I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. This might be my last update for a few days due to extenuating circumstances. I live on the east coast so the weather is about to get a bit…damp thanks to Hurricane Hannah.
– Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 56
It was the crash and the cursing that jerked Veronica awake the next morning. Luis was digging through the meager kitchen supplies, throwing things around and had dropped the heavy skillet.
She rubbed her neck, sore from dozing while sitting upright wedged into a corner. Her butt felt numb and she cautiously stretched her legs out before her, bending from the waist to try and ease the cramped muscles. Her bladder was clamoring that it was full and she did her best to ignore it rather than dare ask her captor that she needed to go.
The area around her wrists was red and irritated from the constant chaffing, but she ignored the discomfort for now to focus on warming herself up. There was a slight chill in the air and she breathed deep, stretching her arms and shoulders as best as she could. She'd need to be able to move when the time was right.
The greasy man stopped what he was doing to shoot her a black glare, "You trying to catch my attention, punta?"
He leered and came over to crouch before her, his eyes frankly appraising.
Veronica felt filthy. His leer made her feel like it turned whatever she did into some sort of provocative come-on. She had to move very carefully or he would be on her like a starving pit bull on a steak.
"No. I just need to use the bathroom," she whispered, eyes frightened.
"What will you do if I let you do that?" He reached out and fingered a strand of her hair, brushing against her cheek and it took all of her will not to flinch.
Oh God, she prayed. Get me out of this without being raped, please!
"I'll make breakfast from whatever you have handy," she said evenly, meeting his eyes.
Luis grinned down at her and she fought not to gag at the stench of his breath or the dirty row of uneven teeth, "You got yourself a deal, punta."
He grabbed the chain between the cuffs and jerked her to her feet. Veronica couldn't help the pained cry as the cuffs cut into her wrist and muscles protested the sudden movement.
"Breakfast first," he sneered, pushing her toward the cooktop and supply box.
While she prodded through the supplies, he returned the cot to its original position. She collected some of the left over rice and dried beans, found some flour tortillas at the bottom of the box in flimsy plastic packaging. There were two eggs wrapped in paper towel and placed in toilet paper tubes for transport. Whatever they were planning, it was obvious that they weren't expecting to be here long.
Veronica added another bottle of water and dumped the beans to soak, setting it to the side for the moment. She took the skillet and added the rest of the bottle of oil to heat on medium heat. Veronica shifted from side to side, uncomfortable, and she could feel his eyes on her butt.
"I can't wait. I'm about to wet myself. May I go now? The skillet is heating and I won't be but a minute," she pleaded, turning to face Luis.
Luis grinned at her pleading tone, "Alright punta. Step away from the door."
She stepped behind the table and watched as he dialed open the lock and flipped the latch open.
The door swung open, revealing the dim light of early morning. Mist hung heavy over the trees and moisture from the dew dripped from the leaves.
Luis indicated that she should go first.
Keeping her head bowed, she walked toward the port-a-potty, taking a deep breath and stepping inside the small dark place – the smell of feces and urine strong in the morning air. Veronica relieved herself quickly and pushed the door to exit.
It wouldn't budge.
She shoved harder and she heard the dark chuckle of Luis outside.
Growing desperate for air, she kicked and hit at the door, "Let me out, please!"
"That's going to cost you extra," he teased.
Involuntarily, she took a small breath and ended up gagging. Her retch must have been apparent outside because he said, "You gimme a little sucre', punta when we get back inside or you can stay in there all day."
"Yes! Alright yes. Get me out of here!" she yelled, feeling her stomach heaving and fighting the impulse.
The door flew open and she fell to her knees, gasping for clean air. The orange blossom scented air never smelled so sweet.
Luis grabbed her shirt, ripping it slightly and heaved her to her feet, "Inside."
He practically threw her inside and she fell to her knees again, just beyond the doorway. Her shirt gaped open wider at the neck and the purple lace bra was bright against her pale skin. Veronica licked her lips nervously, "Please. Don't hurt me."
Luis approached, rubbing his swelling crotch and eyes watching her hungrily, he stepped inside.
She scrambled to her feet and bolted for the cooktop.
"Let me cook your breakfast first," she babbled, her voice high and scared. Her shaking hand grabbed the eggs and expertly cracked them into the pan of oil.
Luis crept up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. His stench wafting over her shoulder and she shuddered at the feeling of his breath against her neck, "Not hungry for that, punta. I'm hungry for you."
His hands crept up and cupped her breasts. She started to struggle as she felt his thin lips on her neck.
With a heave, she pushed back hard from the cooktop, throwing him backwards into the small table. Veronica grabbed the heavy skillet with both hands and whirled, screaming to throw the simmering oil and eggs into his face as he lunged back toward her, fury raging across his features.
Luis screamed, high and confused, falling back and clutching at his eyes. Feeling the intense heat of the pan, even in her scarred hands, she swung the pan as hard as she could, used her whole body to smack him alongside of the head, dropping him to the ground without another sound.
Realizing that she was gasping and crying, she took a deep breath before dropping into a crouch to roll him over. She grabbed the cell phone and the ring of keys from his pocket. Her hands trembled as she sorted through the ring, finding the handcuff key and freeing herself.
With the cuffs off, a sense of calm descended. She took the cuffs and quickly replaced them on Luis's wrist – one arm in front, the other in the back and threading them between his legs making escape far more awkward for him. She stood, kicking him in the side for good measure.
That ought to hold the bastard. She thought vindictively.
Veronica closed the door as she left and headed for the white pick-up truck parked behind the shack. It was easy to tell which key went to the vehicle and she hopped inside only to climb out a second later and head to the other side.
Bloody American vehicles…
The steering wheel was on the wrong side and the pedals were reversed, but it only took a few moments of fumbling to get the vehicle in reverse and to peel out up the road toward freedom. She felt giddy with delight at having manufactured and executed her own escape without help from anyone, although her conscious nagged her for getting caught in the first place.
The sun was just rising over the horizon as she reached the main road, glancing uncertainly up and down the long stretch of pavement.
Which way now?
There was a long line of traffic heading one way. Veronica came to the conclusion that sticking with a crowd was a good thing and pulled out to follow the flow.
Freedom felt good. She'd make sure she kept it this time by making sure she called Willy once she reached civilization.
She glanced at her palms, seeing the blisters on top of the heavy scarring even though she felt little discomfort, nothing requiring immediate medical attention.
Pushing aside the need to stop and let her reaction and shock overwhelm her, she leaned down and flipped on the radio to something insanely bouncy and mindless. Veronica promised herself a nice breakdown once she was safe.
She drove.
--
Victor was spinning in darkness. He could feel the satin of his black sheets under his body as he lay on his back in bed, feeling no particular inclination to open his eyes. Lights and colors swirled behind his closed lids and his limbs felt heavy. A soft pulsing beat filled his ears and he relaxed, hearing his heartbeat slow and steady.
The beat speeded up. Victor opened his eyes in confusion. Colors swirled overhead and an odd atonal note hummed through his body. Suddenly the lights cut out and his room was plunged into darkness. Victor struggled to sit up, off balance and awkward.
A spotlight clicked on revealing a small man in a three piece grey suit standing on the black tiled floor. His black hair was slicked back and his black eyes glittered coldly in the light. Victor swallowed hard as he saw the man's features swell and shift as if something was under the skin. Then the small man opened his mouth and sang in a rich dark voice:
Victor Brahm you're quite the sight
Drinking and schmoozing every night
Pressing Flesh and making calls
Flexing muscle – you've got balls.
Victor felt his unease rise – the words although flattering were angry, accusing. There was musical accompaniment to the man's song and the atonal notes grated against his nerves. He swore that he saw shifting in the shadows. What the hell had he gotten into last night to cause this kind of dream?
Handsome, charming and debonair
You're something else beyond compare
Touching concern and gracious smile
To me and other you are quite….vile.
The last word was hissed and the man's face twisted in disgust. The lights in the room shot up and the world was filled with twisting color, dancing along the walls and crawling across his skin in sickening ways. There were other figures revealed, dressed head to toe in simple black, their faces twisted and red with sneers and pointed teeth - demons from the depths of his fevered Catholic-raised imagination.
Victor yelped and skittered back to press his back into the headboard, his heart beating triple time.
This had to be a dream, he thought in panic.
The devils danced and menaced him, singing all the while.
You're a crook, a weasel, a nasty guy
Time to face this thing before you die
A toad, a snake, a really bad man
Did you think you could pull off this plan?
There was a tall figure, dressed in head to toe unrelieved black, from the tips of his pointy shoes to the top hat perched on his head. Even the cane was black. There was a low red light behind him and this demonic figure stared at him with arctic cold violet eyes. It looked like Satan himself had come to collect his soul.
A helpless girl in awful plight
And you at the center of her fright
We know it's you, time to confess
Before you go to eternal rest
The little man's deep voice sent shivers of terror down Victor's back and the lights began to flicker, throwing frightening shadows across the vicious faces of the devils that capered around his bed. Cold sweat streamed down Victor's face, but he was frozen, unable to move. He knew that his deeds would catch up with him, but not now…not like this.
"No…I didn't mean…It's not my fault," he whimpered.
The well-dressed figure of Satan stepped forward with a deliberate grace and he couldn't stop the scream breaking from his throat as he grabbed his headboard in a deathly grip, eyes locked on the menacing figure.
Your time is up – time to collect
The noose is closing around your neck
So speak your sins and free your soul
Or join us in our darkest hole
Where is the girl?
Better speak up now.
Where is the girl?
Time is running short.
Where is the girl?
Evil's closing in.
Where is the girl?
This is your end.
With every repetition, the devils and their master closed in closer and closer. Victor couldn't breathe, his heart was pounding in his chest, in his head – the terror mounting to its peak.
"The orange grove!" he screamed, holding a hand out in protest as the denizens of Hell came to collect, "She's in the orange groves out by the Santa Monica National Park!"
Satan held out a gloved hand and blew a fine dust in Victor's face.
Smelling brimstone and sulfur, he passed out.
--
"Well that was a bit more dramatic than I thought, but it turned out well," Willy said calmly, removing the contaminated gloves and replacing the black latex with purple. He tossed the gloves covered in his sweet dreams powder into the waiting trash bag.
"Let's clean up and get out of here – I don't want to deal with this jerk any more than I have to," Willy sneered down at the unconscious figure. There was a puddle around Victor from where he'd lost control of his bladder in his terror.
He turned to Sherman, who had sung the interrogation, "What was that you gave him to elicit such a strong response? Not that I'm complaining mind you…just remind me never to get on your bad side."
Sherman couldn't conceal his glee, "Nightmare Potion made from ground Schnozwhanger beak. It's a more concentrated version of what we use during our sessions Won-Ka. The purpose of the potion is to unlock your subconscious mind – apparently Mr. Brahm feels that he has a lot to regret and fear. Judging from his reactions, I'm guessing there were some heavy duty hallucinations going on as well."
Willy nodded in satisfaction, "Good. Hope he learned something today. Are we ready to go?"
The last of the lights and other special effects equipment were gathered up and all evidence of their visit were removed and loaded back into the van. Orville was on the secure satellite phone, relaying information to Sni-Ki and getting a list of places that fit the description of what Victor had said.
It was close to dawn, two days after Veronica had been abducted. He climbed shrugged out of his coat, unbuttoning the collar and switched out his top hat for the baseball hat again before climbing into the passenger seat. He sighed and closed his eyes, rallying what little energy he had left for the flight in the Grand Wonkavator out to free Veronica.
L.A., dressed casually, sat in the driver's seat, waiting for the last of the equipment and people to be loaded. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.
"The woman I love is missing. I've just drugged and interrogated the man responsible. I haven't slept or eaten since finding out she'd been kidnapped and have been through the emotional wringer after having to tell her brother about what happened. What do you think?" he asked sarcastically.
"No need to get snippy, Won-Ka. I am just worried about you as well," L.A. said primly.
He opened his eyes and glanced at her with a small smile, "You're right. I'm sorry for snapping at you. I feel tired, scared, angry and oddly like I need a cigarette even though I've never smoked in my life. How're you doing?"
She grinned at him, "Fine, thank you."
Sherman stepped forward, "Won-Ka, everyone is here and everything is accounted for."
"Good – back to the hotel please," Willy sighed, settling deeper into his seat and pulling the cap low over his eyes.
He could catch a few winks of sleep before getting back to the hotel and taking the Grand Wonkavator to try and rescue Veronica.
Within a few minutes, the exhausted man was asleep. L.A. drove as slowly and carefully as she dared. The crew in the back switched to their native language – mostly soft noises and hand gestures.
There was a tug on her shirt, and she glanced down to see her father seated on the console between the seats, "L.A – I am very proud of you."
This took the young woman by surprise, "Proud? Why?"
"You took responsibility for your actions – even though the fault was not yours. You were the one who discovered how to get access to that foul creature, and you were the warrior who approached him to lure him into our trap. What is there not to be proud of?" Sher-Man-Ra said fondly. "You have brought honor and distinction upon yourself and our family."
L.A. blushed, "Thank you. I am pleased that you find pride in me."
"I'm sure Tupik-Ra will be impressed as well," the Shaman said slyly, watching the flush deepen across his daughter's cheeks.
"Father. You know as well as I do that whatever happens, Tupik-Ra and I will never..." she broke off, swallowing hard.
"Do you love him, my child?" he asked gently.
"I've loved him since I was a child. But it is a foolish love and can never be," she protested sadly.
"Patience child. I know you feel that your increased size cuts you off from the rest of our people, but we must have faith that a solution will be found. After all – Wonk-Ka came to deliver us as foretold - and I have a situation that there is a solution to your dilemma as well. We love you no matter what size you are and only want your happiness," he said practically, standing to kiss her on the cheek before hopping back down into the back of the van.
She drove in silence for the remainder of the trip lost in thought.
The sun was climbing up over the horizon when they pulled up to the hotel and passed through the gates to follow the winding path back to the cottage. It took a key pass and typed-in code to get access to the small driveway that led to the back of the cottage.
Willy snorted once and woke when the engine cut out. Without a word he opened the door and climbed out, throwing the cap back onto the seat with disgust and rubbing his fingers across his scalp. Slipping on the black coat he sighed heavily.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated and he jumped in surprise. Glancing at the unfamiliar number, he frowned and flipped open the phone, "Hello?"
"Willy?" came a familiar female voice, one he'd been praying for the past three days to hear.
"Veronica!" he breathed. "Where are you? Are you alright?"
"I'm at some Valco truck stop along Mullholland Parkway in California. I'm guessing that you've heard what happened." She said quietly. He could hear voices and noises in the background.
"I was already on my way to L.A. when I got the news," he said.
"So you're in Los Angeles, now?" Veronica said, hope peeking through her dry voice.
"Yes. Are you alright?" he asked softly, greatly concerned at her weak tone.
"I'll survive. Can you come get me?" she whispered.
Willy was already running. He bolted through the house ignoring the startled looks and questions and grabbing an atlas laying on the dining room table and sprinting to the Grand Wonkavator in the back by the pool.
Flipping open the atlas to California, he asked, "Okay – what mile marker? I can be there in about fifteen minutes at top speed."
Her voice cracked and as did his heart, "I'm not sure. I think it's 215 by Highway 90 – these Yanks can't give proper direction if their lives depended on it."
"Hang in there, I'm in the Grand Wonkavator now and I think I have the coordinates, hang on a sec," he balanced the atlas in one hand and typed in the GPS coordinates based on what she'd given him. The doors closed and sealed and the powerful thrusters engaged.
"I'm in the air now. LAX is going to hire a hit man to deal with me, but better to ask forgiveness than take the time to beg permission," Willy babbled, trying to keep her engaged and on the line.
"I just want to go home," she said quietly.
--
Veronica sat hunched in the plastic booth at the truck stop. It was a simple place, rows of junk food and motor accessories with a small greasy spoon diner at the back. There was a cup of coffee in front of her untouched.
The truck had run out of gas about a half a mile back and she had trudged to this place with just the change she was able to scrounge from the cab. Considering that gas was running over four dollars and she had scrounged a dollar fifty, a cup of coffee was about she would be able to afford.
Her knees were curled up to her chest and she clutched the phone like a lifeline – terrified that at any moment Paolo or Luis would walk in and she'd be caught again.
She listened to Willy babble with half an ear, taking considerable comfort from hearing his voice. She could hear the thrusters in the background and the occasional moments of strain in his voice as the craft did something that he had to brace against.
Finally, after only 10 minutes, she heard what sounded like a sonic boom outside. The noise rattled the windows and the customers looked around in alarm, wondering what exploded, or if there was an earthquake.
There was another boom and the familiar sound of the thrusters firing as the strange looking craft landed in the parking lot outside.
"Hey isn't that Willy Wonka's Wonkavator?" asked a young man in baggy shorts and flip flops
"I think it is. Holy crap, what's he doing here?" answered the clerk behind the counter.
Veronica was up and moving before the dust had settled, pushing her way through the crowd of bystanders and flinging open the door with a loud clatter of bells.
"Honey – you should just stand back," advised one solid elderly man in the parking lot, grabbing hold of her and keeping her from running toward the Wonkavator.
She jerked free and scrambled forward as the doors hissed and started to open. Alarmed voices were shouting at her, but she ignored them.
Just as a slender figure dressed all in black stepped from inside, she was in his arms weeping hysterically. The crowd began to murmer and point, a few whipped out cell phones and snapped pictures of their embrace. For once, Willy didn't care what the world thought.
Veronica was safe.
He clung to her, crying himself at the relief of having her back. Her thin body was shaking and her arms were wrapped around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply. He kissed her hard, all the fear, frustration and hopelessness melting away to sheer love and happiness that she was alive. He cupped the back of her head and burried his nose into the crease of her shoulder and neck, feeling that she was doing the same.
"Thank you God! Thank you." he sighed. "You're safe. I've got you."
"Oh, God! I missed you," she cried, hugging him tighter.
He released her to look her over, holding her hands in his. Willy saw the bruise across her jaw and the split lip that accompanied it. He also noticed the torn shirt and felt an icy grip around his heart. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on the last time he saw her as she stepped into the cab to head to California.
"Who did that? What happened?" he asked.
"I was kidnapped by two men – Paolo and Luis. Paolo was alright a bit scary, but decent. Luis did this last night and tried to rape me right before I made my break this morning," Veronica reported in a detached voice. Her composure started to falter and more tears streamed down her cheeks.
"It's okay – you're safe. Let's get out of here." Willy said, wiping her tears away with a tender thumb before looping an arm around her waist and guiding her into the Wonkavator and closing the door. Once inside, she settled into his arms like she never intended to leave again.
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about Victor, Willy. It was stupid, and all of this worry is my fault," she cried, letting herself finally fall apart.
"Just relax. Let's get to the hotel and get you cleaned up and to rest."
"I love you Willy, I hope you can forgive me."
"I do. I love you too you maddening woman. Don't ever do that again!" He mock shook her with a stern look.
They shared a tender kiss as the thrusters fired, slowly lifting them into the bright morning sky.
The crowd was creeping closer in curiosity, but backed away with cries of alarm when the thrusters fired, kicking up a large cloud of dust. The craft rose gracefully into the sky and soared away.
The people looked at each other and shrugged going back to their daily lives.
Only in California, after all.