Scars Of Defiance (4 page)

Paul and Greg often talked about their futures. They both
wanted to get away from Slaterville and the gloom and doom and sheer boredom
abounding there. They wanted to go as far north as they could and attend one of
the universities up there. Maybe they would become doctors or lawyers or
anything that would give them a real life. They were just dreaming out loud,
though, since neither one was ready to embark on a life on his own.

Tonight, as usual, Paul’s life involved one thing:  locating
and picking up crossers. He drove slowly along the road, looking down to the
edge of the iced-over Slater Lake. It was quite dark, but the street lights
illuminated things well enough. Then he saw it. A bright orange bandana out on
the ice — well, attached to someone on the ice.

He stopped his car and got out. From where he stood, he
could tell the person was submerged in the ice up to his armpits. He couldn’t
see a face, only a heavy wool cap with earflaps. The blowing snow made it
difficult to see much of anything else. He quickly went around to the back of
the Datsun and retrieved a rope and an axe. He tied the rope to the front
bumper and ran down to the lake’s edge.

“Hello there,” he called out. “Are you okay? Hello?”

No response. He quickly attached the rope to his waist and
stepped out on the ice. It seemed stable. He needed to go out about fifteen
feet to get to the crosser. He took another step and heard the ice crack, so he
lay down and belly-crawled out to the motionless form. He thought he heard a
moan coming from the crosser and hoped there was still time to save him. He
took the axe and gently broke the ice around the crosser, then heaved and
pulled. As the body came up and out of the lake, the ice cracked underneath it
again.

Paul knew the water wasn’t deep here, but the last thing he
wanted to do was fall in. His corduroy bell-bottoms would weigh a ton if they
got wet. He inched backwards and tried again. Slowly but surely, he was able to
extract the body from the lake and pull it to shore.

The crosser’s coat was large and solid. Paul had expected
the crosser to be heavy due to his size, but when he braced his legs to lift
the body, he was surprised at how light it was. It couldn’t weigh more than a
hundred and ten pounds. It was either a very small man or, more likely, a
teenager. He’d find out soon enough. He picked up the unconscious person
fireman-style and hurried up to his vehicle. His home was not far down the
road, but it would be faster to drive there than to carry the crosser on foot.

When he got home, he parked in the driveway, then ran inside
the house to get his mom. “Mom, I’ve got another one!” he hollered. “This one’s
frozen and unconscious. I need your help.” She followed him outside and
grimaced at the sight of the wet body sheathed in ice.

“Paul, Sam just brought in two more,” she said. “We don’t
have room for this one. All the cots are taken.”

Paul gave his mom a puzzled look. “Why was Sam out picking
up crossers?” he asked. “That’s my job.”

“We got word that some of them were dying in the lake. I
sent him out to help.”

“You should have told me you didn’t think I could do my job
well enough, you know.” Bitterness and anger rose within him.

“I’m sorry, we’re out of room, Paul.”

 “Well, jeez, look at him. I can’t very well put him back
where I found him! He’s nearly frozen to death. We have to do something.”

“Maybe your father can call over to the Bidells to see if
they have room for another crosser.”

“No! Don’t bother. We can put this one in my bed. I’ll take
care of him.”

“Paul,” Elsie said with a note of concern, “you’re not
trained to care for crossers.”

“Then you can teach me. On the job training.” He attempted a
weak smile, hoping his mother would give him a chance. No way was Sam going to
take over his only responsibility, and no way was Paul going to take this
crosser anywhere else. His mother stared at him for what seemed like an eternity.
No doubt she was weighing the options, wondering about his competence as a
protector.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said abruptly. She helped him haul the
lightweight crosser into the house. They went through the back door and into
the kitchen. Normally, they would help the crosser down the stairs to one of
the specially designed hidden bedrooms, but not this time.

Paul and Elsie carried the lightweight crosser through the
swinging door and into the dining room, then across the living room to Paul’s
bedroom. Paul pushed open the door with his backside, and they carefully laid
the crosser, still frozen stiff, on the hardwood floor.

“Get those clothes off quickly. I’ll get some warm
blankets,” Elsie instructed as she left the room.

It still bothered Paul that Sam had been out doing Paul’s
job. Sam was supposed to take care of the crossers once Paul brought them home.
What did they need Paul for if Sam could both pick up and care for the crossers
himself? Did everyone think Paul couldn’t handle the job? He’d show them he was
ready to handle larger responsibilities, beginning with this frozen crosser in
front of him.

Crossers always came in layers — layers of clothing, that
is. They didn’t come with suitcases. They simply wore all the clothing they
were bringing, layer upon layer. It also helped to keep them warm in the frigid
temperatures, unless they fell through the ice and got wet, in which case it
could be the death of them. Multiple layers of wet clothing could hold in the
cold and effectively freeze them to death.

Paul had a small portable heater blowing warm air on the
unfortunate frozen soul. He removed the hiking boots and three pairs of socks.
He unzipped the large puffy coat and noticed that the inside of the coat had an
inserted lining full of inflated baggies. Some contained photographs,
envelopes, and other small objects, while others were just full of air.

“Clever,” he mumbled out loud.

He carefully eased each arm out of the coat and noticed how
thin they were. He reached up to untie the strings of the bulky hat. His
peripheral vision took in mounds under the shirt, and his brain was a tad bit
slow in realizing he was seeing what looked like breasts. He removed the hat
and was stunned to find a mass of long dark-blonde hair under it, wet of
course, and the realization of what he’d gotten himself into hit him in the gut
like a sledgehammer.

A girl! And one about his own age, he was guessing. Right
away he noticed her striking facial features. She had an absolutely flawless
face:  beautiful even-toned skin, thick eyelashes resting on high cheekbones,
and delicately arched light-brown eyebrows. The shape of her lips in her
unconscious state was likewise uniform and perfect. She had bangs and layers of
long wavy hair that, when let down, must have reached the center of her back.
She seemed a little thin as her face had just a hint of sharp lines. Nonetheless,
she was stunning, the most beautiful girl Paul had ever seen, and nearly blue
with cold.

His mother came back in with warm blankets. “What’s taking
you so long? Oh! My, how pretty! Why, she couldn’t be more than eighteen. Well,
get on with it, Paul. She’s dying on you.” Then as quick as she entered the
room, she left.

Paul came back to his senses and began removing her pants,
one wet pair at a time. At least she was only wearing two pairs. But the second
pair was harder to remove. They wouldn’t come off her slender hips without
bringing her panties down with them. He fought by holding the elastic band of
the panties with one hand and pulling the waistband of the pants down, inch by
inch.

Then he covered her legs with a fresh warm blanket, but not
before noticing their well-toned shape and all the bruises. There were bruises
everywhere in assorted colors:  dark blue and purple, yellow and green. He knew
those were the older bruises. He moved up to remove her shirts. The buttons
were taking too much time to undo, but they were still better than tee-shirts.
As luck would have it, she had one of those on too, and naturally it was the
last thing to come off. He left her wet bra on and covered her with another
warm blanket. Then he scooped up her freezing cold body and laid her on the
bed.

He covered her with more warm blankets and tucked them all
around her body. Elsie came back in and saw what he was doing. “No, Paul,
blankets won’t be enough. She’s frozen solid. She needs body heat.”

Paul looked at her and was shocked at what she was implying.
“I’m not going to do that,” he said. He had learned long ago that the best way
to warm a person suffering from hypothermia was by placing him next to another
warm body, flesh on flesh, but this was not something he was prepared for.

“She could die,” Elsie said.

“You want me to lie down naked right next to a total
stranger — a girl?”

“You wanted this, Paul. It’s either you, or I’ll get Sam to
do it. Body heat is the only thing that will save her.” Elsie could get him to
do anything by simply threatening to have his older brother do it instead. She
knew she had Paul’s number.

“Hmmph. Okay, I’ll do it.” He took off all his clothes except
his briefs and climbed in bed with her.

His mother stood right by the bed issuing orders. “Now put
your arm around her. Hold her tight so she’ll absorb your body heat.”

“Mom!”

“Turn her on her side and spoon with her. Come on. This is
not a game.”

“Mom! Do you have to stand there and tell me how to cuddle?
This is embarrassing enough as it is!”

“This is not about
you
, Paul! It’s the difference
between life and death for this girl. You wanted to learn how to care for
crossers? This is step one. Don’t let your crosser die of hypothermia.”

“Could you please just leave us, and let me do this without
the awkwardness of my mother supervising?”

“Alright.”

Elsie walked to the door, as Paul rolled the crosser on her
side so he could conform his body next to hers. That’s when he saw the
criss-crossing of scars and lashings on her back. “Mom, wait, look at this!”

 Elsie came back to the bed and leaned over to examine the injuries.
“Oh dear! How horrible! What an awful … from the look of the scars, I’d say
she’s been whipped for months. She has fresh wounds across old scars.” She
reached over and ran her finger over an old scar. “This is just sickening. I
hope she makes it through this so we can find out what happened to her.”

“Yeah,” Paul’s throat choked out.

His mother left to go put more blankets in the dryer to
warm. Paul looked a little longer at the scars, and a deep compassion filled
his soul. Who would do such a horrible thing to a beautiful young girl? Her
face was unhurt, thank goodness, but her back and legs were in bad shape.

Then a different thought entered his mind. This girl must be
a strong individual to withstand this kind of treatment. Clearly she couldn’t
take the abusive life she had over there, and that’s why she boarded the
crosser plane to flee. If he hadn’t found her in the lake, she would have died.
Of course, he didn’t even know yet if she would make it.

He fit his body close to hers, wrapping his arm around her
to pull her next to him and pulled the mass of blankets over them. She was
still half frozen, and it was hard for him to deal with the coldness of her
skin. But he knew his body heat was what she needed right now.

His mother kept bringing in warm blankets every half hour or
so and switching them out. After a few hours, the girl started to have shiver
fits. They would come on all of a sudden and became violent momentarily, and
then they were gone. Paul’s mother told him it was a good sign. She was warming
up.

Paul knew he would normally be overheated with all the
freshly warmed blankets his mother kept piling on them, but having an ice cube
to cuddle up next to kept him at a tolerable temperature.

During the night, Paul managed to doze off now and then but
woke up whenever the girl shivered or moaned. Once he drifted into a fleeting
dream of walking out on the frozen lake in the middle of the blizzard. The
muted buzz of an airplane engine echoed in the distance. The snow whipped
around him and stung his face. He stepped forward and heard the ice crack
beneath his feet. He felt himself slipping down, down into the water. He was
pulled helplessly into the suffocating darkness. So cold, so cold, he thought.
Then he awoke with a shock and realized he was still hugging the body of the
beautiful frozen girl.

By 6:00 the next morning, the girl’s temperature had reached
94
^o
F. It would take the better part of the day to get her up to 98
^o
F, his mother had told him.

Elsie came in to check on them again at 8:00. “How are the
other crossers?” Paul quietly whispered to her, trying not to wake the girl.

“Fine. This one is in the most critical condition.
Apparently, crossers were landing on top of one another in the lake and
crawling over each other to get up on the ice. It’s upsetting beyond measure to
know that people can be driven to such extremes because of one loathsome man.”

*****

Reginald Rawlings opened his eyes to the ringing of the
phone next to his bed. The bright morning sunlight hurt his eyes, making him
squint as another wave of nausea rolled through his body.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

Dr. Roth from the palace infirmary was on the other end.
“Pardon me for calling so early, sir, but I need to let you know that Sierra
has disappeared.” Dr. Roth didn’t sound like he was in any better shape.

“Disappeared?! What are you talking about?!” Reginald sat
up. His voice thundered into the phone.

“She’s gone, sir. I never left the infirmary last night
because of all the patients who were coming in sick. I became ill myself. I
decided to rest on one of the exam beds. She was there when I went to sleep,
but she was gone when I woke up.”