The Pearl of Avalon
Chapter Tw0

I was so happy to get off the plane! It wasn’t a horrible ride. I was just panicky. Worried about this and that. And of course, I worried about my luggage. Would it be there when I got off? Yes, it was! Funny how I spent more time thinking of my luggage than I did about what I would do if the place crashed.

I pulled my bags off the conveyor belt and lugged them out of the airport. I found a taxi almost right away and set off to my hotel. It was quite strange being on the opposite side of the road, but interesting. I don’t think I’ll ever rent a car here, because as sure at the leaves turn color in the fall, I would end up driving on the wrong side. I giggled to myself as the taxi pulled up near the hotel. Luckily he was able to accept my Canadian money because I had totally forgotten to get some changed up. I decided I would have to replace a bank when I got settled away.

I checked in and a nice bellboy helped me bring my things to my room. It was a simple room. But most hotel rooms were that I knew of. Yellow and white decor. One double bed with a white headboard and floral bedspread. The bathroom was small. That was my first stop after the bellboy left.

I unpacked my clothes and placed them in the dresser. I was here for a week, might as well make myself at home. I found the remote for the TV on the nightstand and lay on the bed. It was comfy. I decided to browse through the channels while I recovered from the trip.

I felt my eyes get heavy. I didn’t know what show I was watching. Some crime drama. I closed my eyes during a commercial. Now I was home. How did I get here? I stretched and got out of bed, making my way to the washroom. I thought I had fallen asleep on the bed, not in it. Strange. I splashed some water on my face and went back to the bedroom. Marks clothes were scattered everywhere. Oh great. More laundry to do, I thought as I scooped it all up. Our apartment was fairly big. Two bedrooms. One was a storage area more so than a bedroom. I found enough laundry to make a load and grabbed some change from my purse. We lived on the second floor of a five-story complex. The laundry room was on the first floor. I checked again to make sure I had enough change as I stepped off the elevator near the laundry room. I pressed the basket against the wall and held it there with my side as I freed up one hand to open the laundry room door.

I dropped the basket, clasping my hands over my mouth. “Mark!” I screamed as clothes scattered everywhere. He was stripped down to his underwear, while the lady from upstairs was sitting on the dryer with her legs wrapped around him. “How could you?”

Mark backed away swiftly and pulled on his pants, “It’s not what you think. Let me explain! Please?”

“Not what I think?” I wiped the tears away as they flooded down my cheeks and ran from the room. The hallway started closing in around me. I could hear Mark calling out to me. Echos. Now I was outside. Running faster. What was I running from? Mark! He was chasing me with a knife! He grabbed me and spun me around. I screamed.

I sat up on the bed, drenched in sweat. I fell asleep without my sleeping pill. Nightmare! But this is the first one where Mark had a knife! He didn’t chase me with a knife!

I felt horrible. The memories of Mark came flooding back. This was supposed to be a vacation, not a memory-fest. I heard the phone ring and reached over to the nightstand. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Ms. Garner,” said a cheerful, accented, male voice. “This is your seven am wake up call.”

Seven am? Shit! How long did I sleep? I said “thank you” and looked at the clock that was near the phone. Yep, seven it was. And there was a tour starting in two hours! I grabbed a clean pair of jeans, a plain red t-shirt, and clean underwear, and headed for the shower. After that, I pulled my wavy, auburn hair up into a ponytail without bothering to dry it, slapped on some makeup and headed down to get some breakfast. I managed to remember to take my drivers license in case I need an id, and my key to get back in my room. I also had my tour pass, my VISA, and my small digital camera.

On my way down I ran few things over in my mind. My last name. I had to get that changed back. A lot of women these days were opting to keep their last names when they got married. But for me, I decided to change it to Mark’s. Never thought anything would happen! Now, I had to go through the trouble of becoming Chloe Warren again. Oh well, I thought as I pulled open the door to the little hotel dining room, I’ll just be Chloe Garner for a little while longer.

I got some orange juice and a breakfast sandwich to go. Nothing big, but it should satisfy me until after the tour. Whether I was allowed to or not, I sat on the steps of the hotel to eat my breakfast. There was a young couple doing the same, so I didn’t feel too paranoid. They looked happy. I noticed rings on their fingers. Newlyweds. Had to be, by the way they were snuggling. The lady was tall with short blond hair and dark eyes. I saw dark roots, so she wasn’t natural blond. The man had longer hair than her. It was black and shoulder length. They both looked over, so I smiled. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning!” the lady replied, in a non-accented voice. I’m guessing tourists, like me. “Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” she asked as she nuzzled her companion's neck. All she needed were fangs to take a nip with.

“Very,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact, but be polite at the same time.

Then, they came over and sat near me, “It’s nice to meet someone else here visiting.” She held out her hand, “I’m Penny. And this,” she said tilting her head towards the man, “is my husband, John.”

I shook her hand, then John’s, “Nice to meet you. I’m Chloe.”

“We’re here on our honeymoon,” Penny said, eyes sparkling. “We made enough money with wedding gifts to come here.”

“Congratulations,” I said, wishing I was here as a newlywed, instead of a new divorcee. I was always paranoid about meeting new people. But, in a way this was nice. I had someone to talk to who I could understand completely. Now, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the British accent, but some things I couldn’t pick out.

John flipped his hair back and squeezed Penny’s knee, inching up a little further than should be allowed in public, “Are you here waiting for the Stonehenge tour?”

Seeing him focusing on his wife, it took me a few seconds to realize the question was directed at me. “Yes,” I replied. “Been wanting to see it for a very long time.” Stonehenge has always held a fascination with me

“Same here!,” Penny exclaimed. “Hardly even slept last night.” They gave each other loving glances, and I knew then it wasn’t because they were excited about the tour. “And not enough sleep usually means too much coffee the next day.”

I laughed at that remark, “I hear ya,” I said, nodding my head. I was more of a tea drinker, myself. I did like coffee sometimes but had to use tons of sugar. So, to avoid any sugar rushes, I stuck with tea most of the time.

The bus pulled up. It wasn’t what I was expecting. Looked nothing like the pictures online or in the brochure. A young man got off the bus and introduced himself as the tour guide. There were a few more people gathered around now and we all got on single file. I sat near the middle. Penny and John sat in front of me, locked in an embrace. I was getting nauseous by the way they were behaving. Save it for the bedroom!

A few more stops and the bus filled up. It was very crampy. Nothing at all like a tour bus. Not that I’ve been on many. The tour guide, who was not very old at all, twenty, maybe, got up and announced that this was not the regular bus. The regular bus was undergoing maintenance. Apparently, there had been some engine troubles. He then grinned and told us all to remain seated and enjoy the tour. Puzzling, but, oh well.

I enjoyed the drive through London. Very beautiful. I took lots of pictures, not really knowing what they would turn out like through the bus window. It wasn’t very clean glass. I checked my number of pictures remaining and decided to be more selective with shots. Then I remembered this was the only set of batteries I had on me. Leave it to me to forget something! I turned off my camera and shoved it down in my pocket. Save it for Stonehenge.

It seemed like a fairly long ride. I didn’t have a watch on and I figured it was no use asking Penny or John. I don’t even think they saw the scenery. Every now and then, between smooches, they would turn around and comment on one thing or another. Not about the trip though. About their wedding and future plans. Most of the time I just smiled. Other times I would just gaze out the window and pretend I didn’t hear them. That would give me an excuse to say “what?” or “sorry, I was looking at something.” It was about the only conversation I could think of.

And, of course, seeing them so happy, made me think of the first few months being married to Mark. We were like that. Not to the extreme of public display, but very much like that at home. “Oh, Chloe!” I scolded myself under my breath. Damn-it for thinking about him on vacation!

I must have gone off into a daze because I nearly jumped out of my seat when the bus stopped. I rubbed my eyes a few times after looking out of the window. There it was. The giant ring of stones. I could hear other people gasping as well. What a wondrous sight! I pulled my camera out of my pocket as I got off the bus. I tapped the bottom of it. “Batteries, you better last!” I whispered, feeling a little strange talking to my camera.

The group of us followed the guide up to the stones. “Remarkable! Magnificent! Indescribable!” Those were the only words I could think of as we got closer. I was even more thrilled when the tour description came to life. “Beyond the fences.”

I could hear nothing of what the guide was saying. I tuned him out. I tuned everything out but the stones. I was hypnotized. I touched one of the stones. It towered over me. I can’t remember how many pictures I took, but I know it was a lot over just a few minutes.

I probably should have been paying attention to the tour guide. But, I figured, since I had done a lot of reading on the Stonehenge, I probably knew most of what he was saying anyway.

I noticed through the corner of my eye, some of the other tourists move in and touch the stones as well. They were just as enthusiastic as I was. You could tell.

The ringing of a cell phone snapped me out of my trance. Now I could hear the surrounding chatter. It was the tour guides cell that had rang. I watched him flip it open and speak. He was paying no more attention to his group of tourists than I had been to him a few minutes ago. Must be a trainee or something. I just shook my head and walked around the stones.

I leaned up against one of the wider stones and heard Penny’s voice. Then some laughing. Couldn’t pick out what was being said, just mumbles and broken sentences. Then another voice, that I thought was John’s. And, then a third voice. Male. Accented. Curiosity hit me like a ton of bricks then. My mother used to always tell me “curiosity killed the cat.” I probably should have taken it more to heart.

I peeked around a stone, and Penny and John were talking with another young man. He was tall, black-haired, and wearing a shaggy, blue denim vest with matching ratty jeans. Looked kind of intimidating to me. Biker? I watched as John handed the man a wad of cash. In return, the man handed John a packet filled with white powder. It hit me then. That was certainly not powder. I doubt it was sugar either. That was drugs. The pure stuff, I’m sure. I shook my head a few times as I watched the newlyweds run back towards where the tour guide was. How can people do that stuff?

I sighed and glanced over to where the drug dealer had been standing. He was looking right at me. “You want some?” he asked as I stepped backward.

I shook my head and kept backing up. He started to walk towards me.

I turned to run, but he was quick. He grabbed my shoulder and I felt a sharp object press into my lower back. “You don’t want anything, but you saw some something. And that is a threat to my business.”

I was shaking. I remembered the dream I had. The knife! This guy has a knife to my back! “I won’t say anything, I promise,” I choked out.

“I’m not taking any chances,” he said. “Do you see that red car just beyond the bus?” he whispered in my ear.

I nodded quickly, “yes.” It looked like a 1984 Chevy Citation. I knew that because my Uncle had owned a blue one.

“We are going over to that car. Don’t try anything. Don’t scream. Don’t run.” The man gave me a little shove, “Act normal, and you won’t get hurt.”

I was wishing I had not heard Penny’s voice. Wishing I had never laid eyes on this man. I closed my eyes just briefly as I started walking. All I could see in my eyelids were his eyes boring into me. I opened them quickly as the knife pressed harder against me. If I slowed for just a second he would put pressure on it.

As I got closer to the car, I could see through the corner of my eye that the tour group had gathered around the guide. I started wishing I was there listening to the tales. I should have got a grip on my curiosity. The tour was over for me now.

The black haired man tied my hands behind my back and pushed me into the back seat of the car. I watched him use the tip of the knife to engage the child safety locks so the door couldn’t be opened from inside. Did my Uncle’s car have those? Not like I could open the door with my hands behind my back anyway. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wrapped it around my head. Blindfolded! I don’t remember ever feeling as afraid as I was at that moment. “Please,” I begged, “I won’t say anything! I’m here on vacation. I don’t know anyone. I don’t remember faces. I’ll be gone in a few days!”

“Sorry,” he said, tightening my blindfold, “there’s been a change in your plans.”

“No! Please.” I choked out as he slammed the door. I heard another door open and close, the car started. “Please?”

“Sorry, babe. Too risky for my business.”

I felt the car move. How long before someone realized I was missing? Surely they will do a head count. “Where are we going?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer, but somehow it just slipped out.

“You’ll replace out when we get there.” he snickered, “Like I’d give you directions”

“You are making too much of this!” Why didn’t I just shut up? “I promised I wouldn’t say anything. I don’t know you. I don’t know anyone!”

“Not taking chances.” That’s all he said. Plain and simple.

Now I was crying. I felt like a fool. The blindfold was getting soaked with my tears. “Please,” I squeaked out. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’ll figure out what I’m going to do with you later, now shut up!” By the tone of his voice, I could tell he was getting very angry with me. I hated when people got angry with me. Too soft hearted.

I choked back a sob and fell back in the seat. I hadn’t realized I was sitting on the edge. I didn’t even have a seat belt on. Maybe I could head butt him? Yeah right. Stupid thoughts run through your mind when you panic. I proved that the moment I thought of that. I could feel it as the car turned corners. I didn’t know how long we had been on the road but it seemed like forever. I could hear the passing traffic. Even heard a siren. Police, maybe? Could someone see I was blindfolded if they looked in? Maybe if we had to stop at a light, or stop sign, someone might look in, see me, and call the cops. I never noticed if the windows were tinted.

The man seemed to be taking a lot of turns. I bet he was doing that so I couldn’t get a sense of direction. He was very cautious. Too cautious. Perhaps I should take that as an example. I thought, if I get out of this alive, I would definitely mind my own business from now on. If it didn’t concern me, leave it alone.

I felt the car turn. Sharp turn. Onto a gravel road by the sound of it. It went over a pothole and my head hit off the top. “Ouch!” I was getting bounced around. The car came to a sudden stop and I fell forward, hitting my head off the front seat. “Oomph!”

The door was opened and I was pulled out. He was gripping my arm very tightly, “Stop it!” I yelled, “You’re hurting me!” I didn’t recall hearing him get out of the car. Of course, my head was still ringing from the smack I got off the car ceiling.

“Stop whining!” He said, pulling the blindfold from my face. “My brother will hurt you more than this, I’m sure.”

He dragged me towards what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Not an overly big one, either. Looked like it could have been an old fish plant, maybe? It was near the water. At the right of the building, there was a small dock with a speedboat. Inside, there were lots of old crates scattered here and there. It was dark. Most all the windows were boarded up. Tiny cracks of light did seep through. Not enough to really light the place up. In the small beams of daylight, all I could see was dust.

I struggled as he pulled me to the right and into a small room. It was very dusty. Some old chairs here and there. I saw a bald man, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket hanging up a set of keys on a nail by a door at the other side of the room.

He turned around and frowned heavily, “What have you done now, Craig?” He sounded very frustrated.

“This one saw me make a deal down by Stonehenge. Didn’t want to leave a witness. Thought you might want to have some fun, Bill.”

Bald Bill shook his head, “How many times have I told you not to go there? Too risky!” He pointed to me, “Point proven right here.” He leaned in close to my face. He had piercing blue eyes. I never noticed Craig’s eye color. “Who is she?” It smelled like he had just eaten garlic.

“I don’t know. Some American tourist.” Craig gave me a slight shove and kept his attention directed at Bill, “You know there is always a lot of business there. Tourists have money. And besides, this business is risky no matter where it’s done.” He added, “Plus I see cute chicks there.”

I pulled away as Bill tried to touch my face, “I’m Canadian!” I snapped. Why I said that I don’t know. Why didn’t I just tell him I was from Newfoundland? Heck! Why not go all the way and give him my street address and the directions to get there? Now, I was just being saucy with myself.

“Who cares where you’re from,” Craig snapped, pushing me into Bills’ arms. Bill put his hands down in my pockets and pulled out the contents, then shoved me down on a chair. Craig then untied my hands. But only briefly. Only long enough to wrap them around the back of the chair and re-tie them.

Bill was reading over my driver's license. “Chloe Garner. So that’s your name. Born in 1977.” He had a playful smile on his face as he studied my information. Then he held up my VISA and hotel key. “My girl’s birthday is close. I’ll have fun with this stuff.”

So, now he had my money and my identity. A cold chill ran down my spine. “What are you gong to do with me?” I asked as Craig pulled up a chair and sat next to Bill.

Craig smiled, “What should we do with her, Bill?” Emphasis on “should”

“I think we should just leave her tied up here for a few days,” Bill said. Craig looked disappointed. “No one ever comes around here, so she can scream as much as she wants. I’ve always wanted to know how long someone can survive without food and water.” Bill shoved all my cards and my camera in his pocket. “If she lasts a week, then you can do whatever you want with her,” he said to Craig as he left the room. This was not good. Not good at all!

Craig sneered, “I’m gonna have fun with you,” he whispered as he got off his chair and followed Bill out of the room. The door shut with a slam.

The tears were welling up in my eyes. I tried to fight them back. It was no use, though. I broke down completely. I was petrified. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I needed to focus. My mind was racing. There had to be a way out of this, I just knew it. “Think positive,” I kept telling myself over and over.

There is always a way out of certain situations. I made myself believe there was a way out of this one. I watched a lot of movies.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall some I had seen with the actors tied up.

As my mind zipped through TV shows and movies, I opened my eyes and searched the room. Chairs. Lots of old chairs. Some crates. I hadn’t seen them in this room at first, but now that I was getting a better look, I saw lots. Some posts. Floor to ceiling posts. Posts! Maybe one got a nail in it! Bingo! One post not too far from me had a short nail sticking out, at about just the right height. It was a long shot, but I had to try.

I wiggled around in the chair, trying to make it move. The chair was fairly high, so only my toes touched the ground. The taps on my sneakers were nice and thick and the floor was a rough concrete, so I managed to get a fairly good grip. It was still hard though. I made slight hopping maneuvers. The post seemed farther away, the closer I got. Sounds strange, I know, but that’s what it felt like.

I stopped to take a breath. “Seams a lot easier in the movies,” I said aloud, not thinking. I froze in place, praying that they didn’t hear me. Hopefully, they were gone, although I didn’t recall hearing a car start. I started moving again. The air was really stuffy. I could see my red t-shirt getting darker with the perspiration. It was creepy how it resembled blood.

Finally, I made it to the nail. “I hope this works,” I whispered to myself and started rubbing the rope against it. It was not working. My arms were getting tired. I was scraping my wrists more than the rope that bound them. Oh, wait! I felt the rope loosen. I tugged a bit and the rope broke. It worked! It really worked! I pulled my bloody, scraped wrists around in front of me and crossed them over my chest. They were sore.

I quickly and quietly got up from the chair and crept over to the door. Not the one they went out through, but the one I saw Bill next to when I was first brought here. There was a crack in the door frame so I peered out. The wharf. The speedboat! There’s an idea, I thought.

I turned the door knob. It was loose. Very loose. And wobbly. Almost like it was going to fall off any time now. I pushed in on it and kept turning. It clicked and turned solidly. The door creaked, and I paused, standing dead silent for a few seconds. This was not my day! I closed my eyes and prayed that no one heard.

When I realized I had been holding my breath I let out the air with a whoosh, opened my eyes, and gave the door a slow push. I opened it only enough to squeeze out, then delicately closed it.

Now, I had no idea how to drive a boat. Didn’t know the first thing about it. But, here I was, making my way to the speed boat. What else was I going to do? Head to the car? Not likely! At least in the boat, they couldn’t chase me. I could go along the coast until I see someone to help me. I got in the boat and looked at the controls. “Now how do I …?” Then it struck me. The keys!

Climbing back out of the boat, I wished I had not bothered to close the door to the building. As luck should have it though, it wasn’t as hard to open from this side. I peeked in to make sure the room was empty, slipped in quietly, grabbed the keys from the nail, and ran back to the boat. I was thankful that the boat did have a key because if it had been a pull cord, there would have been no way I could start it.

Hoping the men were either too busy or too far away to hear, I turned the key. The motor roared to life. Perfect! Even more perfect was the fact the boat was heading out, so I didn’t need to figure out reverse. Which was probably just pulling the lever backward, I don’t know. I pushed it forward. Nothing. I felt a button under where I had my hand clasped over the lever. I pressed it in and pushed forwards again. The boat shot ahead. I was jolted. Shit! I looked back and saw a rope keeping it attached to the wharf. Of course, it was tied on, obviously. I went to the back of the boat and untied it.

I watched the rope fall from the boat and float near the wharf. The boat lurched forward. The lever was still forward a bit. I headed back to the controls just as I heard a loud bang. Gunshot! Shit! I saw the bullet fly through the windshield of the boat, smashing it to pieces. I looked around at Bill and Craig, standing on the wharf. Craig was yelling. Bill had the gun. Another shot. I fell sideways as sparks flew from the control panel. Oh no! I must have fallen onto the lever because the boat picked up speed.

I saw the wharf and two men fade away. The boat was going fast. I pulled back on the lever to try and slow it down. No good. I grabbed the wheel. Didn’t work. I was going fast, in a straight line, farther and farther out into the ocean. The land was so far behind me now I could barely make it out.

The wind was icy. A dense fog had built up around me, making it extremely hard to see. So, I went from the possibility of starving to death to being lost and drowned at sea. What a lovely day I was having! I stumbled back to the rear of the boat and noticed a red wire coming from the motor. Kill switch? I yanked on it. It came free. The motor stopped. Thank Heavens!

It took a long time for the boat to come to a complete stop. Well, not a complete stop, but a gentle bobbing on the waves. I was freezing. I searched around the boat for something to wrap around me but saw nothing. The boat kept bobbing around causing me to keep losing my footing. My stomach was churning. The fog was so thick. A wave of nausea flooded over me and I slumped over the side of the boat. I had hardly anything to eat all day, just the juice and small breakfast sandwich, so it really hurt to vomit. When the urging finally stopped my head was pounding, my stomach hurt, and my ribcage was beyond sore. I cursed a few choice words under my breath.

I couldn’t figure out if it was best to keep my eyes open or close them. When I shut them, the rocking sensation was increased. With open eyes, I could see the horizon dancing up and down on the rim of the boat.

I had never felt so sick in my life! Even the sound of the waves, plopping against the boat was sickening.

The boat hit something. I pulled myself up off the deck by grabbing on to the nonworking steering wheel. Waves pushed the boat to the side, nearly rolling it over. Then, the boat hit something else, another wave crashed into it, pushing the same way, and it rolled completely over. The icy water hit me like a ton of bricks. I gasped. I was a pretty good swimmer, but in water this cold, it was hard to move. Plus, I was still sick and sore. I saw a large rock peeking out from the water. Must have been what the boat hit. It was too foggy to see anything else so I swam towards it. Thank goodness it was close because I would not have been able to swim far.

I pulled myself up on the rock and watched my poor boat sink. I probably stared at the water for several minutes. I had no way of keeping track of the time, so a precise number would be impossible. The fog thinned out enough for me to see a dark shadow through it.

I climbed farther up on the rock and sat. That wasn’t an easy task! The rock was slimy. I was glad there was an indentation at the top so I could sit without slipping off.

I kept staring at the shadow. It seemed to be taking shape. The fog began lifting rapidly. The dark image I saw was looking very much like a shoreline, and it didn’t look that far.

I closed my eyes, did some yoga style breathing, opened my eyes again, slowly, and dove in the water. I couldn’t stay on a rock forever, obviously, and if that was a shoreline, there may be a chance of rescue. And that was a chance I was willing to take. If I was gonna die, I wouldn’t die without putting up a good fight!