Page 4 of Her Wicked Hero

Marcia nodded. “Do you really think someone’s going to find us?”

“Definitely. Now can you sleep?”

Marcia shook her head, then scowled as she felt her dirty hair hit her face. “Ever since they drugged us, so they could take us off the boat to wherever we are, I just can’t seem to close my eyes. I’m too scared I’ll wake up somewhere even worse.”

“Honey, the girls need you. They need you fully functioning, and instead, you’ve been fading. What you accomplished with the EpiPen was fantastic. You got us help.”

She stared up at Harold Brockman, looking for reassurance. “What if I did it wrong?”

“You didn’t. I’ve known you damn near your whole life, you did it perfectly. We just need to be ready when help arrives.”

“What happens if Raymond goes somewhere with the backpack? I should never have put it back there.” Marcia hit her fist on her thigh. “That was so stupid.”

“It isn’t his, it’s a duffel they put everything in, it’s not going anywhere. Haven’t you noticed, all the men are still wearing their regular packs?”

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But she would have felt better if it was with them.

“I have to depend on you to follow orders,” his voice turned to steel. “If they had found that watch on you, they would have beat you or worse. Then they would have destroyed the beacon and moved all of us. Our lives depend on you doing what I tell you.” He put his knuckles under her chin. “Look at me.”

She raised her eyes.

He started coughing, but she watched him will himself to stop. She was so worried about his injuries. “Now my family doesn’t know this. My wife didn’t even know this, but I’ve been in a situation similar to this in the past. I know what I’m doing. I know what needs to be done to survive. You have to do what I tell you. If you don’t, we’ll die.”

“You really were a spy, weren’t you?”

“If I tell you, then I’ll have to kill you,” he said with a wan grin.

She smiled, trying to perk him up. “Did you have a number? Were you 008?”

“That’s for the British. We came up with code names like Rambo. Seriously though, I need you alert for whatever comes next. I’m depending on you. That means you need to get some shut-eye. I’m on watch, you sleep. Then when you wake up, we can switch. How does that sound?” He coughed again.

It actually sounded good. Marcia pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself. She stretched out and placed her arms under her head and looked over at Debbie and Christie. Knowing she needed to be rested for them had her closing her eyes.

Marcia felt rather than heard when Debbie stood over her. “What is it Sweets?” she asked the girl.

“I need to go,” she said nodding toward the door.

There was a makeshift outhouse their captors had made near the edge of the clearing. It offered a bit of privacy, and Marcia always went with the girls. She looked at Harold and saw he was awake but sweating a lot. He gave a tight grin and nod. Those ribs of his had to be hurting pretty bad. She’d insist he take off his shirt and then bind him with a torn blanket when she returned.

“Okay, Debbie, let’s go.” She banged on the door. “Bathroom break,” she shouted.

Of course, there was no answer. Even though it was the afternoon and she could hear noise outside, they always took their damn time to let them out. She gave it two minutes, then banged on the door even louder.

“Bathroom break,” she yelled again. She turned to Christie who was still on the floor, clutching her blanket around her. She knew she hated going to the latrine and held off for as long as she could, but she needed to take advantage.

“Christie, come with us.”

The younger girl shook her head.

“Christie, go with the other girls,” Harold said.

“No. I want to stay with you. I don’t have to go. I promise.”

Marcia looked at the water bottle next to Christie and realized it was almost full. Mr. Brockman must have seen it too.

“Christie, you have to drink your water, otherwise, you’ll get sick. Drink some right now.”

“No.” Christie didn’t look twelve, she looked five years old sitting in the middle of the dirt floor of the hut as she stared petulantly at her father.