|
Benny sagged to the earth. Spirits reached out
to caress and renew the bonds of Joy, to strengthen him after his
ordeal. He smelled the bitter scent of the evergreens and his lips
curled.
Yews. The morons planted yews on a horse farm.
A couple of nibbles from a curious horse and all they'd have is a
mountain of food for the guard dogs on their hands. Stupid.
He was as good as caught if he stayed here.
Cindy was a burden his weakened body couldn't handle right now. He
fingered the knife and with a hooded eye looked at her.
A twinge of warning came from the microchip in
his head.
Benny scowled and rubbed the scar where it had
been inserted. He smoothed down the long nervous hairs and forced his
mind to other thoughts, calming ones, slavish pictures that soothed the
brainwashing received during his time at the Manse.
If he stayed here he was dead. Benny clenched
his jaws. Cindy made a good shield, but for how long? Maybe the creeps
already called whoever was her boss and now she was only another piece
of meat. Still, he couldn't leave her. Benny’s face stretched in an
evil smile.
He had too much catching up to do.
The sound of men rushing away from the house
stilled him. He pressed his face against his knees and prayed no one
would think to shine a light in here. With all this skin showing, he'd
glow like a beacon.
Things began to quiet down, the horde of
people moving away from the house, spread out in a search. Benny counted
a slow ten breaths, then another. He raised his head and paused, ears
straining, doing what his eye could not. He scowled, forcing his mind to
quiet. Then he felt the faint vibration of a heavy person walking in
light steps close by. Benny lowered his head and murmured under his
breath, “There is no one here. You are alone. No one is here.”
Grampa Wya had taught him, separating his mind from the senses of the
other. This was the di:Danwa:yi, the Way of the Warrior.
I am a rock. I am a shadow, floating,
insubstantial, unseen, a wolf who is not here.
Over and over he thought it. His heart and
mind slowed till only a shadow remained. This was training like Carl
tried to master but never could. Carl was too alive, too . . . unable to
humble himself, to do this. Too afraid of losing the little humanity
life under the State left him with.
I am nothing, rock
shadow in the trees
like a stream I flow
unnoticed . . . .
The steps paused.
.
. . floating
unseen
shadows in your
mind
away
nothing is here
nothingness . . . .
A light swept the shrubbery, passed on,
returned.
And then was gone.
Benny slid out of the light trance and
whispered a quiet, “Thanks, Grampa. I love you.”
Benny took the belt
from Cindy's bathrobe and tied her hands with it. His muscles bunched as
he parted the heavy cloth, and Benny forced it into her slack mouth. As
he knotted the ends behind her head, she moaned. Benny chuckled.
“Not so cool, now that the shoe's on the
other foot, hain'a, Cindy?”
She glared back and frothed into the strap.
Most of it held her hands in an attitude of prayer, but her eyes said
she was feeling anything but saintly.
“Yeah, I love you too, Cindy.” He checked
the bonds. “Don't worry, mistress,” Benny mocked. “We'll be moving
out as soon as things cool off a little.” Benny smiled at the
commotion. He loved a good rowdy party, but yo.
“Too bad I can't give you one a these,
lady.” His hand rubbed the faint, nagging scars left by the training
collar, a collar that had burned into his very soul. Voice quiet, he
said, “Maybe a birch switch will do. Ok?” Benny offered her a faint
smile and felt her tremble. It was going to be a good night. A real good
night.
Nauseated, she turned her head away from the
leer on his face. Benny chuckled.
In slow, wary motions he dressed, careful to
not disturb the shrubbery, stopping to check for intruders every few
moments.
“Good thing I didn't pick a stand of cedars,
hain'a? My butt is as tender as yours, bitch, and I got less covering on
it right now.”
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
