Spirit Me Away Read online

  “Any news?” he asked, opening the refrigerator to gulp down a half gallon of orange juice straight from the jug.

  I told him what Wiley said. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “What the hell are we waiting for? Let’s go. You remember how to get there?”

  “Of course.” I grabbed Elsbeth’s backpack since mine was still in the trunk, and stuffed it with two flashlights, duct tape, rope, binoculars, and a sharp knife. Porter found the chicken sandwiches in the fridge that Valerie made for him last night. He added them to the backpack and tossed in a few apples. I grabbed a box of graham crackers and four bottles of grape juice.

  “Wait. Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

  “Hell, no.” Porter frowned. “We can handle this. Let’s keep them out of it for now, okay?”

  I hesitated, then followed his lead. I didn’t want him going to jail for murdering those guys in the yellow house. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday,” he explained, unwrapping a slice of American cheese and shoving it into his mouth.

  We hurried out to the car. I threw the backpack into the trunk with the other pack and the gun, started the engine, and stepped on the gas. The clock on the dash read ten o’clock.

  “Step on it, buddy.”

  Porter urged me on, but I needed no encouragement. I pushed the old Valiant faster than it had ever gone before, and we flew away from the city in the direction of the commune.

  Chapter 48

  Porter and I lay on our bellies in the sandy soil beneath a low-hanging pine branch, watching the commune through the binoculars. I took a sip of grape juice and twisted the bottle back into a hole I’d made in the sand. The sun was low on the horizon and we’d lain there for hours because at the house in the back, there were guards. Guards with guns. I counted seven so far. I stretched my legs and wiggled my feet to alleviate the cramps setting in.

  “I really think one of us should go for the cops,” I whispered.

  Porter shook his head, again. We’d been arguing about this for a while now. “No. No way. I’m not going to jail for killing those pricks. We can handle this. We’ll surprise them. In and out. No biggie. I’ve done it before in ‘Nam.”

  I sighed. “I don’t think—”

  “Trust me. We don’t need the police involved. It’ll turn into a circus, and the girls might get caught in the crossfire.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” I shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “Anyway, just a few more hours ‘til dark.”

  “What time is it?” Porter asked, laying down his binoculars and rubbing his eyes. He looked beat. Neither of us had slept in nearly forty-eight hours.

  I rolled onto my back and stretched my legs. “Seven-thirty.”

  Reaching into the bag between us, he grabbed an apple. I nervously wondered if the crunching could be heard in the commune, but quickly shook off the worry as the jitters of an overworked brain.

  What would happen tonight? Would we be able to sneak in there and rescue the girls? Would there be too many guards, even after hours? Would one of them start shooting? What if they shot Elsbeth?

  I couldn’t face that idea. The thought of not having my soul mate with me for the rest of my life was impossible to imagine. How could I handle such a loss?

  I’d rather die.

  Maybe I would? Maybe they’d shoot me. For the millionth time, I wished we’d alerted the cops. But we hadn’t, and we couldn’t leave our watch post now, in case they took the women out of there and were shipping them elsewhere.

  Earlier, we’d hidden the car down the road and slinked in through the woods. We made a few wrong turns, but eventually ended up on the far side of the field that housed the new barracks. Since we visited the commune almost three weeks ago, the building had been finished and even had some new landscaping. As if this was just another lovely retreat for rehabilitation of hippie drug users. As if it were legit. As if it were a desirable place to stay. A serene escape for all troubled minds.

  Sure it was.

  Around the building in a perfect rectangle, a new lawn sprouted bright green. Garden lights dotted the path leading to the main farmhouse, and crushed white shells covered the walkway. Several statues perched beside wrought-iron benches.

  If I’d been told this was a high-priced rehab center, I’d believe it. It looked institutional and clean. It was an odd addition to the commune, but believable, if one bought the line that the commune claimed to reunite the guests with nature and to eliminate their links with the phony trappings of the establishment or, worse, the underworld of drugs. I figured they must’ve needed more space, because their business was picking up. Which meant more and more girls were being stolen, just like my father had said when he read about the kidnappings in various Eastern states.

  In addition to the guards, I’d seen a number of men and women dressed in white uniforms come and go all day. Some drove golf carts to and from the main house. Others appeared to be delivering meals. A few guests arrived, oddly out of sync with the ambiance of the place. They were suited men with briefcases, serious-faced and well-muscled. We counted four groups of two as we watched and waited in our sandy depressions under the swaying branches of the pine tree.

  Were they buyers?

  The main action in the commune carried on. Hippies and soul-seekers traversed the grounds, working in either the fields or the barnyard. A crew of four men on ladders applied a new coat of red paint to the old barn beside the farmhouse. Lambs bleated from their pens and a peacock wandered loose on the grounds. Several horses grazed in the field to the west, and two-foot high corn stalks waved in the late June sunshine. We searched for Wiley, but didn’t see him.

  Trucks trundled past, filled with bales of alfalfa hay. The sweet scent instantly transported me home. I yearned to return to the innocent days when Elsbeth, Siegfried and I would ride our horses through the fields.

  Our attention was drawn by a shout erupting from the barracks. There, on the far side of the new building, a young brunette slid out a side window and began to run in our direction.

  Crying, screaming, and weaving unsteadily, the barefoot girl wearing only a tee shirt and underpants struggled to make her escape. Two men in white coats chased her, running steadily after the poor thing, but they hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when they closed the gap between them. In seconds, a burly guard caught her and pinned her to the ground.

  The girl screamed for help when he scooped her up and carried her back toward the building. His buddy followed close behind. In seconds, a woman appeared with an injection. She plunged it into the girl’s arm while both men held her down, and followed them back to the barracks.

  I held Porter back, sensing he wanted to run to her aid. So did I, of course. It was horrible to watch, but I knew we had to wait.

  “Not yet,” I whispered. “Wait until dark. It’s the only chance we’ve got. There are too many of them. If we go now, we’re dead meat, and our girls will be in Asia before the week’s up. Who’s gonna save them then?”

  A hiss escaped his gritted teeth. He scowled and his shoulders dropped an inch.

  “Okay, okay. I know you’re right.” He rubbed his tired eyes angrily. “We wait until dark.”

  Chapter 49

  The stars and mosquitoes had come out around nine, but the bustling activity in the commune continued until nine-thirty. The number of people coming and going slowed to a trickle after that, and finally, by eleven, it was still. The last dog was called back into the farmhouse and the outside lights snapped off. The low lights along the path to the barracks still shone dimly, and one light from the front of the building glowed from the window.

  We sat up, stretching our stiff muscles. I swatted another mosquito and wished I’d brought a can of repellant, but realized we couldn’t have risked the odor being detected.

  “It’s time,” Porter said softly, rising to a crouch.

  “Absolutely. I don’t think I can wait a
nother minute.”

  But we did. We waited for a little longer, listening intently.

  A soft breeze blew through the pine branches, whispering under the stars. A dog barked from inside the barn, then quieted down. In the distance, an owl hooted with low, short bursts. But there was no sign of a human on the grounds or outside the barracks.

  I hefted the bag with flashlights, rope, knife, and duct tape. “Let’s go,” I said.

  Porter nodded, grabbed the gun, and made a “follow me” sign. We began to run. We skirted the cornfield against the edge of the woods and circled toward the side of the barracks. The field was much larger than it looked from our vantage point, at least forty acres.

  We jogged through the corn until it merged with lower growing vegetables, then cut through rows of beets, heading for the building. Crawling, we used the cover of the corn. Unfortunately, a full moon shone bright in the night sky, illuminating the earth with its silver glow.

  My heart drummed beneath my ribs and adrenaline surged through my veins. The bag banged against my legs and in spite of the cool night air, perspiration trickled down my forehead and my back.

  We’d crossed halfway to the barracks when a shriek erupted in my face. A wailing banshee screeched and was on me in seconds. An onslaught of claws and feathers blinded me, and sharp talons dug into my legs while wings battered my face.

  What the hell is it?

  I threw my arms up to protect myself, but was unable to push the crazed creature away. His beak ripped at my arms and face and his talons dug at my skin.

  Porter turned back, reaching me in seconds. He kicked the thing away from me, and I stumbled backwards, falling to the soft ground.

  The peacock cocked his head, spread his plumage in its horrible glory, and stalked off in search of his next victim.

  “Holy crap,” I whispered, wiping blood from my face. “That thing is vicious.”

  Porter crouched beside me, laughing nervously. “Attack of the peacock. I can just see the movie title.”

  I held my breath, hoping we hadn’t woken anyone inside. No lights came on. No faces appeared in the windows.

  “Must happen all the time,” he chuckled nervously. “Guess they’re used to his ruckus.”

  I inspected the cuts and scratches on my legs and arms. A few were deep, but not serious. I wished I’d worn jeans instead of shorts, and long sleeves instead of a tee shirt. Between the mosquitoes and the watchdog peacock, I was a bloody mess.

  “God, he scared the hell out of me.” I loosed a quiet, shaky laugh. The nerves finally dissipated and my hands steadied. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  We continued toward the barracks, stopping every few minutes to listen. Except for the hoot of the distant owl and the chorus of crickets, the night was still, and no more evil birds attacked us.

  We’d almost reached the building when a light snapped on inside. We froze, waited, and heard the unmistakable sound of flushing.

  “The bathroom,” Porter whispered, gesturing to the light.

  We’d seen two attendants come in for the night shift at seven. I assumed they’d be guarding the front door and watching the girls, so we planned to go in through the back. We approached the building and skirted around the side to the back section. Low hung windows stretched along the building. There were no doors in sight.

  No doors, no guards?

  When we finally reached the building, we crouched below the first window.

  Porter stood up slowly and looked inside. He sank back to the ground and put his mouth to my ear. “Supply room,” he whispered.

  We moved along the next four windows. They were obscured by tightly closed drapes. The next room was the bathroom, where we’d seen the light. We skipped it and tried another.

  Carefully, I stood and looked inside, shocked to see a face staring out at me. I pulled back and dropped to all fours. My heart thumped wildly. Porter’s eyes questioned me, and I pointed up. “A girl was looking outside, she looked right at me,” I whispered.

  Porter stood up for a quick look. He motioned for me to join him. “This is it, then.”

  A brunette in her early teens stared back at us. Her lower lip drooped and her eyes stared out at the night, unfocused and dull.

  When she didn’t panic, I knew for sure she’d been drugged. I looked closer, and recognized her as the girl who tried to escape earlier.

  Porter put a finger to his lips and smiled at her.

  She looked back with no emotion, as if she didn’t see us.

  I peered around her into the darkened room. Dozens of sleeping girls lay on the floor of the large room. Two beds were pushed up against the far wall. Several girls slept on each. I searched frantically for Elsbeth, Valerie, and Lana, but couldn’t see them from where I stood.

  Porter reached for the bag and took out the knife. He slipped the heavy blade beneath the window and pried.

  It didn’t budge.

  He tried again.

  Nothing.

  The girl now watched us in mild interest. I tapped lightly on the window by the lock and mouthed the words open it.

  After I said it three more times, she finally reached up and tried to twist the lock.

  When Porter shoved at it again, it still didn’t move.

  “Crap.” Porter looked at me. “We’ll have to break it.”

  I nodded, holding my breath. He motioned for the girl to move backwards, and after several tries and lots of hand motions, she stepped away.

  Porter grabbed the heavy flashlight and tapped against the windowpane above the lock.

  Nothing.

  He tried again. Harder this time.

  With a loud splinter, the window cracked. We waited. Sweat trickled down my neck.

  Had the guards heard?

  After a few agonizing minutes, Porter reached up, removed the loose shards of glass, and twisted the lock.

  The window slid open. I crawled inside, followed by Porter. Not one of the girls woke as we searched for our three women, stepping low and inspecting the tousled heads. Finally, in a corner by the door, I found them.

  Elsbeth was slumped against the wall with Lana encircled with one arm and Valerie in the other. They slept against her chest. Her chin rested on Valerie’s hair. They looked rumpled and dirty, but unharmed.

  Porter crept behind me, and gently shook Valerie awake. She looked up in alarm and almost screamed, but Porter clamped his hand over her mouth until she recognized him. She slipped out from Elsbeth’s arm and threw herself at him, weeping softly.

  I leaned toward Elsbeth and whispered in her ear, gently shaking her. “Honey. Wake up. Shh. Quiet.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. Tears poured silently down her cheeks. She looked back and forth between Porter and me, and then woke up Lana. One by one, she gently shook the other girls awake, cautioning them to keep quiet. A few cried out, but the guards must have been accustomed to their night cries, for they didn’t appear in the doorway, thank God.

  I saw the redhead from the photo, battered and dispirited. I counted. Eighteen.

  My heart sank when I realized we’d never be able to fit them all in the car. We’d have to do shifts, drive them to safety, and go back for the rest after hiding them in the woods.

  Elsbeth and Lana clung to me. Porter hurried Valerie and the young brunette—now clothed in a pair of ragged jeans and a sweatshirt—to the window. I brushed away the remaining glass slivers and covered the windowsill with a blanket, climbing out first. Porter lowered the girls to me, one by one. Elsbeth helped, immediately understanding what had to be done. I watched my strong wife help all the girls, and my heart swelled with love and pride.

  When the last of the whimpering girls reached the ground, I whispered to Elsbeth,

  “Is that everyone?”

  “That’s it. Now get me out of here, honey.”

  I nodded to Porter, who dropped to the ground. He led Valerie and the group toward the field, motioning for them to bend low as they ran. Elsbeth, Lana, and I took up
the rear. We ran fast, but the severely drugged girl proved to be slow and confused. Porter finally picked her up and carried her.

  We’d almost reached the woods when a siren split the air and a roar of trucks and motorcycles erupted from the farm. Lights snapped on in the barracks and the farmhouse. Dogs barked. The girls screamed, panicked, and ran in all directions. Lana took off toward the woods. I grabbed Elsbeth’s hand and pulled her into the cornfield. We ran fast and hard. The trucks and motorcycles grew closer, and in minutes they were almost on us.

  I chanced a look back and saw the bobbing light of a motorcycle headlight fifty feet away. We ran faster, holding hands. Elsbeth was a strong runner, and she kept up with me.

  The cycle passed us, spun out, and mashed into the corn stalks. The man on board scrambled to his feet and headed for us.

  “Run!” I yelled to Elsbeth. “Run like hell, baby.”

  She hesitated for a second, then tore across the field toward the woods.

  A heavy body slammed into me. Knocked off my feet, I landed face down in the dirt. The guy was huge. I struggled to throw him off, twisting side to side, but he didn’t budge. I bucked and rammed my head backwards into his. I saw stars with the impact, but he didn’t get off me.

  With one powerful surge, I twisted under him and managed to roll out from his massive bulk. I kicked hard with both feet, pile driving into his stomach. He uttered a low “oof,” then launched himself at me, ham hock fists swinging.

  In a surprise move, he jumped over me and came at me from behind, wrapping an arm around my neck and pounding my face. My brain rattled inside my skull, and although I reached up to grip his face and try to get at his eyes, he squeezed tighter and I couldn’t breathe. Gasping now, I scrabbled for his hands and tried to pull them away from my neck.

  It was no use. The iron-armed man held me in a death lock.

  My eyes turned up in my head, and I succumbed to blackness.

  Chapter 50

  When I woke, it was pitch dark. My head throbbed like hell, but I managed to sit up and look around. The trees moved in and out of focus and the sound of crickets seemed deafening. I wiped some bits of grass from my cheek, rubbed my eyes, and glanced at my luminescent watch. It was five past four in the morning.