Cold Caress

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

The question, initially meant as a joke, hung heavily against the stale air. It left a bittersweet taste on the speaker’s lips in warning. One that unfortunately wasn’t heeded.

When a deafening silence replied, prickles of cold sweat blossomed on her palms. The young adult who had asked the question waited for a beat, tapping her fingers against the handle of the car she was in. Moments earlier, the same car drove beside Catalina Ingrid as she trekked along the edge of the road, rolling down its window to reveal a seemingly kind middle aged man with a handlebar mustache. He offered her a ride and after spending the entire day hiking underneath the sweltering August sun, she accepted. Oddly enough he didn’t ask for directions or spoke much after that and instead skipped the next two city highway exits, driving into a long-winded road devoid of any houses or lights. For a fleeting moment, Catalina contemplated whether she could jump out of a moving vehicle.

The driver, having read her temptation, merely grinned and pressed the lock button at his side before turning the dial of the radio. The car doors’ speakers suddenly blared and shook, bringing the muted atmosphere to life with screaming rock music.

“I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Cat,” she introduced herself loudly over the bellowing music, her hand discreetly inching toward the window button.

He didn’t reply, molding the welcoming smile he previously wore into a determined scowl. Catalina quickly pressed the button at her finger tips but when the window didn’t budge even an inch, her chest tightened.

“Don’t bother,” he advised, flaring his nose in satisfaction as he gestured at the door.

“Child’s lock,” he elaborated.

“Wouldn’t want you to accidentally open the door now, would we?”

Catalina's breath hitched. Her head snapped to the right and off in the distance the smoky blue sky showcased a barely visible silhouette of a large house. Or was it a farm? She couldn’t tell.

“Right, of course. Well, You can drop me off right here. My aunt’s house is close by,” she fibbed, leaning further against the door.

“We both know that isn’t true,” he replied, reprimanding her with a click of his tongue.

“No house in sight for miles.”

He drove them up a steep hill and stopped at the edge of it where a decrepit barn came into view. It towered angrily over them, the chestnut walls peeling extensively to expose a moldy interior. Catalina scanned the rest of the building, noting the steel padlocks interweaved within the doors and a pile of disturbed dirt a few yards away.

She swallowed the whimper that threatened to overcome her and tied to settle her racing thoughts. “I feel sick. You need to let me out now.”

He laughed, brandishing a syringe while pointing a thick hunting knife close to her cheek.

“Why would I do that? We’re going to have a lot of fun together."

Catalina raised her arms and struggled against him, digging herself into the seat and winced when a sharp needle pierced the side of her neck. Her limbs slowed, falling down to her sides like a bag of bricks. Her vision came in and out of focus, blurring out any immediate surroundings into a condensed fog until they eventually blackened completely.

“Come on, open your eyes! Wake up!”

Catalina stirred, mumbling nonsensical words to reply to the one that whispered at her. Lying on the floor, she crawled to stand. A wave of nausea nearly overcame her senses when she felt a pair of freezing hands grasp her temples. It seeped into her bones, making her tremble and gasp as if she’d fallen into a pool of ice water. Eyes snapping open, Catalina faced a young woman not much older than her wearing torn and stained clothing.

“Hurry! He’ll be back soon. You won’t make it if you don’t leave now,” she emphasized, her eyes widening.

Catalina shook her head, dismayed when her gaze caught the locked barn doors and empty stables. Mountains of golden hay populated every surface except the wall ahead of them where a chipped windowsill stood. The disheveled woman nodded her head at a large stone obscured by the hay.

“Break the window. I’ll distract him. Follow the interstate two more miles and on the left you’ll get to the gas station. Call the police and tell them Cissy Matthews is at Oakdale farmhouse. That’s where they’ll find me."

“What? No, come with me!” Catalina protested, grabbing the rock.

“It’s too late for me, but not for you,” Cissy responded, grinning wryly.

Her chest twisted painfully while Cissy continued. “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt me.”

The doors suddenly flung open, revealing her kidnapper. Heading straight toward her, his steps faltered as he caught sight of Cissy. His complexion turned ashen and when Cissy raised her arms the yellow forage hurled into the air, completely obscuring his view.

Despite her throbbing stomach, she sprinted to the window, shattering the glass and thrusting herself out of it to breathe the fresh, grassy air. A loud commotion from the barn made her hesitate just a second before scampering off into the forested field ahead that briefly displayed a worn black road. Following Cissy's instructions, she eventually reached the gas station heaving and pleading with the attendant to lend her a phone.

As she called the authorities, a white flyer caught her attention. It depicted demographic information of a missing person who was last seen over eight years ago. Presumed dead, the name listed and the question below it made Catalina freeze, breathless.

Cistred A. Matthews.

Have you seen me?