Taking Flight (21 page)

Grasping her balled-up fists between her thighs, Deborah tried to conjure up the memory of his touch, his smell, his taste.

* * * *

“Here, you’re not quite the same size as him but they should keep you warm enough.” Katja looked around furtively before bundling the canvas rucksack into Marcus’s arms. “I’ve put in some oats, matches, and a tin cup. If you can light a fire in safety, it should keep you going, at least until you find a haven of some sort. I’ve also put in a hunting knife. You know how to trap rabbits and stuff, don’t you?”

Marcus nodded. Katja was whispering urgently, her nervousness rubbing off, and he felt nauseous. Katja had done everything she could to make this work for him and had even rushed home on her break time to gather a stash of her absent lover’s clothes. They both knew the risk she was taking but neither spoke of it. She’d managed to smuggle in a rope in the hope that it would be long enough for Marcus to somehow clamber over the imposing outer wall. Once on the other side, he would hopefully be able to hide in among the hustle and bustle of the visitors to the oxytocin bars and the other, all-too-familiar services.

Marcus shivered. It was time.

His skin bristled with fear and adrenalin as they walked steadily together down the corridor, taking the usual route to the servicing rooms. Passing his locked chamber made his stomach lurch. All the women he’d taken in there in the belief that it would bring him closer to his Deborah… His brain crawled with guilt and self-hatred, and he quickened his pace, urging Katja to do the same. At last they reached a shadowed alcove with a large wooden door.

“This is our stop,” she said, taking a huge breath before punching in a code on the keypad.

“Couldn’t you have just given me the number?” Marcus hissed incredulously. She’d put herself in harm’s way for no reason.

“No.” Her voice was even as she heaved the door open toward them. “It logs each time you go in and out. One girl was beaten for coming back to get her cloak one day.”

“Beaten?”

“Yes, beaten. It’s not as peace-loving out there as it’s made out to be. Much easier to beat someone and leave them to die than spend precious resources on rehabilitation.”

“She was left to die?”

Katja turned to face Marcus, her eyes flashing in the dim light of the evening. “Nobody is free in this place. Quick—you have to go. I only have three minutes to get to the residents’ compound before the alarm is raised.” She reached up and cupped his jaw. “Now go. Find her.” And she ran off into the darkness.

Marcus quickly scanned his surroundings. He was in the garden area at the side of the main building. This was good. It was shadowy there in daylight, so would be even better now in the dark. He hoisted the thick coils of rope fully up onto his shoulder and padded off into the cover of the trees.

He strained to hear above the sound of his own panicking heart beating ferociously in his ears as he crept through the undergrowth to the outer wall. As he reached the perimeter he let out a long breath as quietly as he could. It was hard, and he felt like he might suffocate, so he let his lungs go in a long, wheezing sigh. His senses pricked as he thought he heard something move nearby. He waited and waited. Nothing. Must be a bird or something, he managed to comfort himself, even though evening song had long been over.

Looking up, Marcus was overjoyed to see that a limb of the nearest tree reached tantalizingly close to the top of the wall. He carefully took off the rope and fashioned a noose at one end. Swinging it around and around like an awkward cowboy, he released the loop and it swung in a high arc up and over the branch, catching on a spur in the bark. Marcus tensed. He’d wanted to catch it and loop it through the end. He gave a sharp tug but the rope held fast.
Fuck!
He’d have to try again. Whipping the end of the rope, he tried to release the loop but it was completely stuck. He forgot himself and groaned.

The same flutter of movement happened again and he froze.
Idiot.
Waiting a few minutes, until he was sure whatever it was had gone, Marcus pulled on the rope once more, trying it out with his full weight. It held fast. It was now or never. He began to climb up a little less gracefully than he’d assumed he would, until his fingertips grazed the bark above. He hauled himself up and over the thick limb and just lay there for a moment or two, hugging onto the hard, scratchy wood.

Thoughts of Deborah in the forest danced in his mind, renewing his vigor and resolve. He sat up and pulled the rope free, coiling it around his elbow and fist before hooking it back over his shoulder. Only then did he allow himself a peek at what lay over the wall. In the glowing moonlight, he could make out trees, with hills stretching out beyond. He’d expected a town to be nearby. The traffic of ladies being brought to him was constant so he’d assumed they’d all come from a city or village at least. They must just be brought in by the coachload every day.

Marcus shook his head free of the thoughts of the farm. He was almost out. Soon this place would be a distant memory. Just a glitch in his life with Deborah. The act of shimmying along the branch while holding it tightly between his thighs brought with it a longing for his love. His groin ached with need for her tender caress.

As he moved closer to the wall, the bough began to bend very slightly and Marcus imagined he heard a crack. He stopped, senses on high alert, bracing himself for the crash as the branch split—but nothing. Everything stayed still and quiet.

He shook his head at his own terror. He’d never get anywhere with this attitude. Edging along once more, he made it as far as he dared before he thought he really would snap the arching wood. Taking off the rope again, he tied one end around the branch and flung the other over the wall. He was no climber, so his guesswork would have to suffice. Using all his strength and might, he pushed his weight off the tree and sprang out. Regret pulsed through him as he fell through the air, anticipating the cracking of bones. He slammed abruptly into the coping stone of the high wall. Scrabbling to secure a good hold, he twisted his body around and managed to grip the lip of the stone. All his tension and strength was anchored only by his fingertips. Shaking, he pulled himself up and over onto the masonry.

After a moment’s pause to make sure everything in his body was still as it should be, he grabbed the rope and scrambled down the outer face of his prison boundary. When he landed, he could have sworn the grass was springier on this side, the darkness more defined. The air smelled cleaner over here. He put his hands on his hips and bent forward softly, laughing to himself. He’d done it. He’d escaped.

Letting the rucksack fall to the ground, he pulled out the hunting knife and cut as far up the rope as he could before flinging it back over into the prison grounds. He rolled up the excess and stuffed it in the bag; a good bit of rope could be very handy.

Adrenalin began to seep out of his system, leaving him shaking, and he considered sitting down and taking a moment to regain his composure. Just then, the noise of the unseen animal alerted his senses. He stiffened and peered around him. The atmosphere was thick with the presence of the night and Marcus gave himself a slap to the face.
Pull yourself together
, he scolded, and pinched his arm to try and snap himself out of his irrational fear. Again, the fight-or-flight chemicals subsided and Marcus picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, making steps to leave. He squinted into the darkness at the looming presence of the trees which seemed much closer than before. He almost shrieked out loud when he thought he saw one of them move.
Just the wind
, he told himself. His head snapped to the right as another movement caught his attention and the trees loomed even closer.

Nothing. Was it nothing? He kept his gaze to the right but walked straight on. The grass rustled under his feet, then beyond them. Flicking his eyes about, he tried to focus on the forest, which seemed to be closing in around him. He suddenly felt queasy and claustrophobic as a tree spoke to him.

“Going somewhere?”

He fell back into the sodden grass as laughing and cackling bounced and echoed all around him. Without any warning, it began to rain and the figures huddled in, their wet hands grabbing and clutching at him, pulling him to his feet. All fight left him and he lolled about as they heaved him along. He fell into himself and hovered above the scene hopelessly. Like that moment when one knows they are dreaming but can’t wake up, he flailed and writhed in angry silence as the flaccid body below surrendered. It was then he saw the blood oozing down his own face. He’d been struck. With one last effort, he tried to kick his body back into action but it was no good; he was losing consciousness. A flicker of hope glinted deep inside him. Maybe, maybe he’d have time to find her before he woke up.

Filtering out the laughter and woozy jolts that threatened to pull him back into the physical, Marcus focused all of his energy and attention on Deborah.

He swelled his heart and called to hers, a yearning song of longing. The echo ricocheted through the ethereal plane of the meeting point and returned like a boomerang right into the center of his soul.

“Deborah!” His spirit quaked with the sob that overtook him. Cold flecks began to slash at his flesh. Raindrops. Fighting to stay in the meeting point, he called again, “Deborah!” but his voice was weak.

A dragging sensation in his back dropped him suddenly back into his body. Just as the last cell met with spirit, Marcus heard it. A pinprick of sound from eons away; the most glorious sound.

“Marcus?”

Chapter 22

“Marcus?” Deborah woke abruptly, banging her head on the metal bed frame. Sweat drenched her sheets and nightshirt and blood began to trickle into her eyes. She was completely dazed. What had just happened? She must have been dreaming but the memory of it eluded her.

The breeze from the open window raised goose bumps on her damp flesh, and she pulled a rumpled blanket around her shoulders. Her head was throbbing and she tentatively reached up with her fingertips. Warm, sticky blood oozed out from what felt like a deep gash just at her hairline. She knew scalp wounds always spewed out more blood than necessary so she pulled her pillowcase free and pressed it to the cut.

When she’d got over the initial shock and pain, Deborah leaned back against the stone wall and breathed in though her nose with her lip quivering. A familiar aroma filled her nostrils—so familiar that, for a moment, she couldn’t place it. Musk, spice, earth, man.

Marcus. He’d found her.

Deborah fell forward into her own lap and wept.

* * * *

Marcus writhed and twisted; hot blood seared his vision red. A series of arms and hands were carrying him awkwardly, half dragging, half lifting for a while, then dumped him rather abruptly at the feet of what he assumed to be a head farm keeper. His head was pounding and he squinted into the lamp that both illuminated and obscured the woman.

“I see you’ve tried to escape.” The voice sounded more amused than angry.

“How did you know?” Marcus had thought he’d been vigilant about checking for cameras around the farm grounds on his walks. Besides, who ran cameras these days? There would be barely enough power to sustain this lamp that was intensifying the pain in his head.

“Let’s just say your friend was a little careless.”

Katja. Marcus’s heart sank. He’d never wanted to get her into trouble. “Where is she?”

The woman paced around in the shadows as if deciding what to do with him. “Oh, she’s being taken care of. Don’t worry about her.”

“Will she be coming back? Will I see her again?”

“That depends,” the woman said ominously.

“On what?” Marcus was struggling to keep his eyes open under the glare.

“On how you both take your punishment.”

“Punishment?” A soft smile flitted over Marcus’s lips as his eyes closed fully and his body went slack.

* * * *

“So what happened to you?” Jane helped bundle the blood-stained linen into the laundry cart. “That looks like a bad ’un.”

“I’m fine. Come on.” Deborah pulled her head away as Jane attempted to look at the cut in her hair.

“I think you need stitches, miss,” she said, but Deborah dismissed her. She needed to get to her notebook. She needed to call to Marcus—to meet him before it was too late.

“Please, Jane, I’m fine. Just take me to the lab.”

“If you insist.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Deborah could see a twinkle to Jane’s expression. “What’s up with you today?” she asked the guard.

“I’m not supposed to say. It’s a surprise.”

“What surprise?” The guard’s obvious excitement was infectious and Deborah smiled, taking the liberty of prodding Jane in the side gently. “Oh, come on, don’t be mean. Tell me. Is it a surprise for me?”

Jane looked sideways, her eyes giving everything away.

“Maybe…” She smiled and Deborah’s heart leaped. Marcus! Somehow the governor had managed to sneak Marcus in—or at the very least got a message through. She wasn’t too enamored by the second option when the best had come to her first, but it was good way to keep her centered in reality. She couldn’t help her physiology though—her heart genuinely raced and joy burst through her lungs. Instinctively, she hooked her arm through Jane’s and began to skip.

The guard looked quickly from side to side and up at the cameras mounted in the corners of the ceiling.

“Come on, everyone knows they’re never switched on,” joked Deborah, and Jane relaxed and started skipping properly too.

“I told the governor you weren’t daft enough to believe stuff like that. Who has enough power to keep cameras on all day?”

Deborah’s jaw fell open and she looked away as quickly as she could, the two of them bouncing along and giggling like school friends.
More information to be stored away for a rainy day
, she thought, licking her lips in anticipation of seeing Marcus again.

Deborah was trembling from head to toe when they arrived at the lab door. Jane reached past her with the keys poised but Deborah stopped her.