Illicit Captor by Maggie Cole

13

Scarlet

Snow lightly dusts the mountains. We keep traveling higher up, making our way around the dangerous curves. It's making me nauseous, so I shut my eyes and lean back against the headrest. Yet it doesn't help it go away. I turn toward Aidan and ask, "Where will we stay?"

He glances at me quickly and then puts his eyes back on the road, gripping the steering wheel with both hands to take the tight turn.

My stomach rolls again, and a sharp pain shoots through it. I wince.

Aidan answers, "We'll find somewhere."

The hair on my neck rises. "Like a B&B or something?"

He grunts. "No, petal. We can't stay anywhere with people. We'll have to break into a cottage."

"But what if somebody catches us?" I question, and my stomach rumbles loudly.

He glances at me again. "Ya need to eat. Grab something from the back."

I groan. Aidan keeps making me eat whatever I can pull from the bags that doesn't need to be cooked. My stomach feels full, so I state, "I'm not hungry."

He arches his eyes, accusing, "Then why is your stomach rumbling?"

I shrug, confessing, "I don't know. It just does that sometimes."

"Eat," he orders again and grips the wheel tighter as we hit an ice patch and skid toward the edge. He veers us back into the other lane.

My heart pounds harder. I decide it's better not to argue with him when we're in these treacherous conditions. I remove my seat belt, grab a piece of candy from the bag, and sit back in my seat.

He demands, "Put your seat belt back on. These roads are horrible."

I don't argue and obey.

The snow picks up, forming a blanket in front of the vehicle. Aidan turns down a side road, but all I can see is white.

"How do ya even know there are places up here?"

"We'll find something. Stop worrying," he declares.

His assurance doesn't calm my fear. I sit back and turn the heat up, wishing the snow wasn't so thick and I could see.

Fog forms around the edges of the window. We drive farther toward the top of the mountain, and Aidan declares, "There's a place."

"I don't see anything," I admit, leaning toward the window.

He slows the car, and a tiny cottage barely comes into view.

My chest tightens. I inquire, "How do ya know no one's here?"

He stops the car and glances around. "No one's around here. No tracks on the ground, and there isn't any smoke coming out of the chimney. From the looks of it, I'd say no one's been here for a while."

I blurt out, "But ya can't be sure."

"See that tarp?" he points.

More nausea hits me. I inhale deeply and squint, confessing, "I don't see anything."

"There's a tarp over there, and I bet it's covering wood for the fireplace. So I'm ninety-nine percent certain no one is here."

"What if the one percent is the truth?"

His lips twitch. "Since when did ya become a pessimist?"

"I'm not. I'm a realist," I declare.

"Is that what ya tell yourself?"

"Yea."

He chuckles, then announces, "There's only one way to find out."

I continue to fret and reply, "Say you're right and they're gone. What if they come back and we're here?"

"My gut says they won't." He pulls into the small driveway, then parks as close to the cottage as possible. He orders, "Stay in the car until I tell ya." He gets out, leaving the car running.

A gust of air fills the interior, and I shiver. Another sharp pain shoots through my stomach. I mutter, "Ouch," and put my hand on my abdomen.

Aidan walks around the house and must figure that it's safe. He pops the trunk, then returns to the front door. He jiggles the doorknob a few times, then steps in front of the window. He puts a cloth around his hand, leans away, and punches through the glass.

It startles me, and I jump in my seat. My heart races faster. I'm sure someone will catch us breaking in, but it's a silly thought. Aidan's right that no one is anywhere near here.

He reaches in and unlocks the cottage, then comes back to the car. He opens my door, commanding, "Go into the house. I'll join ya inside in a minute."

"How do ya know they're not coming back?" I repeat again, still worried.

"Chance we have to take, petal. Now, go inside."

"There's a lot to unpack though. I'll help unload the car," I offer.

He hands me the basket of eggs. "No. Go inside and try to stay warm." He leads me over the slippery ground until I'm inside the cottage. It smells musty, as if no one's been here for years. It's not quite as cold as outside, but it's pretty close.

A fireplace and a small kitchen are in the main room, and there are two other doors. I peek into the rooms and find a bed that fills most of the space of one and a tiny bathroom in the other.

I try to turn on the water, but nothing comes out. I yell, "There's no water."

Aidan brings the duffle bag inside and sets it down. He replies, "They probably turned it off so it wouldn't freeze. I'm not surprised. We'll have to use the water we brought with us sparingly until I can figure out how to turn it on."

"Oh. Okay."

He shuts the door, goes to the fireplace, and tosses some wood into it. He sprays lighter fluid over it and strikes a match. The flames erupt, and he steps back, staring at it a few moments, then glances around.

A gust of wind blows through the broken glass. I point and ask, "What are we going to do about that?"

He shoves the bookshelf across the room until it's in front of the hole. He asks, "Is there a broom and dustpan in that pantry?" He nods toward the kitchen.

I open the door and find both. I reach for them and freeze as another sharp pain hits me.

"Petal, ya okay?" Aidan calls out.

I fill my lungs with air, grab the items, and force a smile. I spin back, take them to the window area, and hand him the dustpan. I sweep the glass, and he holds the pan until it's full.

"I'm going to get the rest of our stuff and toss this glass. I'll be right back." He leaves the cottage.

I step in front of the fire, trying to get warm, rubbing my hands together.

He brings all the groceries inside and then returns to the cold.

I go to the kitchen and put the little food we brought into the cabinet.

He returns with the dufflle bag and tosses it into the bedroom. He reappears and steps behind me, sliding his hands over my waist and kissing my neck.

I look up. "Don't be starting that. We've got work to do here."

He chuckles. "Work can wait."

I jab him with my elbow. "No, I think you've got to wait."

He groans and dramatically says, "You're killing me, petal." He leaves and gets to the door, stating, "I'm going to go outside and get more wood."

"Good idea. It's cold in here," I admit.

Aidan makes several trips until a big stack of wood sits inside the cottage. He adds more to the fireplace and stares at it.

I go into the bedroom and unpack the clothes. Then I find more blankets in another closet and pile them on the bed, sure that it'll be freezing since there's only one fireplace, and it's in the other room.

Another pain shoots through my stomach. I grab my side and have to sit on the mattress. Nausea hits me. I close my eyes, squeezing them tight.

Aidan's voice cuts through the air. "Scarlet, what's wrong?"

I open my eyes and start to lie. "Nothing. I'm—" Another pain rips through me. I take a deep breath.

Concern fills Aidan's expression. He sits beside me, gaze drilling into me as he says, "It doesn't look like nothing. What's going on?"

I admit, "I'm just... I feel a little sick."

"Ya need to eat," he declares.

"I'm-I'm not hungry."

"Lie down. I'll make ya some food," he states, pulling the cover back.

I don't argue. The pain in my stomach feels worse, but I also suddenly feel hot.

He puts his hand on my forehead, stating, "Your cheeks are flushed, and ya feel like ya have a fever." He looks at me in concern.

"I'm fine. Maybe I do need to eat," I say to appease him.

He stares at me with worry but finally says, "I'll be back with some food." He leaves the room, and I hug the pillow to my face, breathing in the musty odor. It makes me feel sicker.

Another pain shoots through my abdomen. I close my eyes, not sure what's happening. Surely, this can't be from not eating. I've been starved before. I know what that ache is like, and this isn't anything close to it.

Aidan's gone for a few moments and returns with buttered bread. He declares, "I've got to figure out how to turn the electricity on. There's no way to cook right now. Start with this, and I'll make ya something hot once I sort our situation out. I bet a nice cup of tea will make ya feel better."

I sit up and glance at the bread, but it only makes me feel sicker. I turn away. "I can't eat anything right now," I say weakly, swallowing down bile.

Aidan puts his hand on my forehead again. "You're burning up, petal."

"I don't feel good," I confess and then cringe as another sharp pain hits my stomach.

Aidan tugs the blankets back and pulls my shirt up, questioning, "Where does it hurt?"

I continue to grip my lower gut, not answering.

Aidan studies me and puts his hand over different parts of my stomach. And when he gets to my lower right abdomen, I wince in pain.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"What?" I ask.

"Ya could have appendicitis."

My eyes widen. I shake my head. "No, I'm...I'm sure it's just the flu or something."

"Ya have all the symptoms, petal. Have ya had your appendix out?"

"No," I say in horror. The thought of anything being removed from my body sounds scary to me. I've never had surgery, nor do I want to.

Aidan gets up and rubs his hand over his face, pacing the room. Another pain shoots through me, and I curl into a ball, trying not to cry, but I begin to whimper from the intensity of it.

"Goddamnit," he says.

"I'm sorry," I cry out.

He comes over to me and pulls me into him. He kisses the top of my head. "Ya don't have to be sorry. I have to take ya to the hospital."

Fear fills me. I blurt out, "What? No. I can't go to the hospital. We've talked about this. Remember? If anything happened to me, ya said I wouldn't be able to go."

Aidan claims, "We have no choice. If I don't take ya, ya could die."

"Die? I'm not dying!" I proclaim.

He picks me up before I can say anything else. He carries me to the car and sets me down in the passenger seat. He buckles my seat belt and puts a blanket over me. He shuts the door, then gets into the driver's side. He turns the engine on, and another pain shoots through me.

I cry out, "Jesus, it hurts. So bad!"

He puts his hand over mine and kisses it, suggesting, "Just try to breathe."

"Do ya even know where the hospital is?" I question.

His expression doesn't give me any confidence.

"Ya don't, do ya?" I panic.

"No. But don't worry, petal. I'll find it."

"How?" I ask.

He puts his hand over my forehead. "Just try to go to sleep. Rest is the only thing ya can do now. Put your seat all the way back."

I do it so I'm in a more comfortable position. Then I close my eyes, holding my stomach, trying to fight nausea.

Soon, sweat coats my skin. It feels like we're on a never-ending journey. I don't know how long we're in the car. Maybe it's an hour, possibly two.

Aidan finally turns off the car, softly murmuring, "Petal."

I open my eyes and look at him, revealing, "I feel so bad." Another pain hits my stomach.

"Aye. I know ya do, lass. Stay still. I'm coming to get ya." He exits the car, opens my door, and sweeps his arms underneath me. He carries me into the emergency room and shouts, "I need a doctor. I think there's something wrong with her appendix."

Everything turns blurry. There are faces of nurses and doctors, and I barely hear what they say. The pain is so intense. I'm constantly crying and gripping my stomach.

When a doctor pushes on it, I almost jump off the bed.

"Don't hurt her," Aidan cries out.

"I'm not trying to," the doctor declares. "Suit up," he orders his staff, then Aidan, "Ya have to leave. We're taking her to surgery."

"What? No," I protest, reaching for Aidan. Then I fret, "I don't want to have surgery. Please don't let them put me under!"

He crouches in front of me and puts his palm over my cheek. "Ya don't have a choice, petal. If ya don't have surgery, you'll die."

"I…I don't want to go. Please don't leave me," I beg, even though I'm scared of dying.

He kisses the top of my head. "You'll be okay. I'll be right here when ya get out."

Yet he can't hide the concern in his expression. A fear I've never seen before appears in his eyes, making me more fearful.

A medical team transfers me to a gurney and rolls me away from Aidan.

I cry out, "Aidan! Don't leave me!"

"I won't, petal! I'm right here."

"Aidan!" I call out the entire way down the hall.

"Ma'am, ya have to calm down," a nurse advises.

Yet I can't. I'm afraid I'll wake up from surgery, Tommy will be at my side, and Aidan will be dead.

The nurse forces a mask over my face, and I soon black out, falling into the darkness.