Chapter 89: Means to Escape
Rose stands on the beach, gazing out at the horizon. The golden sun is beginning to set, casting rose, violet, and orange colours across the canvas known as the sky. A few clouds are spread out thinly, like strips of cotton meant to blend the beautiful masterpiece of nature together. The cool waves gently lap at Rose's ankles and there are bubbles swirling each time the waves meet the shore, tickling her feet, like little butterfly wings tapping on her pale skin. The wind blows through her long red ringlets, like strips of ribbon soaring in the breeze, painted with the shimmering gold of the setting sun.
Rose Dawson has no choice but to smile as if she's never seen anything so beautiful. She pulls a pale lilac shawl around her shoulders to keep herself warm in the evening temperatures. The edges of her sundress swoop down close to the cool water as she walks along the sandy shores. She breathes a sigh of great content, truly happy with her life and relaxed in how free she felt. Like the night Jack taught her how to fly and allowing her to spread her wings for the first time; now she's going wherever the wind will take her. No pressures to be anywhere, no responsibilities to anyone, it was just her, the sand, the sea, and the sun, together as one.
Suddenly, three little children go running by her giggling, apparently chasing one another in a leisurely game of tag across the shore. The pitter-patter of their feet, creating footprints through the sand and water, spraying droplets wherever they stepped. The two girls and a boy run past Rose, not even stopping to acknowledge her presence. Rose's ruby lips purse into a smile, joining in the delight of these rambunctious youngsters.
All the children have golden locks of hair; the boy's hair is in a tousled mess, like a field of wheat in the late autumn season, the shade of his locks matching the rays of sunlight. He playfully splashes the two girls who are chasing him, his overalls rolled up to prevent them from becoming soaked. He is skinnier than most boys his age, but is also very tan, laughing deeply as he rushes past Rose. He lifts his knees higher to get better strides in the water and put more distance between him and his pursuers. The older of the two girls has long wavy equally fair hair with some ringlets mixed in her locks; they flow down her back, cascading like a waterfall of melted gold. It flows behind her head like a cape as she runs with determination in her bright blue eyes. Her long lashes also have tints of speckled gold in them as well. The hem of her floral pink sundress drags in the water and she lifts her legs up, trying to keep up with the boy. Her laughter is like a series of windchimes, singing in the breeze, and she sweeps one of her hands through the water in an attempt to splash the older boy. Finally, the youngest girl's hair is very curly, her blonde locks a shade darker than the others, with the hints of red mixed in to make an almost strawberry blonde appearance. Her locks are also like ribbons, falling along her shoulders, some of which are pulled back in a lilac coloured bow. Her wild tresses dance along her shoulders, flying along like a swarm of the most beautiful golden butterflies to have ever been released. She runs in a small, pure white sundress and her nose is covered in freckles.
She stops to look into Rose's eyes and the young woman gasps. This child has lively green eyes, like pale emerald jewels. Her petite face resembles a heart but contains a strong jaw below her pink hued lips. When she smiles at the red-head, Rose immediately sees Jack in the smile; genuine and showing all your emotions in this one gesture. Mrs. Dawson realizes that she's gazing into the face of possibly her future child. She'd inherited the fair hair from her father, but the lively curls of her mother, she had her mother's eyes, but her father's dimples to go with her smiles. Rose's heart pounds loudly in her chest. She kneels down, ignoring the chilly water and the waves, reaching her hand out towards the child, wanting to touch her, feeling that she is real. However, the girl runs off giggling, the sound like a choir of bells.
Rose turns to watch the girl go along the water until two strong arms scooped her up into the air.
"You're not getting away that easy," a familiar voice laughs.
"No Daddy!" the girl's squeals in delight, wriggling and trying to get away. She kicks her feet, making the white dress ripple in the breeze. Her happiness becomes louder and more harmonious as the arms lift her up to the owner's face. His white shirt and suspenders hanging loosely around his untucked collar. He kisses the little girl a thousand times, making the delightful sounds of joy come out of her mouth. Rose walks towards the two of them, knowing who was holding her daughter.
Jack's blue eyes match the ocean's tinted waters, he gives her the most loving smile, he shifts their little girl to his one arm to put the other around his wife.
"Is this real Jack?" the woman asks, unsure of how to comprehend this joyous scene. "Are you real?"
"Do I feel real?" he inquires, he kisses her cheek with great passion.
Rose gazes into her true love's eyes, her heart fluttering like a butterfly in the euphoric state of life she was in. She cups her hand along his strong chin, that had been passed on to their beautiful daughter. She pulls him close, feeling his soft lips on hers. The sun warms both their faces as is shines just above the horizon, sinking quickly behind the deep blue waters. She breathes in his scent, never wanting this perfect moment to end. It all felt like a dream…
The happiest dream which she never wants to wake up from.
…
A bump in the road brings Rose back to reality. She opens her eyes only to see darkness and feel the rough material of the burlap sack that covered her face. She shifts her body every so slightly, knowing that both her hands and feet are still tied, preventing any form of escape. She can feel the baby in her womb, kicking insistently, like he or she wants to break out of its own prison. Rose's stomach plummets down, likely crushing her baby with her sadness and misery. Just a moment ago, she was on the beach with her loving husband and her already born child... her daughter; happy and as lively as her parents. They were all ecstatic of the life they had and were free. Nothing about this happy fantasy is true at this very moment. The family may be all together, but the child is unborn, she and Jack are both fearful for their lives and are trapped like rats in a never-ending maze of evil. Lambs awaiting slaughter or some other form of torture, at the mercy of Caledon Hockley, who is driving the car to an unknown destination.
Rose listens desperately for Jack's breathing, knowing that Cal had choked him into unconsciousness in what felt like an eternity ago. However, the roar of the engine and the bumps in the road make it almost impossible for her to be sure.
With no other choice, but with great worry, Rose shifts her body to the back of the trunk, trying to reach Jack. She wants to know if he's okay after all the couple who were supposed to be married right now had not seen each other in nearly two weeks nor held each other in a longer span of time.
Rose reaches her bound hands out; her hands feel the rough cotton fabric of Jack's shirt. She uses them as a guide, creeping down his arm until she finds his hands. She thinks about trying to undo Jack's bonds, so he can undo hers and then maybe the two of them could escape. However, it would take forever, she'd be doing it only through touch due to the bag over her head, and Jack wouldn't be able to free her since he was unconscious. Also, she knows that if she's caught, Cal would punish her and Jack. Deep down, she wishes that Jack had not tried to rescue her because now her ex-fiancé had more leverage against her. Before her true love had appeared, she only had to protect her baby and since it was inside of her, there's only so much Cal could do to threaten the unborn fetus. She could protect the child within her and be only worried about it. However, now with Jack as a prisoner too, there are two things to worry about. While Mr. Hockley threatening the baby put Rose in a lot of pain and made her fearful, the thought of Jack now being tortured would put her in agony. She knows he would willingly allow himself to be tortured or even sacrifice his life in order to protect her and Rose knows that she could never live with the guilt that Jack would die trying to save her and their baby. The last time he did this, he'd nearly frozen to death in the icy waters of the Atlantic, with Rose barely managing to save him that time. Now, with both of them at the mercy of a maniac, the red-head fears she won't be able to the same this time.
She locks hands with his bound ones, just trying to memorize the softness of his skin and how strong they usually were when he held her in his arms. She feels tears soaking the bag around her head, Rose surprised herself that she hadn't become dehydrated from all the crying she's done. But, like many times before, the tiny, salty droplets dribble down her face, also soaking the rag in her mouth.
Suddenly, a thought enters Rose's mind. She wonders if she can struggle enough to get the gag out of her mouth, as well as wet it enough to reduce the friction and make it slide off easier. She immediately begins twisting her head, spitting, and trying to lick around her mouth to ease the friction as she tries to expel the cloth. It takes a while for her to produce spit again considering how forcefully Cal had forced the dry thing into her mouth. It soaks up any remaining tears, as well as the redhead's sweat and her saliva as she turns her head sharply from side to side, trying to wriggle the damned thing free. She pushes with her tongue and prays to God that this will work. Her heart pounds against her chest, she squeezes Jack's fingers tightly, and the baby kicks in her stomach, fueling her, giving her the strength to fulfill her new purpose.
…
After much struggling, sharp twists and turns with her head and soaking the gag to the absolute maximum limit, Rose can no longer taste cloth. She takes in a deep breath and moistens her mouth, grateful to be able to talk again.
"Jack?" she whispers, her voice slightly hoarse and still muffled by the bag.
There's nothing but the roar of the engine.
"Jack," she says again. She squeezes his hand, nudging him with her body. "Jack… please let me know that you're okay.
For a brief moment, Rose swears that she feels Jack's bound hands weakly squeeze back. She's not sure if she imagined it or not, but her heart flutters with the hope that is was real.
"We'll be okay Jack," she says weakly, knowing this is a lie, a very bad lie. "You jump, I jump…"
She can feel tears brewing in her eyes. She takes a deep breath, deciding that they both need to be comforted at this moment. Some way to escape their miserable predicament.
"Come Josephine in my flying machine
Going up she goes! Up she goes!
Balance yourself like a bird on a beam
In the air, she goes! There she goes!
Up, up, a little bit higher
Oh! My! The moon is on fire
Come Josephine in my flying machine
Going up, all on, Goodbye!"
A/N: To BarryDennen (barrydennen12) I'm sorry but I'm not going to use your Roosevelt suggestion. Please stop suggesting it, even though I do appreciate your enthusiasm towards my story. To all my readers and followers, thank you. Please review, it helps me become a better writer and it really makes my day.