Water in a Time of Thirst

Chapter Four

When the cloth bag was removed from her head, Everleigh blinked several times, taking in her surroundings. It was an underground bunker with slivers of sunlight bleeding through the wood beams in the ceiling. The place wasn't any bigger than a studio apartment and had a stockpile of canned food, water, kerosene lamps, and small propane tanks. She remembered being left like dirty, crumpled laundry on the ground and passing out soon after. Blinking her eyes some more, she recalled hearing voices and one of them being female.

The chip-toothed man crouched to examine her, and she could smell his sour breath as well as feel it mist against her cheek. Not to mention how his proximity gave her a closer view of the salmon-colored muck caked in his teeth. She grimaced as he smiled, like a man admiring his bride on a wedding night. Then he lifted her with his hands cupped under her armpits and held her off the ground. The irony of having the tables turned wasn't lost on her. Now she had her hands and feet bound, which made her think of Corbin.

Where was he?

Needing to get out of the predicament, she twisted her bound wrists, trying to wriggle them free. The chip-toothed man ran his tongue up her neck, telling her how yummy she tasted. Everleigh kept a straight face, trying her best not to inhale his rancid breath as she worked the knot loose and released her hands from the binds. While he was distracted with nibbling her earlobe, she removed the hidden dagger from her belt and drove it into his temple.

A sharp gasp released from his mouth, and his body tensed before seizing as they both dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. She groaned when she landed on her side, but she didn't have time to pity herself. Kicking him off, she pulled the dagger from his skull and watched the life burn out of his eyes. Crimson trickled from the wound and formed a puddle around his head which reflected the light coming through the ceiling. She could see herself in it and in the past wouldn't have liked the person staring back at her, but the dangers of being on the road had hardened her heart. Some men just needed to be killed with zero regrets.

Hearing a noise, she cut through the rope around her feet and tip-toed toward the room's entrance. Her stomach churned, but she focussed on controlling her breathing while flattening herself against the wall, waiting for her next opponent.

"Larry!" a voice called from the stairs leading outside. "Are you done yet? I want a turn."

The floorboards of the wooden steps creaked in protest under the weight of his boots as he made his way, so she sucked in another breath and flattened herself even more-waiting for him to get closer.

"Larry! You're awfully quiet with that girl. She must need a real man."

As his face appeared from the corner, she jammed her dagger into his skull, matching his wound to Larry's. When she slid the knife out, his body dropped like a wet sandbag with his limbs twitching from the shock. Her heart pounded against her sternum, but she didn't have time to process what she was doing, and it was pure adrenaline driving her feet up the wooden steps. Reaching into her bra, she pulled her trusty Derringer out. It was a gift from her father, and she kept it hidden for emergencies. She swung the door open, ready for the next man as the sun shone in her face-casting everything in a blinding white glow.

"Hey!" a voice yelled.

Steadying her hands, she focussed on two silhouettes a few feet ahead. With the sunlight still blinking in her eyes, she aimed for the upright figure and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, her finger pressed the trigger, sending the bullet flying towards her enemy. He recoiled, causing the gun to fall from his grip.