Duane got down on his knees and said one with us. He was a very sweet man, and he seemed kind and gentle. "I'm Duane Johnston," he said and extended his hand. As if Duane wasn't bad enough, he had the unfortunate…. Wait, I had heard that name before. Why was it so familiar to me? I shook the thought, extended my hand, and shook his firmly.
"Charlie; and this is Annabelle," I said.
Then I looked around at our surroundings and tried to eavesdrop the best I could. Except, all the bad guys were speaking some native tongue and I hadn't a clue. I knew about three words in Nilo-Saharan and maybe two words in Swahili and nothing they were saying came even close.
If only they had hijacked us in Mexico. I was fluent in Spanish after all, and I really could have gone for a burrito and a margarita. I fumbled with my chain and got it untangled just enough to help Bella get comfortable on the cot.
Then I had to pee.
Great, if my day hadn't been bad enough, now I was going to lose bladder control in front of Duane. "Ah ha," I said aloud when it finally hit me. The Rock, the Rock's name is Dwayne Johnson. I had forgotten all about The Rock. Where the hell is The Rock? I need you. I want you; you must come save us from the assholes with guns.
Okay, so I watch too many movies. I'm a nanny, what else is there to do? I could date I guess, or I could take up basket weaving, but I prefer movies. Movies with big, bad action heroes. Movies starring Roald Munson. Hell, I'd have been happy with having him there right then. Actually, to be quite honest, I would have settled for Buffy the Vampire Slayer at that point in time.
I wanted to go home.
To pee, or not to pee? That was the question. Should I just go in my pants? Should I ask Duane to turn around so I could do it right, or should I shout out to the assholes and hope that they knew what the Geneva Convention stands for?
"Hey." I really didn't want to pee where I sleep, that just reminded me of Hell-week. "Hey, you out there. I need to use the bathroom." I knew that at least three of the assholes spoke English.
One of their heads popped in. "You have two minutes."
The lanky one shuffled me from the tent. They did have a portable outhouse set up, a couple more tents and three or four red Jeeps. The main concentration of assholes seemed to be at the larger tent where I heard harsh cries and loud moans resounding. I was glad that we weren't in that tent, but then again, that could change.
I had no idea what the heck was happening, why we had been hijacked or why only the Africans had been shot execution-style. I just knew they weren't after me because I'm 'nobody' from Bend, Oregon.
Duane, I guess, could be some sort of genius computer whiz who was going to build weapons for guerillas whether he liked it or not.
Then my stomach tied into knots again. What if they were after Bella?
That was the most satisfying pee of my life. I felt somewhat better as the guy shackled me back onto the metal bar.
Duane seemed eerily calm again. Almost as if he was channeling some spiritual being to help him through that difficult time. His eyes remained focused on the tent opening and as it got darker and darker, he got stiller and stiller. I almost thought, at one point, that he had stopped breathing all together. Then I started staring at his chest and it continued rising and falling, just not as rapidly as mine did.
“How do you do that?” I eased up onto my elbow, thankful that Bella had finally nodded off to sleep.
He moved his gaze from the tent opening to me. “I breathe,” he said, and he sounded an awful lot like my Yoga instructor.
I didn’t do well in Yoga. If Yoga had been a graded class, I would have gotten an F. I just don’t get the whole breathe concept. I’m a big bear. You know what I’m thinking because I have big broad movements and I scream a lot.
Duane was like a panther. Quiet and refined, but he looked ready to strike if need be. He’d be really good at Jeopardy. I bet he’d be the first to buzz-in every time. I guessed that was why he was channeling his inner strength. To be the next Jeopardy champion.
“Whatever.” I really wasn’t interested in becoming one with my diaphragm at that particular moment. I wanted to become one with a king-size bed with flannel sheets and a pizza—a big one, with everything. I’d even eat anchovies. I closed my eyes to ease the ache in my stomach.
To my surprise, I slept rather well on that uncomfortable cot with imminent doom hanging over us.
***
I didn't wake until Bella nudged me in the boob.
"What?" I said grouchily, and had flash backs of my ex- boyfriend who always woke up horny. I would have given anything to be in his bed right then. "Sorry," I mumbled as an apology and looked up at her tear-streaked face.
"I'm hungry," she confessed. The poor girl looked frail and dehydrated.
"Hey," I yelled loudly.
Duane didn't even flinch. He was an odd bird. He was still staring at that damn opening.
"The child is hungry." Not to mention the adults too, but I could wait. Bella could not. "Please," I tried again and that time, someone tossed my bag in. Thank God I packed snacks. I peeled open the last Snickers and handed it to her. She inhaled it in three bites, and then looked at me for more. She looked like Ruger at the dinner table, waiting for scraps. I opened a bag of Doritos, handed it to her and then handed a granola bar to Duane.
He shook his head and went back to his breathing.
I shrugged and ate it myself, saving half for him or Bella if we lived long enough to eat it.
The camp seemed to get very quiet after a short while and all I could hear was the shrieks of monkeys and the loud sound of a cricket that was either right in my ear, or burrowed into the dirt directly below my cot. Smells from the camp had stopped. I was no longer being tortured by the smell of coffee.
The heat was enough to drive me insane, so I peeled off my shirt and ripped the sleeves off it. Then it was a nice, cool tank top and I must say Duane was like no man I have ever met. He didn't even flinch while I sat there in my Victoria's Secret sexy bra and ripped the sleeves off my shirt. His ability to not be affected by starvation and lack of plumbing was amazing.
I laid my head back down on the cot and stared at him in amazement.
He finally moved his eyeballs—just his eyeballs—over to meet my gaze. "Problem?"
"You're amazing. I've never seen anyone so calm in my entire life. Aren't you the least bit freaked out about this?"
"No," he said, and I actually believed him. "Now please be quiet."
I didn't feel like being quiet. Being quiet felt like I was just waiting for them to come into the tent, drag me out by my hair, and torture me. "What do you do for a living, Duane?"
"Computer stuff."
I narrowed my eyes on the man. He didn't sound like a computer nerd. They usually said things like mobile motherboard ISB technician or intranet services specialist. They don't say computer stuff.
"What kind…." I was just trying to make conversation, before we all died. If I was going to share a mass grave with this man, I wanted to know what he did for a living and where he was from. Sheesh.
"Shhhh," he shushed me. He had some nerve.
Bella was still asleep which was a good thing, because the minute one of the assholes' blonde head popped into the tent, Duane struck with lightning speed and snapped his neck like a twig. It made the most god-awful sound, and then the man's dead body dropped to the dirt.
Duane had somehow gotten out of his restraints and pulled the man's body into the tent.
"Holy hell," I shouted breathlessly, and backed up as far as I could away from Duane. "Wh-Wh-Why'd ya do that?" I never even knew I had a stutter until that moment in which I looked at the dead guy and tried to speak. Thank God, there was no blood.
Bella woke up and screamed bloody murder at the sight of a dead man lying next to her.
Duane quickly shushed her and gave us both an evil glare.
"Who are you?" I demanded and he winked. That was it. He winked.
He grabbed my
nail file and he managed to get both Bella and me free of our chains, before he stuck his head out of the tent.
It suddenly made sense that he wanted my purse. The man was MacGyver.
Duane looked left, looked right and I finished cleaning out the pockets of the dead guy. All I found was a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a bunch of African coins and a couple of Tums, but no food. Damn. At least we could get our calcium for the day.
Duane grabbed my hand, I grabbed Bella's and we were out the door of the tent and under the cover of a canopy of tall trees. I could tell that elephants and giraffes had had their way with these trees, which meant that we were all about to get the poor man's version of an African Safari. Yippee.
Duane got us safely behind some trees before running back to the camp for a few short minutes.
My sense of survival in the big bad jungle couldn't have come at a better time. Besides the fact that I was shocked that computer nerd had saved our asses, I wasn't entirely sure that computer nerd wouldn't do the same thing to us. The way my luck was, he had saved us just so he could chop us up in the jungle and eat our organs to keep himself alive.
I blame my wild imagination on people ignoring me as a child.
I couldn't hear anything at that point, and I decided that it was just as dangerous to be with a man who could kill with just his own two hands, so we took off running as fast as my size eights could carry me. My heart pounded in my chest and the burning in my thighs was just another reminder that I wasn't in the best shape of my life. I still had the speed, but I was paying the price. Bella was being dragged through the brush by her frenzied nanny. Thank God, the paparazzi weren't around.
Duane soon caught up to us. I don't know how he did it, but the man had like super powers or something. I rather hoped he was Clark Kent for a moment, but I feared that he was a serial killer. I even had names picked out for him in case the FBI ever found our bodies—the Serengeti Strangler or the Savanna Stalker.
His jaunt through the African plains didn't even disturb his breathing. He returned with a couple of handguns, three canteens of water and blood on his hands. "Why are you running from me?"
"Duh." I felt my eyes roll back and I think I said that aloud, and then I did the usual and passed out in the weeds.
***
When I woke up, I was staring down at Duane's ass. Literally. I was atop his shoulder getting jostled and bounced as he ran through the tall brush. Good thing was that when I puked, I managed not to get any vomit on his Dockers. Considerate of me, wasn't it?
"Fuck," he shouted and dropped me like a hot potato to the jungle floor. "What the fuck?"
I puked again, but not much came out; just the Tums that I had eaten. "Nice," I said as I stood up and brushed the dirt from my butt with dignity. "There's a kid present. Would you mind keeping the cussing to a minimum?"
To my amazement, his glasses had been tossed to the ground, his hair ruffled from its perfect nerd-like state and he tossed his checkered shirt to the ground, leaving him in a very tight, not-so-white tee-shirt. Nerd-boy was ripped.
He took two aggressive steps towards me.
I peeled my eyes off his torso and glared into his eyes,
"Who are you?"
He didn't say anything, but turned, mumbled under his breath, something to the effect of, "stupid broad," and then started walking faster.
Bella and I could barely keep up, but after debating with my inner instincts, I quickly decided that he was our only shot at survival. We couldn't possibly survive out there on our own, without food, water, and a gun to keep the wild things from feasting on our meaty bodies.
Great. I preferred Duane the Yoga enthusiast. I had no idea who I was dealing with here, but I had no choice in the matter.
"Did you grab a phone? A walkie-talkie, a radio? Anything?" I finally caught up to him.
"Look, lady…"
Now I'm a lady. Great.
He looked me up and down, scowled, and then continued walking.
"I'm talking to you." I grabbed the back of his arm. Okay, bad move.
He tossed me to the ground before I even knew what hit me. I mean, I know I have some moves of my own, but this guy was quick. His forearm was pressed tightly against the under side of my chin, pressing my head into the dirt. His body was poised on top of me and if I had been quicker, I would have nailed him right in the cajones. Except that I wasn't quicker, so I got him hard in the hip.
He didn't even flinch. He was Superman.
He pressed harder with his forearm and glared fiercely.
"Charlie, is it?"
I nodded the best I could under the circumstances.
"Don't piss me off." Then he let me go.
I got up, dusted myself off and followed him, silently, holding Bella's hand.
"Asshole," I said under my breath and got no response from the man. I suppose I shouldn't have said that because I had just witnessed him snap a man's neck and I'm sure he was just biding his time until he could do the same to me, but I was pissed off and when I'm angry I tend to cuss—a lot!
At dusk, we stopped and found a quiet place under a tall tree. I had seen my fair share of beautiful animals, but to tell the truth, they really aren't that beautiful when they are up close and personal. In fact, even little innocent gophers looked like they could rip my throat open with one bite.
Duane had obviously done this before and as I watched him make Bella a bed with big tree branches and leaves, I actually thought he might be a nice guy. He made a fire and he was wonderful with her. Not so much with me, but he was good with her. With me, he had no patience. It was as if I had done something to him in another life and he hadn't forgiven me yet. He barked orders at me, gave me that sinister stare, and demanded that I go catch something to eat for dinner.
He had a gun in his hand at the time, so I didn't argue. I hesitantly took off in search of Bugs Bunny and when I found him, I shot him in the ass. "Sorry, Bugs. We're hungry." I grabbed the white fury bunny by the legs and carried it out away from my body, so the blood wouldn't drip on my new Banana Republic capris. I did have the worst luck in the world. I had finally found a pair of pants that actually fit perfectly and they were certainly going to be ruined when a stampede of elephants kill me.
The sky was darkening more and more every second and I still was having a hard time believing what had happened. What did I ever do to deserve the wrath of God? I've never done drugs. I've only slept with three men in my entire life. I go to church every couple of years. I obeyed my parents even when I thought they were nuts, and I eat my vegetables. Why, God? Why?
I was back in the blink of an eye and, if I do say so myself, Duane was surprised and that amused me to the point of conceit. I held the bloody dead bunny in front of him and Bella started shrieking wildly.
He consoled her and ridiculed me for not being more sensitive. I couldn't win with this guy and I could care less.
Except I do care, I thought as I tossed and turned in the dirt. I do care that men think highly of me. Just one more good reason to see a therapist.
I'm constantly trying to win the approval of any man I meet. I'm also highly competitive and that never goes over well with the opposite sex. Perhaps I'm just too much woman for any man to handle. Yeah, right.
Even then, I was staring across the fire at him telling Bella a goodnight story and I was jealous. I was actually jealous that this buffoon was spending time with Bella and not paying attention to me. Boy, my issues run deeper than I ever imagined.
"Goodnight," I yelled across the fire. Then I rolled over and closed my eyes.
***
When I woke up in the middle of the night because I was chilled, Duane was sitting vigil over the fire and he gave me a quick nod of acknowledgement when our gazes locked.
"Sleep well?"
"No," I snapped and stretched the kink out of my back.
"Do you want to sleep now? I could watch the fire."
He narrowed his eyes. Now that's the Duane I knew
and loathed. "Can you stay awake?"
He looked as if he didn't trust me. Little did he know; I once stayed up for over seventy-two hours straight. I wasn't about to divulge anything about myself at this point because I was still unsure as to which side he was on. He was most likely just another bad guy that I would eventually have to escape from, but for the time being, I just enjoyed the company.
"I can do it," I stammered and got to my feet, picked up the other gun and held it firmly in my grasp before lowering myself onto the tree stump beside him. He looked at me with a tight jaw. "What did I ever do to you?" I said out of pure spite and because I was cranky. PMS hits me at the worst times. "Go to sleep. You look exhausted." There I was, doing my mommy imitation and I do it well.
He shook his head with a smirk and curled up next to the fire. It wasn't long before we stopped staring at each other and he closed his eyes.
I remained awake because I had to and because I had just survived a day from hell on a plane with men with guns, and I wasn't about to be eaten by Simba while I slept.
Bella actually looked peaceful as she slept and I wondered if her father would fire me for this little adventure. Surely, Roald wouldn't blame me for getting on a plane with hijackers. Then again, stranger things have happened to me. I am the world's unluckiest woman.
I shuddered and stared at the fire. I heard coyotes in the distance and I'm no Marlin Perkins, but I know a jackal when I hear one. I heard the high-pitched squeal of some poor animal caught by what sounded like a panther and that had me thinking about Duane again. His black hair was short, but was still shaggy enough to lightly touch the tops of his ears. He wasn't handsome by the usual standards, but something about his eyes weakened my knees. It was probably fear. After all, those sensations do get confused from time to time, especially for me.
His arms were taut, yet relaxed while he slept and every so often, his mouth would twitch upward in the hint of a smile.
He popped one eye open and looked directly at me. That thing on his face was most certainly a smile. Okay, it was more of a salacious grin.
"Stop staring at me while I sleep." He closed his eye again. "It's creepy."