Author's note-

Thanks for all the well wishes. I've been feeling much better today. :) This one is a little longer than normal. Hopefully, I'll get another one up too. This story is taking off on me! (I love that feeling. :D It's such a rush when the stories take on a life of their own and demand to be written!)

Lou

Chapter Ten

Sharp branches and stones tore at his bare feet as he ran through the woods, arms up as he tried desperately to protect his face. Branches lashed against him as he ran. Thorny shrubs grabbed and ripped his skin. The scents of bruised leaves and wet earth mixed with blood from his body.

A large, hollow log gave him a place to pause for a second, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Water tinkled off to his left, and he crawled out of the log, running towards the small creek. It told him how far into the woods he'd ran.

He crawled into the log, wrapping his arms around his knees, making himself as small as he could. A branch snapped underfoot in the woods outside. He tucked his head onto his knees, trying not to hear the footsteps that were drawing closer.

"Raylan..." The log rocked as something slammed into it. "I know you're out here, son."

He bolted from the log, that voice driving him forward, heedless of anything but the desperate need to get away... to escape that voice. Blind, naked fear drove him on, running wildly into the woods.

A stone turned under his foot, pitching him headlong into the steep ravine. Pain roared through his body as rocks slammed against him. He landed with a thump in the sludgy water, limbs trembling with exhaustion. A pebble bounced down the ravine.

He sucked in a breath that burned in his lungs, searching the banks with haunted eyes. The setting sun outlined the figure standing on the ridge.

"I told you, Raylan," the man said as he climbed down the bank.

He crawled backwards, forcing his exhausted limbs to move. Cold, calloused hands closed on his arm, dragging him back...

Warm hands on his face jerked him awake. He scrambled backwards, brain trying to reconcile the different sensations. His pulse beat loudly in his ears. A headache pounded behind his eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing his heart to slow, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

The girl from the woods huddled next to the wall. A chain ran from a cuff around her ankle to a heavy bracket fixed in the floor. It had left drag marks in the dust where she had moved. A spill of pale moonlight washed over her, making her blonde hair glow like spun gold. She looked up and met his eyes.

"I thought you'd never wake up," she whispered. "I'm sorry if I scared you." Her voice sounded odd- thick, choked by something other than tears.

He licked his lips. "This isn't the same room we were in before." His voice came out low, and hoarse. He rolled onto his side, studying the room.

"They moved us while you were out. That bitch gave you something else."

A rickety bed took up most of the space. One corner was piled with old bedding and towels. Something furry moved in the shadows. He caught a glance of a long tail as the rat ducked back into its hole.

She rolled a bottle of water towards him. "It's okay. It's not drugged. The seal is still on it. They give us it on a night."

He opened the bottle and sipped from it slowly. It hit his empty stomach hard, filling him with nausea. The sickness faded after a few more sips. "Thanks."

She toasted him with her own bottle. "They'll bring burgers in the morning. It's the only time they feed us."

His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a meal. "You seem to know the routine pretty well."

Slivers of paper dotted her legs as she picked at the label on her bottle. "I've been here for almost six months." She shrugged. "I've had plenty of time to learn how they do things."

He fastened the cap back onto his bottle and tried to sit up. Pain speared through him like a lance, stopping him halfway. A long, thick chain tethered him to the floor, just like the girl. The cuff fastened around his injured wrist. It had worn through the bandages in places. Blood tricked from his torn skin.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"Almost a full day," she whispered. "The chief isn't very happy. Your boss keeps calling your cell phone."

That made him smile. "I thought he might be looking for me."

The door grated open, spilling pale yellow light into the room. It splashed over the girl. Raylan sucked in an agonised breath when he saw the damage to her body. Dark, knotted bruises covered her arms and legs. A gash took up the space between her eyebrow and hairline. Her lip was spilt and puffy.

Weary self-disgust filled him. I always knew this'd happen one day, he thought, almost flinching when she leaned closer to him.

She caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "It wasn't you. You didn't hurt me. I promise," she whispered with desperate strength. "Remember that, no matter what they tell you."

He searched her eyes, seeing no fear there, just pain and frantic hope. Carefully, he reached up and touched a bruise on her cheek with a shaking finger. "They did this because of me."

The door creaked a little further open. A raucous laugh drifted into the room.

"No. They did it because they are very bad people who like to make others suffer." She grabbed his hand as he let it drop.

Heavy footsteps made both of them turn towards the door. The chief stood in the doorway, framed by the light. "Aw, ain't this sweet. You're getting all cosy."

He nodded to one of his men, who grabbed the girl by the arm and yanked her away from Raylan. Another man brought in a pair of heavy wooden chairs and set them down in the middle of the room. The chief dropped into one.

"Get him up," he said.

Two men grabbed Raylan by his arms and hauled him to his feet. He swung a punch at the taller man's head, pulling up short when the sound of a shotgun being cocked echoed around the room.

One of the chief's men pointed the gun at the girl's head. She curled up into a ball, hands held out as if they could stop the shot. Soundless tears slid down her face, reflecting the light.

"Now, Raylan, don't be stupid," the chief said. "Try anything like that again, and I'll blow her fucking head off."

Raylan stared at the gun, every muscle taut as his self-control battled with the rage tearing through him. Self-control won. He stared at the chief with open hatred. "What do you want?"

The chief kicked the chair towards Raylan. "I want you to sit your ass down."

The taller man dropped into the chair, keeping his eyes fixed on the chief's face. The portly man pulled out a silver revolver and held it up so Raylan could see it. "This was my Grand-Daddy's. He killed his first man with it."

"I'm sure he remembers that day very fondly," Raylan said darkly, a thread of anger burning though his words. "I like a semi-auto myself. More accurate."

The chief laughed and thumbed a bullet into the cylinder on the side of the gun. "Game I want to play, it doesn't have to be accurate." He pointed the muzzle of the gun at Raylan's head. "Feeling lucky today?"

Raylan sucked in a short breath. "One in six. Those ain't odds I like much." The muscles over his shoulders were hard with strain. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

The chief laughed and closed his finger on the trigger. A short, dry click filled the suddenly silent room. "One in five now." He squeezed the trigger again. The gun clicked on another empty chamber. "Tsk... Now we're at one in four. Think I should stop?"

Raylan looked at him, eyes hard. "What do you want?" His voice came out ice-cold.

The older man handed him a sheet of paper with a few lines typed on it. "I want you to phone your God-dammed boss and read that to him. Tell him you're going out of town for a while. Get him to stop phoning you."

Raylan read the words with a sinking heart. "Okay. Give me the phone."

The chief grabbed Raylan's cell from the man next to him. "No secret codes... no clever stuff. Just read what I've typed there, or the girl gets it, understand?"

"Sure," Raylan muttered, and dialled the number. It rang a few times before Art answered. "Art? It's Raylan. I know you've been trying to reach me. Look, I'm heading down to my folk's place for a few days. I've been wanting to catch up with my father for a while now." He paused, listening, hoping that Art would understand the message. "Okay. I'll ring when I get back."

The chief snatched the phone from Raylan's hand, ending the call. He slammed a blow into the taller man's gut. "That wasn't what I told you to say!"

Raylan coughed and gestured weakly to the paper which had dropped to the floor. "I couldn't say that. He knows I hate fishing. Would've tipped him off."

The chief stared at him, eyes drilling into Raylan's. The taller man met his gaze without flinching, knowing that more than his life depended on it. A few seconds passed before the chief swung another blow at Raylan, knocking him off the chair. He landed on the floor with a painful thump, ribs screaming from the impact.

"Get out, all of you," the chief barked. "We're going. Leave them both here to rot."

The men cleared out. The chief slammed the door behind him, throwing up a choking cloud of dust. Raylan stared at the girl. She met his eyes as a bolt scraped into place on the other side of the door.

"Now what?" she asked quietly.

Raylan closed his eyes and sighed. "Now we wait."