Bones In The Well

Chapter 1-2

Never having felt at ease in confined spaces, Mandy sensed a panic attack coming, and sobbed involuntarily. She had to control it. She had to overcome the urge to scream. Besides, no one would hear her, anyway. She remembered reading something, somewhere, about the relationship between fear and panic. When fear overrides the ability to think clearly and rationally, it becomes panic… or something like that. At this point, a panic attack was the last thing she needed. Get a grip! she urged herself silently, as she struggled to control her breathing and focus her thoughts on how she was going to get out of this mess.

She heard her abductor get into the driver’s seat, slam the door behind him, and start the engine. Then, the vehicle began to move away. Where was he taking her? How far would they go? Was she ever going to see her parents again? Was she even going to live through the night? These were the thoughts crowding Mandy’s consciousness as she felt the vehicle bounce across the rough terrain.

They were on a dirt road; she could smell the dust seeping into the vehicle. She thought about her car, back at the Marbles. She’d left it parked and locked, in the main campground while she walked through the magnificent rock formations, where, captivated by the beauty of the place, she lingered too long after the sun had set.

Her car, an old but functional Ford Festiva, had by necessity become her accommodation as well as her means of transport. Everything she owned was in the car; her clothes, her passport, her mobile phone, her meager food supply of rice crackers, instant noodles, tea bags, and a few pieces of fruit; each of which seemed to be the staple fare of back-packers such as herself.

She wondered if anyone else camped at the Marbles would notice she was missing. She thought not. She had not befriended any of her fellow travelers other than to say “Hi” to a few as their respective paths crossed while wandering through the Marbles, snapping photographs and wondering at the amazing balancing act of many of the huge boulders. Accordingly, she doubted anyone would even notice she had not returned to her car. She was alone, gagged, trussed hand and foot, dumped into the back of a car, and was being driven to a fate upon which she did not want to speculate.

Wherever her abductor was taking her, it seemed to be taking many hours, but Mandy guessed it was less than an hour. Her abductor played country music loudly, and occasionally she heard him singing softly along with the tune. Mandy had never been a fan of country music; it was the music of hicks, and mountain dwelling, in-bred folk. The quality of her captor’s voice did nothing to assuage her dislike of the genre.

She began to count the number of songs played, mentally figuring three minutes per song. At one point, she lost count but decided it was close to twenty. By her estimation, they had been traveling for approximately one hour, perhaps an hour and fifteen minutes. She usually wore a watch, but had left it in her car; she wouldn’t be able to read it anyway, with her hands trussed behind her back.

They were still traveling on rough dirt roads, she deduced, given the jolting and bouncing her body was forced to endure. Her fingers were becoming numb, and she wriggled them in a vain attempt to relieve the tingling. A persistent ache in her shoulder where she lay on it promised to spread to her neck, and back. She considered turning completely over but, to do so would leave her with her back to the rear cargo door of the vehicle, an option she quickly dismissed. If they stopped, and the stranger opened the rear door she wanted to be facing him and whatever he might have in store for her.

Mandy closed her eyes and tried to shut out the awful music pounding through the vehicle’s sound system, and the equally awful vocal accompaniment of the man who now had total control over her life.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed, and stopped, and, thank God, so did the music. As Mandy lay in the cramped, uncomfortable space, waiting for whatever was to follow, she heard the crackle from the engine compartment as the motor cooled in the cold night air. She focused intently, listening for any other noises which might give her an idea of where they were. She heard only the engine crackle.

She waited, expecting to hear the driver moving about, opening the driver’s door and shutting it behind him. Was he coming to drag her out of the back of the vehicle? Nothing! Mandy heard not a sound.

The driver must be sitting quietly in the front seat. What was he doing? What was he going to do? She found herself hoping he would do something, anything. Waiting for something to happen, was worse than the prospect of dealing with it when it finally did. Then, she heard him speak.

“It’s time, my precious,” the man announced in a tone, not loud, and not so soft she couldn’t hear, but in a normal, controlled speaking voice, as though he might be ordering a litre of milk from the local corner store. So unassuming was his announcement, Mandy could almost imagine him smiling.

The driver’s door opened, the interior light came on, and the front seat squeaked as the man got out of the car. He shut the door, and suddenly the vehicle interior was plunged into darkness. Mandy listened. She heard footsteps approaching the rear of the vehicle, and then the door swung open. The interior light flashed on again, and Mandy looked up at the man standing in the open doorway. Beyond where he stood smiling down at her, she saw only blackness—no street lights, no house lights, no corner store, nothing.

“Get out,” the man ordered.

Mandy lay still, staring wide-eyed and afraid at the stranger.

“Get the f**k out!” he yelled. His voice seemed to echo in the still, black night air.

Mandy started at the shrillness of his voice. She tried to move forward, towards the open door, but it was difficult with her hands and feet bound. She sobbed involuntarily behind the gag in her mouth, and tried harder to move.

Eventually, the man reached inside the vehicle and grabbed Mandy roughly by the upper arm. He dragged her forward, and she almost fell from the car. He changed his grip from her arm to her feet, swung her legs outwards, and left her half lying, half sitting, on the edge of the cargo compartment. All concerns of modesty were gone. Mandy’s short dress was now well above her thighs. Her captor stared lustfully.

“You sure are a pretty one,” he declared. He fumbled in his pocket, and produced a pocket knife. He opened the blade, and Mandy’s eyes widened with fear. The man reached down and, with one deft stroke, cut the cable tie binding her feet.

Mandy felt a sudden rush of pain in her feet and ankles as the blood began to run unrestricted to them. The man again gripped her upper arm, and yanked her from the vehicle. When her feet touched the ground, she tried to stand but her feet were still numb and she fell against the man. Her face crashed into his chest, and he held her roughly against him. Mandy heard his breath quicken, and one hand moved to her backside where it rested for a moment, and then began to knead her buttocks.

Mandy wanted to throw up. She fought desperately to quell the urge lest the dirty gag in her mouth cause her to choke on her own vomit. She moaned loudly.

As if he had just remembered the gag, the man grabbed at the rag and pulled it free of her mouth. Now it hung loosely around her neck, and Mandy immediately took several deep breaths of fresh air. She pushed against the man’s chest, and shuffled backwards until she hit the vehicle and almost toppled back into the cargo bay. Regaining her footing, she looked up at the man. His features were dark, and vague, in the half-light emanating from the vehicle’s interior.

“What do you want?” she sobbed.

The man stared at her and smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said quietly.

“Wh… who are you?” Mandy stammered.

“My name is not important,” he answered. “What is your name?”

Mandy paused, not sure what she should admit to. “My name is Miranda… Miranda Winters,” she said finally.

“Miranda… Miranda,” the man said. “Miranda… that’s a pretty name.”

“What do you want from me?” Mandy asked again. “I have no money,” she offered, almost as an afterthought.

“Do you think I’m a thief?” the man queried.

“No… no,” Mandy said, hurriedly.

“I don’t want your money,” the man shrugged.

Mandy paused. “What then?” she asked, positive she knew the answer.

“All in good time,” the man smiled. “Right now you need to sleep.” He took her by the arm and steered her away from the vehicle.

“Wait there,” he ordered, forcing her to halt. He let go of her arm, and fumbled in the rear of the vehicle. A storage compartment on the inside of the rear door dropped down, he reached in and grabbed a torch. He switched it on, and shone it in Mandy’s eyes. Mandy turned her head, avoiding the bright light.

The man shut the rear door and spoke. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Where?” Mandy asked.

“Turn around and walk, straight ahead,” he ordered. “Remember, I’m right behind you, so don’t try to run.”

Mandy turned slowly, paused, and looked into the darkness ahead of her. The man stepped up close behind her and shone the torch at the ground just in front of her. Up ahead, in the near distance, she saw a large, dark, shape. At first, she couldn’t make out what it was. It looked huge; a big, high, black, shape looming out of the darkness. Then, as she stared at it, she realised it was a house.

The stranger pushed Mandy gently in the back. “Start walking,” he commanded.

Mandy froze, afraid to move. She did not know what evil awaited her inside the house, and she did not want to find out.

The man leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear. His lips brushed lightly against her lobe. “If you don’t start walking, I am going to kill you,” he whispered.

His breath was warm and moist against her cheek.

She jerked her head away from the terrible smelling breath. “I don’t want to go in there,” she sobbed.

“Okay, have it your way,” the voice said.

Suddenly Mandy felt the sharp, point of a knife blade against the back of her neck. She flinched involuntarily, and tried to step away from the threat. A hand grabbed her by her hair.

“I don’t want to use this, but if you don’t move your pretty little arse you will die, right here in the dirt, and your body will lay here all night for the dingoes to feast on.”

Mandy gasped aloud. “Okay… okay.” She stumbled towards the dark shape. “I’m going… I’m going,” she sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I thought you might see it my way eventually,”

Her captor kept a tight grip on her hair as she walked tentatively towards the house.

The house was huge. Even in the dark, with just the torch light to guide her, Mandy could see it was a big homestead with a very wide verandah running all the way along the front. She supposed it would also surround the entire building. There were steps, several of them, leading up from ground level to the verandah deck. Mandy paused in front of the bottom step and looked up.

“Go ahead, up the stairs,” the man prompted from behind her. He nudged her with a light tap on the back of her head.