A Spell of Time
Page 17
Derek too seemed lost in thought. I was sure that he was also feeling disturbed about Vivienne.
The stress of the day was taking its toll on me. I yawned, rubbing my face with Derek’s big hands.
“Maybe things will be clearer in the morning.”
“Maybe,” he said.
“Let’s get some rest,” I said, removing Ibrahim’s shirt from Derek’s chest and lying back in bed.
Derek remained frozen to his spot in the corner of the room.
“What?”
“As much as you might think me a narcissist, Sofia, sleeping with myself is something I have never felt the urge for. I’ll rest in the spare bedroom next to Xavier and Vivienne.”
He turned to leave the room. Despite the heaviness surrounding us, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the horror on his face at the notion.
Grabbing his pillow and laying it on top of my own, I nestled Derek’s heavy head down against it. “Suit yourself,” I mumbled as he closed the door. “Just be grateful Mona stole a leg hair. Or it could have been Kiev dribbling on your pillow tonight…”
Chapter 13: Caleb
Hundreds of bullets rained down on me. If even one of them found its way into my flesh, I’d burn up inside.
I’d been right about one of my legs breaking during the fall. My right arm was also dislocated. But I had no choice but to force my wrecked body to start moving as soon as I hit the water. The salt stung my singed skin as I swam deeper, away from the edge of the cliff. I looked back up toward the top of the cliff, my breath hitching just looking at the crazy jump I’d just taken. Then I caught sight of a black helicopter descending toward me.
Ducking my head beneath the water, I strained my aching muscles to kick down further, deeper. If they lowered their cage again, it wouldn’t be difficult to catch me.
More bullets fired into the water. I swam deeper and deeper, and although my lungs felt the strain and my head began to feel light, I couldn’t let up. I would hold my lungs until they burst if it meant avoiding death in their hands.
As I touched the bottom of the ocean, it was also darker, and although the salt still stung, at least the sun’s rays reached me less down here. Parting seaweed, I swam with my stomach grazing the floor. I looked upward and spotted the shadow of the black wasp above the water, although now about two hundred meters away, not directly over me. I kept swimming, every few minutes glancing back up at the shadow which seemed to be slowly losing track of me.
I waited until I was about half a kilometer away before giving relief to my screaming lungs. I allowed myself to surface for no more than ten seconds, keeping a close eye on the helicopter skimming the waves, before submerging myself again.
The helicopter remained nearby for what felt like an hour. Although it drew dangerously close again, I managed to stay deep enough beneath the water for them to not notice me. Perhaps they presumed me dead. Whatever the case, I was just grateful they didn’t send divers down to look for me.
I continued swimming for hours, far past the point where I thought my limbs would collapse. Only once the helicopter had completely disappeared did I resurface.
Now that I resurfaced and felt the full force of the midday sun beating down against my skin, escaping the hunters felt like child’s play. My body was too weak to continue swimming so deep under water, and yet I couldn’t resurface and float without being roasted alive.
I reached for my belt. It still had the small conch shell fastened to it. I removed the belt from my pants and fixed it securely around my neck. Then I ripped off my pants and, tearing the fabric, wrapped it around the top half of my body as best I could. Although the sun still dug into my flesh, the dark pant fabric at least helped to bear the brunt of it.
I dove down to the sea bed again and plucked handfuls of seaweed. Resurfacing, I added this as an extra layer against the fury of the sun—however pathetic it was.
My throat was parched, my whole body trembling.
I lost track of time. I faded in and out of unconsciousness, my body being carried further and further out to sea. The water became colder and colder, indicating how much deeper I was being sucked. The ocean that had been my savior from the hunters was now my enemy. I didn’t know what nasty surprises it might hold within its depths. I just had to hope there were no sharks in these parts.
* * *
I woke up to the feeling of cords tightening around my body, restricting my breathing. I opened my eyes. I was surrounded by slimy brown rope, closing in around me and lifting me upward. I was too weak to struggle. My torn pants and seaweed slipped off me as I was pulled over a ledge and landed on a hard floor.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I looked up to see a young man towering over me. A cigarette hanging from his mouth, he was dressed in faded dungarees stained with blood.
I was on a small boat. Nets of fish writhed on the front deck, an assortment of hooks and fishing equipment scattered about. Spotting the dark entrance of a cabin, I dove for shelter from the sun.
The young man followed me, leaning against the doorway. He grimaced as he looked at me.
“Sweet Jesus, you’re a mess. You’re lucky I found you. You wouldn’t have lasted much—”
My hunger took over. I launched for him, gripping his throat and pinning him to the ground. I tore through his jugular. My body heaved as I drained every last drop of blood from him. I gasped for breath, knocking him away from me and leaning back against the wall. I closed my eyes. His fresh hot blood felt like ecstasy flowing through my veins. The sensation drowned out my feeling of guilt.
The stress of the day was taking its toll on me. I yawned, rubbing my face with Derek’s big hands.
“Maybe things will be clearer in the morning.”
“Maybe,” he said.
“Let’s get some rest,” I said, removing Ibrahim’s shirt from Derek’s chest and lying back in bed.
Derek remained frozen to his spot in the corner of the room.
“What?”
“As much as you might think me a narcissist, Sofia, sleeping with myself is something I have never felt the urge for. I’ll rest in the spare bedroom next to Xavier and Vivienne.”
He turned to leave the room. Despite the heaviness surrounding us, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the horror on his face at the notion.
Grabbing his pillow and laying it on top of my own, I nestled Derek’s heavy head down against it. “Suit yourself,” I mumbled as he closed the door. “Just be grateful Mona stole a leg hair. Or it could have been Kiev dribbling on your pillow tonight…”
Chapter 13: Caleb
Hundreds of bullets rained down on me. If even one of them found its way into my flesh, I’d burn up inside.
I’d been right about one of my legs breaking during the fall. My right arm was also dislocated. But I had no choice but to force my wrecked body to start moving as soon as I hit the water. The salt stung my singed skin as I swam deeper, away from the edge of the cliff. I looked back up toward the top of the cliff, my breath hitching just looking at the crazy jump I’d just taken. Then I caught sight of a black helicopter descending toward me.
Ducking my head beneath the water, I strained my aching muscles to kick down further, deeper. If they lowered their cage again, it wouldn’t be difficult to catch me.
More bullets fired into the water. I swam deeper and deeper, and although my lungs felt the strain and my head began to feel light, I couldn’t let up. I would hold my lungs until they burst if it meant avoiding death in their hands.
As I touched the bottom of the ocean, it was also darker, and although the salt still stung, at least the sun’s rays reached me less down here. Parting seaweed, I swam with my stomach grazing the floor. I looked upward and spotted the shadow of the black wasp above the water, although now about two hundred meters away, not directly over me. I kept swimming, every few minutes glancing back up at the shadow which seemed to be slowly losing track of me.
I waited until I was about half a kilometer away before giving relief to my screaming lungs. I allowed myself to surface for no more than ten seconds, keeping a close eye on the helicopter skimming the waves, before submerging myself again.
The helicopter remained nearby for what felt like an hour. Although it drew dangerously close again, I managed to stay deep enough beneath the water for them to not notice me. Perhaps they presumed me dead. Whatever the case, I was just grateful they didn’t send divers down to look for me.
I continued swimming for hours, far past the point where I thought my limbs would collapse. Only once the helicopter had completely disappeared did I resurface.
Now that I resurfaced and felt the full force of the midday sun beating down against my skin, escaping the hunters felt like child’s play. My body was too weak to continue swimming so deep under water, and yet I couldn’t resurface and float without being roasted alive.
I reached for my belt. It still had the small conch shell fastened to it. I removed the belt from my pants and fixed it securely around my neck. Then I ripped off my pants and, tearing the fabric, wrapped it around the top half of my body as best I could. Although the sun still dug into my flesh, the dark pant fabric at least helped to bear the brunt of it.
I dove down to the sea bed again and plucked handfuls of seaweed. Resurfacing, I added this as an extra layer against the fury of the sun—however pathetic it was.
My throat was parched, my whole body trembling.
I lost track of time. I faded in and out of unconsciousness, my body being carried further and further out to sea. The water became colder and colder, indicating how much deeper I was being sucked. The ocean that had been my savior from the hunters was now my enemy. I didn’t know what nasty surprises it might hold within its depths. I just had to hope there were no sharks in these parts.
* * *
I woke up to the feeling of cords tightening around my body, restricting my breathing. I opened my eyes. I was surrounded by slimy brown rope, closing in around me and lifting me upward. I was too weak to struggle. My torn pants and seaweed slipped off me as I was pulled over a ledge and landed on a hard floor.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I looked up to see a young man towering over me. A cigarette hanging from his mouth, he was dressed in faded dungarees stained with blood.
I was on a small boat. Nets of fish writhed on the front deck, an assortment of hooks and fishing equipment scattered about. Spotting the dark entrance of a cabin, I dove for shelter from the sun.
The young man followed me, leaning against the doorway. He grimaced as he looked at me.
“Sweet Jesus, you’re a mess. You’re lucky I found you. You wouldn’t have lasted much—”
My hunger took over. I launched for him, gripping his throat and pinning him to the ground. I tore through his jugular. My body heaved as I drained every last drop of blood from him. I gasped for breath, knocking him away from me and leaning back against the wall. I closed my eyes. His fresh hot blood felt like ecstasy flowing through my veins. The sensation drowned out my feeling of guilt.
