PURGATORY - more.
Written by Babs
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"Marguerite, where is Roxton?" Veronica quickly asked when the woman's glazed eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked up at her friends.
"Give her a minute." Malone glanced at Veronica, surprised by the jungle woman's abruptness.
"Roxton may not have a minute."
They had Marguerite sitting up, her back to the thick trunk of a large tree, her light blue blouse half removed, revealing the fabric of her camisole as Challenger worked diligently on her wounded shoulder. "What happened, Marguerite? Do you remember?" The Professor asked gently as he bandaged her injury.
"We were attacked. It's Danielle. She's back." Marguerite spoke in a gravelly whisper.
"Danielle?" Veronica questioned, "That voodoo witch? That's not possible. Her people killed her."
"And they brought her back." Marguerite sat up a little straighter and slowly buttoned her blouse as Challenger finished his treatment. "She's trying to exact some terrible revenge on Roxton. And she made me a part of it." Suddenly panicked, Marguerite grasped Challenger's arm and used it to help her stand.
"Easy Marguerite." Malone took the other arm.
"Where are we?" Marguerite asked, looking up at the structure they stood near.
"It's an old temple." Veronica answered, recognizing the worry in Marguerite's expression as something they should not ignore, "We found your backpacks and weapons in a clearing further down the road."
"That was Roxton's idea." Marguerite spoke while scrutinizing the structure, "We were running from the Trogs and Roxton managed to kill a few but then we saw there were also natives running with them." She looked at Challenger, "They didn't seem interested in butchering us. As a matter of fact they all looked ..."
"...possessed." Challenger whispered, recalling Danielle's hold over her people. "They forced you to surrender your weapons?"
"Not quite. Roxton didn't want the guns to end up in the wrong hands and he somehow knew that, at least with these Trogs and natives, we were in no danger ... yet. He knew you would eventually find them and, hopefully, you would know we were in desperate trouble."
"And they did just want to capture you?" Malone nodded, listening.
"I think Danielle wanted the pleasure of killing us for herself. That and torturing Roxton ..." Marguerite's eyes studied the temple structure once again, trying to remember something. "We have to find a way to get back in there. She's doing things to him; playing on his emotions and trying to destroy him spiritually ..."
"No fear." Challenger assured, "Roxton is a strong man. It will take more than Danielle to break him."
"You don't understand," Marguerite spoke urgently to them all, "She did something to him with a strange powder and all that peculiar hocus pocus she tried on all of us a couple years ago. She's grown stronger."
"Marguerite you don't really believe ..."
"Challenger, are you forgetting the roof that fell in on me?" Malone asked.
"And how about how she made us all deathly ill so we couldn't follow she and Roxton to her village?" Veronica recalled.
"All right, there may be something to it but I just can't believe Roxton can be possessed because of some powder crushed from roots here on the plateau and a few so-called spiritual words mumbled over a fire ..."
"Then you explain why Roxton stabbed me!" Marguerite cried in frustration, cracks appearing in her facade of strength and control. Regretfully, she bowed her head as the silently taken aback trio stared at her.
Malone lifted a hand to softly and sympathetically pat her back.
Later, a more composed Marguerite explained what had happened once they entered the temple.
Forty eight hours ago:
They struggled of course but the possessed natives were strong and plentiful. However, Marguerite was aware enough through her struggles to notice one of the native men lifting a hand, once they reached the large stone doors of the structure, and pressing a loose stone. The doors slid open easily then stilled with an echoing clank.
Not long after they were both flung into a shadowy room with four walls and no window. Straw was scattered on the floor.
"Certainly wish I had a gun about now." Marguerite grumbled as Roxton examined the damp, stone walls of their prison.
"I'm not a man to surrender my weapons easily. You know that, Marguerite." Roxton countered.
"I know." she confessed, a bit guilty over the idiocy her words may have implied. "What do you think they have planned for us, Roxton?"
"I'm not sure but if they wanted us dead ..."
"... we would be dead." Marguerite agreed, "Well, whatever they're going to do I hope it doesn't hurt much."
Roxton found himself chuckling at her dark sense of humor and said the words he knew she was waiting for, "At least we're together."
"Leave it to you." She returned his smile, warmly. "If ever you're going to work your magic Lord Roxton, and get us out of this predicament, now would be the time."
Roxton's smile lessoned as he looked about the small room. If an escape was going to come it would have to be later. There was no getting out of this room.
"It's cold in here." Marguerite said, hugging herself. She would not admit it but she was shivering as much from fear as from the chill in the air.
Roxton came to her, put an arm around her for warmth and reassurance, and they sat on the straw strewn floor together, "We'll get out of here. You watch." He removed his hat and lay it beside his right leg, "Soon the others will find the clues we left for them. If we don't manage to make it out on our own the others will follow and rescue us."
Marguerite looked up at Roxton. It was hard for him to feel helpless. She leaned into his body as they sat together. She felt his lips brush her forehead and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Less than eight hours later this same gentle man, the human being she was currently sharing body warmth with, would be coming after Marguerite with a razor-sharp, deadly dagger.
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Once more, thank you Beckers for setting me straight when I went off on a tangent and nearly ruined this story!!!
MORE FICTION TO FOLLOW.