Page 7 of Prodigal Son

Her back burned with excruciating sharpness. She attempted to roll, her mouth watering and the urge to vomit derailing the impulse to move.

Too traumatized to even cry, she searched the silver shadows. Nothing looked familiar. The wavering horizon of trees was off—low and not at eye-level. She frowned. Or was she high? Not high like on drugs, but literally higher than the trees. She was far above the tree line of what she hoped was the Pennsylvania mountains.

Or maybe she was stoned. Maybe she’d been drugged by that thing in the woods. Was it a thing or a man? Or both? Maybe they were two separate things? And where was the guy she shot?

Too much thinking made her head hurt.

Her temples pounded as if her skull had shrunk three sizes and she suffered from the worst hangover of all time. But she hadn’t drunk anything.

She was so tired.

Her head lulled in what smelled like damp leaves. Bugs. She could only think about bugs, hating the thought of any creepy crawly thing climbing on her, but even that terrible possibility wasn’t enough to make her move.

A tear rolled from her eye just as it started to snow. Snow? Yes, it had to be. The flakes were peaceful and mesmerizing against the sapphire sky. The warm saltwater of her tears mixed with the press of cold flakes melting on her skin.

Staring up at the falling flurries, she frowned and noticed part of the sky was blocked from view. She was under some sort of shelter. She could see it now, where the gray clouds swathed the black moonlit sky and where the ceiling of what looked like a cave blocked the view of falling snow. Had someone left her here, in the mouth of some cave? She had no recollection of getting to this place.

This had to be a dream, because it was way too trippy to be real.

She needed to turn and look around, but her back hurt so badly she couldn’t find the strength to move. Standing would be better. Just a few minutes and she’d get up. Just a few…more…minutes…

Her thoughts drowsed on a drug like wave, ebbing and flowing in and out of consciousness. She wasn’t blinking enough. Time slowed and her fear drifted further away, a whisper tucked in the back of her mind she could almost ignore if she just kept watching the tranquil snow as she tried to block out the pain.

The longer she stared at the skyline the less she could see. Her blinking had turned to miniature blackouts. Each momentary nap jolting her awake with a need to stay conscious. Time to move.

Taking a deep breath, she rolled to her stomach, swallowing the moan of pain and bile that threatened to escape as she braced on her hands and knees. The vapor from her breath formed a cloud as she stared at a heap on the ground several feet away. Then it moved.

Not a heap, but a body! It was the man from the woods. She’d had nightmares about that man, yet some part of her recognized him with endearing, obviously misplaced, emotions. Why?

She moaned, her skull pounding and brain still too tired to think clearly. Had he saved her? Brought her here to this place? Or captured her? Maybe even drugged her, because she was definitely under some sort of tranquilizer.

With the flickering flames of the fire separating them, she could now see they were in fact in a cave. Steam rose from his form as he breathed slowly. The air was cold enough to make her teeth chatter and the scent of ice on the wind reminded her of a childhood memory when her father took her and Vito ice skating.

Thinking of her brother brought more stress. Was Vito out there searching for her? He was probably worried sick. How could she have been so selfish to endanger not only herself but also involve others. Speaking of…

Her stare returned to the man sleeping on the other side of the fire, struggling to make out his features. How was he still alive? She’d sworn she’d shot him in the chest, but everything was now a blur and her damn head hurt too much to think.

Flames sliced through the shadows playing over his broad chest. Flickers of light caught on the tiny ripples of muscle like sunshine catches on a lake. Golden swells of muscle glistened behind the licking flames as the cave was cast in the dancing glow of firelight. She sort of liked this dream.

Shutting her eyes, she lowered her forehead to her arms and breathed in the scent of earth and burning wood, stirring visions of gardening with her grandmamma outside of their family’s villa in Portugal. The memory brought her peace and she reveled in the distraction for a moment, taking her mind off the searing cuts on her back and the throbbing headache radiating down her spine.

She pictured the brightly tiled buildings butted together along the sloping, pebbled streets of Reiros. The warm August sun glinted against the monuments of idols as blackbirds and tourists crowded the stone walkways. Warmth spread through her, as clothing draped over strung lines connecting balconies and simple dresses and sheets danced in the wind.

Something nudged her side and she winced, her mind jolting from the dream into the now.

“Stay still.” The low rumble of a predatory growl interrupted her peace and her body tensed, no longer in a crawling pose but sprawled out on the dirt floor of the cave. She must have fallen asleep. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she realized the man who had been sleeping on the other side of the fire now knelt directly behind her.

The pull of material peeling away dried blood made her gasp. Her back had been slashed open from shoulder to hip and the cuts burned. She needed a doctor or at least something to clean the wounds.

Her teeth chattered as he lifted her shredded coat, the high-altitude cold winds cutting right to her bone. “Don’t,” she whimpered, arching away from his touch as he gently probed at the raw flesh of her back.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He prodded at the tender pulp and she hissed, curling away from his probing touch.

“Easy now. Don’t tense. Just relax.”

A slight tickle along her scalp triggered more apprehension, but her muscles softened. She didn’t know this man or trust him. She shouldn’t let him touch her.

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