“So this is how it’s gonna be,” started Sammy, ripping me again from my thoughts. He and Carlos were now staring intently at me, their faces hard. Danny looked less sure again and stared at my mangled arm. His eyes reignited the burn in my mind and I winced.
“That there fire pit comes straight up from Timanfya Vicky. You’ve seen the demonstration before have you? Rather impressive like.”
I nodded, mournfully.
“Well then you get it. Anything that hangs down there bursts into fucking flames – the heat is that strong.
Carlos kept on staring at me, but Danny began to pace and turned his back.
Sammy had a crazed look in his eyes.
“We’re gonna ask you for answers once more and this time we’re not gonna ask nice,” he continued, his voice at once hardening into a broader Northern Irish rasp.
He licked his lips and absently kicked a little burnt orange rock off the side.
“We’re gonna hang your feet over and they’re gonna catch fire Vicky. Then we’re gonna beat those flames out, your legs’ll be fucked, like. Then we’re gonna do it again. And again. We’ll do it ‘till there’s fuck all left of ya.”
I rolled over and threw up. It came up all at once, but still stung my already ravaged throat. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and steadied myself. The taste in my mouth was foul. I think it had been my body rejecting everything in its stomach, or maybe I was rejecting everything that was happening to me. I narrowed my eyes, fixing on him.
“Fuck you Sammy,” I said dry and firm, “Fuck you Sammy you big fucking pansy, girl-beating psycho.” I continued to stare at him and my voice grew in strength and volume, “Fuck you, ya fucking no-brained prick. And you must have a tiny fucking prick to get off on this sick shit. You have it all wrong. Richard has obviously spun you some shite, I have done nothing.”
He smirked. He smirked, but looked angry too. The anger was ready to boil over. I, on the other hand, sounded very together. In truth, I was nothing but a melting jelly inside, dreading becoming a melting jelly on the outside.
“Are you finished your wee speech? Good. It was very nice – almost Shakespearean – the language was a bit ripe mind. Right fellas – let’s get this done.”
They all moved as if one entity and grabbed me tightly yet again. I couldn’t differentiate between my various injuries and searing pains anymore.
But it hurt.
It would have been easier to try and work out if anywhere didn’t hurt. I struggled against them, but as was now the custom – it made little odds against three large men. They forced me to the edge of the pit and my legs dangled over the side. They would have to dangle me low from my hands to get me over the hot part.
Fuck, this is it. Fuck!
I fought harder.
“Right you two, get her down by the wrists,” instructed Sammy, batting my kicks back, breathing heavily.
‘Click.’
What was that?
“Pull her back up,” said Sammy urgently, “Carlos – go check on it.”
I had a temporary reprieve. Part of me just wanted it to be over and not put off the now inevitable.
But what was that?
It might have been a car door shutting, maybe down at the car park. Carlos walked away from us, pulled out a gun, cocked it and disappeared out of site. I lay back down on the hot rocky round, conserving my energy. The other two didn’t speak and shifted from foot to foot. After about five long minutes, footsteps could be heard approaching up the dark path. Then Carlos emerged into view, with Richard walking behind him.
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I didn’t know how to react. My stomach lurched.
Was that hope that I felt?
Yes, I think it was an ounce of hope trying to circulate round my bloodstream. Richard stopped a short way off, speaking in hushed tones to Sammy. Carlos took up position at the other side of me – now I had two Spanish sentries once more. Richard looked towards me at times as he spoke. His face betrayed none of what he was thinking. I had no clue.
What’s going on?
I considered his appearance. He was in stark contrast to my bedraggled and sorry state. His hair was well groomed, he was freshly shaven. He didn’t even look overtly concerned with life generally, there was only a seriousness present on his still handsome face. He was wearing skinny jeans – perhaps a bit of a misstep for a man of his age, but sure. On top he sported some kind of a polo neck, with a burgundy North Face jacket over it.
I took in deep breaths and kept myself alert. I would need to be ready for whatever came next. I looked down at my arm. It didn’t look great and throbbed like a bastard. My lungs and chest had started to ache more again too and my dry and damaged throat made me cough a few times. My two minders stood motionless either side like two Queen’s guards. I returned to focus on the other two. Sammy gave a shrug, pulling out his lighter, then Richard began to stroll towards me. He stopped close and looked down at me, smiling faintly – like a cat; not with his eyes. His aftershave wafted above the odours of sulphur and my burnt flesh. It smelled good, and expensive. He
