Crazy Enough

Crazy Enough: Chapter 1

"Who are you?" she asked him, turning her head a bit to look at him. He prodded her along, never saying a word.

"What do you want?" she tried again. "Where are we going?"

He made no sound that he heard or cared.

The terrain was rocky and uneven, dotted with stubby plant life, and Corkie stumbled more times than she would have done on her own, praying his trigger finger wasn't very itchy. A truck flew out of the valley, fleeing the destruction by the airstrip, and her camouflaged captor pushed her to the ground behind another large boulder, hiding them until the area cleared. A rather boisterous explosion rocked the afternoon, sending a plume of thick smoke upward and showering the vicinity with sand and gravel. Corkie assumed the fuel tanks next to the rusted airplane hangar blew up. The man held her there, her body pressed into the rocky ground while he breathed heavily against her neck.

Five minutes passed...then only the sounds were of an inferno blazing on the other side of the hill.

He pushed her to her feet and turned them east. Crap, Corkie thought. Juan, her friend and Mexican contact, was waiting for her to the north. And if she didn't make it back to him by noon, then she'd miss her ride out of this desert until the next morning. That arrangement was for Juan's protection. A lone man hanging out beside a pickup truck in the middle of nowhere all day...well, who wouldn't be suspicious?

For almost two miles, they wove through the rocky desert, keeping to the shadows of boulders and cliff sides as much as possible. Her captor never lessened the hold on her arm, and she thought it wise to keep her mouth shut for now. Finally, he forced her between two large rock piles, completely hidden from the outside world.

With a shove, he let her go. Corkie stumbled a few steps and rubbed at her sore arm and shoulder, turning immediately to keep him in her sights. Where was his backup? Surely, he's not stupid enough to be out here alone.

Oh, wait...I'm alone.

But I'm not stupid...just crazy.

She paused and waited for him to say something, start an interrogation or make demands, but he didn't, just stared at her as he figuring out what to do with her. Corkie had a few ideas on that matter, but she knew he wouldn't go for any of them. She slipped her backpack off her shoulder, he raised his gun higher, right at her head, and beckoned with the other. Corkie huffed and tossed the bag to his feet.

"Can I have my water bottle, please?" she asked sweetly.

He assessed her for a moment, and then hunkered down as smoothly as a wild feline, the lines of his body bending and folding beautifully. Corkie cocked her head to the side to enjoy the scenery. Very nice. For a soldier.

The man unzipped her bag and quickly dug through it with his free hand, his gun and eyes never leaving her face. Suddenly he pitched her water toward her and resumed his blind search of the bag. Corkie uncapped the bottle and drank heavily. She winced as he discarded her camera to the side of his boot, sand dust billowing up and settling in the crooks and nannies of her three-thousand dollar livelihood. Then he dumped the contents of the bag. Corkie carried nothing of major importance in her bags, other than her camera, preferring to keep her passport and cash in a pouch strapped to her thigh inside her tan hiking pants.

Finally, the man rose to his feet, his muscular limbs unfolding lithely, and he jerked his gun at her, signaling for her to turn around. Corkie sighed and faced a large boulder, hands raised. She was hot and sweaty, her lightweight clothing getting that gritty, itchy feeling, and again, she wondered how he could bear to be covered in that heavy, military garb. He approached and began searching her person with deft pats to every curve of her body. Corkie smiled grimly as she endured this small invasion of her body.