Chapter Five
The sun was hot and blinding.
Kim had been roused from her brief, troubled sleep by the rough hands of her captors unchaining her and lifting her to her feet.
“I’ll do what you want,” she said tiredly. “Please don’t hurt me any more.”
Her hands were locked behind her and the two men urged her toward the door. After the darkness of the truck her eyes took some time to adjust to the brightness outside.
The truck had been parked on a gravel cul de sac. From the open door she saw beach, emerald green water, and a pleasure boat bobbing at a small, wooden dock.
Mistress Gyve stood outside, and reached out to assist Kim to the ground. The sand was hot under Kim’s feet. She wondered how far they had come. They had been driving long enough to be outside of the States by now. She wondered if they had the audacity and resources to smuggle her across the border, and decided that it didn’t matter where she was. She was a naked captive, and her captors enjoyed hurting her. That was all that really mattered.
“I’ll take care of the truck,” said Otto.
Mistress Gyve and the bald man grasped Kim’s arms and hurried her down the beach toward the dock. She pretended to stumble and twisted free. She ran.
The bald man was sporting. He let her have a head start. She had a brief glimpse of the truck heading back the way it had come, disappearing into jungle, before her legs were swept out from under her and she landed heavily in the sand. The handcuffs dug into her wrists as she fell, and the sand scraped her shoulder.
Her captors stood over her.
“She has spirit,” remarked Mistress Gyve. “I admire that. It seems a shame we have to break her.”
The whip sang and Kim thrashed madly in the sand as blow after blow landed on her defenseless body. Whether she curled up like a baby or threw herself flat, the lash followed and found her, striking her most tender places. When the chastisement ended, Kim was face down, sobbing in an agony of despair.
“You will come quietly now,” said Mistress Gyve. It was not a question.
Kim nodded, unable to speak.
As insurance, a rope was tied around Kim’s ankle before she was pulled to her feet. The bald man, John, held the other end of the rope. If she tried to run, he only had to hold on to the line to bring her down again.
“You can’t escape,” he assured her, “and trying only brings you more pain.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. Humility seemed her only course now.
They marched her down to the dock. There were two men in the boat, dressed in brown uniforms.
“We thought maybe you were going to need some help,” one of them called. He was a burly man with a ragged scar running from his forehead to his chin. His companion was shorter and swarthy. Looking at them, Kim thought they both probably had their photos hanging on the post office walls back home, just above the warning: “Armed and dangerous-Do not approach”.
“No problem,” said John. “Give me a bucket.”
They handed him a bucket. He leaned over the edge of the dock and dipped it into the water. He poured it over Kim’s head to wash the sand off her body. She gasped with shock and pain as the salt water burned the scraped skin.
Mistress Gyve examined the shoulder. The damage was slight, but a tear of blood seeped slowly from the wound.
“Come here,” she commanded. “I have something to show you.”
She led Kim to the edge of the dock and bent her forward, grasping the injured shoulder. For a moment Kim thought that she was going to be thrown into the water to drown, but Mistress Gyve simply squeezed the wound to bring blood and shook the drops into the water.
“Watch.”
There was a disturbance under the surface of the water. A huge sleek gray body rolled by. A blunt snout became visible, and sharp teeth snapped where the blood had fallen.
“These are the sentries of Domain,” said Mistress Gyve. “There are forty miles of water between here and there, and they patrol every inch of it.”
“I understand.”
They put Kim into the boat and took her to Domain.