Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Eleven
"And why are you here, Bleak? What did she promise you?"
Linka was perched with her back against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she studied her cell-mate sulking on the other side. She vaguely wondered if she looked as bad as he did. Bleak's face and chest were smothered with a combination of dirt, blood and God-knows what else.
Glancing down at the condition of her own bare arms, she assumed the worst. The only clean spots were where the rope had once wrapped tightly around her wrists. Now free from her restraints, she ran her thumbs over the red, angry welts the bindings had left behind.
Bleak sat quietly, steadfastly ignoring her questions and glaring in the direction of the activity beyond the area they were contained in. A ramshackle structure, there were four cells - one taking up each corner, with a central area utilised by their captors. There appeared to be around six men in total, all involved in various tasks.
The central area was quite sparse, consisting of milk crates, broken plastic chairs and a filthy desk. A grungy couch in desperate need of a clean sat in the centre and three of their captors sat within it, free of their respirators and playing a rowdy game of cards to fill in the time.
A CB radio crackled away infrequently — attached to a car battery and perched in prime position on top of an old IBM computer. The monitor was empty: a gaping hole within that was filled with disposable cups and rubbish.
A collection of weaponry was lying around, including bayonets, bats, swords and knives. Linka's eyes kept gravitating nervously towards a machete propped up against the desk. She couldn't tell if the stains on the blade were from rust or blood. In all honesty, she didn't want to know.
Her eyes wandered in the direction of the other cells. There were three other people being held against their will, in addition to herself and her motley crew of time travellers. A middle-aged woman and two men, perhaps in their thirties, were being held in the cell opposite.
Linka was stuck in a cell with both Bleak and Kroi: the latter currently passed out on a pile of blankets in the corner adjacent to her. Blight was… she had no idea where Blight was. Linka had woken and there had been no sign of the scientist.
Her thoughts turned to the lunacy of the situation and a brief "Wheeler-ism" sprung to mind; unbidden and almost physically painful to behold.
The captors have captured my captors.
Linka sighed heavily, wiping away a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks with the back of her hand. Wheeler's presence would have gone a long way in relieving her apprehension and fear. The talk with Kwame several days ago about Wheeler's behaviour seemed completely irrelevant and uncalled for now. She rested her chin on her arms, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself.
"Hey, you? Girl?" An American voice broke through her scattered thoughts and she glanced up in surprise. A man was holding onto a CB radio and pointing in her direction. "How old are you? Where are you from? Germany?"
Linka's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the stranger. Having removed his heavy clothing, he stood six feet tall; skinny with a rough beard covering his weather-beaten face and hard eyes.
"Ja," Linka said, not willing to give him anything pertaining to her background. "Deutsche."
"Huh?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice a little louder now.
"How old are you?"
Linka blinked, wondering what on earth these people were up to. "Twenty-three."
The stranger turned his back on her, murmuring quietly into the CB radio. Argos Bleak shifted from his spot on the floor, stretching and ironing out the kinks in his muscles.
"German," Bleak muttered, clearly amused by her little white lie. "They're scavengers, you know."
"What?"
Bleak leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the CB radio operator. "They're scavengers. They look for things of value and sell 'em. Trade 'em."
"How do you know that?" she asked softly, glancing in the direction of the cell opposite and the woman who had just started sobbing quietly within.
"Because," Bleak stated patiently, gesturing towards the makeshift communication hub, "they've just released your details over the radio. They're advertising you."
"WHAT!" Linka yelped, drawing the attention of the men playing cards nearby. They frowned at her, before settling back into their game again. "What do you mean, advertising me?"
Bleak shrugged. "I reckon they were only tailing us because they spotted you and Blight. You're both valuable to them."
"Valuable for what?"
Bleak shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, looking over her shoulder. "For whatever."
"Where is Blight?" she asked, confused. "I woke up here and she was…"
"The good doctor caused a bit of a fuss." Bleak glanced in the direction of one of the men on the couch. "Kneed one of 'em in the groin. Tried gouging another guy's eye out. I reckon she's in solitary confinement by now. Or in a ditch."
"And she has my ring," Linka said, shoulders slumped as she leaned back against the wall again. "Just wonderful."
Bleak grunted in response. "That ain't my problem."
"That IS your problem, Bleak," she hissed, glaring at him with contempt. "I cannot help but notice you seem to be as clueless about all of this as I am."
"So what," he snapped back. "I'm getting nearly a hundred thousand from Plunder to deliver you."
"What chance do you have of collecting it, if you are stuck here for good, Bleak?" Linka said with exasperation, pushing her hair off her face as she regarded him with a withering look. "Pridurok."
Bleak set his jaw, staring ahead with blazing eyes. Linka knew that she'd touched a nerve. She sighed, rubbing her face and grimacing at the layer of grime appearing on her fingers.
"Who were you delivering me to?" She frowned at him. "I have little chance of making it there anyway under current circumstances."
Bleak raised his hand to his head, running his palm over the smooth skin of his scalp as he processed her words. "Doctor Blight put in a request for you."
"I already know that," she said, frustration clouding her ability to respond without sarcasm. "I do not think she anticipated –"
"No. Future Doctor Blight," he interrupted, gesturing around him. "Something about a message on a mirror during one of our Blight's earlier time jump attempts. Future Blight gave our Blight all the data she was missing and asked for you specifically. That's all I know."
"Me? What would she want with -"
She didn't get to finish. Linka and Bleak froze as the door they'd been brought through the night before was slammed open. Papers and light objects were launched into the air, scattering throughout the holding area as another two individuals were dragged through.
Two men; one unconscious, the other putting up one heck of a fight. They were tossed into an empty holding cell and locked in, the conscious prisoner screaming and hollering at the top of his lungs.
Linka stood unsteadily, gripping the bars within her hands and pressing her forehead between them. She held her breath, watching on as one of their captors swore loudly, grabbing a baseball bat and pointing it in the direction of the troublemaker.
A cold chill ran through her body. Linka heard the rattle of the cell door; the high-pitched pleading and the sickening impact of metal crunching against flesh, followed by a heavy thump.
Linka staggered away, her hands shaking as she flattened them against the wall. She slid down onto the cement floor and huddled in the corner, weeping as Bleak looked away, muttering something derogatory about Blight under his breath.
She wept quietly for a while, wiping her face with the back of her hands and seeking to get herself under control. The information she'd received from Bleak eventually floated through her mind, and it proved a welcome distraction.
The semantics of their situation confused Linka. If a future version of Blight had 'summoned' her, how could the past version exist here? That surely, if 'future' Blight existed in this place, perhaps the other Planeteers would be present here too? The possibility reassured her somewhat.
Darkness was descending and Linka's eyes were becoming heavy. She blinked, weary now as several kerosene lanterns and candles were brought in and set up on the surfaces around the central area. A small fire was burning in a metal drum that had been dragged into the centre of the room. She reached for a blanket, tossing it loosely around her shoulders as a thought suddenly occurred to her.
Do they not have electricity here?
Other small details emerged: details that she hadn't noticed until now. No cell phones were present. No refrigerator. No television. No working computers. Nothing.
She dropped down onto her side and laid her cheek on her arm, pondering this discovery with growing unease. Slipping into an unsettled sleep, Linka was unaware of Kroi's quiet observation of her; his eyes narrowed and gleaming in the firelight.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she turned her head slightly, confused as she felt the scrape of cement against her stomach and cheek. She looked up, still bleary from lack of sleep. Bleak was slumped against the wall in front of her and snoring softly.
Her view of Bleak was gradually diminishing, however. The singlet she was wearing dragged up under her breasts with the sudden movement of her body, and it took Linka a moment to register that something was very wrong.
Kroi.
Flinging her hands forward, she flattened them against the floor and tried to drag herself away. She didn't make it far as large hands gripped her thighs. Linka was hauled back towards him, her fingernails clawing the cement desperately. Her hips were lifted until her bottom half lay draped over his lap. She felt Kroi's torso settle between her legs and the bottom of her stomach dropped away in fear.
Linka reacted violently. She tried to fight him off, flailing and thrashing beneath him, reaching around blindly to pinch, scratch and slap him away. She opened her mouth to scream but he had anticipated this too, wedging his hand tightly between the floor and her mouth. He leaned forward until his body was fully extended over Linka's; the weight of his crotch pressing into her bottom and effectively pinning her into place.
She sobbed against his palm and Kroi responded by digging his fingernails painfully into her flesh, leaving indents along her jawline. He forcibly jerked her head to the side and brought the other hand to her eye level, ensuring she could see the switchblade clutched tightly within. Her glance darted towards the main area utilised by their captors and saw with dismay that it was empty.
Kroi placed the weapon just out of her reach, keeping his other hand firmly over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. He ground himself against her, running his free hand over her body in a manner that made her skin crawl with disgust. He gripped the elastic band holding her hair up and tugged it free, trailing his fingers through her thick hair and smoothing the strands out over her back. It was a gentle action that certainly didn't suit the situation. Almost loving — until Kroi tightened his grip and jerked her head back painfully.
She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks but the sound was muffled against his hand as she struggled beneath him. Breathing heavily, Kroi buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath hot and wet on her skin. His free hand forced itself beneath her body and worked to unbutton the top of her jeans.
Oh nyet, oh pozhaluysta, nyet.
Linka's fear had graduated to terror. She retaliated with the only weapon she had left at her disposal. Raising her hands, she gripped Kroi's forearm — gouging her nails into his skin. He grunted, relaxing his grip over her mouth for a moment. She followed the movement of his withdrawing arm and leaned forward, sinking her teeth into Kroi's hand.
He bellowed, jerking his hand away and she dragged herself forward on her elbows, ragged gasps trembling from her lips as she reached out and grabbed the hem of Bleak's chino's.
"BLEAK!" she shrieked, not knowing if he would offer assistance — not knowing if he would care — but he was the only option she had. "HELP ME!"
Linka held tight to Bleak's ankle as Kroi dragged her back towards him again. Her cries had awoken their fellow prisoners in the other cells and their concerned shouts soon joined her own.
"Get OFF me," she sobbed, launching a vicious right kick that glanced off Kroi's collarbone. "Bastard!"
Kroi lurched forward, furious now as he flipped her over, grabbing her by the face and slamming the back of her head into the concrete. Linka cried out in pain. Her body slumped with the impact as he bore down on her angrily, jostling her about and moving her into position. He dragged her jeans down and forced her legs apart while she was still incapacitated. Kneeling between her thighs, he fell on top of her with a groan, fumbling now with his own trousers.
Shouts. Angry tones. Kroi's body weight was suddenly gone as he was dragged away. She rolled over painfully, pulling her jeans back up and curling into a foetal position. A shoving match had ensued. She raised trembling hands, clutching her head and feeling wet blood on the pads of her fingers. The background noise seemed to acquire a distorted tone, lessening in volume until only the rapid pulse of her blood pumping was audible.
The jingle of keys somewhere in the distance. Random shapes and shadows as her eyes struggled to focus. Hands gripped under Linka's arms and she was hauled away into the far corner as the metal gate to their enclosure swung open.
Dazed, Linka opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and her head was pounding but she sensed there were men filing into their cell; batons and weapons raised. Kroi stumbled towards them, his blade in his hand as he bellowed at the intruders. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"Fuck. This ain't gonna' end well," Bleak muttered, still clutching Linka under the arms as he manoeuvred her away from the fray. He dropped her trembling body into the corner, narrowly dodging a man bouncing violently off the wall. "Damn idiot."
Linka huddled down, curling her body as tightly as possible. She stared blankly at the wall, not seeming to take in the melee going on a mere few feet from her. She flinched as one of their captors hit the ground hard in front of her, courtesy of Kroi's meaty fist colliding with his cheekbone.
The scavengers eventually got Kroi under control and he was manhandled out of their cell, screaming obscenities and threats that only Linka could understand. He disappeared into the darkness and Linka dropped her face into her hands, breaking down.
Bleak gritted his teeth, looking away from the window. He'd glimpsed a baseball bat brought down hard to the ground and he was under no allusions as to what was going on outside. Kroi had damaged their merchandise, and they were pissed.
"I want to go home," Linka cried. Her voice quivered with grief as she collapsed onto the concrete; dizzy and exhausted. "I cannot do this, I should not be here. I want to go home."
Bleak rubbed his face, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Don't we all, kid."