Well…Great news I’ve gotten my poetry license! Now I can legally write poetry in Rain Valley! I’m not going to do a poem today though, because I haven’t had any poetic dreams. But I hope you like this piece anyway.
There was a slight swinging… or maybe bobbing feeling, like a slow wave. I don’t remember how I got here. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. The room I was in was poorly lit; the only source of light was coming from on top of a stair well. The floor was wet and had cut-up netting strewn all over. The smell hit me next, burning the inside of my nose, making my eyes water. It smelled like the sea; not the fresh sent of ‘sea breeze’ detergent, this smelled like salt, seaweed, sweat, and vomit… lots of vomit. I looked down to find a pool of it on and under me. I recoiled with the chunky-slime feeling between my toes. I also realized that all I was wearing was a stained brown sack, and there was a pile of ash in the corner of the room, the embers still a bright red burning. I tried to get up but I was tied to my chair. My hands tied to each other behind the chair, my thighs tied to the seat, and my torso tied to the back. I was totally trapped. There was a numb ache in my body and my mouth tasted fowl. Some voice in the back of my head told me to stay calm. I heard footsteps and my pulse started to race. Stay calm! The voice told me again.
“Eh, where’d you put her clothes?” One man said with a thick Latin accent.
“Boss told me to burn ‘em, said we there were all kinds of trackers in there. He doesn’t want them to know where we’re going!” The other man said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.
“Eh, d’you think she’s up now?” Asked the man with the accent.
“Don’t know man, we should go check.” Said the other man.
I pretended to be out cold again waiting for the men to blurt something out and give me information.
The man with accent looked down at the pile of ashes on the ground and got shocked.
“Man, you supposed to throw the ashes in the ocean once you done burnin’ ‘em!” He said.
“But that’s gona pollute the Atlantic Ocean!” Said the man without the accent.
“MA-O’rale! Nobody cares!” The man with the accent said, tossing the ashes of my clothes into the ocean.
Atlantic Ocean I thought. What was I doing there? I was supposed to be… I was supposed to be… Where was I supposed to be? I had no idea. I tried to remember what I was doing, but I couldn’t remember anything, where I’m from, what I was doing, what day it was, why I was here, or my name for that matter. Who am I?
I strained my memory but found no answers. My head started to hurt, and the men noticed that I was conscious.
“OH MAN, SHE’S AWAKE!” Said the man with the accent, both of them stared wide eyed at me and tried to hide behind each other.
“Stop!” I commanded. Both of them stopped and looked at me purely horror struck.
“Why am I here?” I asked them.
“You know why you’re here, you little b—h!” the man said sneering.
I shook my head furiously.
At first they looked at each other, confused. Then hints of smiles started to creep their way onto their faces. And then they stared to laugh. Then they stopped, abruptly.
“She’s lying.” Said the man without the accent, barely a whisper.
“We should ask Boss.” Said the man with the accent. They both went up the stairs and left me alone. I was looking for ways to escape; I would be hard if I didn’t know how to swim (did I know how?)
I counted the seconds till the men came back (722) this time with another, more powerful looking man. This man had a big cigar in his mouth and his hair oiled back. The cigar was plated with gold and his watch was diamond encrusted, something told me this man didn’t need to struggle to make ends meet.
“Well, well. What do we have here? Little miss decided to play with the big boys and look at where it got her, huh.” The man got close to me, so close that he had to put his hands on my shoulders for support, the lit end of his cigar was pressing against my skin, sending hot stabs of pain through me. Unlike the other two men, this man spoke with an English accent. I bit my tongue, staunching the flow of every bad word under the sun. Because right now, I was at his mercy.
“Where is it?” he asked, digging the cigar into my skin. His teeth were clenched and his eyes were close to bulging out of his head.
“W-what? What do you want?” I asked him, his breath smelled worse than the vomit.
“The chip! You idiot, I know that you took it with you when you sneaked your way out of my office in New York. WHERE IS IT?!?!?” he shrieked.
“I-I have no idea. I don’t remember anything!” I said to the man as calmly as I could.
The man stood up and smoothed his expensive looking suit; he turned around as if dismissing me. Just then he turned back and with the full momentum of his swing, he slapped me hard across the face.
It burned, more than the cigar. I was pretty sure that my face was red.
“Liar!” he yelled. “I know that you have that chip and I want to know where it is right now!” his voice was rising.
I needed to get out, I know that I was here for a reason, and it felt as if his slap was slowly bringing my memory back.
The Boss turned around again; I was scared that he was going to slap me again. But he just smiled and started talking instead.
“We caught wind that you were headed to Madrid, we thought we should drop you there, to return the favor.” He plastered on an artificial smile.
I knew what I had to do, I put on the most pathetic face that I could muster up and said,
“Please sir, I believe that you have the wrong person, I have no idea about this ‘chip.’ Please let me go.” Well the second part was true I had no idea about this chip, but I knew that it was important, and something told me that this guy wasn’t the right person.
I saw a touch of sympathy in Boss’s face, but it was replaced quickly by amusement.
Boss leaned in close and said, “I’m not gona let you go until I have that chip, and I will do everything in my power to find it. Even if I have to tear you limb from limb.”
I smiled a wide proud smile, I don’t know where the words in my mouth came from, but they sounded like something I would say, “And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don’t get that chip. And now I’m gona kick you’re a-s.” After that everything happened suddenly.
I head-butted him with all the force in my body, and he fell back. His henchmen came at me and I stood up, still tied to the chair. They both crashed into each other. I ran backwards toward a wall and crashed into it with all my might. The chair broke and I was free. All three of the men ran at me this time, but now I was ready, I let my instinct take control. When the first man came, I took a leg from the chair, and whacked him over the head and he was down. I took the same leg and used it to deflect the blow from the second man. I dropped the leg and landed a punch in his gut. I turned to Boss and I didn’t punch, I didn’t kick, I landed an old fashioned slap across his face from the right, then I punched him from the left. He was out. I looked at the last man, the one with the accent. “Madre’ de’ Dios!” he exclaimed. He ran at me and tried to confront me with a frontal kick. I hooked my foot on to his thigh, and he slipped forward. He was out as his head hit the floor. I was the only one conscious in the room.
I took the jacket off of Boss and out it around myself, it the sea breeze was chilling me right to the bone. I found a small pistol in the pocket. This will come in handy I thought.
I climbed up the stairs but not before I tied up all three men with the ropes and the nets.
The sun was refreshing; it felt as if I hadn’t felt its light in a whole life time. I looked on to the Bay of Biscay. The sun was setting and the horizon looked like it was on fire. I found the control room and I healed the pistol to the captain’s head, and at once he straightened up.
“I want you to listen carefully,” I said in a stern voice. “You are to take me straight to Madrid, and then leave. You look like a man with a family, wouldn’t want anything to happen to them? Would you?” I was just bluffing, but saying this was instinctive. If my instincts got me this far, then they were going in the right direction.
The man was old, so old I was surprised that he wasn’t dead. I lowered the gun and stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry.” I said to him.
“I don’t remember who I am, and I need to get to Madrid to find some answers. Just please get me there as fast as you can.” I pleaded.
“Sure I’ll get you there.” Said the captain whose voice sounded as tough as nails. “I’m glad you got those guys. Just don’t go hurting yourself, eh Maxie!”
Maxie, who was Maxie? Was it me, was Maxie my name. As far I knew, Maxie was a boy’s name, and I obviously wasn’t a boy. My name is Maxine. I thought. That was one thing I knew about my past. Now all I needed to do was to go to Madrid and sort out this mess.
As I looked out on to the Bay, I knew that saying that was going to be a whole lot easier that doing it.
To be continued. ..
Well this is kind of exiting. I myself want to know what will happen next.
until next time.