NINE
When Susan woke sometime later, she shook and trembled as if she were freezing. It only took a moment for Don to realize that she was not cold, she was in shock.
"What can I do?" he asked.
Her hand emerged from the blankets. He took hold of it and squeezed it, holding her hand firmly.
"Don't leave me," she answered.
"I won't."
"It might not help, but it's all I can think of."
"What happened, Susan? What do you think will happen?"
When she answered, she was shaking so badly that her teeth chattered.
"I think I'm the enemy."
Although he did not know what she meant, it chilled Don to the bone to hear the fear in her voice. He moved his chair closer to the cot.
"I'll protect you," he told her. "As much as I can."
The shaking subsided as she closed her eyes. "Thank you, Ethan."
Well, he thought, as he watched her fall asleep, that's a first. I've never been called a dead man's name before. He had to take it as a compliment because he knew how much Ethan meant to her.
During his research he had seen a picture of Ethan Hall. He had the look of a young man with boundless energy and a wicked sense of humour behind his crocked smile. If the picture had not been beside his obituary, Don might have felt compelled to smile with him. Perhaps it was a joke; dead but not gone -- do ya get it? Eh?
Susan had said that Ethan had decided to stay with her but Don wondered if it was that easy. If you were done with life -- like you were done with a meal -- you were not allowed to stay indefinitely at the table. Eventually you got bored or your ass started to hurt and you felt like doing something else. Perhaps that was not the best of analogies but it was the first one that came to his sleepy mind.
That dream, it was so vivid, even now as he looked at Susan his body was unsure how to react; hard on or pull his balls up out of harm's way?
He yawned deep and meaningfully. A few more hours of shut eye sounded wonderful, but he did not think that he should sleep on his watch. Someone would be along to give him a reprieve sometime. Besides, he promised Susan that he would watch out for her.
It is this thought of manly pride that carried him into slumber.
* * *
When he opened his eyes, he was still sitting on his folding chair but now he was in the field and it was dusk. In front of him, in the middle of the field was a group of men who were clustered around something. Don heard cries. He knew what was happening but he could not stop himself from walking over to the group. One man was sitting on the ground, crying. The front of his uniform was covered in blood. He looked up as Don approached. The man's face was wet with tears, his eyes full of regret.
"I'm sorry," the man moaned as he held his hands out in front of him toward Don.
"But you did it anyway, didn't you?"
The man hid his face behind his hands and sobbed.
Don shoved his way into the center of the men. The woman was black, most likely a local slave and was on her back, her arms and legs were being held down. The man on top of her was grunting and slamming into her.
Don grabbed the man and pulled him off of the woman and yelled at him -- yelled at all of them -- to stop.
"Look who wants to be next," one of them said. There is a scattering of laughter then Don was grabbed from behind and the pants of his uniform were pulled down. He fought to free himself but he was scooped up and forced down on top of the screaming woman. He twisted his head around, looked for help -- that was when he saw Ethan standing in the crowd -- his crooked smile nonexistent as he watched.
"Ethan, help me!" It was a surprise as to how quickly his nerve was lost. Starting off as a hero now a victim.
Ethan seemed to awake and leaned out to Don, grabbed him, and pulled up and away. Just before his view was blocked by the bodies of the men he saw that the woman was now Susan.
Don called her name and reached out to her only to have Ethan pull him back.
"She's not really here," Ethan told him. "She's there," he pointed to the tent.
Don broke free and ran. The tent was so far away, he ran and ran but the ground was muddy and slippery and he could not get purchase. Then suddenly he was inside the tent, shaking Susan as she lay on her cot. Her face was battered and swollen, her lips were puffy and torn at the corners, her eyes were wide open and staring at nothing; she was dead, he realized. Dead because he had fallen asleep.
Then he was awake -- his body jerked awake -- Susan was still asleep on the cot, her hand in his.
He did not fall asleep again, he was not able. Even when he was relieved by Judy some hours later.
He went outside, in sunlight the field looked pathetic, torn apart and abused. The land itself looked raped. He shivered in the afternoon sun.
Owen's voice behind him made him turn and reenter the tent.
"Jesus, look at this," Owen said.
The monitor showed the green tinted vision of the night shot option of the video camera. There were orbs all over the field, they looked like soap bubbles with purpose. They made sharp turns and one could freeze mid air while the one next to it continued to move. Susan appeared on the screen, speaking to them, telling them that they could move on. Her voice sounded far way on the video tape's audio track. On the left of the screen a figure appeared, it was in the shape of a man although it had no legs. Its form seemed to trail off at the hem of its waistcoat. He approached Susan and grabbed her hair. Susan dropped to her knees. Her body blocked what happened next but then an orb shot into view and hit the man figure.
This last orb hovered over Susan.
"That was Ethan," Susan said from behind them. They spun back as if they had been caught doing something that they should not be doing.
"We picked up his whistle on the audio tape, too," Owen told her.
"I'm not surprised, he can wake the dead with that thing." She shivered then turned to Judy. "You need to go to town and check for email to find out when the archaeological team will be here for the dig."
"Right," Judy said. "Don, can I borrow your car?"
"If you think you can remember the way." He tossed her the keys.
"Do you think your uncle would let me use the shower?" Susan asked.
"Of course," Don said. "I'll walk up with you."
Susan was slow moving, as if her muscles ached from a strenuous work out. As the view of the tent disappeared behind them she said to him, "You had a visitor last night too, didn't you?"
Don looked at her as if he would like to run, then admitted, "Yeah, it was a woman."
"I think it was a slave girl. I saw her on the out skirts last night. No one is able to leave. Their commander is relentless. He is the force that keeps them on this plane, Don. But I think once the bodies are found and properly buried they will be able to move on. I don't envy those diggers, they have a lot of bodies to find and remove."
"The slave girl, she wasn't . . . " Don struggled to think of a way to say what he wanted to say without giving away too much. "She seemed as if she were a willing party."
"I imagine she's angry. If what I went through last night is any gage, she went through hell. I imagine she's seeking what revenge she can."
Judy had already driven away by the time they made their unhurried way to the house. The door was unlocked and Don led her in, then upstairs to the bathroom. After he was gone Susan took off her clothes. The full length mirror showed her what she already knew; she had bruises on her breast where The Commander's finger tips had pressed into her flesh. She watched her reflection as she upbraided her hair, waiting for the fear in her eyes to fade.
* * *
Ethan waited outside the bathroom door. He should have reacted more quickly, it was just that he had never seen so many of this own kind, so strong. The energy was intoxicating, it drew him in. It had lasted only a few moments but it did make him hesitate. That hesitation had allowed Susan to be hurt and he had to do something to make it up to her. A sense of fairness was not just for the living.