Chapter 22

Mexico

Sylvie pushed back against the darkness surrounding her. In the fog, she could hear voiced laughing at her. The jeering voice of Sara came to her.

"Look at you, Sylive. All trussed up and ready to go! Just like you were meant to be." The voice faded away to be replaced by the sobbing voice of her friend.

"Why, why did you have to push so far?! Now I'll never see home or mom again…"

"No! Wait!" Sylve cried desperately, struggling against the darkness. "Taryn! Come back! I promise, I'll get us home!"

"It's too late, dearie." A dead voice came. Sylvie felt goosebumps rush up her body, it was Mrs. Grogan. "We're already dead. Taryn is sure to be close behind, and her poor mother as well. Because of you."

Because of you. Those words echoed over and over in Sylvie's mind as she came to with a gasp.

The sound of seabirds and lack of waves lapping against the hull told her they had arrived at their destination. She felt a little different, as if her ears had grown slightly sharper while she had slept. Sounds that she had trouble hearing before were coming in clearly. Voices, shouting at each other in Spanish, and what sounded like feet moving above her. Sylvie felt cold, where were they? It was a cinch that they weren't in America anymore. Sylvie trembled. Their chances of being found now were getting smaller.

A groan to her right whipped her head around. That was Taryn! It had to be. Who else would be there with her? "Hmmmm, hmmm hm hmmm?" she tried to call. Idiot, she cursed herself. She had forgotten about the ball gag. After wearing it for what seemed like forever, the constant ache of her jaw had faded from her mind. Now it came to her in full force. What the hell was she going to do now? She certainly couldn't talk to Taryn with the gag in her mouth, and from the muffled groans, it sounded like Taryn was starting to come to. Sylvie ran down her options. Whatever the stuff was that they had given her was still in her, the numbness in her lower body made that clear. Her arms felt like they were still bound behind her, and it felt like she was still crammed into a narrow space.

A sense of desperation came over Sylvie. She wanted so badly to wake up and find it all a horrid nightmare, some macabre dream that she could laugh off in the morning. A single tear trickled down her face. What on earth was she going to do?

She jumped out of her skin when rough hands suddenly grabbed her arms. "Hey, wake up!" came the voice of her kidnapper. She recognized it as the one the other man called Big John. He was calling the shots, she was sure. Dipping her head meekly, she quickly tried to stand up, and abruptly banged her head against the cabin ceiling. Sylvie saw stars dancing in front of her as she reeled from the blow. She could hear the man curse slightly.

"Carefully… stand up." He snarled at her.

A little more cautiously, she gained her feet. In the narrow confines she was almost bent double at the waist. A tug on her leash told her to move backwards. Still blind, she stepped backwards tentatively and was relieved when she didn't bang into any walls. Slowly she left the cabin and emerged onto the deck of the ship. The hot, moist blast of air that met her told her she was somewhere warm and tropical, and she began to tremble. Throughout their ordeal, she had noticed the temperature slowly rise. We are probably in Mexico by now, Sylvie thought. Vaguely, she wondered if anyone there would help them, but decided against it. These kidnappers hadn't made many mistakes so far, and she really didn't expect them to start now. The sound of Taryn's hooves told her that they had brought her on deck with her.

Sylvie tried desperately to stretch her cramped muscles. She wasn't sure how long she had been in that cabin, but she was sure that she had been there for quite some time. Her legs in particular hurt like hell. Who would have thought that four legs would be could hurt so much? It was all Sylvie could do not to scream as she stood on the deck.

As she stood there, she became aware of the conversation of the kidnappers. She listened quietly, trying not to look like she was listening.

"What do we do now, John?" Asked the rough voice of the handler.

"The truck is here. We'll load them in and take them through the city. Afterwards, it's further south. We'll hook up with the caravan in three or four days." John replied.

"It shouldn't take that long to catch them, should it?" came the surprised voice of the handler.

"I don't know. They were pushing south hard, last I heard. The boss thought he could make Brazil before the end of the month."

"Right." The handler said sarcastically. Clearly the handler disagreed with their boss's assessment. Privately, Sylvie agreed. Still, that left the question, who was their boss. It had to be Nightshade. Privately, Sylvie felt like kicking herself. She had been way too reckless by peeking through that window. Familiar guilt and shame filled her. How could she have been so stupid? The whole situation had a feeling of unreality about it. All she wanted was to wake up.

"Move it." Came the gruff voice of the handler, startling Sylvie.

Sylvie kept her head down and followed. We've got to get out of here. The longer we're here, the less likely escape is. Sylvie thought. However, Sylvie still wasn't sure how they would escape. The problem was, she wasn't sure where exactly she was, or which way was home. The bonds were also a problem. It would be nearly impossible to get out of them. This was, she realized, their point; to confuse and disorient the victim so she couldn't tell if she was escaping at all. Sylvie refused to let despair get the best of her now, though. No system was perfect, and there was going to be a way out.

The answer came in the form of the truck that they had been loaded onto. After they slammed the back hatch, Sylvie had felt around the connection hook they had tied her collar to. To Sylvie's delight, it was an old-fashioned metal hook, and not one of the plastic sleeved modern hooks. Moving as close to the hook as she could, she twisted her upper body as far as it would go. Leaning back now, she found that her bound arms could just reach the sharp end of the hook. Sylvie needed to work fast now, she feared being found out. Quickly, she set to work fraying the ropes.

An hour later, she was about ready to scream in frustration. She was sure the ropes were starting to fray, but the lack of loosening or results was starting to get to her. Of course, the swaying and jouncing of the truck over the bad roads didn't improve Sylvie's mood either. Warm wetness traveled down her wrists from the multitude of cuts she had accrued from that damn hook. Something, Sylvie wasn't sure what, made her continue though. A particularly nasty jolt sent her crashing into the hook, cutting her back. A muffled cry came around the gag, but Sylvie went back to trying to fray the rope.

The truck suddenly lurched to a stop. Crap! Now what? Sylvie quickly stepped away from the hook and adopted a meek posture. It wouldn't disguise the fact that she had been trying to escape, but perhaps it might reduce the punishment she would endure. Sylvie didn't hold out much hope of that, but what else could she do?

The sound of the back of the truck opening startled her. Sylvie's heart rate quickened, and she felt sweat pop out on her brow. The lurching of the truck from where they entered made her pulse race.

"Hey, John. Check this out." The handler chuckled unpleasantly. The sound made the hairs on Sylvie's neck stand out.

A second, even more unpleasant chuckle made her want to run for the hills. "Well, looks like someone has a backbone after all."

There came the sound of footsteps leading away for a few minutes, and then a sharp chop made her jump slightly. A scratching job like a file rasping over nails reached her sensitive ears. She trembled as she tried to figure out exactly what was going on. The muffled protests of Taryn filled her with dread. What was that monster up to?

"For attempting to escape." Came the unpleasant voice of Big John. The first blow landed on her arms, causing her to yelp through the gag. It was a switch! They were going to switch her! Sylvie almost screamed at that archaic form of punishment, until she realized that horses had switches applied occasionally to encourage them to move forward. Of course, those were generally taps to move the animal in the direction they wanted them to go. Sylvie didn't think that this would be one of those times.

At the end, she hung her head limply. Her legs had given out and she was held up solely by the chain and collar to the wall. Her legs were bound together as revenge after she had tried kicking at one of her assailants and missed. The punishment had been increased after that. Sylvie's body felt covered in stinging nettles and scratches of fire. , dimly she could here Taryn sobbing. She had been screaming at them to stop during the punishment. At least, that's what it had sounded like to Sylvie. Nothing had come of it of course, the blows had been unceasing. It was supposed to be punishment for the attempted escape. Strangely, none of the blows had come near her face. A small mercy, since they wanted her looking well for the show, she supposed bitterly. Exhausted, her kidnappers panted with the effort they had put in.

"Well," huffed the voice of the handler, "As fun as that was, we still need to get her out of here."

"Yes. But I don't think she'll offer any resistance now." Wheezed the voice of Big John. He had done most of the beating, Sylvie thought but couldn't be sure. After all, it was hard to tell who was wielding the stick.

A sharp tug on the end of her leash caused a muffled groan to escape her lips as the collar rubbed on the chafe marks left from her twisting. She laboriously made her feet and followed the directions given to her down the ramp. The sounds of nature outside suddenly became that much clearer; the soft rustle of wind through leaves, the trill of birds in the treetops, and the sound of water nearby, a brook maybe. She was secured a few paces from the truck, but in which direction she could not be sure. Tired and sore, she stayed there as Taryn was brought out and their gags removed with the warning that if they screamed, there would be a far worse beating. The blindfolds were left on.

"Sylvie, are you allright?!" Taryn whispered once the sound of footsteps retreated for a moment.

"Sure." Sylvie attempted to grin, though Taryn could not possibly see it. "I've had worse falling down the stairs at your house."

"What did you do to make them so mad?" Taryn asked skeptically. She probably did not buy Sylvie's tough act, but was kind enough not to say so.

"I tried to fray the ropes on my arms. I thought I could cut them and we could make a break." Sylvie told her miserably, she had failed.

"Oh, Sylvie." Taryn said quietly, "The rope was nylon, I checked while they were loading us up. It's fray proof. It takes a really sharp knife to cut it at all."

"Oh." Sylvie hunched down slightly. So her plan had been doomed from the start. That didn't make it feel any better. The sound of their jailors coming back caused them to stop talking. They were carefully fed unappetizing gruel and watered. Then, to Sylvie's surprise, the bonds were removed and she was allowed to remove the blindfold. The harsh glare of sunlight on her eyes made her squeeze them shut in pain. Bit by bit, she tearily opened them and got her first glimpse of where they were.

It was a small clearing next to what appeared to be a dirt track. There was a dense wall of unfamiliar plants surrounding them. She guessed they were tropical plants however, they certainly had the biggest leaves she had ever seen in her life. There was a small stream that burbled its way next to the clearing before disappearing back into the jungle. The truck parked just off the road was a big white moving truck, although that was not a surprise. What was a surprise were the tires, they looked like normal street tires. How the hell had they made it up that bad a road with those tires? It defied explanation. Taryn was left blindfolded next to her, and bound to the tree, which gave her a good view of Big John smiling at her and holding a large pistol with silencer aimed at Taryn's temple.

Sylvie was led around in circles for a few minutes by the handler to let her stretch her sore muscles. Salves and ointments were applied to her arms, making them smart in pain, and bandaged. Sylvie searched for a way out as she was "walked" around the clearing, but the guy with the gun always stopped her. She didn't want to try to escape if that meant having Taryn hurt. She didn't think Big John would actually kill her, she was far too valuable to him alive. But that wouldn't stop the monster from punishing Taryn. Sylvie couldn't take that risk. After letting her relieve herself, Sylvie let herself be hobbled and secured to a log. They replaced the harness and tied her arms behind her back again, replaced the blindfold and secured the gag in place. She was left the use of her ears though. She could hear Taryn being led around for her own exercise before she was returned to the log and re-secured as well.

A touch on her flank made her jump in fright. A chuckle reached her. "Skittish now, are we?" It was Big John.

"Haupfff Uhhffff waappfff?" gargled Sylvie through her gag, fearfully. Visions of another switching before they went to bed filled her mind. She pushed the fear down. She had to stay strong, for Taryn.

Big John voice was slightly amused. "Having trouble speaking with that gag, are we? Well, I'm pretty sure you're asking what I am doing here. The answer is simple. Hold still."

Sylvie froze at his command. Every instinct was telling her to fight or run as fast as she could. She couldn't run, and she dared not fight him, so she stood as still as she could and tried to calm herself. A foul stench suddenly reached her nose, and she gagged. What the hell was that? She wondered. Her stomachs lurched and she was half afraid she would lose her dinner.

"Whooo. Not a pleasant smell, is it?" Big John said. She could practically hear his grimace of distaste. "Still, this will help a little with the pain, and keep those cuts of yours from getting infected. Now don't move."

He began rubbing some of the stuff on her flank and she jerked and gave a bellow. Damn, that stuff hurt! The cry was muffled through the ball gag, but she could hear Taryn waking with a cry herself. Big John cursed and grabbed her lead rope. "I told you not to move!" he growled. Sylvie hissed a few choice phrases at him, feeling safe in the knowledge that he couldn't understand her.

"Heh, yeah. With your mother." He riposted, stunning her. How could he possibly have understood her? Meantime, he continued tending her wounds. Each time he moved to another, her body would jump as if spooked. She tried desperately to get her twitching body under control. However, it refused to obey her commands. Sylvie just gave up, and let her body do its crazy thing as Big John slathered that crap on her. Eventually, he had covered all her scratches with that stuff, which had already started numbing the fire that had been emanating from them.

"Don't rub that stuff off, now." Big John warned. "I'll apply some more tomorrow before we set off, and then in the evening when we settle down." She heard him mutter some more as he walked off. "That bitch probably won't even take care of the wounds she'll inflict on them. I'll have to keep them from dying of infection." He sounded resigned. The words set another pang of fear through her. Who was this she that he was talking about, and why were they being given into her care.

Dawn brought nothing but agony to Sylvie. After being booted unceremoniously awake, she was fed, exercised and retied in the truck for another long journey over what had to be the worst roads she had ever been on in her life. This time, however, she didn't try to cut the ropes. Knowing that they weren't going to fray, she tried working out an escape plan for the next time they stopped. However, she always came up short. Not having the ability to communicate with Tarn was a major stumbling block to them working in tandem, and if Sylvie went on her own…well, no matter how she looked at it, one of them would die or be seriously hurt with a bullet. Their best hope, Sylvie decided, lay with waiting. When they made their destination, there would be a chance to escape. They couldn't watch them all the time while at the show. It would be like finding a weakness in the opposing team. When the moment was right, they would escape. Don't worry Taryn. When the moment is right, we will escape.