The Prey

Pushing herself slowly to her feet, she stretched tentatively, carefully moving her arms and legs. Something scuttled, a faint, scrabbling sound that made Mara give a little cry, but then it, whatever it was, was gone.

“It’s okay,” Mara muttered hoarsely to herself. “You’re okay.” She was stiff and sore, but, other than the myriad welts and bruises covering her body, she seemed to be intact. She walked in a slow circle around the space, stomping her feet to scare away any lingering bugs or critters that might have joined her for the evening. Scanning the area carefully for the hose or a bottle of water, she saw nothing.

She listened for any sound of humanity outside the walls of her prison, but heard only the cacophony of crickets and frogs singing their night song and, beyond that, the ever-present sound of the surf lapping at the shore. “Hello?” she called out in a small, tentative voice. It came out as a croak. She cleared her throat and called louder, “Hello? Alex? Anyone? Please?”

Nothing.

Settling beside the wall opposite the bucket, she leaned carefully against the rough wood, wincing as it made contact with her abraded skin. She drew up her legs close to her body and brought her arms around her knees. Resting her cheek on her knees, she began to rock. Her mother slipped into her mind from her resting place in Mara’s heart. Remember how I used to sing you to sleep after a nightmare?

Mara did remember. Alone in the empty hut, she began to sing in a small, reedy voice, channeling her mother’s memory into song: Sleep, my child, let peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night…

She sang the whole song, and then she sang it again, and again, until her eyes slid closed, the words dissolving on her tongue. She lay down, curling with her back to the wall, imagining her mother’s warm, strong arms around her as she drifted into a troubled sleep.

Mara startled awake with a cry at the soft touch of something moving over her cheek, the word tarantula skittering like a spider through her dream-soaked mind.

But it wasn’t a spider that greeted her as her eyes flew open. Alex was crouched before her, his hand on her cheek, his face a mask of tenderness and concern. “Wake up.”

Not yet fully awake, Mara jerked upright, knocking the back of her head against the wall. Bright sunlight streamed in through the open door of the hut and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the daylight. The room tilted unpleasantly, her empty stomach executing a nauseating somersault. She moaned through cracked lips and cradled her torso, rocking forward.

“Hey, take it easy. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to take you out of the box now. Your punishment is over.”

Getting to his feet, Alex reached down and pulled Mara upright. She stood a moment on wobbly legs. They seemed to be made of rubber, and she started to sink to the floor, her head spinning. The room was hot and sweat had broken out on her face and body, its salt pricking the welts that covered her flesh. Her mouth tasted like vomit and she could smell her own stink.

Alex caught her as she fell, lifting her with apparent effortlessness into his arms. He carried her through the door of the box and out into the sunshine. There was a wonderful cool breeze blowing off the water and the air was fresh, so fresh, after the fetid closeness of the tiny, windowless hut. Closing her eyes, Mara lifted her face and breathed deeply.

Alex set her gently into the passenger seat of the golf cart and walked around to the driver’s side. Reaching into a cooler that sat between them, he withdrew a small bottle of water, its plastic sides slick with droplets of cold water. Mara watched with quivering anticipation as he unscrewed the cap. He handed the bottle to her.

She took it with shaking hands and tipped it to her cracked lips, greedily gulping down the few ounces. “Hey, slow down,” Alex warned. “You’re going to make yourself throw up if you aren’t careful. Sip, don’t gulp.”

Mara knew he was right, but she was too thirsty to obey. Within seconds the bottle was empty. Her stomach heaved a little at the sudden onslaught of cold fluid, but it was worth it. Alex reached into the cooler again and took out a second bottle. “More?”

Mara’s hand shot out to take it.

Alex pulled the bottle just out of her reach. “Manners?” he queried with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Yes, please. Yes, sir,” Mara said in rapid fire. For a tantalizing second he continued to hold the bottle just out of reach. Then, with a smile, he unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.