Creepers by Bret Tallent Page A

completely black.  Precious was as limp as a rag doll and the two figures struggled to pull her from the car.  Eventually, the two figures stood looming over Precious’ limp form lying in a ditch. 
    The figures waited for Precious to come around and then she discovered that her mouth had been taped shut.  She was lying on her back in the bed of the truck, and her hands were tied behind her.  The two figures punched and kicked her in the stomach, breasts, ribs and legs.  Every blow that landed shot a jolt of pain throughout her body.  Every blow brought with it and expletive and other remarks from the two figures.
    “This is for Ricky Dixon,” figure one yelled.
    “Return him, or there will be more,” figure two screamed.
    “Tell all your nigger friends their kind ain’t wanted here,” Figure one continued, “Tell them all it’s only gonna’ get worse the longer Ricky is missing.”
    “Yeah,” figure two added, “worse for all of you.”
    “You better not report this either,” figure one continued, “or we’ll come back and string you up.”  Figure one paused for a moment and then added, “and your mother too.”
    Eventually, the pain had become so severe that Precious started blacking out again.  She would come in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the ordeal.  Every time Precious would begin to come to one of the figures would punch or kick her until she blacked out again.  Every time Precious would come around she would see or feel another piece of her clothing being ripped off.  At some point, in a far off place, Precious knew that she was naked.
    She was naked, and she could feel one of the figures climb on top of her.  Precious’ mind was in another place, and she let it stay there.  She didn’t want to know what was going on to her, inside her.  Precious thought about her mother and her homework; she thought about choir.  She thought about anything except what was happening to her.  She barely noticed the argument the two figures had, or when the second figure took his turn, barely.
    Then it was over.  Still fading in and out of consciousness, Precious’ life would pass by in short flashes.  They were fragments of the scene unfolding.  Being untied was just a dream.  Being dragged from the truck back to her car was only a hallucination.  Lying in the front seat of her car was a mirage.  The two men driving off was some impossible vision.  Only this hadn’t been a nightmare, and Precious slowly pulled her legs up to her chest in a fetal position.
    Dazed and confused, Precious lay there in her front seat curled up in a ball and sobbed.  One eye had swollen shut, and her hair was matted to her skin in dried blood.  In her mouth, she could taste blood, and her jaw hurt so badly she couldn’t move it.  Every bit of her body ached, and her breathing was raspy and challenging.  Precious was not sure how long she lay there, but she didn’t move until her mother found her.
     
    ***
    Evvie was worried.  It was not like her Precious to be late, and certainly not without calling.   This was one of the few times that she had wished they got cell phone reception.  Evvie could stand it no longer, and she finally called the burger joint, but they told her that Precious had left there nearly two hours ago.  Evvie’s worry soon turned to panic.  Something had happened to her baby, her Precious.
    “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “please bring my baby home to me.”
    Evvie paused for a moment as if she half expected the Lord to answer her prayer.  With no reply but the impossibly loud sound of a ticking clock on the wall, a determined look came across Evvie’s face.  She gently laid the bible she had been holding on the entry table and quickly snatched up the car keys that were there.  Evvie headed out the door in a flurry, her house coat bouncing in the breeze.
    As she drove the quarter of a mile from her house to the end of the drive, wild thought ricocheted around