Thank you everyone for your kindness. You have inspired me to continue. Once again, thank you beckers for your help.

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PURGATORY continued. "Marguerite!" Challenger called, his rifle resting but ready on his shoulder.

"Roxton!" Veronica, by his side, did her part as they walked the path, following clues.

The trio had been searching for their friends for three days.

"Where could they be?" Malone voiced his frustration, pulling at the straps to his backpack and taking the lead.

A few day ago the Zanga had told them that Roxton and Marguerite did indeed show up for their biweekly opportunity at trade. Marguerite had purchased some fabric at a more than reasonable price and Roxton, using some considerable charm, bargained for salt, rare spices and a coffee.

Assai had told them that Marguerite said they were going straight back to the treehouse. Roxton winked and said "We'll see."

"The trail begins to veer here." Veronica said, crouching down and pushing aside a pile of leaves. Clearly there were two sets of bootprints, one a size eleven, running clear of the path.

"Here!" Malone called from ahead, looking down into a small clearing. "I think we're on the right track."

Having been tossed aside during some sort of mad scramble, the couple's things, included the items traded with the Zanga, lay near a dead and uprooted tree.

"I can understand them losing the spices but what could have happened to make them dump their backpacks?" Veronica wondered.

"Raptors?" Malone suggested, "Maybe they needed to lighten their load for an escape."

Challenger rounded the dead tree, "Oh my god …" he whispered, alerting Malone and Veronica.

"What is it?" Veronica wondered and followed Malone to where Challenger stood.

All three looked down and a chill traveled up their spines.

Both Roxton's and Marguerite's weapons were laying abandoned on the jungle floor.

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What was once a brave, fearless man lay, curled up on his right side, his head buried in quivering arms. Only hours before Danielle's servants had pushed him, battered and distraught, into a tiny enclosure that was built into the side of a tall mountain. He was caged like an animal but Roxton did not care. He would not have tried to get away even if there were no bars.

"Marguerite …" Roxton whispered, his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched together. It wasn't possible. He loved her. He could never hurt her. He would never kill her even if forced. They made love the last night before leaving the treehouse and hiking to the Zanga village. They were happy and open. He even managed to get Marguerite, however briefly, talking about their future and the delights they would share.

But mental pictures of Marguerite smiling, laughing and stealing a kiss or two were quickly pushed aside for darker more frightening imagery. She was backed up against a cold, damp wall; lifting her hands in a fearful gesture. "No! No!" Marguerite cried, horrified. "Roxton, what are they doing?" she howled, "Stop them! What's the matter with you?!"

Then she screamed in agony as something was driven into her body and Roxton, laying in his cell, wailing as her image - in pain and reaching for him - lost form and melted into blackness.

"Why … why couldn't you have died then?" he gasped, speaking in a low nearly incomprehensible murmur, "Oh dear God … Marguerite why couldn't you have just …?"

"Sleep, my love." a voice droned from the outside of the cage, "Sleep and escape into the mysterious but oh so beautiful world of madness and nightmares!"

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