The Girl in the Rain (closed thread)

[Seattle Zack]

Fade in
The pellet-like droplets, hurled by the wind, spattered against the windows. More than three days of rain, typical for the Seattle winter. Jack stood at the window, smoking, looking out at the dark expanse of trees.

The apartment building was isolated, more than ten miles from the freeway exit down a curving country road. Jack owned the building, had inherited it from his father. The entire top floor was his. Only three other tenants in the four-story structure, but Jack didn't care. He enjoyed the solitude. This was his refuge.

It was rare to even see headlights after ten o'clock. The car was driving fast, too fast for the conditions. Probably kids. Out to smoke dope in the abandoned campground down the road.

The wind whipped again, a sheet of water lashing against the glass. Jack smiled. He liked the rain.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

It was raining and it was bone chilling cold. It was also dark, save for the lone street lamp above. Maggie stood on the corner, looking this way and that, confused, lost, and so totally alone. Nothing looked familiar to her, nothing reminded her of anything else. She wouldn’t even be able to find her way back to the hospital where she’d woken up two days ago if she tried. She didn’t know her real name, but the nurses had started calling her Maggie, saying that her southern accent reminded them of magnolia trees and mint juleps, staples of the old South.

None of it made any sense to her. She didn’t know her real name or where she came from. She didn’t know what she was doing in…where was she again…where had they said she was? “Seattle,” she said to herself, testing it on her tongue, whispering it into the night. Yes, that was it. Seattle. It still didn’t mean anything at all to her.

As she stood there, despair began to take up residence deep inside. It spread from her soul, up through her heart, and threatened to engulf her mind. Tears sparked her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks, mingling with the rain that continued to pour down in heavy, unrelenting sheets soaking her clothes…the ones she’d been found in; jeans, hiking boots, and a green sweater, the ones that were her only possessions.

With her head buried in her hands as she sobbed, Maggie never saw the car that was speeding by until it hit a puddle and splashed her with mud and roadside residue. She looked up suddenly, following the fading taillights, fresh tears springing forth at this new round of battering. She wiped at her eyes the best she could, trying to stem the tide before she lost her mind completely, suddenly catching a glint of light that hadn’t been there before.

The lights in the top floor of the building across the street had come on. Well, at least the light in the corner window of the top floor of the building across the street had come on. There was a shadow standing there, peering down at her, the light of a cigarette burning orange against the glass, giving his face an evil tinge.

Moments later after watching the man, and she was sure it was a man, she put one foot in front of the other and made her way across the street. Just as she reached the door, it opened and she came face to face with someone other than doctors in white. The man from the upstairs window. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His face was all harsh planes and chiseled features. His mouth was unsmiling. His hair was long and cascaded around his shoulders. His eyes were deep, dark, and fathomless.

As she stood there staring up at him, at his unwavering gaze, something shifted inside of her and began to warm, to glow. Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she had believed herself to be.

“I’m lost,” she said through trembling lips.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

She was drenched, hair dark and plastered against her face. Shivering, she looked up at him, wide green eyes behind rain-specked glasses. Tiny droplets of mud marked her cheeks.

Jack blinked several times. "Come in," he said finally, stepping back and opening the door wide. "What is it? Are you hurt?" Perhaps she was visiting one of the other tenants, although the McPhersons were out of town, and the two gay guys on the first floor were rarely home on weekends.

"I'm c-c-c-cold," she said in a slight southern accent, her entire body trembling. She looked around, disoriented.

"Are you hurt?" he asked again. She shook her head. Her lips were almost blue and her teeth chattered. She seemed so fragile, so delicate, he had a quick urge to hold her in his arms until she stopped shivering, to take her and ... he pushed the thought aside.

He realized he was just standing there, staring at her. "Uh, come on up," he said, gesturing. "We'll have to take the stairs, elevator's been broken for weeks. I'll get you something hot to drink. You can call whoever you need."

Her nipples were stiff underneath the tattered wet sweater that clung tightly to her torso. This one was definitely not a local. As he climbed the stairs behind her it was impossible not to notice the sweet curves of her body underneath the sopping mud-streaked clothes. As she reached the landing she stumbled, grabbing the bannister; he put his arm around her, steadying her. Their eyes met and she smiled up at him, a bright impish grin full of innocent charm radiating through the dirt spattered across her face. They stood there for a moment, bodies close. He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat with his fingertips. This was absurd, almost surreal. Who was she? Reaching around her, he opened the door to his apartment.

"Let me put some wood on the fire." His hand on her waist, he led her across the room. After tossing a couple of logs onto the embers he prodded them to life with the fireplace poker. As the flames danced she knelt down, extending her arms, enjoying the warmth. She closed her eyes, another childlike smile on her face.

"My name's Jack," he said, crouching down beside her. "Are you hurt? Were you in an accident?" He brushed the matted wet hair back from her face.

She shook her head, eyes still closed. The warmth of the fire seemed to have driven the chill off. He put his arm around her, taking in the slender curve of her neck, her delicate feminine hands. She leaned slightly back against him with a little purr of satisfaction. Her lower lip stuck out a little, giving her an almost perpetual pout. He leaned over slightly, smelling the aroma of her wet hair and her drying body. A lovely little thing, her body luscious and well-developed. Jack shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking these things.

He stood up. "Let me get you something warm. Do you like hot chocolate?" She looked up at him and smiled again, another innocent expression of delight. As he went into the kitchen he glanced at the phone. Perhaps he should call the police. She was obviously in shock, although she didn't seem to be physically injured. I'll wait a little bit, he told himself, let her get warmed up. Then maybe she can tell me who she is, and what she's doing here.

As the water heated on the stove he glanced back out to the main room, watching her kneel there in front of the fire. She arched her back, stretching, her arms over her head. He imagined how her breasts would feel, warm and heavy in his hands, nipples taut against his fingertips. He thought about the handcuffs in the kitchen drawer, how they would look locked around her slender wrists. Stop it, he berated himself. This isn't some drunken slut from the bar. The kettle whistled as the water began to boil, snapping him out of his reverie.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

“Jack,” she whispered as he walked away into the kitchen, letting another word roll off her tongue, getting the feel for it, hoping that maybe the draw she felt towards him was because somehow she knew him. But no, the name didn’t seem familiar. She sighed inwardly, hating this blankness, this void.

Maggie wondered how she was supposed to answer his questions. Should she make something up or should she tell him the truth? No, his eyes saw too much and he would know if she were lying. She was certain of that. What then if he called the police? What if there people looking for her? What if someone had tried to kill her but just didn’t complete the job? If he called the cops-

She had left the hospital before the cops could be called, sneaking out. Had they already called, she wondered. Were there cops already out looking for her?

Her confusion and fear brought tears once again to her eyes. While the man, Jack, was looking at her, talking to her, touching her she felt safe, and warm, and not so alone. She was able to smile at him, relax and calm her nerves, but now he was gone, in another room and the fear crept back into her mind, the cold settling in her gut again.

She inched closer to the fire…closer…closer. She couldn’t get warm. And tired, she was so tired. What was happening to her? And for god’s sake who in the hell was she?

A panicked sob escaped her lips and she crumpled on the floor. Tears rolled off the bridge of her nose onto the rug and her breath came in strangled gasps. And then…he was there. Jack. And the shivers stopped, and her tears slowed.

“Hey honey, what is it?” he said softly, curling his length on the floor behind her, pulling her up and into his arms and removing her glasses.

She buried her face in his shirt and inhaled deeply. He smelled of smoke and man. She didn’t know how she knew, but he was exactly how a man should smell…dark and mysterious.

His voice. His deep, rich voice seeped inside of her, soothing and calming her. His nearness was where her world centered at that moment, his heartbeat became her anchor in the storm that had taken over her life. He was all she had, and yet, she didn’t even know what that meant.

Wherever he touched her, fire licked at her skin. Her clothes were drying, becoming stiff. She would have to get out of them soon, but then…into what? She had nothing else and he appeared to live alone, so, what would she wear?

“Do you have a shower I could use?” she asked softly.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

"Here drink this." He held the cup to her lips and she slurped greedily, savoring the warmth. She looked up at him, those wide green eyes, so trusting. God, she felt good in his arms. He guided her hands to the cup and she grasped it gratefully, feeling the heat against her palms.

"I like hot chocolate," she whispered. It was only the second thing she's said since she walked in the door.

He chuckled. "I bet you do. Stay here for a sec, would you, and I'll go find something for you to wear. You need to get out of those wet clothes."

She nodded, that trusting empathy flowing from her. Jack hesitated, then stood and went to the closet. Clean towels -- thank God he had done the laundry on Sunday -- and a thick terrycloth robe from a stay at the Hyatt some years ago. He stacked them on the shelves in the bathroom.

When he got back, she had drank almost the entire cup. The sugar would probably do her good. "Let me help you off with those boots," he said, as he unknotted the muddy laces.

Her feet were ice cold, wrinkled and stiff. He rubbed them roughly, feeling the blood start to flow, as she wriggled her toes delightedly. She was such a sensual creature, taking pleasure in every momentary sensation that she experienced; he wanted to shield her, to savor that glee that she expressed at the slightest pleasure.

"Here." He helped her to her feet, holding her more tightly than necessary. For a moment she leaned against him, that delightful little half-smile on her face. You should call someone, the voice inside him said. This girl needs help.

Fuck that. "I'm all the help she needs," he muttered, hardly aware that he had spoken aloud. He guided her down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"Here?" She tried a the first doorknob. It was locked, a hasp and padlock preventing entry. "What's this?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, a little evasively, urging her forward. "It's at the end of the hall." He had half a mind to unlock the door, let her see what was inside. Keep it together Jack, the voice said. You're approaching something criminal here.

But she was so innocent, so trusting, so lost! How could he not think these things? The conflict tumbled inside his head. He pointed out the soap and shampoo, her body close. Everything he said, she seemed to absorb and agree with. "I like this," she said with a giggle, smelling the shampoo bottle.

"I'll put on some music," he said. "Take your time, get that mud off. When you get out, I'll make us something to eat."

She nodded, then turned and hugged him, almost impulsively. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. It felt so good, her body pressed against his. "It's okay," he whispered. "No one will hurt you." She hugged him tighter and he felt the wetness on his shirt, realized she was crying.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him, tears streaking her dirty face. "Maggie," she whispered. "I think." She buried her face in his chest.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

"Maggie," she whispered. "I think." She buried her face in his chest.

“You think?”

There was a cloud of doubt in Jack’s voice and it stung her deeply. She knew that he had no reason to believe that she was telling the truth, but she was as far as she knew.

“Take your shower, get clean and warm and then we’ll talk,” Jack said gently, easing her away from his body, backing out of the doorway and closing the door softly, her deepset emerald eyes still watching him.

Maggie stared at the closed door for a few moments before turning towards the shower. She turned on the faucet and adjusted the heat to a hot, yet not scalding temperature. With slow, slightly unsteady fingers, she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, fumbling with the wet denim as it clung to her skin. She shivered as the air touched her.

Her hands grasped the bottom of her sweater and began to raise it over her head when she spied herself in the mirror. She couldn’t help but grimace and sigh sadly that she didn’t even recognize her own face. Nothing in her appearance was familiar to her. She turned away abruptly and stripped hurriedly out of the rest of her clothes…the thin, transparent panties and bra and stepped into the shower. She let out an audible moan of pleasure as the warm water cascaded down her body.

Reaching up, Maggie adjusted the flow of water to a pulsating massage setting, one that would help to ease the tension in her shoulders and neck. While it pounded away at her tired, bunched up muscles, she picked up the bottle of baby shampoo and smiled softly. How so unlike his character, his persona, she thought…baby shampoo. It’s scent made her feel soft and feminine and it permeated the bathroom as she began to lather her hair, working the tangles and knots out with her fingers. The feeling of getting clean was indescribable.

She let the shampoo stay in her hair as she washed her body. Her breasts were tender to the touch and there were slight bruises on the upper halves of them and up the front of her shoulders…faint yellowish greenish bruises. Her arms and stomach were next, followed by her hips and legs. There were bruises on her ankles and her wrists, the same hue as the others.

She frowned. What on earth happened to me? Her mind pushed and pulled at the cobwebs clouding her memories, blocking everything out from before two days ago.

She took the washcloth from the bar on the wall and soaped it up, scrubbing first her face, then washing between her thighs, wincing at the tenderness. With her hand, she felt around, coming across two small rings looped through the outer lips of her…her…god, she didn’t even remember what it was called, but there was one on each side. Maggie snatched her hand away as if scorched. She stepped deeper under the spray of water and rinsed her hair and body.

What sort of freak am I, she wondered, getting out of the shower and turning the water off. She reached for a towel and quickly dried, taking a chance and gazing into the mirror again. She actually looked much different, and was a little taken aback. Her hair had a little body to it, even wet and her body was a nice pink color from the scrubbing. All of the mud was gone and so was the bone deep chill. The bruises still concerned her as did the rings between her legs.

Should she tell Jack? Somehow she thought he’d want to know. Odd that she wanted him to know.

She pulled on the oversized robe and picked up her clothes. She reached for the knob of the door just as it turned and opened from the other side. ”Jack.”

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

She hardly looked like the same person. “Wow,” he said, surprised. Her hair was dark blonde, he could see now, with the dirt and muck washed out. Pale skin glowing, she was adorable, the bulky robe too big for her.

“Look.” She held out her hands. Dark bruises, fading now, encircled her slim wrists. He took her hand and slid the sleeve further up, noting the marks on the inside of her arm.

“Who did this to you?” he asked gently. She shook her head, tears in her eyes again. Still holding her hand, he led her back out to the main room and guided her to the couch. The room was warm from the heat of the fire.

“What’s that?” she asked, turning her head.

“Uh, Rolling Stones, I think.” He had turned the radio on, a classic rock station. She nodded, that faraway look in her eyes, as if she were trying to catch something just outside her grasp; smiling, she bobbed her head in time to the music. She took such pleasure in the slightest things!

“Maggie?” He sat down beside her. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. You have to tell me, though. Where did you come from? Who did this to you?” The robe had parted slightly as she sat and he could see other slight blotches along the inside of her thighs. She leaned back, the robe opening further, and he tried not to stare at the enticing little shadow between her legs. He had a sudden impulse to pull the robe down over her shoulders, press her back on the couch underneath him, run his hands over her soft rounded curves.

“I don’t remember.” That light Southern twang tugged at his heart. “I remember the hospital … the trees. The dark.” She shivered. “I was scared.”

Pinehaven. It had to be Pinehaven. That was the only place anywhere close that might be construed as a hospital. Some sort of halfway house or something. But it was more than five miles away, over the ridge. Could she really have come all that way through the night and the rain?

You can keep her, the dark voice inside him murmured slyly. No one knows she’s here. She doesn't know who she is, she's hardly likely to run away. Even if they’re looking for her, how could they find out? They would assume she’d gone down the road, towards the city, not overland through the woods. No one’s seen her but you.

Keep her? He shook his head again. Crazy thoughts. This was a person, an escaped mental patient maybe, not some – dare he think it? – sex slave for you to keep imprisoned against her will. Still, he wanted her. In his mind’s eye he could see her body, tightly bound and criss-crossed with rope, squirming helplessly underneath his touch. He could imagine her warm breath, the softness of those pouting lips as she took him in her mouth. He realized he was breathing heavily and he shifted position, hoping his excitement wasn’t obvious. He needed a cigarette.

“I like this,” she announced. She was swaying in time to the music. He got up and fished a smoke from his crumpled pack. When he turned around, she was standing, eyes closed, her hips moving back and forth. She ran her hands through her hair, the curly tresses giving her a wild, brazen appearance. He wanted her, no doubt about it. He reached for the remote and increased the volume.

Under my thumb
A Siamese cat of a girl
Under my thumb
She's the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world

He almost laughed. Fucking perfect. Why not? the voice said. He lit the cigarette and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Dance for me, Maggie,” he suggested.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

“Dance for me, Maggie,” he suggested

His voice seemed to come from far away, but at the same time, it was inside of her, pulsating through her blood. Dance. Is that what she was doing? It felt good. And for him? Yes, she would dance for him, anything for him. The pull was magnified with each passing moment in his presence. She never wanted to leave. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. She didn’t want to leave him. Ever. He made her feel safe, and safe was what she most needed.

She gripped her hair in her hands and pulled it on top of her head, slowly swaying. Her hips moved, a small imperceptible gyrating movement, and yet she felt full of fire, full of something wild and captive. She dropped her hands and slid them down her body. Her palms grazed the sides of her breasts and felt their way into the dip of her waist. Her fingers danced lightly over the small roundedness of her belly and down the front of her thighs.

She felt powerful.

She inhaled deeply and spun slowly in the direction of the cigarette smoke. She stopped when she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Opening her eyes, she saw herself reflected in the fathomless green pools, oceans deep, she saw the flames from the fire flickering there, and she saw something else, something she wanted, something that made her purr…that look gazing back at her with steadiness, with want.

He wanted her.

She smiled at him, full and lush, offering him everything she was…even if she didn’t know what all of that entailed, or if he’d even want more than this minute with her. For a few seconds the cold started to creep back in but she brushed aside the unsettling thoughts, spinning away from him just as his hand reached out to her.

Maggie stopped in front of the fire and looked back at him over her shoulder. He looked menacing and she wasn’t one bit frightened. He looked hard and she was warm and soft everywhere. He looked like…heaven to the hell she was living in.

She needed him.

Her fingers went to the tie on the robe, a force beyond her control pushing her, daring her. Still looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes never traveling from his face, she began to lower the soft fabric from her body.

A wicked smile began to form on his beautiful lips and at once changed…

“Jack,” she whispered, seeing the light fading from his eyes. Had she done something wrong? She began to pull the robe back up, but he was lightening quick, holding it down around her waist. “Jack,” she said again, fear beginning to seize her. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

A string of words, harsh and painful flew past her ears causing her to wince. His voice was colder than the outside elements when he spoke, his eyes never leaving her back. “Who in the hell did this to you?”

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

She had been branded.

The mark was about three inches tall, on her right shoulder blade. There was no way it could be accidental -- the curving regularity of the brand was evident. Slowly he traced it with his fingertips. The scar was healed, though deep and even. It had been deliberate. Someone had pressed a white-hot iron into her flesh, marking her irrevocably.

It looked almost like a letter, perhaps Arabic or Oriental. She gasped slightly as he touched it again, his fingertips grazing over the scarred tissue. It angered him that someone had done this to her; perversely, it also excited him, imagining it being done, visualizing the smoking iron searing into her soft skin.

“What is it?” Anxiously she craned her neck, trying to see.

“You have to remember, Maggie,” he said softly, struggling to remain calm. He wanted to shake her, to slap her, somehow get her to tell him the truth. “Think, Maggie. You must remember this.”

“I can’t.” Her green eyes were clouded with uncertainty, but no deception. She was telling the truth.

“Shh,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. It must have been drugs; this amnesia was no accident. Not with the marks on her body and that terrible imprint in her flesh. He put his arms around her from behind, whispering in her ear. “Let’s try something, Maggie. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Jack, you know I do.” He felt her relax against him.

“Don’t try to remember, just let your mind go.” He kept his voice low and soothing, his mouth next to her ear. “Back before the trees … before the dark … the hospital … the hallways … the white floors …” He was just guessing now, hoping something would connect.

“White coats,” she murmured.

“Yes, the white coats. The white coats, the smell of the hospital.” Smells were often the most powerful memory triggers.

“Tight.”

“Tight, yes.” That made no sense at all. “What’s tight, Maggie?”

“Tight.” Her eyes were half-closed, almost in a daze. Stepping forward, out of his grasp, she turned around and slipped her robe off dreamily. She held her arms out in front of her, wrists crossed.

He sucked in his breath. “Tell me what’s tight, Maggie.” God, she was beautiful. Silently he gazed at her for a moment. Her breasts were full and heavy, curving down to the sweet concave of her belly, the exciting swell of her hips.

Something caught his attention: her labia had been pierced; two golden rings nestled below the little thatch of curly hair between her legs. Fading bruises blotched her pale skin, but her lush, female curves made it hard for him to think straight.

She said nothing, just opened and closed her small fists, keeping her wrists crossed. He took off his belt and wrapped it around her wrists, buckling it tightly, restraining her. The leather pressed into her flesh. As she glanced around, her eyes unfocused, he stepped back, not wanting to break whatever spell she was under. Kneeling down at the end of the coffee table she laid across it, her bound hands stretching before her. Her head was to the side, the hair tumbled around her face. She whispered something.

“What?” He crouched down next to her. With his fingers, he pressed against the mark burned into her back.

She winced. “Bad girl,” she said softly.

“Who’s the bad girl? Are you the bad girl, Maggie?”

"Good price for this one," she whispered. Her body trembled.

"Who's saying these things, Maggie?" None of what she said made any sense.

She blinked several times, her eyes becoming focused again and straightened up. Kneeling, she looked at her bound wrists in confusion, then up at him. “Jack? What happened?”

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

What wasn’t he telling her? There something in the way that he looked at her.

“It’s a brand, Maggie. Someone has branded you.” At her confused looked, he continued and she turned her head back to her bound hands. “A brand. Someone took a hot iron and burned a mark into your skin.”

“But why would someone do that to me?”

She sat there, so confused, so scared at what Jack was telling her, so scared that her wrists being bound didn’t scare her, but made her feel good, made her feel right…and being on her knees, the feeling flowed through her.

She was naked, her wrists bound, on her knees and Jack was beside her. There was no embarrassment, there was no shyness. It all seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something was trying to break free in her mind, a memory, a thought.

She lifted her hands up to her face and rubbed the leather of the belt against her cheek. The scent of it intoxicated her. She closed her eyes, seemingly lost inside herself.

“Maggie,” Jack said softly. “You mentioned something about a good price. A good price for what?”

It was several moments before she spoke again, and her voice was whisper soft, dream-like. “Slave. No one to care for this girl. No more money to keep her here. Sell her. Good price for her. Young, untrained, compliant. Brand her. Sell her.”

She opened her eyes and looked at the man that she felt so at home with. “What does it all mean, Jack? I remember bits and pieces. Words said and orders given. I don’t understand. Did someone sell me? Am I some sort of slave? What’s going on?”

Her eyes filled with tears that once again spilled over onto her cheeks. She laid down on her side, facing away from him and curled up in a ball, suddenly ashamed. She began tugging at the belt that held her wrists captive, thrashing about trying to get out of it. When she felt Jack’s arms surround her, she fought again his hold too, kicking and bucking to get away. She screamed at him to let her go.

This was it, she thought wildly. This was her losing what little was left of her mind. And her anchor only held her tighter, crooning to her that he was there, that he wasn’t going to let her go, that she needed to calm down before she hurt one or both of them.

For what seemed an eternity her tears flowed. And then suddenly, stopped. She lay there limp, spent.

Her voice was hoarse when she whispered his name. “Jack, I-“

A curse slipped from his lips as her thought was interrupted by the shrillness of the phone. On the third ring, he slipped from her gently to grab it, not knowing who it could be at that hour, but knowing that it had to be something important for anyone to call him.

Maggie lay there silently, listening to Jack talk, his voice harsh and heated. She looked around and slowly worked her way back up on her knees, then using the end of the coffee table to pull herself up to standing. She lifted her wrists to her mouth and tugged at the long end of the belt working desperately to get it off before Jack came back. She had to get out of there, she had to leave. She didn’t know what was happening, what being sold meant really, what slave meant. She just knew, felt deep inside that Jack would be in some kind of danger if she were ever found.

She had to get out of there…

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

"Goddamnit Lloyd, I can't. Not now. Don't you realize it's after midnight?"

Jack angrily paced around the room. He and Maggie had been so close to something, right on the verge of discovery. This was the last thing he needed.

"No, don't come out here," he said into the phone. He glanced at the doorway leading to the other room. "All right, goddamnit. This better be good."

He slammed down the receiver and grapped his jacket from the back of the chair. As he stomped out to the main room he saw Maggie, still naked, at the front door. Somehow, she had managed to get the belt from around her wrists. Her stiff, muddy clothes draped over one arm, she was struggling with the deadbolt.

He hurried across the room and grabbed her by the upper arm. "Hey! Where are you going?"

Eyes wide and frantic, she tried to pull loose. "I have to go, Jack! I can't be here!"

He made an effort to pull her to him, to comfort her. "You're safe here, Maggie. No one can harm you. I have to go out, but I want you to wait for me ..."

She twisted her arm free with a strength that surprised him. "No!" She was on the verge of hysteria.

He had no time for this. Grabbing her wrist firmly, he pulled the clothes from her grasp and flung them in the corner. She stumbled behind him as he dragged her into the kitchen and got the handcuffs. Locking one cuff around her wrist as she struggled, he pulled her back in front of the fireplace and snapped the other around the metal arm of the couch.

"Jack, please! Don't leave me like this!"

He bent and picked up her clothes, quickly going through the pockets. Nothing -- no identification, no change, not even any lint.

She was standing there, weeping, her arm pulled awkwardly behind her. He got the robe and draped it around her shoulders. As she looked up at him he kissed her on the forehead, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"I'll be right back," he told her gently. "Just wait here. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Jack ... please," she sobbed. "You don't know ..."

As he turned the deadbolt he heard her wail from behind the door. Jack fumed angrily as he backed the truck down the long driveway. Lloyd Carson was the local deputy sheriff, with a small office down by the freeway. What could be so fucking important that he had to get down there in the middle of the goddamn night?

He knocked on the industrial green metal door and entered without waiting for a response. The three men in the room turned. Jack had known Lloyd for many years, but the other two he didn't recognize. They both stood. Dark overcoats, close-cropped hair -- if not for the size difference, they might have almost been twins.

The taller one stepped forward, extending his hand. "How do you do, Mr. Barlow. My name is Dr. Pettigrew, from the Pinehaven Institute."

Pinehaven. Maggie. Jack kept his face impassive as he shook hands.

"They're looking for an escaped mental patient, Jack." Lloyd leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and yawned; he had probably been rousted out of bed for this little get-together.

Jack said nothing. This was not good. If these two were doctors, he was the Tooth Fairy. The shorter of the two was likely the more dangerous -- shifty eyes, like a ferret. He kept his hands in his pockets, looking at Jack.

"A dangerous one," said the tall man, Pettigrew. He grimaced. "Stabbed a guard with a homemade knife and got out through the kitchen. A nasty business."

Jack cleared his throat. "Why drag me down here?" he asked lightly. "I'm miles from Pinehaven."

"They tracked her, Jack. With dogs." Lloyd stood up, stretching. "Lost the scent about a half mile from your place."

Jack spread his hands, shrugging. "I haven't seen anything."

There was a long silence. The two men in overcoats stared at him. Jack met their gaze, unblinking, although his heart was racing. Maggie, he thought.

"She's a nut case." The shorter man, his voice a nasal whine. "A killer. Set fire to her house. Killed her whole family."

Jack shook his head. "Well, I hope you catch her. If I see anything, I'll be sure to call." He looked at Lloyd quizically, as if to say who are these two? "Is that it?"

Lloyd stepped out from behind the desk. "Yeah, that's it. Just keep your eyes peeled, would you Jack?" He opened the door.

Jack stared at the two men for a moment then, without saying a word, left the small office.

His hands were trembling as he started the truck. Be cool. It wouldn't do to have them see you tear out of here like a bat out of hell. Trying to appear nonchalant, he lit a cigarette. The two men were standing in the doorway, watching him.

Half a mile down the road he stomped the accellerator, the pickup swaying on its springs as he screeched around the corners. He skidded to a stop on the gravel driveway and raced up the stairs. "Maggie!" He stopped, heart pounding in his chest, as he saw his smashed door.

The cuff was still hanging there, attached to the couch. The chain had been severed with a bolt cutter. He stormed through the house, slamming doors open, yelling her name. A cold chill went through him. She was gone.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

Maggie stared at the closed door for a few moments, hoping beyond hope that Jack would come back, that he would change his mind about where he had to go, that he wouldn’t leave her here alone, naked, scared. And she was scared. Terrified, if truth be known.

She sat down on the couch, drawing the robe around her as best she could. Staring into the flames she tried to make sense of the things that she remembered, the things that made no sense to her. But as she continued to think about, she began to realize that Jack hadn’t seemed repulsed or confused about what any of it meant. He seemed to understand and comprehend the branding and the selling of her. She simply had to ask him about it when he got back, make him talk to her and explain what had perhaps taken place before she found him.

And what was he doing with handcuffs in the kitchen drawer? Was he a cop, she wondered, but immediately thought better of that for then he would have taken her in somewhere for official questioning and such.

How did she know that?

Maggie laid down on the couch, her arm cuffed arm hanging over the side. She stared into the fire, willing her mind to go blank so that she could get some sleep. She was so tired and there really wasn’t much else to do until Jack returned.

Sometime later, she awoke to the sound of voices coming from out in the hall. A small sigh of relief flooded her being for but a brief moment when all of a sudden the door crashed in and two large men in white coats rushed in, spying her immediately.

“There’s the bitch,” the largest of the two growled.

Maggie crawled deep into the corner of the couch in a futile attempt to escape being seen. Fear clogged her throat and choked off the scream that rose up. “P-p-p-please d-don’t hurt m-me,” she whispered

“Oh Dave, look,” the bigger of the two men said. “She doesn’t want us to hurt her. Isn’t that a shame, especially since we won’t be able to accommodate her?”

Mock sympathy laced his voice making her stomach churn with nausea. She glanced around wildly, her eyes making their way repeatedly to the door, searching in vain for Jack. The big man knew just what she was thinking.

“He’s not coming back, whore. At least not for a while thanks to our friendly law enforcement officer. We'll have to tell the boss to send Deputy Carson a thank you note.” He was making his way towards her, menace lurking in his cold black eyes. “Look, Dave. She already naked, saves us the work of having to do it.”

Dave, who was still standing at the door simply grunted in response.

She was picked up before it was realized that she was cuffed to the couch. “Shit.” He spat, dropping her back on the couch and stomping from the room. Moments later he was back with a huge tool and cut cleanly through the metal chain linking the cuffs. “You are way more trouble than you’re worth, bitch.”

He picked her up, leaving the robe on the cushions and slung her over his shoulder. She squirmed, trying to crawl down his back when he secured her with his big hand on the lower part of her ass and forced one long thick finger up inside of her.

“Noooooo,” she cried, kicking and beating on his back. He just laughed and let her flail around as he walked out of the apartment.

Her foot connected with his groin halfway down the hall.

He stopped and grunted, finally dropping her to the ground. Dave had gone on ahead down the stairs and she scrambled to make her way back to Jack’s door. She hadn’t crawled two feet before a hand was in her hair, dragging her around and pulling her down the hall on her back. “The stairs,” he said with sweet sarcasm, “are this way.”

Tears slid down her face as her body was dragged down the first flight. She was going to die. She would never figure out the puzzle that had become her life. She would never see Jack again.

“Jack,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes. Pain permeated every inch of her body and then a new pain, connecting with her face. “Jack,” she whispered again before nothingness took over.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

"So what can you tell me about that scene last night?"

Lloyd shook his head. "I don't know, Jack. That was a strange one. Got a call from Seattle, some guy from the FBI, told me in no uncertain terms to provide these people with 'all the assistance they needed.'"

Jack stood and angrily paced around the small police station. It had been a long night; after repairing the door as best he could, he'd dozed fitfully on the couch. The image of Maggie, her naked body, those wide, trusting eyes, kept flashing through his brain. He had failed her. How could he have been so stupid? His first urge was to charge out to Pinehaven in the middle of the night; he'd finally convinced himself that it would be better to wait until morning, gather some information, before rampaging off on some crazed quest.

He turned. "What do you know about this Pinehaven place, anyway?"

"Some sort of nut farm, from what I've been able to pick up." Lloyd got up and refilled his coffee cup. "They've got federal funding. Big place, fence around it. Never heard a peep from them until now." He looked at Jack quizically. "What's up with you Jack? You looked like you were about to start swinging at those two."

"Do you have a picture of this girl? This escapee? A name, anything?"

"No, and that's another weird thing. First thing I asked when they showed up last night. Pretended like they'd forgotten the file, but they sure didn't seem on the level. If I hadn't gotten that call from Seattle, I would have told them to go fuck themselves." He sipped his coffee. "What going on, Jack -- you're not about to go do something stupid, are you?"

"Trust me on this one, Lloyd -- I'll tell you about it when I can. If I need help, I'll call. Find out what you can about this place, and that Pettigrew, would you?" Lloyd nodded uncertainly, about to say something. Jack didn't want to hear it. He left without waiting for a reply.

Back at the house, he put some items from his toolbox into a small backpack -- wire cutters, binoculars, a short crowbar, duct tape, a flashlight. He burrowed through his closet, pulling out a dark sweatshirt and a ski mask. After some consideration, he also got out his small .38 revolver and tucked it into the bag.

Looking on the Internet, he was able to find some satellite photos of the place. Several large buildings in the center of the complex, arranged almost like a university dormitory around a square plaza, with smaller structures scattered around the back. He pounded his fist on the table. It might be impossible to find her -- if indeed she was even on the grounds. Why hadn't he at least taken her with him in the truck? It had been a mistake, a stupid mistake to let her out of his sight.

He had several topographical maps of the area, showing the hiking tails through the nearby national forest. There was a hill just behind the place; Jack found a likely spot where he might be able to get a clear view of the plaza and the large buildings in the center.

It wasn't raining, really, more of a light mist than anything else. At least the cloud cover would keep the sun from flashing off the binocular lenses. Using his compass, he took a bearing and began hiking up over the ridge. It would probably be best to wait until nightfall before attempting anything, although he wanted to have the opportunity to observe the routine at Pinehaven for several hours.

He strode through the thick undergrowth, a look of firm resolve on his face, walking stick in hand. Maggie had probably traversed this same route, in the opposite direction, during her frantic, terrifying journey. Had it only been two nights ago? He shook his head. It seemed like he had known her forever. "I'm coming for you, Maggie," he muttered with grim determination. "Hold on, girl."

The rocky outcrop he had picked on the map was perfect, allowing him an unobstructed view of most of the fenced compound. He took his time, moving slowly across every square inch with the binoculars. It seemed pretty normal for a hospital-like facility: nurses pushing patients around in wheelchairs, people sitting on benches, white coated doctors walking down the paths. "White coats," he whispered. His knuckles whitened in anger.

The razor wire atop the ten-foot tall chain-link fence was a jarring contrast to the peaceful setting, however. The entrance was double-gated, with two armed security guards that inspected every vehicle coming or going. A tower near the gate also contained another guard, with a view of the entire compound. He scanned each building carefully. There had to be some sign, some clue as to where she was. Maggie couldn't be the only one they'd done this to.

There it was. A smaller structure, set behind the two large dormitory-like buildings. It had bars on the windows and a heavy double door. No one went in or out of the place during the half hour he watched. Pulling out a notepad, he made a rough sketch of the buildings and pathways. It wouldn't do to get disoriented once he got inside the grounds.

Finally the sun began to set, lights coming on in the buildings. Dinner time. Although it would be best to wait until it got darker, he also wanted to get a closer look at the place. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he moved down the hill towards the fence.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

Maggie awoke to a room filled with white; white walls, white at the window, white door, white everything. How long had she been there, she wondered, lifting her head a fraction of an inch then laying it back down again. She couldn’t move it higher for the collar around her neck prevented it. And her head hurt like the blazes.

She licked her parched lips with her parched tongue and felt cuts and tasted blood. Her arms were clasped behind her and as she lowered her eyes to the pillow and the small bit of sheet that she could see, there was blood. What had they done to her? Who were the they that had done this to her.

It hurt to breathe. It even hurt to blink. She closed her eyes and simply lay there, silent tears falling. She would have been scared but she didn’t know how anymore. Whatever was going to be done to her would be done whether she was frightened or not. She willed her thoughts away from begging the next person that walked in to simply kill her, but then the image of a man in black with long dark hair and ocean green eyes floated across her mind’s eye.

Jack.

Jack with his handcuffs and closet full of secrets. Jack with warm willing arms tight around her protecting her from herself. Jack with the rough velvet voice and the hard sensual lips.

Jack.

Fresh tears started down her face just as the door opened. A white coat walked in.

“Well, well, well. You finally decided to wake up, I see.”

Maggie didn’t say a word or make a move. She didn’t even flinch when his hand brushed across her back causing fire to rain down inside her blood.

“I suppose you want to know what has happened in the last two days since you’ve been with me.”

Two days? She had been there two days?

“You’ve a strong will to live, girl. Unlike any I’ve ever seen. Most women, and undoubtedly most men would have died from such a beating. The front and back of your body will be scared for the rest of your miserable life. I’ve made sure of that. The initial wounds weren’t allowed to heal before I had more applied. You really are a grotesque sight.”

“W-why?” she asked.

He knelt down in her line of vision, blurry as it was. He was quite a handsome man, maybe a few years older than Jack.

Jack.

“Ah. You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? Yes, he’s a pretty good guy. A real pervert though with some of things he likes to do to girls like you.” He slapped her face hard and pulled at her hair causing her to cry out in pain. “I wouldn’t count on seeing him again. Jack moves on from woman to woman and you weren’t around long enough to be more than nothing at all to him. No, you belong to me and this whipping was to help remind you of that. You won’t be running away again anytime soon.”

She wouldn’t let despair prod her to beg him for death.

“Would you like to see, slave?”

She didn’t have a chance to answer before he produced a small mirror and she saw bruises and cuts all over her face. Dried blood streaked her skin from her eyes down to her chin. Her hair was even matted with it. Her eyes were sunken and she was hardly recognizable from the woman she had been two days ago, and yet, she still didn’t know who the real woman was.

She closed her eyes against the terrible reflection. “W-who are you?”

“Why I am your god. I am your king. I am your master. I am every breath you take. I also happen to be Jack’s long time friend and the deputy sheriff.” His laugh was evil, harsh and it sent ice-cold dread through her. Now, she was afraid.

He must have seen the fear in her eyes for he smiled a cruel smile. “Good girl. Fear is good. I shall have to reward you for showing me that.” He stood and walked out of her line of sight, roughly pulling her legs apart and draping them over the sides of the cot. She heard a zipper and then felt his rough hands on the open bleeding wounds on her back, squeezing and kneading her flesh, causing scream after scream to erupt from her throat.

He pushed as her dry opening, tearing her asunder. Blackness threatened to overtake her again, the pain hovering on the edges of her consciousness…

The beast raped her body over and over again, finally pulling out of her and spewing slime all over her back and ass. She felt nausea roll in as he pressed his cock against her lips and wiped it off of semen and blood. He slapped her face with it. “Such a good bitch. I’ll be back later to pleasure you again.” He laughed as he left the room, an arrogant smug horrible laugh.

Jack.

She closed her eyes and brought his image back to her mind. She found peace and refuge in the imagination of his arms surrounding her, of kneeling at his feet with her wrists bound. It might be true what had been said back at his apartment about the brand being one of a slave, but if she were truly a slave, then in her soul, she was a slave to Jack.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

"So tell me again how to set these things?" Jack hefted the device in his hand. It was heavier than he had expected.

Rudy sighed. "Simple, Jack. Just press 'Clear,' then enter the time. Minutes and seconds, then 'Enter.' Now it's set. To start the timer, hit 'Enter' twice more. When the counter reaches zero, just make sure you're nowhere nearby."

Jack nodded. Using a spare timer, he practiced it a couple of times just to be sure; he didn't want to be fumbling around in the dark. Rudy pulled a crudely rolled joint from behind his ear and lit up, the sweet smoke making Jack's eyes water. "Want a hit?"

Jack shook his head. He needed to stay clear. "Where did you get these, anyway?"

"Down in Wenatchee. Bunch of crazy survivalists. Psycho Nazi fuckers, bald, tattoos on the backs of their heads." Rudy grinned, taking another big drag off his joint.

Rudy was a marijuana grower. He had several plots, well hidden, scattered across the national forest land, none of them big enought to attract attention from the air. He had known Jack for years, had been one of the original tenants in the building when Jack had moved here after his father's death. Now Rudy lived in a decrepit housetrailer that he had found and dragged up to the old campground.

With Rudy's long hair and tie-dyed T-shirt, Jack wondered how he had gotten along with the survivalists. The three devices had been ridiculously expensive; considering the price he had paid, they had probably welcomed Rudy with open arms.

"Just spread some accellerant around, you'll have a weenie roast in no time, Jack."

"Accellerant?"

Rudy rolled his eyes. "Something flammable, you know? Gasoline, lighter fluid, candle wax." He laughed.

Jack packed the firebombs carefully into his duffel bag. Tonight would be the third night of what he was beginning to think of as his 'excursions' into Pinehaven. The first night had been frustrating; he had been unable to do anything other than creep around the buildings. There was almost no activity outside after dark, but he couldn't get in the door of the building with the barred windows, and the presence of the armed guards ruled out any sort of smash and grab.

It would be impossible to try to bluff his way through the gates during the day; whoever was behind the events at Pinehaven undoubtedly knew who he was. He needed a diversion. Something big. Last night, he had crept in and loosened the bolts holding the latticework of bars on one of the windows. It had been agonizingly slow work, using a wrench, silently grinding the bolts loose from the brick. Seeing the wires at the corner of the window he had been careful not to loosen the lattice all the way, but a firm tug now would remove it.

Jack had no idea how to circumvent an alarm system, so he had a much more direct plan in mind. He lifted the heavy duffel and went out to the truck, Rudy following in a cloud of smoke.

"Be sure and call," Jack reminded him.

"No problem, bro', I got it covered."

"This is important." Jack looked Rudy in the eye. "Exactly one a.m., you call. You remember what to say?"

Rudy nodded, earnestly stoned. Jack sighed. It was the best he could do on short notice. After getting several more solemn assurances from Rudy, Jack hopped in the truck and drove back to the apartment building.

This was the worst part, waiting until it got dark, not knowing where Maggie was or even if she were alive. He had done several searches on the Internet, but had been unable to find any mention of Pinehaven or this Dr. Pettigrew. Jack decided it was best not to contact Lloyd for more information; considering what he was planning tonight, it might be best if Lloyd could truthfully deny that he had any idea about Jack's actions.

Pettigrew. Pinehaven. Jack would make them pay, no doubt about it. His fists clenched. Not only had they invaded his home, they had taken something that he treasured. Maggie.

Finally, as midnight neared and a light rain began to fall, Jack approached the opening in the fence that he had cut two nights ago. Careful not to jar the backpack, he eased it through the chain link mesh, then crept through the wet grass to the closest small building.

From his previous excursions, Jack knew it was a storage shed, with several lawnmowers and garden tools piled haphazardly within. More importantly, it contained several small cans of gasoline. Turning on the flashlight with his hand over the beam, he set the timer on the firebomb and splashed some of the gas around inside the shed. Taking another cannister of the fuel with him, he moved to the next structure.

Peeking in the windows the night before, he had determined that this building was some sort of storage area. The door was locked, but yielded easily under his crowbar. Back in the deep shadows at this end of the compound, Jack could move freely with little risk of observation; he hadn't noticed any patrols on his earlier visits, and there seemed to be no guards other than those that manned the gate round the clock.

After setting the second device, Jack moved to the third shed, the one closest to the little plaza, and repeated the process. He checked his watch: quarter to one. Perfect.

He crept up to the building with the barred windows, easing behind the shrubs at the base of the structure. The cold water had soaked into his clothes and he shivered. Cautiously he peered around the corner. This close to the gate, with the lights from the buildings, he had to be careful not to make any sudden motions. The loosened grate was directly above his head. Judging from its position, it probably led into a hallway in the building. He hoped. "Maggie," he whispered. Somehow, he knew she was nearby.

As he was about to check his watch he heard the door to the building open, around the corner. Oh fuck! Two men walked past, no more than ten feet away. One of them lit a cigarette as Jack froze, hoping his dark clothing could camoflauge him in the night and the rain. He strained to hear their conversation.

"Crazy bastard Carson's going to kill that bitch, he's not careful."

"Pettigrew was pissed when she got away last time. She won't be going anywhere soon."

A short bark of laughter. "Yeah. The sheik had already paid for her. Ol' Petty had to send all that money back."

Maggie. It must be Maggie they were talking about. But Carson? It couldn't be.

"She's a fighter, I'll give her that. Fuckin' nuts still hurt."

Whoomp! The furthest shed exploded in a ball of flame. The place must have filled with fumes, the fireball more spectacular than Jack could have hoped for.

"Holy fuck," said one of the men. They both stood there, mouths agape.

With a sound of shattering glass, the second building also caught fire. It seemed to shake the two men out of their reverie, and they turned and ran back toward the main gate.

As he heard the sound of sirens, Jack looked at his watch, clearly visible in the light from the flames. Ten after one. Rudy had called, just like he was supposed to. Jack stood and yanked the grate from the window. An alarm bell began to ring inside the building as the third shed went up with a crackling roar. The fire engines were honking at the main gate, demanding entry, as people poured out into the plaza. There was confusion everywhere, just as he had hoped.

Using the crowbar, he smashed the window, clearing the shards away from the sill with a quick swipe. Tossing his backpack in the dark window, he quickly dived in after it.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

Maggie struggled to open her eyes. Her face felt like a ton of bricks had been set on it. She had learned some time ago that her legs were spread wide on either side of the cot and tied to the end of the frame. Her arms were also draped over the side and tied to the other end. She was naked and her body raped and urinated on more times than she could count.

He was trying to break her and pained as it was for her to admit, it was working. She no longer had the will to live. She no longer had the will to scream or to fight, to cry or to protest. She would be whipped and violated regardless.

Jack’s image had begun to fade with each passing episode.

An explosion rocked the walls and she realized that her prayer for death was on its way to being answered. As her mind began to clear of the sleep-induced fog, she could hear people running up and down the halls outside her door. Another explosion sounded in the distance and the white that surrounded her went black. Perhaps her building would be next, she thought.

For moments longer she strained to hear what was going on, but silence descended. She had been left, forgotten and it was better that way. She closed her eyes and willed herself back into the nothingness, into the void.

She brought Jack’s face into her mind’s eye and focused on it. Her final thoughts would be of him. How it was possible that he had moved her so much in so few hours together, she didn’t know. Whoever she really was, whatever had brought her to this hell, whomever had had her locked away…she would never know the answers. She had touched peace and calm serenity with Jack.

His voice whispered in her ear and inside she smiled. It was when she was so far gone into herself that she could still hear him, still feel him. He said her name, softly, with steel and hardness. He said her name with tender affection. He said her name…

“Maggie.”

Light flashed in her mind, brightly burning. She tried to get away from it, pleaded with it to leave her. It was taking Jack’s image away from her and she needed to have it back. She could still hear him, but his face was fading.

“Maggie.”

She tried to speak, to tell him she was there, but then it changed…it turned cold and angry bringing tears to her tearless eyes.

The light went out. And into the darkness, she tumbled.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

Jack strode down the hall, backpack slung over his shoulder, opening doors as he went. Most of the rooms were empty offices, although some contained cots or examining tables. Several people rushed past but paid him no attention. One woman slowed as if to challenge him but, seeing the expression on his face, edged around him cautiously. Flashing red lights reflected through the windows, and the shrill ringing of the alarm bell had not ceased.

He hoped the confusion would continue; he needed time, especially if Maggie were not in the building. Somehow, though, he knew she was here. Reaching the end of the hall, he climbed the stairs to the second floor.

As he glanced through the window, he could see a crowd out back around the remains of the burned buildings. Rudy's devices had done their trick -- one of the sheds was reduced to ruins, the others under the fierce assault of the firehoses. He didn't have much time left.

Just down the hall was a heavy locked metal door. He didn't have time for subtlety -- three hard kicks and the jamb splintered from the frame. The room was dark, but he could make out a small figure in the corner. Maggie?

She was hardly recognizable; blood flecked her face and matted hair, her lips puffy from being struck. His hands trembling, he unbuckled the restraints that bound her to the cot. She moved weakly and made an inarticulate noise, turning towards him, one eye swollen almost shut. He grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her.

"Maggie? Shh, don't try to talk, we have to get out of here," he whispered in her ear. She seemed to recognize him, somehow, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her easily, wincing as she made a small cry of pain. The hallway was deserted and he made his way to the exit.

Once outside, he headed toward the corner of the compound nearest to the gate. There was a small parking lot there, easily discernable in the satellite photos; he needed a vehicle, something to get them out of there. A line of six SUVs was parked along the fence -- undoubtedly company cars. Carefully he lowered Maggie to her feet, helping her brace herself against the fender. She looked around dazedly at the confusion and shouting people, the red lights flashing on her face. Probably still drugged or in shock, he thought. The rage rose inside him as he saw the marks on her face and neck.

The crowbar shattered the passenger window easily, and he helped her climb up to the high seat. After tossing the backpack to the floor inside, he clambered behind the wheel. No keys. Of course not. Where would they be? He flipped down the visors, looked in the ashtray. Maggie moaned, laying on the seat beside him. Jack had no idea how to hotwire a car; he had to get the keys!

The guard's shack by the gate. It was the most likely place. "Stay here," he whispered in Maggie's ear. Wealky she grabbed his wrist. He disengaged himself and ran across the parking lot.

"What the --" The man had obviously not expected someone of Jack's size or speed to come out of the shadows. Hardly slowing, Jack slammed his forearm into the man's throat, sending him reeling backward into the guard shack. He kicked the downed man twice in the stomach, probably harder than necessary. God it felt good to finally hit someone! He bent down and pulled the guard's pistol from its holster, tucking it into his waistband.

Keys, keys ... he yanked drawers open, flinging them to the floor. The guard retched and gasped for breath, writhing on the ground. Finally Jack saw the six hooks, by the door, each containing a keyring. Little tags on each one were labelled with license plate numbers. Hurridly Jack grabbed all six and raced back to the vehicle.

One after the other, he tried the keys in the ignition. The gun scraped his back and he pulled it out, tossing it on the dashboard. Maggie made a small noise, laying beside him on the seat, dazed or unconscious. "Hang on babe," he muttered. "Almost home." Finally, the engine roared to life and he rammed the lever into Drive.

The tires spun on the wet grass. People scattered out of his way as the large vehicle slewed wildly, and Jack fought to regain control. Finally he reached the pavement and the SUV lurched forward, the wheels finally finding some purchase. They shot through the gate and swerved onto the road, the engine roaring, leaving Pinehaven behind.

 

[spankableBelle]

Maggie

Maggie came awake slowly from a dream. Jack had come for her. He had picked her up, whispered her name with pain, regret, and affection. Pain set upon her like fired and she whimpered. She was warmed, cocooned, and the blanket rubbed against the open wounds across her body. Her eyes opened just a fraction and she could see green lights

She tried to focus on what was going on and realized that she was moving. Or she was in something that was moving. A car. And the green lights were dashboard lights. She began to faintly remember explosions and panicked voices and then one lone voice, calm and deep. Jack.

Trying to move just a fraction of an inch brought a cry of agony from her bruised lips. Maggie tried to look up at the driver, but couldn’t quite make her head move, so she slid one hand towards the man beside her, fully aware of the risk she took should he not be friendly.

Her fingers came into contact with rough denim and solid muscle and then warmth engulfed her as his hand covered hers. She whispered his name and tears began to flow.

“Ssshhhh. It’s alright my girl. You’re safe now,” Jack said softly, meaning every word like he’d never meant anything before. She was safe. And by damn, she was his. He knew it. She knew it. Anyone that tried to take her from him would know it too. They would know it even without trying, but he was pretty sure someone would come for her.

He had to find out who she was. Her real name and where she’d come from.

Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Y-you c-came for me.”

“Yes.”

“G-going now?” His hand felt so good, so safe and strong.

“I have a cabin. We’re gonna get you healed, girl. I’ll take care of you.”

And she knew he would. Somehow deep inside she knew he would. She closed her eyes, peace settling over her.

Sometime later, she awoke…this time crying out as the blanket was being slowly pulled from her body. They were no longer in the vehicle; instead she was lying on a bed with a fire crackling not far away.

She heard Jack muttering under his breath and then silence. She tried turning her head and realized the collar had been removed. She slid her head on the pillow at an angle where she could see him.

“H-how bad?” she whispered. He was there immediately with a small glass of water. He dabbed a little of it on her parched lips with his fingers, then reached for a small piece of ice and pushed it gently inside her mouth. His hand brushed against her hair and she had to close her eyes against the look on his face. She knew she was a fright, horrible to look at. “How b-bad is it, J-Jack?” she asked again, fighting the wave of nausea that came rolling up as she waited for his answer.

 

[Seattle Zack]

Jack

Jack sat, smoking, and watched her sleep in the light from the fire. For the first time her battered face seemed peaceful, relaxed. He had finally managed to get some soup into her, feeding it to her with a spoon through her swollen lips. The warmth of the fire and his presence seemed to reassure her; she would suddenly start awake for a moment, looking at him with that puffy, bruised face, then close her eyes and drift back off.

Tossing his cigarette into the fire Jack got up and went out to the SUV parked behind the cabin. He'd have to get rid of the vehicle soon -- it was a dead giveaway, with the passenger window smashed. He retrieved the automatic from the dashboard and went through the glovebox. There was nothing -- just a generic registration to the Pinehaven Institute.

Back inside, he examined the gun, admiring the smooth action. There were fourteen rounds in the clip; he had six in the revolver in his backpack. Not much firepower if the goons from Pinehaven came after them. It would take some time for them to find out about the cabin, though, as it was still in his aged mother's name and he had never mentioned it to Lloyd.

Lloyd. He shook his head. It couldn't be. Poor Maggie had almost incoherent; he'd had a difficult time getting any information out of her. Jack had no medical training, but her injuries didn't seem to be life-threatening.

It had taken some time to reassure her that she hadn't been scarred. In fact, whoever had whipped her so brutally had apparently been quite adept at his craft; her injuries seemed to have been inflicted so as to induce the maximum amount of pain, without marking her permanently. Jack shuddered. He couldn't even imagine what she had gone through.

They had probably still intended to sell her, to finish whatever diabolical scheme they had started when she had unexpectedly escaped their grasp. Luckily the cabin was stocked with provisions, and he could care for her until she recovered.

He crouched down next to her and brushed the hair away from her face. She smiled slightly in her sleep, seeming to recognize him. He grasped her hand, careful of the marks on her wrists. "Maggie," he whispered. "Who are you, Maggie?"