Love Lies Dying (26 page)

Twenty-two

He woke strapped to a chair.

The first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness was that his headache was worse. He tried to lift his head, but the movement sent pain splitting through his mind.

Both arms were behind him, pinned down low behind his back, and he could feel the cold steel of the handcuffs around both of his wrists. Gently, he tried to move his arms, but the handcuffs clanked against the back rungs of the metal chair and held firm. The numbness in his shoulders told him he had been in this position for quite some time. Though his arms were numb too, he could still feel the handcuffs biting into his wrists, and his right shoulder ached deep in the joints.

He tried to sit forward and straighten up by moving his legs. They were like dead weights, mostly from the knees down, and wouldn’t react to his commands. It was then he realised his ankles were tied, one to each of the front legs of the chair. The rope was tied tight, biting into his skin and making movement impossible.

Damn,
John thought, as the events by the Jeep slowly resurfaced in his mind.
I was so close to winning her over. So close…

At least now he wasn’t cold. In fact, he was warm…a little too warm.

Opening his eyes slowly, he was blinded by the lights.

Security flood lights again
, he thought.
Weren’t they set on a timer? They were supposed to turn themselves off after a preset time.

He squinted until his eyes adjusted to the light.

And as they did, he realised it wasn’t the security lights that were blinding him.

It was the sun.

Risking making his headache worse, John gently lifted his head and began to look around.

He was sitting in the middle of the church, the sun shining on him through the stained-glass windows.

He turned his head to the left and peered through the windows. He could see the sun low on the horizon.

Early morning
, he thought.
I’ve been out for quite a while.

He turned back to stare straight ahead through the wooden dividing railing and at the two beds at the end of the church.

Both were empty.

Both were still made.

And there was no sign of Zoe.

Where is she?
he thought.
If she didn’t sleep in the bed, where the hell is she?

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his hearing, but all he could hear was his own breathing. He tried to slow his breath down, almost to a stop, to give his ears a better chance at picking up sounds.

But he could hear nothing inside the church.

He remembered how the floorboards echoed when he walked over them, his shoes sounding loud on the wooden surface. But he could hear no footsteps now. No sounds at all from inside the church.

Outside, he could hear the occasional bird chirping, but no matter how much he strained his ears, there was nothing else he could pick up. No sounds of any use at all.

Just silence.

He remembered how far out in the country they were, how the church was so remotely located. He tried to listen for cars, but wishing for one wasn’t going to bring one.

He let his breath out with a rush and opened his eyes once more.

I’m going to have to get out of this somehow.

He was positioned in the middle of the church and nothing was in easy reach. The long table was to his left and the fireplace, now with the dead embers of last night’s fire, was to his right. The shadow cast from the rising sun was high up on the wall. It would be a long time before the shadow would reach him and replace the warm sunlight flooding over his body.

He shuffled his legs forward slightly, trying to judge how much slack was in his bindings, but they hardly moved at all.

Well tied,
he thought.

He leaned forward on the chair; the metal rungs on its back had been digging into his spine.

The handcuffs slid upwards as he did so, sliding up the metal until they reached the top rung of the chair.

Well, at least she gave me some room for movement.

Zoe had done a good job, though. His legs were tied tight and there was no way he could remove the handcuffs from behind him.

But why treat me this way?
he wondered.
What sort of game did she think she was playing?

John looked down at his clothes once more. At least now they were dry, the dampness from outside having been evaporated by the morning sun. He was still dusty and grimy, but it looked as if someone had tried to scrape the worst of the dust from his clothing, leaving long streaks down his pants and shirt.

His shirt had been rebuttoned too. He couldn’t see the wound on his chest, though it didn’t feel as if it were still bleeding.

Lifting his head, he tried to work the stiffness out of his neck by peering up into the ceiling of the church. As he did so, he felt a wetness at the back of his head. He rocked his head from side to side. It aggravated his headache, but he continued anyway. His hair at the back of his neck felt hard and sticky, and the wet feeling felt as if it covered his shoulders.

Sweat? Could I sweat that much sitting here? No. Blood? It must be blood! But why? And how?

He had no idea.

As slowly as he could, he began to twist his head around to the right. With his arms stretched out behind him and by leaning forward, he was able to turn himself slightly so he could see over his shoulder into the back of the church.

Zoe was nowhere to be seen.

But he could see the front door of the church.

And it was wide open.

She’s not far then.

He turned back around to the front and took in some deep breaths before turning to his left and peering over his left shoulder. The handcuffs clanked against the chair as he did so, sounding loud in the silence.

The kitchenette was empty too.

Nothing.

Where is she?

He leaned back against the chair, the handcuffs sliding back down, and let his head rest on his chest.

By now, his head was pounding.

Where the hell is she?

The worst part was not knowing where Zoe was, what she was doing or why she was doing it.

Just like last night. The way she stepped out from the bushes
, John thought.
Where the hell had she been? Out there in the darkness, naked and with a shovel!

Maybe I don’t want to know.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as the sun’s rays shone through the windows. He turned to look out the windows again. The sun was higher than before, and John tried to work out how long it would take for it to rise above the windows to leave him in shadow.

He looked back at the shadow on the opposite wall. It was lower now too. It would make its way to him eventually.

Eventually.

The sooner the better.

Far off in the distance, he was sure he could hear a low hum. He had no idea what was making the noise, but it sounded mechanical.

But it also sounded a very long way away.

Was it the sound I heard last night?
he wondered.
Or was that pounding really in my head after all?

The birds continued to sing outside.

At least someone is free,
he thought.

He twisted his hands in the handcuffs. Ignoring the metal biting into his wrists, he twisted one way and then the other, trying to see if there was any way to break free.

But they held tight and bit down further.

His shoulder began to ache again, and his headache quickened in pace with his heartbeat.

He sighed deeply. There was no escape.

But that wasn’t going to stop him trying.

It’s time to put a stop to this,
he thought.
I won’t be a part of this stupid little game.

He leaned forward once more, letting the handcuffs slide up the back of the chair. When he was as far forward as he could go, he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his arms towards him as hard as possible.

Every muscle in his arms strained with the effort and the muscles in his throat tensed with the pain. He closed his eyes and pulled harder, ignoring the pain pounding through his temples and the biting of the cuffs through the skin on his wrists.

The handcuffs slid slightly up and down the metal back of the chair, giving him false hope that either they or the back of the chair was giving way to his strength.

Slowly, a groan began to issue from his chest. It rose to his throat and eventually escaped between his lips. It was a deep, primeval noise that began as a sound of hope, but quickly turned into a cry of despair before dying out completely.

He didn’t know how long he had been trying to break the cuffs through the chair, but it seemed like an eternity.

It was no use.

He slumped back into the chair, puffing hard, his arms aching and head thumping with pain.

“Nice try.”

It came from behind him.

He heard it through the thudding pain in his ears, but he was too spent to reply.

“But I’d save my strength, Johnny. Those are metal handcuffs and that chair isn’t about to give way either.”

He concentrated on getting his breathing back under control. Trying hard not to let her aggravate the situation. More sweat rolled down his face and dropped into his eyes. He shook his head, trying to flick the droplets away, but only succeeded in making his head pound more.

The thumping inside his head merged with the sound of footsteps.

Zoe was coming closer.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice much closer now.

He didn’t reply.

The footsteps stopped just behind him.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” she whispered.

He stared straight ahead, looking past the beds and at the far wall of the church.

There was silence between them.

Something touched his neck.

John bolted forward in the chair. The handcuffs clattered up the back of the chair and stopped him going any further. The force of his movement tipped the chair slightly forward before he rebalanced and rocked it back into place.

“I was just looking at the wound on the back of your head,” she said. “I tried to clean it up, but it looks like it bled a bit more.”

John kept himself sitting forward, even though his hands and arms were screaming for relief. He was tense and ready for anything.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” she said again from behind him. “But I had to get you in from the cold.”

She paused.

He didn’t reply.

Don’t say anything. Make her explain it all!

“You were right. You know, what you said about the cold?” she continued. “So, I decided to bring you in here. But I had to drag you. You’re heavy when you’re unconscious, Johnny.”

The pain streaming through his body was almost unbearable. John didn’t want to give in to it, he didn’t want to fold, but he realised he had to stay conscious. He had to make sure he was awake and aware whenever Zoe was around. He had to keep one step ahead of her in this new game.

Currently, he thought he was about five steps behind.

I’ll change that.

Slowly, he let the tension ease from his muscles and he allowed his body to relax. But his headache continued pounding his skull.

“I’m sorry about the scrapes on your back and neck. I had no idea dragging you in here would tear you up like that. It must have been the rocks outside in the driveway.”

Yeah,
he thought.
I bet it was. Good going, girl.

He let his hands slide down the chair and the rest of his body followed backwards. Within seconds he was leaning against the back of the chair once more.

He concentrated on getting his breathing under control and tried not to let the anger build in him.

It was anger that got you into this mess in the first place,
he thought.
If you hadn’t yelled at her last night, things may have been different. Take it easy, don’t chew her out, and maybe she’ll let you go.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he heard himself say.

He felt sick when he said it. But he knew he had to.

“Yes, Johnny, it was. And I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he replied.

I can’t believe I’m telling her this is all okay!