52stories

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Water rushed up the beach sand, the eternally shifting tide making it’s way inland once more. The foamy flow spilled onto Kate’s hair, and another wave surged enough to splash her face. The ebb and flow of the water stirred her to consciousness, waking her to a world of pain.

She instinctively screamed, and got a mouthful of ocean water for her trouble. The pain from her legs, more accurately her kneecaps, throbbed and burned like fire. The endless intensity threatened to send her back into nothingness, but passing out now, with the tide coming in so quickly meant death. The gritty sand gave way many times as she tried to prop herself up with her arms, to at least draw one full breath.

Blinking away the salty water from her eyes, Kate could see it was nighttime, no moon in the overhead bejeweled sky. The fierce wind blew so loudly her screams were lost in them, and the strong pungent smell of the ocean flooded her nose. Her mind presented many questions, but the pain overrode all logic. Her legs were broken, at least her kneecaps were. She had never felt such pain before.

Clawing the wet earth, Kate worked herself around, and began to move up the beach. Flipping onto her stomach, without the use of her legs, was difficult and painful. The added weight to her knees sent new flares of pain all through her body. Despite all that, her mind told her something key, she knew this place. This beach was actually not that far from her home, the last place she remembered. The juxtaposition of high rock face abutting the small beaches at first made them undesirable properties. However, once the remainder of private beachfront was scooped up, even these irregular coast lines helped real estate agents like Kate turn a small fortune but selling to the Hollywood and Business elite.

More waves chased Kate as she struggled like a soon-to-be mother tortuous, clumsily slithering forward. The glint of glass caught her eye, as perched just five steps up off the sand, on a square deck, sat a bottle. Through her tears, she could read the label, in big black letters, “KATE”.

After steeling herself for the next round of pain, Kate made a push for the steps. Twenty seconds later she knew she had to flip back over. The sand gave with each effort, and shortly her arms ached, pulling her limp body. While not heavy by any stretch of the imagination, wet and using only her arms, she may as well have weighed a literal ton. Kate thought she knew what to expect, as she lifted one limp legs then the other, but she was totally wrong. The movement now of shifting her weight hurt every bit as much, as before, but the spurts of pain did not recede. Instead they amplified each other, and a wave of surrender, of just wanting to give up in despair washed over her.

Now at the bottom wooden step, Kate realized someone had done this to her, and she would not give them the satisfaction of beating her. She had survived her incestuous father, a violent marriage, and breast cancer. She wasn’t going to give up now. She was five steps away. Away from what? A bottle with her name on it? It was something, a goal, and the primal urge to get there, as well as not become fish food, spurred her on. Using her arms, clenched into piston like fists, she pushed her body up, then with a tremendous amount of pain, willed herself to swing, by thrusting her head backward. THUMP! One step. She was sitting on the first step. Progress. The climb continued, each time banging her legs again on wood, each time curses spilled from her mouth. At ten minutes a step, it was nearly an hour before she could sit on the square landing and lay back. Doing so put the bottle within reach.

Under the bottle was a paper, as Kate lifted the glass she could feel it was full of some liquid. She began to read.

“Kate,
You made it this far, good work. Only ninety four more steps. Each landing you manage to reach, you’ll be rewarded and punished. If you make it to the top before dawn, you’ll be rewarded with your life. Enjoy the vodka, it may help with the pain, although don’t drink too much…

PS, Oops, silly me! I forgot to bring a bottle opener.”

Kate re-read the message, then checked her watch. It was now Midnight, and daybreak was a mere six to seven hours away. The vodka called to her. She now had options at least. She could shatter the glass, and slit her writs. That would certainly be better than attempting to climb all these stairs, wounded, cold, and alone. That wasn’t acceptable. It was going to take more than this to stop her now. She tried to use the wood steps, then the framing all around, to open the top, but the soft wood only chipped and splintered. Kate tried to twist it off with her hands, but they were cold, shaking, and now bloodied by the effort.

“Rewarded and punished.” Kate thought. She lifted the bottle-top to her mouth, and using her teeth she popped off the metal cap. The effort cracked one of her molars, as she expected, and she spit out the tooth fragment. The warm salty taste of blood began to fill her mouth, as did a new throbbing in her jaw. She washed it all away with a long pull from the bottle. It too burned going down, and the effort overcame her. From within, a surge of warm puke poured out of her. She drank again, this time keeping it down. Two more swallows, and she definitely began to feel warmer, and disconnected from the intensity of the constant ache she felt from her useless legs.

Kate took off her wet shirt, and used it to tie her legs together at the ankles. She knew she never could have endured this without the alcohol dulling her mind. Still, with them united, they shouldn’t flail about as much, and perhaps could be saved some bruising. Careful not to tip over the bottle, Kate placed it one step up, and began to work herself toward the next landing. To distract herself, she tried to answer the questions that would not leave her mind. Who could have done this? Did she have enemies? Apparently so, but never would she have thought anyone could be so enraged at her to one do this, or two go to all this trouble. In the back of her mind, ‘something’ called out, a faint memory, a detail she had ignored. Dealing with the pain, and trying to keep her buzz manageable, Kate could not force it to the surface.

Having worked out a system for her locomotion, Kate managed the next fifteen steps in a much quicker pace than the initial five. Now it was 1:30 am and she had reached the next plateau. There was a blanket, fleece, compactly shaped into a roll in the center of the landing. In the cold of the night, and now having no shirt on, Kate welcomed the blanket, and greedily grasped for it. In moments it covered her top, and aided with the new found protection from the brisk night air, her shivering reduced considerably.

Once she began thinking about moving up the next set of fifteen steps, she felt a small sting. Pulling the blanket down off her, she saw dozens of red ants crawling all over her flesh. In an almost choreographed succession more stings began to register. Kate brushed them off feverishly, although her arms failed to move as she wanted, her reaction time dulled by the potent vodka in her system. Again, she recalled the words of her tormentor, “rewarded and punished”.

“If I live through this, I’m going to kill you.” Kate began her struggle up the next flight. She kept herself company by speaking aloud all the ghastly things she wanted to do to him. Dismemberment chief among them. A brief thought occurred to her, maybe a woman had done this, but no woman could hate other women this much. Deep down she knew a man had shattered her kneecaps, had caused her to break a tooth, had stung her repeatedly with tiny insect bites. Someone HATED her with an intensity reserved for lunatics and horror novels.

Kate checked her watch again as she reached the next square landing. She would not blindly accept any further gifts, and she expected a bear trap next. Instead of metal jaws, a modest container waited on the center slat. Under it, another paper, still with her name. She read, her tired eyes forced to focus on the words.

“Kate,

Bravo. Oh, sorry about the ants. This salve will remove their sting.”

First, Kate unscrewed the cap, with came off with little effort. The cream inside had no smell. She put a small dollop on one of the now red bite areas on her chest. The sting did die out as promised, still she was all too aware every reward came with a price. Still, given the choice between enduring the multiple stings or not, she chose not. Rubbing the cream all over her chest, abdomen, and arms, she felt a cooling sensation replace the endless thrum of hot needle like bites. The last bit came out, and as Kate applied it, she saw the words printed on the bottom of the can, “made with peanut oil”.

Panicked, Kate tried to rub the lotion off, but found she was only rubbing the mix deeper into her skin. She was allergic to peanuts, and that included peanut products like the eponymous oil derived from it’s processing. In a short time she’d begin to swell, the lotion on her neck no doubt able to choke her very breath from her. Who was this sick freak that knew her so well?

Wasting no time, Kate began the next set of steps, her breath hurried, her focus gone. Now she was a wild animal scrambling out of a sinking ship. Swallowing became difficult, her cheeks and lips had grown in size, and were now making seeing difficult. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. She didn’t need to see, she knew exactly where she wanted to go. The struggle to push up, lean back, and repeat continued again and again, as each forced movement demanded more air, but her throat closed up even further.

Gone now from her mind were all the questions, filled in with regrets. Having never seen Paris, having never started that family, having never … oh there were so many things… always so much time. Now she had seconds, and as her life began to replay in her mind, she toppled over, onto her back, she was on the next deck. As her eyes closed up from the swelling, and her heart pounded loudly, she saw sitting on the wooden floor, a syringe, another note taped to it, with “Kate, aim for the heart.” She swung around, gaining yet another explosion of protest pain from her legs, and grabbed for it. She plunged the needle into her chest, pushed the stopper, and passed out.

Chemicals raced throughout her bloodstream, among them, pure adrenaline. The purging elements worked their biological magic, and the swelling subsided. Shocked awake, Kate struggled to catch her breath. Her heart pounded with jackhammer intensity, her arms twitched, her body shivered once more. Now, thankfully her legs were numbed totally, although the rest of her ached, notably her rear and back, that had been taking the brunt of abuse all night as he ascended the wooden stairway.

Her watch said it was approaching 4:00, she had been out for nearly an hour. A small paper lay tucked into the space between two planks. It was another letter.

“Kate,

The chemicals you’ve injected should counter the reaction you were having to the peanut oil. Also, I’ve included some powerful pain medicine, and one more thing, a raging case of a really nasty STD, which was easier to come by than you might think. Truly that is a gift that keeps on giving. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The next set of stairs took just as long, despite the leg pain being relieved greatly. She could still feel her legs, and the occasional flare of white-hot burning. However, the numbing agent was working overall. It was the fatigue of the whole ordeal that slowed her down now. The cold, the sand-grin in every crevice of her body, the wetness of her clothes, the continual effort all night to climb these ridiculous stairs. If someone had asked her yesterday Kate would have admitted to being in ‘good shape’ not able to run a marathon, but visited the gym two or three times a week to keep up a good cardio regimen. What she was doing now was far more of a workout than she’d ever imagined.

At some point Kate began praying. She didn’t go to church, wasn’t sure about any higher power. And while some may have viewed the inhumanity dispatched on her today as proof God was ignoring his children, she wanted only someone to talk to, or bargain with. “Everyday will be well spent.” She promised herself, and maybe God too. “I will not ignore the needy. I will not take for granted the miracles inside every minute.”

At 4:40, Kate was able to rest once again. The platform held a small toolbox. She pulled back the latch, and looked inside. Another note lay on top. She read.

“Kate,

Now it’s time to make a decision. There is another syringe inside the box. If you manage to get this inside you less than an hour after infection, the STD will not take hold in your system. Inject it all. I doubt you’ll be able to find a vein in this cold weather. This will also cancel out the numbing agent. Can’t have your cake and eat it too. Sorry I’ve run out of baby needles.”

Once again, Kate looked in the metal box. A tube of yellowish liquid rested at the bottom. The needle inside was not attached, but she knew what it was for – animal injections. She had seen them once when taking a tour of one of her more profitable property sales. The client had an open house, and even then the needle had made an impression when she saw it. The needle was metal, with a large diameter, compared to what was used on humans. Using this was no different than stabbing herself, and the prophecy of a “reward” and a “punishment” was coming true again.

Kate screwed on the needle. There was no pleasant way to do this, so she jabbed it into her leg, and began pushing the fluid inside her. Instantly the pain returned to her legs, her nervous systems flaring to life at full capacity. The injection hole felt like a metal poker jammed into her side, the medicine itself taking on a scalding quality as it worked it’s way all through her system. The ordeal over, she pulled out the needle, allowing yet more blood to leave her body.

Kate decided to take note of her progress. There was maybe one and a half hours left until dawn. There were two sets of stairs left, the next set a normal fifteen, then the final row, oh it seemed so close, but longer, maybe a few steps more than usual. Her heart sank, and inside a voice pleaded with her just to lay down here and sleep. She looked down as the distance she had traveled. She could see blood on many steps. However, having come all this way, she knew she had come too far to quit now. Despite the pain, despite the cold, the aches, and bites, the blood, she began her ascent anew.

This time there was no emotion. Kate did not complain to God, did not swear murderous intent on her oppressor. She did not feel sorry for herself, and did not cry at the pain any more. She USED it, she fed on the suffering. If her legs sent jarring waves of pain, she focused on them, cheered them on. She was an animal now, her humanity stripped from her long ago, she used primal determination to push up, swing back, and repeat. Nothing else clouded her mind, and sometime around 5:30 she once again could rest.

Remaining was one long row of steps. She had enough experience to notice yes, there were definitely more on this last run. She counted as she panted, gasped for air. Nineteen left out of the ninety nine. This platform and the next meant there were two rewards left, but also two penalties. Yet, she didn’t care. It was too much. The sicko pulling her strings tonight was not going to let her live. He may have been nearby, watching through binoculars, getting his jollies from watching her struggle. No more. Kate had had enough, and was done with this game. Close to the end or not, she had no more energy, no life left to give. Beaten in every conceivable way, she realized she was giving up for good. He had broken her. She would rest here, await the sunrise and whatever death was coming.

Having little else to do, Kate looked around the deck for the next taunting letter. A metal can waited, a small note taped to the outside. “Kate, the truth is inside.”

Picking up the metal can, she began unscrewing the lid. A gel coating made it difficult. It took several minutes, but Kate managed to open the lid. Inside was yet another piece of paper.

“Kate,

Congratulations on making it this far. The soft goo coating will begin to give you a chemical burn in a few minutes. Still, having suffered through the night, I want you to know some things. First, at the top of the landing is a cell phone with enough minutes to call for help. There was poison in the vodka. The antidote is up there with the phone. If exposed to sunlight the chemical properties will change, rendering it inert.

Have you figured out who I am yet? I guess it’s pretty obvious. If not, well, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. In that case, all I will say is this - Remember that forest you allowed to get cut down to build a pharmaceutical plant? Well the suffering you’ve endured tonight is nothing compared to the damage you permitted to the animals displaced, not to mention the ones held for testing. Sunrise is at 6:32am.”

Looking at her watch Kate saw it change from 5:59 to 6:00. Thirty minutes left to reclaim her life. That remaining time was on par with the progress she’d made up the stairs thus far, but this was the steepest, longest set yet. A final rush of emotion overcame her – anger!

THOMP! She slammed once more into another wooden plank, another blow to her bruised back. UNGG! She swung back, moving up only six inches or so with each Herculean effort. Sweat dripped down her face, Kate foamed at the mouth, her arms screaming in fiery protest to every thrust and movement. The ubiquitous pain racked her body, the epicenter still her broken knees, shattered, bone fragments cutting the tendons and sinews as they rubbed with each exertion. Soon came the burning. From within her skin, an itch then flair of pain slithered. It was the chemical burn as promised, but compared to the ravaging her body had endured tonight, this was just more fuel for the fire.

The world began to lighten, a herald of a new day, or of death. Kate could not help herself, she checked her watch. 6:28. There were still too many steps. There was substantial cloud cover to the east, maybe that would buy her a few moments more. Perhaps God was with her today after all.

Flopping down on the observation deck, Kate clawed her way to the phone. Taped to it, was a small test tube, with a cork top. Kate drank the fluid just before the sunlight spilled over her. There was one number in the phone’s directory, the local police. She called, sobbing out most of the words. Her voice sounded strained, and weak, foreign to herself. The police assured her help was on the way. They offered to stay on the line, but the connection was broken.

Kate looked at the small black device, a pay-as-you go phone, with limited features, and no traceability. A small message scrolled on the small display. ‘1 Voice Mail Message – Press SEND to listen’. Kate did, knowing this would be the punishment of having made it this far.

“Kate, well done.” A computer synthesized voice continued, “Just know one thing. This is not over. I will see you later.”

The loud wail of sirens pierced the quiet of the early morning. They grew louder with each passing moment. Through the pain, the fatigue, the misery, Kate had only one thought in reply. “I’ll be ready.”