North of Seana, Eganene
He was lying, she knew it. Leaving her man bound by the fire, she helped Peter drag the second, unconscious man in with the cabin’s owners. She searched him quickly, finding another knife and adding it to her belt. Between the guns and knives, she had a quite a collection now.
Peter had to know what to do with him. He had to know how to make him talk.
“So, what do we do, now?” she hissed, ignoring the husband and wife on the bed. She could feel their eyes boring into her, taking in the bleeding man in front of them and matching it with the sound of breaking and yelling in the hearth room.
Peter looked at her in the darkness, “It depends on what you’re willing to do.”
Elisabeth felt a wave of anger roll through her. “I want to know why they’re after me. I want to know how I got here!”
Peter nodded, seemingly lost in thought.
She gave him to the count of five and then moved closer. “Well?” she asked, lowering her voice. “What are we going to do?”
Peter touched her shoulder. She knew she was wound tight as a spring, the muscles of her shoulders hard beneath his hand. Her eyes were on the unconscious man, but she leaned into his touch. She didn’t think about it, her body’s action, it’s own.
He said, “I know you have questions. And we can get more out of him. It just depends on what you are willing to do.”
She started, understanding his implication, “Wait. Are you talking torture?”
He shrugged, blue eyes on her. “I’m asking what you’re willing to do. How far you are willing to go to understand what these people are after? To understand why they are trying to kill you.”
Elisabeth froze, her stomach dropping. How could she answer that? She wanted to tell him she was willing to do anything, to do what he was asking her, but she didn’t think that was truth. This was a different place, a whole different world, but she wasn’t a different person. She didn’t hurt people on purpose. She’d never even considered hurting someone before.
Biting the side of her cheek, she tried to imagine what it would be like. She didn’t feel sorry for the man. She’d read him well enough to know he was a bad person with bad intent. The weapons she’d taken off him were evidence of that.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, “I don’t know, Peter. I…I can’t hurt him on purpose. I know he wants to hurt me, but…I mean, he’s tied to that chair. He can’t do anything now.”
“He came here to hurt you,” Peter replied, voice soft.
Elisabeth yanked at her ponytail, pulling it tight against her head. “I…I just don’t. Peter. I don’t know anything about how to do that. Or what to do.”
“I can show you.”
Elisabeth barked a laugh; it sounded shrill and panicked in her ears. “You’ve got to be joking!”
“Do you think his gun is a joke? How about the people that were after you in the woods? None of this is a joke, Elisabeth. These people are killers. They are trying to kill you.”
“I just want to go home.”
Peter glanced back into the hearth room, “You want to have this discussion, now?”
“Well, you don’t seem to want to talk about it otherwise. Where are we going, Peter? How are we going to get out of here? How am I going to get home?”
“Those aren’t easy questions. There are people south of here who can help me. Friends I have known for years. We can ask them for help.”
“Where south of here?”
“Orlenia.”
Elisabeth couldn’t read his face and it bothered her. His words sounded honest, but there was still something wrong. If it was that simple, why hadn’t he told her it before.
“You don’t have to kill him,” Peter said, changing the subject. “But, I agree with you about needing to know what he knows.”
“But then why did you tell him you wouldn’t kill him?” she asked, confused.
“I don’t have to kill him, just let him die,” was the cryptic answer.
Elisabeth shook her head, feeling warm all of a sudden. “I can’t torture someone, Peter. I just can’t.” She said the words with conviction, but she wasn’t sure they were true. People had been trying to kill her. How could she not find out why? They needed information in order to survive.
“I…” she started, trying to find the words. “I know we need to find out why they’re after me. Why they are here.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She had to get home. She had to do something. “Tell me what you’re going to do. I…I’ll help.”
If she was right and he had been sent to kill her, then he deserved what he got, she reminded herself as they reentered the hearth room.
She didn’t have a choice. If they were just going to hunt her again, if they were really here for her…she couldn’t leave them alive.
Peter checked the man’s bonds, saying, “You’ve been less than cooperative with us so far. My associate would like some information. You are going to provide it. How long it takes you to comply is up to you. It makes little difference to me. This helstrom will have us here for days. If you don’t feel like complying right now, I’m going to strip off your clothes.”
“You wouldn’t,” the man said, but his voice quavered as he spoke.
Elisabeth didn’t feel pity. Not right now. “Who were you tracking?” she asked again, her voice low. “Why are you here?”
The man shook his head and Peter spent the next fifteen minutes salvaging his clothes. It was cold in the room, despite the fire. The extra layers would go to good use. When it was done, the man knelt in his underthings, his white skin goose-pimpled.
“Let’s put you over here by the door,” Peter said, dragging him over by the rope.
The man frowned but said nothing, small tremors of chills already shaking his shoulders.
Elisabeth figured he hadn’t been too far from hypothermia when he broke down their door.
“You want dinner?” Peter asked her.
“Sure.”
The man was thin and certainly hungry. Elisabeth helped prepare the meal, thinking about the days and weeks she had spent in the forest running from these people. She’d been cold and hungry there, afraid to sleep, afraid they’d kill her in the night.
They ate slowly, savoring the meal. Elisabeth tried not to watch the man’s face, but she couldn’t help glancing at him from time to time, curious to see how he would react. There wasn’t much to see, he kept his face down, letting his hair cover his expression.
Peter found a bottle of liquor and poured them both a glass. “You want a drink?” he asked.
Elisabeth nodded. A little liquid courage was likely just what she needed. She took the glass and sipped it carefully. It tasted like whisky or some other dark liquor. It wasn’t sweet, but oaky, and smelled like the forest where she’d slept.
“Nothing special,” Peter said, answering her unspoken question. “Many of the folk who live this far out make their own.”
Elisabeth poured another glass and drained it. Soon, her face and hands were feeling warmer. “It’s good enough.”
Peter nodded, “That it is.”
She thought his voice sounded lower.
“Are you ready?” he asked her.
She sighed, trying for courage. She needed to get home. She needed to find her brother. In order to do any of those things, she needed to survive. “As I’ll ever be,” she answered.
“The first step is the anticipation. We’ve already started. Cold and hunger weaken a man’s resolve, make him more likely to break.”
“You know this because of when you worked for them?” she asked, curious. He never talked about himself and she had so many questions.
“Yes. It wasn’t a good time, but I did what had to be done.”
She grimaced, “Like this? We’re doing what needs to be done?”
Peter took her hand, the feel of his skin warm. Her heart stuttered, skipping a beat as she leaned forward the slightest bit. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him right then, to taste the whisky on his tongue. The fire was so bright behind him. The glow reflected off the side of his face so that he seemed to be half in shadow and half in the light.
“He has a choice,” Peter answered her.
She could feel heat where his thumb was rubbing the back of her hand.
“He can tell us what we need to know or he can draw this out for as long as it takes.” He let go of her hand and she felt the loss.
“I guess I’m ready, then.”
“Look in the drawers,” he told her. “In the kitchen and in the bedroom. Find anything sharp or blunt. We’ll need a range of options.”
She shivered, trying to see his eyes, “And we are going to use them. On him?”
Peter sighed, “Not if he tells us what we need to know. I told you, it’s up to him.”
The man broke quickly.
She did what Peter asked her, even when it made her feeling like losing her dinner. They were going to kill him, anyway. He had come to kill her. The man had admitted as much.
“The Facility!” The man yelled, trying vainly to look at his hands. They were behind his back and he couldn’t see what Elisabeth had done to him. “That’s where we take the girls.”
“Girls like me?” she asked him, feeling cold inside, despite the whisky in her belly.
The man nodded, fear making his eyes wide.
“But why do you take them?”
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The man shuddered, keeping his lips pressed tight.
Elisabeth picked up the knife again and he changed his mind. “They do experiments there. Some of the girls live. Some don’t. We send the rest south.”
“For what?”
“For us, it doesn’t matter. The market in Orlenia is huge. The girls always sell.”
Elisabeth looked to Peter, remembering that Orlenia was the same place he wanted to take her. He looked surprised and confused. Elisabeth didn’t like that expression on his face.
“Jokihm knows about this?” Peter asked. His voice was low, threads of concern lacing the words.
Elisabeth sat back on her heels, content to let him take over. She was as interested in what he was going to say as she was about what the captive had to offer.
“How would I know what Jokihm knows?” the man spit. “Above my pay grade.”
“Yet, it’s a possibility,” Peter returned. “You didn’t deny it.”
The man shook his head, the muscles of his chest and neck pressing against his thin skin. “I don’t know anything about the Board. The Facility operates with its blessing, but we’re just one of many. I don’t know what Jokihm thinks about it, let alone if he thinks on it at all.”
“So, you are based at this Facility and your job is to bring them women?” Peter clarified.
The man looked at Elisabeth. She tightened her grip on the knife, turning it in her hand so that the blade glimmered in the darkness.
“We had a breech,” the man said. “The directive was to follow the intruders, to kill the men and apprehend any women or children. Some are more valuable than others.”
“Children?” Elisabeth whispered, unable to help herself. “You experiment on children?”
“Was there a specific child you were looking for?” Peter asked.
Elisabeth knew what he was implying. Obviously, this man didn’t know who they were, but he might be after Elisabeth all the same.
The man’s frown grew darker, “Are you sure I don’t know you?”
Elisabeth used the knife again and the man screamed.
“Answer the question,” Peter said. “Was there a specific child you were looking for?”
The man nodded meekly, “A girl. A witch. One from the other side.”
Elisabeth stood up and walked to the far side of the room, the floor tilting away from her in the fire’s too bright light. She felt hot and cold in waves, her body struggling with the news or the liquor or the horrible things she’d just done.
Peter had been right. They were looking for her. They thought she was a witch, some kind of monster from the other side. Why would they think that? What was wrong with these people?
Peter hadn’t thought she was a monster, right? He’d helped her and protected her. Was it because she was from this ‘other side’? Peter must have known people from Earth before. Perhaps he’d even helped them. Maybe that was why he had broken ties with the Family.
Her mind turned dark. What if Peter hadn’t really left the Family? What if he were taking her to this Orlenia place just like these men were taking the women who survived their experiments.
But that didn’t make sense. He’d killed the Family man in his apartment and another in the woods. She glanced back at the bound man. He certainly didn’t seem to be sympathizing with their intruders.
She shook her head, confused. Answers. She needed answers.
“How many of you are there?” she asked when she’d composed herself. Now, wasn’t the time for emotions. She needed information.
The man tried to smile and Elisabeth slapped him across the face.
“You can’t do this to people!” she growled.
“Little girl,” the man said, trying for bravery. “You might have the knife, now. But my organization is larger than you can imagine. We are everywhere. We have people across the entire country. You think you are safe because you have that piece of steel in your hand?”
He looked at Peter, his eyes opening wide, “Aren’t you…”
He never finished the sentence. Peter leaned forward and sliced his neck, the blood spurting across the floor as he fell over. The body made a sickly thud as it hit the ground.
Elisabeth scrambled backwards, tasting bile. “You…you…” she stuttered. Avoiding the man or the blood, she glared at Peter, “What did you do that for? He was talking!”
Peter started laughing, “He was threatening you. I didn’t like it.” He put the knife on the table.
“What the…”
His arms wrapped around her and Elisabeth realized Peter was hugging her. When he stopped, she looked up into his face. She was breathless and giddy, probably a little drunk, and his eyes were warm pits that she was falling into. He was still laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked finding her voice as she struggled against the heat that was now flooding her veins. The hug, its close contact, and the feel of his beard against her face had distracted her completely.
“Do you feel it?” he murmured. “Do you see how you’ve changed?”
She put her hands on her hips and took a step back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Peter pointed at the dead man. “You just berated me for killing him.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But that isn’t what’s funny.”
“What is?”
Peter touched the side of her face and she forgot to step back. “You aren’t angry with me because I killed him. You’re angry because you didn’t get to hear everything he was about to say.”
Elisabeth clamped her lips down on her response. Was he right? Did she really not care that the man was dead? Did she just watch someone get murdered right in front of her and not even feel remorse?
She ignored him and sat down at the table, pouring herself another glass of liquor. She needed to get control of herself. And she definitely needed some distance from him.
Peter had made the mess, he could clean it up. She knew him well enough by this point. He wouldn’t let it…the body…leak out on the floor. He would see to it and she could think.
Blocking out the sounds behind her, she put her head in hands and closed her eyes. Her old life felt like a feel-good movie, like living in New Orleans and Des Moines and Philly had been figments of her imagination. Had she really been consumed with basketball and passing math?
She heard Peter grunt, but refused to turn around. If he needed her help, he could damn well ask for it. Her guess was that he was going to dump the body outside, but getting the door closed the last time had been difficult. He might choose to leave it in the bedroom instead.
There was still the second man to consider and the couple who owned the cottage. The husband and wife were innocent. Elisabeth would need to feed them and help them relieve themselves again soon. But if the choice was keeping this body in the room with them or putting him in the bedroom, she knew which one she would choose.
Peter had broken his word, she realized in surprise. She touched her face, feeling the place his fingers had traced her cheek. She hadn’t thought he would lie. But if he was willing to lie to the man, then he might lie to her, too.
She fought the urge to look at him and won. At least the dead man had corroborated that Orlenia was a real place. And Peter had definitely looked confused and upset to hear about the women being experimented. That was a good sign, right?
The Facility. She shook herself. What kind of name was that? And what kind of people could do that to others?
Her knife was on the table beside her and she picked it up. There was still blood on the blade, not much, but enough to know it had been used. She poured another glass of whisky, downed it, and got up to find a cloth.
Peter had tied a rag around the dead man’s neck. She supposed he was trying to stop the bleeding. He’d also propped him by the door.
“I’ll need some hot water to get the floor,” he told her.
She set a pot to boil and came back to stand beside him, not sure what to say. What came after this? Her thoughts were hazy, slow. She wasn’t feel well.
“I’m gonna leave him by the door,” he said. “It is cold enough there to keep him from stinking.”
Elisabeth looked down at him. He was on his hands and knees, a scrub brush in one hand and a rag in the other. “I think we should put him in the bedroom,” she said. “We don’t have to look at him there.”
Peter shrugged, “If that is what you want, I’ll move him, but this door is the coldest spot. We’re going to be in here for a few more days and he’s likely to get ripe.”
“I…I don’t know,” she hesitated.
He looked around, “If you want, I could put a sheet over him or something. He might just look like the firewood, then.”
Elisabeth reached down and grabbed Peter’s hand. She must have startled him because he dropped the brush. She helped him to stand.
“I want to talk to you, Peter,” she said. “Leave the cleaning. There’s half a bottle of that whisky left. I want to know where we’re going and what you know. Otherwise, we are going to haul the man’s friend out of the bedroom so I can get some answers.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up, “This isn’t enough mess for you?”
“It’s plenty,” she growled, “but I think I have more questions than answers at this point.”
“Elisabeth…”
“You lied to him,” she said pointing at the dead man. “I want the truth from you. I want to know what you know. I want to trust you.”
He paused, and she held her breath, afraid to speak, afraid to talk. She needed Peter. She couldn’t survive here without him. He needed to get her back home. She needed to find her brother and they both needed to get home.
“All right,” he conceded, wiping his hands on the rag. “Help me clean this up and then we can talk as much as you want.”
She agreed and fetched him some more rags and the boiling water. In silence, they washed the floor. She hurried the best she could, eager to have her answers, but he seemed set on doing the job thoroughly.
She wasn’t surprised. Peter seemed thorough about everything he did. Maybe that was a good thing. If he really did intend to help her get home, then he would see it through. She just had to figure out how to find Jamie first.
“Let’s do this,” Peter said as they finished.
Elisabeth took the bottle and two glasses and sat as close to the fire as she dared. She patted the floor beside her.
Peter took their pallets and blankets and drug them closer to the hearth. “Shoot,” he said, taking the glass from her hand. He upended it and held it out for a refill.
She filled it and then took a breath. “You were one of those men,” she said.
He nodded, “I don’t like to admit it. I told you. I had to do what I needed to in order to survive.”
“So, you were Family?”
“I was.”
“Did that man recognize you?”
Peter shrugged, “I’ve never met him before.”
Elisabeth thought he was telling the truth. “So, what happens now? What are we going to do in Orlenia? How are you going to get me back to Earth?”
“I have friends in Orlenia. People that can give us resources and information.”
Again, he sounded like he was telling the truth, although Elisabeth wasn’t sure that he had answered her questions.
“How do we get back though? How did I get here?”
Peter was quiet. Finally, he said, “There are a lot of possible answers to that. I don’t want to limit us. Whatever it takes, I’m going to try and help you.”
Elisabeth finished her drink. She was feeling heady and hot, the fire behind her making her drowsy. Or it could have been the whisky. Peter was holding her hand and the dead man at the door was forgotten.
“Why?” she managed. It took a lot to force the words from her throat.
Peter’s shoulders twitched, “There are a lot of answers to that, too, Elisabeth. Right now, I just want to help you.”
She breathed and leaned into him and he shifted his arm so that he was holding her around the shoulders. Elisabeth’s whole body felt hot. She simultaneously wanted him to kiss her and to push him away. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered.
She watched him smile a slow smile, warning bells ringing in her mind. Ducking out from under his arm, she glared at him. Her mind was still muddled, but she knew something wasn’t right. “When you touch me…” she started.
“What?” he asked, trying to pull her back by her hand. “Sit down.”
She shivered, “I don’t feel like myself.”
Peter laughed, “I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
Cold air from door was sucked towards their fire, the cool breeze separating them like a river. Elisabeth took a moment, watching Peter. She was drunk, she knew that. But the whisky didn’t explain everything she was feeling. There was something more, something that swept over her sometimes when Peter touched her.
“It is like you have magic,” she said.
Peter jerked back, widening the gap between them and dropping her hand. “What do you mean?”
Interesting, she thought. She’d unnerved him, made him react without thinking. She hadn’t seen him do that since the night she met him, the night of the fire.
“What happened the night we met?” she asked. “We were in that apartment, the one that looked like where Jamie and I lived. The fire was in your apartment. There was all that broken glass. What did you do? How did the fire start?”
Peter swallowed.
Elisabeth could see his Adam’s apple move beneath the skin of his throat. He didn’t answer her right away, but took a drink. “You have a lot of questions.”
“I think you have the answers.”
“You don’t understand this world, Elisabeth.”
“That is why I’m asking you!”
Peter sighed, “The Family is angry with me. They sent men to my house. I was lucky you were there, otherwise, I might not have survived.”
Elisabeth could detect no lie in his words. “They set the fire?”
“Yes, Elisabeth. The Family was the cause of the fire.”
Again, she thought he was telling the truth.
“How do I get back?” she asked. “You’re being evasive. I want to know.”
Peter laughed, finishing his drink, “You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try it, anyway.”
Pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass, Peter said, “You said I had magic…but that’s how we get back.”
Elisabeth let her head tip back, her laughter bubbling out of her body with abandon. “You’re crazy! I’ve been following around a crazy man who kills people.”
“You kill people, too,” he reminded her.
Elisabeth started crying. All at once, it was just too much. It was crazy that it had taken her this long to lose it. And lose it, she did. Huge whooping cries ripped from her throat. She cried and cried, blubbering and incoherent.
She ended up on the floor, her arms around her legs as she let it all go. She killed people. Peter had killed people. She was sitting in another world, having broken into some poor people’s house. She had no idea where Jamie was, and people were literally trying to kill her.
“Shhh,” she heard Peter saying when she’d cried out the last of her tears. “Shhh, it’ll be OK.”
Wiping a hand across her eyes, she glared at him, “I know I’m drunk at this point, but you’re not making any sense. Things could not be any worse!”
He shook his head, “I’ve been in worse spots. We’re warm and dry, have food and shelter. The people who tried to hurt you, can’t right now.” He shrugged and looked at her seriously, “Honestly, not a bad day as far as they come.”
She sniffled, too exhausted to even argue.
Into the silence, he said, “Last time I was in a little cottage like this and someone came for me, I almost didn’t make it out.”
“What happened?” she said softly.
He took a long time to reply and when he did his voice was almost too quiet to hear. “It was during the Assault. I had a cabin with someone. We were hiding.”
Elisabeth murmured, “Who were you hiding from?”
“The army. Family,” he answered, breathing deeply. “Everyone, really.”
She watched him frown, his eyes on the fire, “They found us and I almost didn’t make it out.”
“What happened to the person you were with?” Elisabeth asked, suddenly weary. This somehow felt like the most dangerous conversation she had since getting to this world.
Peter didn’t look up, “It was majic. She was injured. I had to leave her.”
Her? Elisabeth thought. That wasn’t what she had expected. “What happened to her, Peter?”
He looked at her this time, anger clenching his jaw, “She’s alive.”