Bebe (20 page)

“Sorry about this,” Ben said. The belt secured, he bent to slip a pair of overlarge fur boots over each of her bandages. “We’re not bad guys, honey, we’re just...” Glancing up at her, his eyes diverted from her face to her naked chest. It seemed to take real effort before he could make himself look down again. “We’ve just been here a really long time, that’s all.”

He wrapped more gut thong around each boot, tying them tight to keep the heavy leathers from falling right back off her again. That left only one article of clothing remaining in the diminished pile that Matt had brought them. Ben picked up the beige shirt, made from scrap pieces of tanned animal skin, crudely stitched together. He shook it out once and didn’t bother pretending not to notice how she recoiled.

“It’s not Bloomingdale’s,” he agreed, holding it out to her. “But it’ll keep you warm and, um...covered.” His gaze drifted south of her face again, heating as he spied the bud of one chilled nipple peaking out at him from under the shadow of Tral’s coat. One side of his mouth curled upwards in a rueful grin as he raised pleading eyes to hers. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, and not to put too fine a point on it, but none of us has seen much less held a woman literally in years. For all our sakes, please, put the shirt on.”

Bebe turned her face away. Fingers fidgeting with the button fastenings, she tried not to look at either the ugly cobbled-together hide or her earnest captor.

“You can have it back,” he assured her. “I promise, I won’t take it from you. I just want you to wear this, too.”

Pulling the coat tight around her, Bebe turned from the shirt in silent refusal. Just the idea of that dead, poorly-stitched skin touching hers repulsed her, but more than that, she didn’t trust for a second that she’d get Tral’s coat back once the bad humans got hold of it. Her kidnappers were strange and unpredictable, and their intentions were difficult for her to fathom. So she clung to it, protecting Tral’s personal belonging as if that might somehow help mitigate the trouble she was in for opening the door in the first place. As if receiving his coat back might help him forgive her disobedience once he came to get her—
if
he came to get her. Bebe turned her face sharply away, a sudden pain in her chest making it momentarily difficult to breathe.

She blinked back tears. If stealing food and touching babies warranted being left on a road, would opening the door—not even one full day after being so thoroughly spanked for just that offense—warrant her being left here? She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut in an effort to keep back her burning tears. Tral was perfectly justified in thinking her too much of a bother to rescue. She had done a bad thing. Did that mean she was a bad human now too?

When he saw the tears, Ben relented. He dropped the hide shirt into his lap, regarding her with a faintly bemused and even more faintly concerned eye. Finally, he reached up to gently pull the halves of her coat closed around her. “Just keep yourself covered, then. Okay?”

Bebe smoothed her shaking hands down the front of Tral’s coat. She tried hard not to make it look as if she were brushing away his touch. Backing up against the wall once more, she sat in the dirt. Pulling her knees up to her chest again, she prayed for Tral to forgive her enough to come get her. She didn’t want to be bad. She didn’t want to live in a cave.

Across the crackling fire, the old man began to lay thick strips of meat across a spit to cook. As Ben sat down next to her against the wall, the whole cave filled with the pungent aroma of browning meat. She folded her arms across her stomach, unsure whether the dull cramping she could feel in her belly was her stomach on the verge of growling or being sick. It was a welcome distraction when Ben suddenly reached over into her lap and took one of her hands. He turned it palm-down and looked at her chewed fingernails. He picked at the chipped nail polish with his thumb.

“Where you from, Bay-bay?” he asked, letting her pull her hand out of his. “Have you been here long?”

Bebe stared at his mouth through the scruffy length of brown beard, struggling to dredge up enough of her half-forgotten past to make his words make sense. How long? Here? She held up one finger. But he should know that since he’d brought her.

“One?” He looked from her to her finger. “The polish on your nails is almost right up against the cuticle and barely chipped at the ends, so I’m guessing by one you don’t mean years or months. Maybe not even weeks. You must be fresh off the boat, so to speak.”

Bebe had absolutely no idea what that meant. She hugged her knees and held herself quiet, waiting to be rescued.

Making himself comfortable beside her, Ben cross-legged and clasped his large hands in his lap. “Me, I’m practically an old timer at this.”

Across the fire, Matt snorted.

“Go on and laugh, but how long’s it been?” Ben paused, glancing away, his eyes narrowing as he briefly considered it. “What...eighteen years now? It’s hard to tell. The moon rotates faster here and there’s about fourteen months between winters.”

“You still keeping track?” the old man scoffed, reaching over the flames to turn the strips of meat with his calloused fingers. “I gave that up a decade ago.”

“Never mind the grump over there,” Ben told her. “If I’ve been here eighteen, then he’s been here seventeen. Although he’s been on the planet probably closer to twenty. They had him in a fish tank for a while, but he kept breaking out.”

When Will and Greg pushed back through the flap, their arms full of sticks and wood for the fire, Ben pointed to first one and then the other. “Now, there’s the real pups. Will doesn’t look it, but he’s almost as much an old-timer as Matt. He was ten when they dropped him over the fence, so he’s been here about half his life. Greg’s the baby of the family. They dropped him in about six years ago. Just before they sent us that...that...” Ben thumbed aimlessly over one shoulder, his face losing a shade of amicability and becoming grimmer, somehow darker despite his stubbornly maintained smile, “that big ol’ fucker to shadow our every move.”

Her lips moving soundlessly, Bebe found herself struggling through unfamiliar words to keep up with what he was saying. He had a very strange way of speaking that went beyond the difference in language. It was colorful and confusing, and if she concentrated long enough sometimes the meanings to words she had forgotten came flooding back to her. Most didn’t, but the look on Ben’s face had turned fuming and she didn’t dare ask for clarification. She closed her mouth and looked away again, reminding herself that he was still her captor. Her kidnapper who had tied Tral up and stolen her away in the middle of the night. Just because he was being nice to her now, talking and smiling didn’t change that.

After a moment of near-angry silence, Ben made a visible effort to regain his composure. “So anyway, now we’re here.” He spread his hands, encompassing the cave. “And this is home. Not exactly the Carlton-Ritz—”

Matt broke in with another snort. “This ain’t even the Motel 6.”

“But it keeps the weather off,” Ben said without pause. “And so long as we don’t let the fire die, the saber-toothed rats stay clear of us. Just don’t go anywhere by yourself, and I’m serious about that, not even to pee—”

“Tell her about the wolves, Ben,” Will broke in, his face drawn and serious.

“I’m getting there.” The leader of the males held up a hand, more calming than shushing, and to her said, “Forget everything you ever learned about wolves on the Discovery Channel. They’re huge here, and they
will
kill you.”

“So will the deer,” Greg added, and dumped his armload of wood in a stack against the wall.

“And the squirrels,” the old man drawled. He stirred at the fire with a stick. “Hell, even the plants here will kill you.”

“Hey guys,” Ben’s half-hearted laugh came out sounding more irritated than amused. “Can we please stop trying to scare the shit out of the new kid?” He turned back to her. “I am dead-dog serious, though. One of us—and frankly, two would be better—goes with you, and I do mean everywhere. We aren't at the top of the food chain here. We aren't even close to the top. Understand?”

Barely one word in five. Bebe nodded anyway; he seemed to be expecting an answer.

“Good.” Ben nodded back at her. “That’s mostly it for indigenous dangers.” He gave his companions a hard look. “The four-legged variety, anyway. For the most part, that big fucker keeps to the western ridge or wanders along the fence—which reminds me, don’t try to climb the fence, either. It’s electrified at the top and hot enough to send your ass flying a good twenty feet. And don’t go through the holes if you find one. There’s things outside this place that make the wolves, rats and deer—”

“And squirrels,” Matt repeated, darkly serious.

“—seem like warm, cuddly kittens in comparison.” He reached into her lap, folding her small hands into one of his large, calloused ones. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I want you to be aware but don’t be scared. We’re going to take care of you. I used to be a rookie cop and a survival nut back home.” Ben stared at his companions, no trace of his former smile anywhere about him now. “I taught them how to live here.” He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll teach you, too. Like I said, we’re a family, a single unit. We survive because we share what we have and we all chip in where we can. Nobody gets carried here.”

His gaze fell from her eyes to her chest, and then he squeezed her hand one last time and looked away.

Bebe hugged Tral’s coat closer, unsure how to interpret that look, either Ben’s or the focused stares of his three companions as they watched her from the shadows on the other side of the fire. “What...have I...share..?”

“Jesus,” Will said. He ducked his head, only half-heartedly bothering to hide his snickering laugh. “She doesn’t talk for shit. She sounds like one of them, too!”

“Shut up,” Matt told him, glancing over the fire at her. “They don’t just steal Americans, you know. English doesn’t have to be her first language. Maybe she’s Scandinavian, or something. Slavic people, they gargle when they talk.”

“She’s not gargling,” Will said defensively. “She’s...growling.”

Everybody looked at her again, a darkly speculative stare that made the pit of her stomach clench into knots. Fingers fidgeting non-stop with the fastenings of Tral’s coat, she looked from one to the other and finally back to Ben again. Did that mean they didn’t want her anymore? Did that mean she could go home?

“Leave her alone,” Ben told him. Will shut his mouth with a shrug, but that didn’t stop him from staring at her. Or Greg. Or Matt from making a point of
not
staring, and as the silence progressed, broken only by the occasional pop of green burning wood and the fatty sizzle of cooking meat, the more Bebe stole one clandestine glance after another at the darkness that haloed the hide-blocked exit to freedom.

The silence didn’t last long.

Perking slightly, Will suddenly asked, “So, who gets her first?”

The question startled everyone, include Bebe. She might not understand a lot of what was being said around her, but she knew ‘gets’ meant ‘keep’ and that she was the only ‘her’ here. She looked to Ben and then shot to her feet, clutching Tral’s coat tight around her. She would have bolted had the sudden pain of standing not toppled her backwards into the cave wall.

On his feet every bit as fast, Ben caught her arm, steadying her, but it was Matt who, almost faster than she could follow, lashed a long arm out and corrected Will with a flat-handed smack upside the head. The blow was not gentle and almost knocked the younger man sideways off his butt. “Shut your damn mouth!”

Will scrambled to his feet, glaring at the old man as he spat, “Fuck you! I was just saying!”

“Both of you, knock if off,” Ben snapped.

Sulking, Will rubbed his ear again, but he wasn’t quiet for long. “It’s what everybody’s thinking, isn’t it? It’s the whole reason we attacked the fucker, instead of just scaring him like we first planned, right?”

The old man dropped the meat he was turning and stood up, this time taking a proper swing, but Will was faster. He both ducked and dodged, dashing around the fire to get out of arm’s reach.

“Ha!” he barked, doing a strange, hopping dance on nimble, fur-wrapped feet.

Without a word, Greg walked up behind him, balled up his fist and punched the back of his head.

“Hey!” Will shouted, clutching at his skull. He glared at everyone in turn, including with her. “I was just asking! It’s still share and share alike, right? Those are your rules, Ben!”

“Share?” Bebe whimpered, the word as she understood it taking on ugly connotations. She looked to Ben for confirmation. Shaking her head, she yanked her arm out of his hold and slunk away from him—from everyone—alone the craggy wall.

“We’re not talking about it tonight,” Ben said grimly, not meeting her eyes.

“Shut up and eat.” Matt gruffly added. He grabbed a piece of browned meat and threw it, striking Will in the chest just under his neck. Will caught it impulsively. “Unless you want to try chewing without any fucking teeth, shut your damn mouth!”

“I was just—”

“Go on and say it again!” The old man started for him, fists clenched, and Will abruptly shut his mouth and bolted with his meat into the relative safety in the back shadows of the cave.

“Share?” Bebe asked again, her voice warbling a little louder because Ben wasn’t answering her and that, in and of itself,
was
an answer. “I want go home!”

“I know,” Ben told her, shooting a disgusted look after Will. “Me too. It’s best not to think about it. Any of it. Tomorrow’s soon enough to work out the details, anyway.”

Bebe was far from soothed. She looked to the cave’s entryway, but already her aching feet were burning as hot as if she were standing directly in the cooking fire. She sagged back down the wall, hugging herself and rocking, and refusing to look at anyone, not even when Matt brought her a strip of meat. She turned her face away, refusing to take it until Ben physically took one of her hands, placed the food across her open palm and closed her fingers around it.