbearable tension on his body parts eased. He would have liked to just lie there for awhile and catch his labored breath.
But the pretty miss had other plans.
Cathy tossed her knife aside and tried to pull the freed captive up into a sitting position.
Wishing to assist the woman with her task, John attempted to move. 'Mistake! Mistake! Mista-ake!' he silently shouted, and tried his level best to stifle an audible response to his suddenly quadrupled pain. In spite of his best efforts, an agonized groan escaped from his tightly pursed lips. "I'm…sorry," he gasped, with a grimace. "But…I can't…move."
The woman wasn't the least bit deterred by the news. She simply wrapped his limp left arm behind her neck and pulled him into a sitting position.
John tried to force his pained, protesting, super-stretched muscles to move. But they were still refusing to cooperate.
Somehow, Cathy managed to maneuver the tortured young man up onto his knees.
John just knelt there, swaying slightly from side to side, while every muscle, tendon and ligament in his entire abused body went 'spastic' on him. Well…with the exception of his hands and feet—which were completely dead. He was helpless.
And the situation seemed hopeless.
John sure wished that his hands and his feet were quite so useless! He stared wonderingly down at his hands, as 'the feeling' instantly returned to them—and his feet. He swallowed hard and attempted to wriggle his no longer black and swollen fingers. They moved! He tried wriggling his toes. They moved, as well! Not only did he have his hands and feet back—but they seemed to be pain-free! He wished the same could be said for the rest of him. Instantly, the agony he was experiencing ceased to exist. "What the—?" He scrambled quickly to his feet—his perfectly normal, healthy feet and began to search the sandy, moonlit clearing for his missing partner. "Roy?!…Ro-oy?!" he called out again, this time a whole lot louder. But received no reply.
There was no sign of Roy—anywhere!
"What the—?" the stymied searcher exclaimed, for the second time in as many minutes.
Cathy stepped out of the shadows on the edge of the clearing, leading his saddled horse.
John ran up to her. "Cathy, where's my friend?!" he anxiously inquired. "Where have they taken my friend?"
The woman stared back at her questioner in complete confusion. "I know of no 'friend'. You came to our camp—alone." She placed the reins in his hands and then shoved him up to his horse's side. "Hurry! You must go—now! Before they co—"
"—Cathy," John interrupted, latching onto the little lady's wrist, "where is the other prisoner?!"
The girl exhaled an exasperated gasp. "There is no 'other prisoner'! You got Nemas to release those Army officers, and you came here—alone!" she impatiently repeated.
'Roy must've escaped…' John reasoned. He gave his mystified mind a few quick shakes and his rescuer's wrist a firm squeeze. "Come with me," he encouraged.
But Cathy completely ignored his request.
"Plea-ease?" John pleaded, the desperation evident in his cracking voice.
Cathy pulled her wrist free of his grasp and took several steps back. "If you do not go—now, they will kill you!"
John's vision blurred. 'You won't come…and I can't stay.' He slipped his left foot into the steel stirrup and swung his right leg over his saddle.
Cathy latched onto his horse's bridle. Then she turned the animal around and smacked it on its behind.
The horse bolted forward.
John reined the runaway in, and glanced glumly over his left shoulder.
Cathy turned her back on him and began walking off.
His blurry eyes followed her until she disappeared into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Then he swung his head back around and nudged his horse into a canter. "Why-y?" the hurting young man whispered into the wind.
But, once again, he received no reply.
TBC