Page 79 of Whispers of My Skin

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There are moments in life that flash by so fast you barely register them. Others pass by in slow motion, trapping you in a nightmare.

Unfortunately, I’m experiencing the latter right now. I don’t know how it’s happened, but one minute we’re in the corner of the barn happily examining all our new equipment, the next we’re trapped in an inferno, as the hay bales around us burst into flames. The fire instantly spreads to the rest of the wooden structure, until it feels as if we’re standing in the middle of the seventh circle of hell, surrounded by smoke and flames.

Joel pushes me down to the floor, covering my body with his, as the building starts to collapse around us. The fire is spreading incredibly fast, but I guess that’s because everything is tinder dry.

“Are you ok?” he shouts to make himself heard over the roar of the fire and debris crashing down around us.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I shout back, coughing as I inhale some smoke.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Keep down and follow me.”

Joel starts crawling along on his hands and knees, and I follow right behind. I look around but when all I can see is fire whichever way I look, I start to panic.

“Keep calm, Tara. We’re going to get out of here,” Joel calls over his shoulder, sensing my fear.

My throat itches, and my eyes burn from the acrid smoke. Isn’t that what kills you rather than the flames? Why did that unhelpful thought have to pop into my head right now?

“Keep following, we’re nearly there,” Joel encourages me as he glances over his shoulder, until finally I see a gleam of daylight cutting through the smoke, highlighting our escape route.

“Joel! That way! Over there!” I scream, thankful our ordeal is nearly over as I hear voices yelling—maybe it’s Connor giving orders?

As we both clamber to stand up, I’m suddenly yanked backward. A large hand covers my mouth preventing me from crying out, while a gun is pressed against my temple. I’m clamped back against the chest of a man who, out of the corner of my eye, I see is wearing a black balaclava mask.

When Joel turns around to check if I’m still following him, a deep male voice barks out a warning.

“If you don’t want me to shoot your wife’s brains out, just do as I say.”

To my horror, Joel is taken away at gun point. I scream as he’s held down and punched senseless by more masked thugs, before being handcuffed and dragged away. Then I start choking as my mouth and nose are covered by a cloth and everything becomes a blur. I can’t breathe, I’m choking, suffocating, so I struggle and kick.

“Just because the boss wants you alive,” the guy holding me grouses when I manage to kick him in the shins. “Doesn’t mean I can’t teach you a little respect.”

He punches me in the jaw, and I taste the metallic tang of blood. I’ve barely recovered from the first punch when he lands another blow, then another, until I’m barely conscious, but I fight to stay alert, desperate to locate Joel, scared because I can’t see him anywhere.

“Come on, stop wasting time. They’re waiting for us,” the other stranger growls. “The boss wants us back as soon as possible.”

The boss?

Who the hell is he talking about?

I’m dragged out to a van behind the barn that’s definitely seen better days and thrown in the back.

“Just fucking shut up, bitch,” my kidnapper grunts when I moan as he tightly binds my hands and ankles.

Then Joel is also dragged into the back of the van, almost unconscious. Seeing him so broken, his poor blood-stained face so beaten up, I start to lose hope, because I can’t see how we’re going to get out of this alive.

Faith over fear… that seems the only way out for us.

Who would do this to us, and why?

After a seemingly endless drive, the van finally comes to a halt. I’m pulled out of the vehicle, and dragged towards what appears to be a long-abandoned log cabin that’s falling to pieces.

My captor produces a razor-sharp knife from his pocket, grinning as he slices through the thick ropes to release my feet, but leaves my hands still bound. I wish I could see his face, but he’s still wearing his mask. I try to kick him, but he grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back.

“Walk,” he orders, giving me a hard shove from behind.

“You’ve got them?” Someone asks from inside the cabin.

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