We had nearly made it. With just two more days to go on our three month long 'Bike the World' charity quest, all three of us were in high spirits. Hitting the road before the sun had risen earlier that overcast morning we were making good time.
I blamed the hot shower and chance to sleep in a proper bed in the motel last night. After so many nights of sleeping in a tent at the side of the road, it did wonders for the body to get such minor luxuries.
The only reason we had stayed in a motel at all was because we were now so close to our final destination and we needed to pick up the white doves that were going to be released in front of photographers as we reached the finish line. I had their travel basket on the back of my bike and could hear the occasional cooing from them as we went along on relatively flat terrain.
Mark informed us that morning that the remainder of our journey was going to be fairly downhill or flat, and after three entire months on the road I was more than relieved at the news. I was in the lead today and Mark was taking up the middle. Jarmo had the extra weight of my tent and pack to contend with since I had to transport the doves now. He was the strongest cyclist out of our group though, so while he was last in our formation, he clearly wasn't struggling at all.
The day had passed without any problems and I was enjoying the wind in my hair and the sun on my back as we sped along the virtually deserted road. "Ashleigh, let me take the lead. We need to make camp." It was Mark, and though I could have gone on at this pace for at least another hour, I knew that we were most likely already well ahead of schedule if he was stopping us for the day so close to the end. From the looks of things we had at least another hour of daylight so the chance to find a good place to camp for the night wasn't a bad thing.
Over the course of this journey we had slept in more than our fair share of overly marshy patches that meant waking up in a puddle the next morning. There had also been a lot of spots that seemed perfect until bedding down and finding a tree root or a large rock in the small of your back. I vowed to find the most comfortable patch of ground possible tonight since my muscles were still content at the soft bed they had the pleasure of enjoying last night and I wanted to keep them that way.
We were coasting now and slowing down when Mark held his hand up, signally to stop. As I pulled in beside him and Jarmo pulled in beside me we all looked to see what he had found by way of a campground for us. "Are you two game or is it too scary for you?" My eyes followed where his finger pointed beyond the trees. It was a run down old church with boarded up windows and from the look of it, it hadn't been holding services for quite some time.
Not waiting for either of us to respond he dismounted and lifted his bike over his should before starting in amongst the young trees that nearly hid the building from the road. I checked to make sure that the basket holding the doves was secured properly before lifting my own bike and following him.
I looked up at the high windows that ran along the side of the church that we were approaching. Some still held partially intact stained glass, though all of them were shattered and it wasn't possible to see what the full picture in any of them had been. We were approaching the right side of the church and the entire side yard was densely overgrown with these young trees which meant camping here was out of the question. there simply wasn't enough room to set up a tent.
Mark led Jarmo and I around to the back of the church. It looked much clearer up ahead and I hoped that the ground would prove to be good for sleeping on. The doves fluttered inside of the basket as I maneuvered my bike around and through the last of the saplings and gently set it down again on the long soft grass.
The spot was utterly perfect for tents. Lush grass and moss covered the ground which wasn't too wet and there wasn't a rock or tree root in sight. Jarmo and I got straight to work with building the tents while Mark started to gather firewood from the copse of trees that we had just come through.
We were so used to this routine after having done it all summer long that it took only a matter of minutes before all three tents were up and a small camp fire was just starting to smoke. Mark busied himself with getting our dinner prepared while I fed and watered the doves. Jarmo checked the pressure in the tyres of our bikes, oiled the chains, and gave them all a quick inspection so that we wouldn't have any problems setting off again first thing in the morning.
When we all finally had a chance to sit down around the fire and enjoy our dinner we caught up with each other. There wasn't much talking while we traveled and evenings tended to be our most social time of the day. The conversation tonight was dominated by ghost stories and comments about how sinister the old church looked. It's looming presence was actually very frightening.
Once the sun had set a light rain started killing off the conversation. I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of the early night to catch up on sleep since the tents were too small for all of us to fit inside of a single one, and with no lights and no conversation there really wasn't much point to being awake any later.
Several hours must have passed before I was awakened by loud frantic yelling. I didn't even have a chance to reach the door of my tent before someone kicked me hard in the ribs through the side of the tent. I fell flat onto my stomach gasping for breath. I heard Jarmo yelp in pain seconds later as I tried to get back onto my hands and knees in my tent that was now collapsing all around me. Mark's voice rang out to my right and it sounded as though he was also struggling to get out of his own tent.
Frantically I fumbled for the zipper and struggled to get it to open. When I did I realised just how hard it was raining and that we weren't alone behind the old abandoned church any longer. Strong arms grabbed me from behind before I could completely free myself of the tent. I turned in time to see a man with a thin stripe of a beard and sandy coloured hair. He pinned my arms behind me and lifted me free of the tent.
Jarmo was on his knees near the battered remains of his own tent. His arms were being held on either side by a man with blond hair and a woman with long white hair. Both of them appeared to be dressed like they had just walked off the set of a Victorian themed horror movie.
I had no idea what was happening and my fear was intense. I felt sick from the sheer unexpected turn of events. Who were these people? Where was Mark? No sooner had thought about him than another two of these strangers appeared dragging him across the ground by his feet. his left leg was being dragged by a petite blond girl that couldn't have been far out of her teens. His right leg was being dragged a tall man with long dark hair. Mark appeared to be unconscious, at least I hoped that was the reason he wasn't moving.
The dark haired man dropped his leg and walked toward where Jarmo still kneeled on the ground. Without so much as a word he kicked him hard in the head so quickly that my eyes had trouble registering what had just happened. I screamed and the man pinning my arms behind me tightened his grip so severely that I thought they would come out of their sockets. In my surprised pain I let the scream die and he released the pressure just as quickly.
The dark hair man casually strolled toward me and my knees went weak in my terror. "Well well well... What do we have here?" His voice was deep and threatening despite the smile that showed his glistening white teeth. He leaned close to my face, taking in my horrified expression and seeming to revel in my fear. His eyes were covered in a milky white film, like cataracts. I attempted to speak but my voice wouldn't come. Desperately my mouth opened and closed but I couldn't get a sound to come out.
"Silke, Ulva, take care of their means of transportation." He stared at me as the words rumbled forth from his throat. His lips barely moved as he gave the order. The woman and the girl went straight to where our bikes had been parked and lifted them, the girl taking one on each shoulder and the woman taking just the one on her own.
The dark haired man with the milky eyes turned and walked to where our gear was stowed for the night. He rummaged around and produced a fork from our dinner dishes and proceeded to open the basket that the doves here in. With movement that was again so fast that I thought my eyes must be playing tricks on me from the shock I must be in, he stabbed into the cage and withdrew one of the doves, the fork having pierced it's chest. The dove hadn't made a sound and died with just the tiniest flapping movement of it's wings.
He placed the handle of the fork between with teeth as thought it were a rose, and walked toward the woman with white hair. In a mock romantic gesture he took her hand and went down on one of his knees briefly, before standing and withdrawing the shaft of metal from his own teeth and placing it between hers. The doves lifeless body hung limply at the side of her mouth and she smiled at him before turning and walking away with the bike she was still carrying. My eyes followed them until they moved beyond the corner of the church.
I looked from the place that Mark lay on the ground to where Jarmo was. Blood was flowing from his temple and I saw it flowing clearly as the rain attempted in vain to rinse it away. I started to cry and as the tears came I didn't feel any better. Shaking and no longer in control of myself the dark haired man and the blond that had been holding Jarmo's arm earlier both approached me. My legs went weak and I fell a few inches before the man that was holding my arms could lift me back up. I was beginning to hyperventilate in my hysterics.
I must have fainted just as those milky eyes moved in ever closer to my own again. I felt as though their image had burned into my retinas. It was as though I had been forced to stand there with them staring at me for hours, utterly petrified all the while.
When I regained consciousness I could hear a strange echoing clacking noise. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was in a room, it was lit by candles and there was a damp, earthy smell in the air. There were no windows and the candles only supplied a small amount of light in the thick darkness of the room. It appeared to be a cellar. Hearing that sound again I turned and saw a goat tied to one of the stone pillars that supported the ceiling. It was walking a few feet before stopping and shaking it's head. It seemed nervous. I could sympathise, I was more than just nervous. I was scared beyond my wildest nightmares.
Where had that group of escaped lunatics gone? I couldn't figure out what we had done to merit the attack while we were sleeping. What did they want? Were they intending to rob us? Were they trying to get some sort of media attention for some cause? Did they know we were cycling for charity or did they think we were just camping behind the church to be camping? Looking around frantically I hoped that Mark and Jarmo were both okay. I couldn't see them anywhere. The goat made a strange bleating noise and it scared me so much that I let out a small scream, fearing it was one of the crazed group returning.
"Ashleigh? Is that you?" It was Jarmo's voice calling out from somewhere nearby but I couldn't see him and the echo in the room made locating the direction the sound was coming from difficult. "Ashleigh? Are you okay?" There was real panic in his voice. It was the first time I had ever heard Jarmo panic about anything. He was normally the most laid back person in the group since he had seen just about everything is was possible to see out on trips like this. I doubted he had seen this before.
"Jarmo, it's me. I'm okay. Where are you?" The sound of my own fear in my voice made me even more scared than I had been as it echoed back at me. "I think we're on the opposite side of the pillar from you. Mark is with me but he's out cold." Before I could answer I heard a faint moan. "He's coming to now!" Then more quietly I heard him ask. "Mark are you okay?" There were a few more moaning noises before I distinctly heard a semi conscious Mark answer that he was all right, though I doubted it based on how slurred his words sounded.
TO BE CONTINUED...
No comments:
Post a Comment