Shit.
I began to struggle, but they held me tight.
“Easy on there Vicky love, settle yourself down,” he said, his voice taunting. He paused to unscrew the top. “All you gotta do is tell me where you’ve put the rest of my bloody gear.”
“I haven’t got any of your fucking stuff! I keep telling you! Richard gave me that bag. It was empty. He told me to use it.”
My voice was shrill and the fear within it scared me.
“You’re doing yourself no fucking favours here,” he said stooping down, “This will really fucking hurt.”
“Don’t do it,” I cried, bracing myself, tears burning at the back of my eyes.
He shook his head and stood up straight.
“Stand back boys,” he said evenly.
They stretched out my bare right arm across the mouth of the geyser, Danny clinging around the rest of my body to keep me in place.
“Don’t do this,” I repeated, aghast.
“Last chance,” he said, brandishing the bottle in the air.
“I’ve told you everything,” I said weakly. Then my bladder failed me again.
“Have it your way ya silly bitch.”
I watched him bend down, with disbelief, as they pulled my arm so taught – I thought it might snap.
He began to pour, quickly.
My eyes widened in horror, anticipation.
Then he jumped back. A second later and searing pain exploded across my arm. An incredible stream of red hot vapour jetted upwards. I screamed. I screamed with total surrender. Carlos and Danny let go and jumped backwards. At first I thought because of my shriek, but I suppose the burning heat was licking at their fingertips. I fell away from the geyser and the still shooting, searing jet. I fell right over, still holding my own arm aloft, continuing to scream intermittently. There were patches on my arm where a layer of skin had been burnt clean away. It looked a mess and there was a grotesque scent of burning flesh emanating from it. There would be a mark that would never heal. I stumbled to my feet, still staring at my arm in wonder, screeching, dancing from foot to foot. Blackness and flashing spots almost took me, but I righted myself. I remember the three men staring at me, their faces indicating they didn’t know what to do. My mottled arm felt as if it was on actually on fire. The pain eased enough that the feeling of losing consciousness passed, but it throbbed like no pain I had known. I inspected it forlornly, holding my arm closer. It was badly hurt, but I guessed it could have been much worse. It had been in contact with the steam for less than a second and thankfully the burnt area was only about six inches wide. I say thankfully, but the pain had been excruciating.
I turned my head to look at Sammy square on.
I was fucking furious.
Then I lunged.
“You fucker!” I screamed, batting at his face with my fists. The pain of using my arm was terrible, but I didn’t care. He dropped his bottle and then the torch too, sending them rolling along the path, picking out snatches of the mountainside in its beam as it went.
The other two goons quickly came to their senses and grappled my arms down, Carlos gripping part of my wound. I yelled and shouted like a crazy woman. Blood raced around my body, pulsing all over. I breathed hard, eyeballing Sammy. I had made his nose bleed and drawn blood from his cheek. I guessed I’d hurt his pride even more.
“Ya wee bitch!” he snarled, seething.
Then he strode up into my face and backhanded me hard across it.
“If you didn’t enjoy that little party piece, you’ll hate this next bit.”
31
They allowed me to walk the next part of the path unrestrained, after I promised to be good. They remained very close, giving me an occasional shove. The pain in my arm subsided a tiny bit more, their gripping over it had been unbearable. We walked for only another minute or two around a bend. Then they told me to stop. I recognised where we were, guessing where we were headed, anyway. I looked down the gorge, a metre or so below, where I had seen a ranger dangle a stick of straw, which had then immediately burst into flames.
“Let’s have a smoke first,” wheezed Sammy, apparently struggling with all the exertion.
The other two nodded. I was made to sit by the edge of the drop as Danny subserviently passed them each a smoke and lit them. Sammy cast me a sideways stare.
“Give her one too,” he said, looking away from me.
I gratefully received it and sucked in the fumes as deeply as my battered lungs would allow. I looked down into the gorge, having to take in deep breaths to avoid vomiting. Dig for Fire by The Pixies popped into my head. The tune went round and round, out of place, incongruous. It had the same effect as creepy children singing in horror films. I’d never be able to listen to The Pixies again. My brain flitted back to despair. My eyes looked to the clay-like ground I lay on, it was warm against me. It was like under-floor heating in a house with no roof.
On some level I knew that this might be my last smoke.
This may be my last hour.
I had no tears left. I shivered.
I’d never play piano again. I’d never see my Auntie again, see my friends. Mike popped into my head. I felt a longing for
