KORDA
Chapter Five
I rode in the sidecar, as I had no driving permit. Selena zoomed us due south on our rented pink motor scooter; we figured Tegan with her short hair would not get as far as Nyssa, and thus be easier to find. I had to tie mine back; even with the helmet the wind blew it in my face. We reached the shore in a few hours, even having stopped briefly to eat (Selena insisted; "You must keep your strength up!) I'd popped some jammy dodgers into my backpack and shared them with Selena, who found them quite exotic.
We didn't stop when we reached the shore. We just turned left and kept going. It was getting dark but the sky was clear; perhaps we'd have a bright moon. By and by, we did. We hadn't seen a soul on the beach but we had seen some fishing boats, and eventually a small marina with half a dozen slips. We stopped on the sand, leaving our helmets in the sidecar, and walked up onto the wooden marina walkway to ask if anyone had seen a short-haired girl cycling eastward. There was barely anyone to ask and no one we asked had seen anyone but each other, until one of the fishing boats, a motorboat, pulled into its slip and ejected an agile woman with a face so weathered that I couldn't guess her age. She wore a green wool felt mariner's cap, a puffy green vest with a plethora of pockets, baggy trousers and high boots. In response to our inquiry she laughed heartily and informed us that the young lady we sought had made a similar inquiry about a tall, fair-haired young man dressed more or less for a batona match. She hadn't seen him but wondered if she were seeing him now. She fingered the ends of my ponytailed wig as she peered into my face; I'd had a shave after my shower but had neglected to have another before leaving the TARDIS. I stood my ground as she stroked my face, seeking stubble. She laughed again and let go of me. "She's looking for you, isn't she?"
Selena shook her head, no, but, somewhat defiantly, I said, "Yes."
"He's mine," said Selena, quickly, and the woman laughed even harder.
"He's mine, now, my dear," she declared, backing up her claim with a serrated bait knife at my throat. Selena backed off. I thought, surely I can take a knife off an old lady, but how can I do it without hurting her? I reached up and across, as she was on my left, and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand and the knife away from my throat, but instead of dropping the knife she slashed my right forearm. I yelped and let go of her, and she pulled my backpack halfway off me, effectively disabling my arms, which she then deftly tied at the wrists, behind my back, with a length of hand line. Serena tried twice to stop her and both times got cut for her trouble.
"Find Tegan!" I cried. Selena hesitated. "Find her! Get her to the TARDIS!" I was perp-walked to the motorboat and shoved into it; my captor pushed me out of the way as she climbed in and started the engine. I could feel us backing out of the slip. I tried to sit up but couldn't, so I rolled over and found myself propped up slightly by the backpack. I couldn't see much, though, just some of our foamy wake and a few stars in the darkening sky.
Vansittart Island was uninhabited but not empty. Little girls used to row out in the summer to play pirate, or to picnic. In the spring only the odd crabber or fisherwoman would show up. My captor had finished her commercial endeavors for the day and now I was her only concern, and apparently her only reason for being on the island. She had fixed up a little shelter and we sat outside it, by a small fire she made with the aid of a nearly empty book of matches and a mountain of twigs. She requisitioned my wig, my hairband, my dress (not right away, as she would have had to untie me to remove it) and even my boots, but left me my bloomers, at which she laughed long and hard. The straps of my backpack could be unclipped so she was able to remove it from me right away. I was given back my plimsolls, trousers, jumper, shirt and coat, once she had emptied my pockets, but of course I had no way to put them on; she put my plimsolls on my feet, left on right, right on left – her idea of a joke, I guess – and left the rest of my clothing in a heap, out of reach. She ripped the sheet into strips. She used one to clean up my right arm, threw the bloody strip on the fire, then used another to bind the wound, rather tightly I thought. She blindfolded me with a third strip. Throughout all this I was silent; she wasn't, but all she did was whistle, chuckle, sing, exclaim over my possessions and mock me generally. What could I possibly say to any of that?
I could hear her pottering around and had no idea what she was doing or whether any of what she was doing had to do with me. Eventually she pushed me over so that I was lying down on my side in the dirt in front of the shelter. She cut the line binding my wrists but before I could react she had the dress up over my head, tied another strip of sheet around one of my wrists, pulled the dress all the way off and tied my wrists together once more. I'd been chilly with the dress on; now I was cold, despite the fire. She walked her fingers down my spine and suddenly my shivering had nothing to do with the temperature, but she left me alone after that.
My feet were free but where could I go? When I hadn't heard her stirring for a while, I tried sitting up. She pushed me back down. I didn't try again.
It was a long, cold night, and I had plenty of time to think, but useful ideas were not plentiful. I thought about Selena looking for Tegan, Tegan and Nyssa looking for me, and this minuscule island's not being on any maps; how would anyone ever find me? Why did this woman even want me? Was she crazy or canny? Was I an opportunistic catch for her to torture, or was I still merchandise? To sell me, she would have to take me back to the mainland… or did she? Maybe she had regular buyers who came here. Did she intend to keep me here until I was "trained" or perhaps until I died? Had there been others before me? Were others buried on this island? Would I be?
I felt morning come. I could see light through the strip of sheet covering my eyes and I could feel the sun on my cold skin. My right hand and forearm were numb, except for the part that hurt like hell. My nose was running. If I was merchandise, I was already damaged goods.
"Eat," said the woman, shoving something against my lips. It smelled like fruit and I was hungry so I opened my mouth. She fed me several pieces and then, apparently running out of patience, spilled some fresh water in the general direction of my mouth. I heard her get up and start to walk away.
"I need to… urinate," I called out, my voice raspy. She just laughed. "I mean it!" She came back and hauled me to my feet. She walked me through some tall weeds, onto the beach, out to the water and then in up to my chest. She didn't adjust my bloomers for which I was grateful, but she kept her grip on the strip of sheet that bound my wrists while I did what I needed to do, into the bloomers. She let me stay in the water long enough for the sea to do its job too and then, just for fun, she dunked me and held me under. She was screaming with laughter as she dragged me back to the beach. My plimsolls, still on the wrong feet, were sopping again. Not canny, I decided. Crazy.
She left me lying on my back on the beach. I knew that my blindfold, waterlogged, was going to tighten around my head as it dried, but at the moment it was actually a bit loose, distended by the water. What I didn't know was where the tide was in its cycle. Was it ebbing or flowing? Was it going to flow up onto the beach, pull me down and drown me? I started moving my head against the sand, trying to displace my blindfold. Then I realized that my wrists, too, were held by a strip of sheet that would shrink as it dried, and now was the time to try to stretch that strip and free my hands. I stopped focusing on the blindfold and began to work at loosening the cloth binding my wrists.
When my hands were free I sat up, ripped the blindfold away and, rubbing life back into my right arm, turned to see if I were alone. The woman was nowhere in sight. Her motorboat was on the beach several yards away. I took off my plimsolls and carried them, along with the two sheet strips, to the boat. The sand felt good on my bare feet. I threw my shoes and the strips into the boat, noted that there was no key but felt confident that I could hotwire it, given enough time. I started to climb in, then remembered, with a start, that the TARDIS key was in my coat pocket. I looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon. The immediate stretch of beach was pristine. I walked up to where the beach met the weeds and some few trees, and saw some felled branches. I picked up the one that seemed easiest to wield and hardest to snap, and walked along the edge of the beach until I saw our footprints, two sets going down to the sea, one coming up. I waded through the weeds as quietly as I could and came upon the clearing, the burned-out pyre, the rickety shelter that hadn't sheltered me, the backpack, my clothing lying in the dirt. Where was she?
Cautiously, I stuffed everything into the backpack except my coat, which I donned. If anything was missing, it was forfeit; I was not risking a confrontation. I put the backpack on and ran back through the weeds, down the beach, along the shore, to the motorboat, and climbed in. I got to work on the wires, frequently interrupting my labors to peer anxiously backwards to see if I were being pursued. I wasn't… until, suddenly, I was. Down the beach she flew, screaming at me. There was no way I could get the engine started in time. I crawled out of the boat and grabbed the branch I'd left in the wet sand. I held it like a cricket bat. She didn't stop. I could see she had her bait knife in hand. I raised the branch like a baseball bat and swung it at her. I missed, but she tripped and went down anyway, arms and legs akimbo. I swatted the knife out of her hand but she grabbed the branch and nearly toppled me. I lost my grip on the branch and let go; this caused her to fall back, so I picked her up and flipped her onto her face, holding her wrists together with one hand and rummaging through my pockets for the string I usually kept in one. When I finally found it I managed to secure her wrists long enough to turn and grab the strips I'd thrown into the boat and use them to tie her more securely, hand and foot. She was still screaming so I used the bandage on my arm to gag her.
I fetched the knife and threw that into the boat, along with the branch, and then I thought to roll her back over and search her multitude of vest pockets. The key to the boat was in one of them. My TARDIS key was in another.
Before I took off, I dragged her halfway up the beach in case the tide was out. I wanted to be rid of her but I was not willing to be responsible for drowning her.
Now all I had to do was figure out where I was going, find Tegan, make sure Selena was all right – she'd been cut, after all, and it was my fault – find Nyssa, meanwhile making sure not to be caught and auctioned off and/or killed, and get us back to the TARDIS. Piece of cake.