The Compound Part 3
That night, Shawna tossed and turned in her bed, rife with indecision. She was
once again sleeping in the clinic, but she wasn't really alone. Gabe's quarters
were right next-door, and he could walk through a door right from his home to
the clinic if he needed to. Plus, it was his practice to have someone up and
working in the clinic whenever he had an overnight patient, so Shawna could hear
someone moving around outside her room. She actually wished she were alone.
The person on the other side of the curtained doorway was a constant reminder of
how helpful and friendly these people were. That she was lying to them made
Shawna uncomfortable to the extreme. Shawna knew she wasn't good at lying. It
also didn't help that she was constantly aware of her craving for a hit of
something. Shawna knew she was one of the lucky few for whom withdrawal
symptoms came on slowly, but that didn't make them any easier to bear. The
medication the doctor gave her for her injuries helped to take off the edge of
her cravings, but soon it wouldn't be enough. She had to find her stuff, just
for a few seconds.
One hit, just a little one, would see her through; she knew it! It was another
reason Shawna wished she was alone; she wanted to search the clinic for her
knapsack.
As she lay there trying to sleep, Shawna thought about the strange community she
had wandered into. That it existed at all simply amazed her. Here was a group
of people with an entire mountain to themselves, and on it, they built a sort of
simple paradise. No phones, computers, cars, or television! They had turned
their backs on it all!
Shawna could admire their commitment to living without all that stuff, but
wasn't sure she would want to do it herself. After all, she had pursued a
career in electronics before Dirk had put his claws in her life, and there was
no need for that skill here.
Dirk.
Why couldn't she mourn for him?
The man had been her lover, her rescuer, her rock to hold on to. Shawna didn't
know why, but she had always needed a man like that to guide her through life.
She thought it might be because of her father, an overbearing tyrant who ruled
his home with an iron fist. Life under him had been hard, his quest for
perfection in his children backed up with a heavy hand. Many times Shawna had
come under his wrath for not performing up to his rigid standards, and
punishment was either physical in nature or through humiliation. Shawna vividly
remembered the time he made her scrub the concrete patio surrounding their pool.
He had made her do it naked in front of the entire house staff, simply because
he caught the then sixteen-year-old teasing a young gardener by flaunting her
body in a very brief bikini. She had already been forbidden twice to even
purchase the swimsuit in question, so her father figured that if his daughter
wanted to show off her body in such a shameful way, then she might as well go
all the way and show all of it to everyone.
After she was finally allowed to stop and get out of sight of the help, a crying
Shawna was beaten with a strap, producing marks all over her that prevented her
wearing a swimsuit of any kind for a week. The gardener was fired.
It was a pattern that extended far back into her childhood and up to her college
years, and even her mother wasn't immune to her father's discipline. Only in
college, living away from home for the first time, did Shawna finally realize
just how bad she had it. Yet, she still couldn't escape her family, because her
father held all the purse strings, and to be honest, Shawna just hadn't been
strong enough to resist. Then came Dirk, who picked her up just as she was
graduating. He was a whirlwind of fresh air, independent, well traveled, with
money of his own at the time. He swept Shawna off her feet and convinced her to
go away with him.
Life was good for the first several months, until his temper became apparent.
Then he would start abusing her, punishing her for wrongs both real and
imagined. Again, Shawna began to feel trapped, but she thought this time she
could walk away, until he got her hooked on coke. Shawna knew that with Dirk,
she always had a fix handy; without him, there was nothing but the great
unknown. So she stayed with him, through good and bad. Dirk turned out to be a
low-grade hustler and petty thief, and he had been living off a very good score
when he met Shawna. But eventually the money ran out, and Dirk did small jobs
to keep them both fed. He was always looking for another big score, and moved
Shawna and himself around the country in his quest for the "big one."
Then came the bank in Cisco.
To Dirk, it was a dream come true. No slouch himself when it came to mechanical
things, he spotted a flaw in the bank's security that a good electronics
engineer could exploit. Shawna, much to her father's surprise and her own, had
become very good with electronics!
Almost the top of her class, she had expected to be hired by one of the
industrial giants right out of college. But Dirk had gotten to her first. And
now, after casing almost three-dozen banks all over small town America, Dirk had
found his big score.
It didn't take much to convince Shawna to help him; just a withholding of her
next fix coupled with a threat-ladened guilt trip that made her feel worthless
and afraid.
She did what he wanted in order to satisfy her cravings, and because at the time
she really felt that she loved him.
So they robbed the bank, but didn't get clean away. Their escape was spotted
and they never got more than a minute ahead of their pursuers until they reached
the small airport outside of town.
The plane had been a part of their planned getaway, but the police chase had
not. Fearful of being followed even in the air, Dirk had steered them directly
into the mountains and into the storm that eventually brought them down.
Shawna thought about all this as she lay trying to sleep, and wondered how her
life could have become so much crap. Why were the only men in her life such
bastards?
When she did eventually fall asleep, it was with the calm knowledge that three
million dollars would make up for a hell of a lot of her abused past.
---***---
Waking the next morning, Shawna felt both better and worse. Many of the aches
and pains from her bruises had faded away, and her foot felt a lot better after
a full night in the poultice. But her craving had increased, and Shawna had to
consciously control how it showed. She was also feeling the effects of alcohol
withdrawal, for cocaine was not her only vice. Dirk had kept her liquored and
drugged up for years in a carefully managed way, and now that he was gone,
Shawna was feeling the consequences. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she
felt like she had a low-grade flu. She knew it would only get worse before it
got better, and she was not looking forward to it.
She vowed to find something she could use that day.
She was up and dressed before Vicky came in to see her.
"Hi Shawna, how are you doing today?" Vicky asked with a cheerful smile, a short
skirt added to her ensemble from the day before.
"Better, thanks," lied Shawna.
"That's great. My brother says that you'll be heading to town this morning, so
I expect you'll be glad to be getting out of here."
Shawna looked up in surprise, she had forgotten about the plan to send her back
to civilization. At first she was elated, for it meant her getting her knapsack
back soon, but then she began to worry. Here in the Compound she was safe from
the authorities, but she would be sure that all towns within range of the plane
they had escaped in would be warned about the bank robbery. If she showed her
face in town, it would mean arrest for sure. Besides, going to town meant being
taken away from all the money, and the crashed plane wouldn't remain hidden
forever, especially from these people. Shawna realized she couldn't leave, not
this way.
"Vicky, is the doctor around?" Shawna asked.
"Sure, I'll go get him if you like!" Vicky answered.
"Please," Shawna said.
Vicky nodded and left the room.
---***---
"So you don't want to leave?" Gabe asked his patient, noting in his head her
tremors and evasive eyes.
"No, not right now," Shawna said to him. "I don't think it will be a good idea
just yet."
"Why not?" asked Gabe.
Shawna hesitated. She had tried to think of a good reason for staying, but had
only come up with one that had a chance of being believable, at least by this
man. Yet it was a painful choice to her.
"Er...You guys are pretty isolated up here, aren't you?" Shawna eventually said.
Gabe nodded slowly.
"I mean, you don't really have a drug problem up here do you?"
"No," said Gabe, "There's no drug problem up here."
Shawna gave him a strained smile. "That's good because I think that's what I
need right now. No distractions, no temptations. I wasn't quite honest with
you yesterday. I do have a drug problem. It's a small one, I'm not a heavy
doper or anything, but I still..."
Gabe waited a moment before speaking. "There are places that can take care of
you, where you can get cleaned up. There's a hospital in town where I can
arrange for you to stay for a while if you like. You can be helped there," he
said gently.
"No, I don't want another hospital," said Shawna. "I don't...trust them, like I
trust you. There, I'm just another body; clean her up and ship her out! But
here, with you, I know I'll be cared for."
Shawna looked up at him for the first time, and Gabe saw in her eyes that she
really was in pain. The caregiver in him wanted to help her, but the Compound
had rules.
He sighed. "I do want to help you Shawna, you know that. But extending your
stay isn't my decision once you're well enough to travel. I'll have to talk to
Paul about it first."
"Paul?" Shawna asked.
"Paul Anderson, the man you saw talking last night at dinner. He runs the
Compound, and it's his decision if you stay or not."
"But you will ask him, won't you?" asked Shawna, reaching out and taking his
hand.
"I'll ask," Gabe said simply, and he pulled his hand away from her and got up.
Shawna watched him leave the room and then lay back on her bed. She
concentrated on pulling herself together, and silently wished Gabe luck.
---***---
Gabe found Paul Anderson out in front of the stables. Paul was standing at the
corral fence with Johan Bergstrom, who was in charge of all the livestock the
Compound kept. The two men were in quiet conversation as they watched a third
man work in the corral itself.
Patch was working a horse, a rather unruly stallion that had injured a foreleg
trying to jump the fence. The animal was agitated and in obvious pain as it
limped about the corral.
It certainly wasn't animal you'd want to approach. Yet Patch had made the
attempt.
Calmly, and with deliberate speed, Patch had managed to walk up to the stricken
animal and put a bridle on it. Through all his approach, he whispered quietly
to the horse, his voice calm and almost silent. The horse responded favorably,
and by the time Patch reached it, it stood meekly in the center of the yard.
Patch began to rub it down with his hands, rubbing the sweat off its flanks and
feeling the tenseness of all the muscles under the skin. He looked over briefly
at where his wife, Ruthy, stood waiting at the barn door, and nodded his head.
Ruthy slowly approached the horse, and once she reached it, she took over the
rubbing motion Patch had established while Patch bent low to look at the injured
leg.
He saw nothing serious in the injury, and sent Ruthy back for liniment and some
wraps.
At the tail end of all this, Gabe arrived, and he stood and watched the couple
at work for a moment.
Gabe was quite concerned about Patch. When the man had arrived in the Compound
a year ago with Ruthy and Rhianna, he had brought along a complete medical file,
which in itself was quite unusual. Rather than having to develop for himself
the medical history of the few newcomers the Compound had, Gabe was able to read
through Patch's at once. What he saw sickened him. Patch, a former FBI Agent
named Cory Lincoln, had been tortured extensively. His body was a network of
scars and cuts, and many of his bones had been broken at some point in his life.
Major injuries to his neck, possibly a hanging attempt, had almost destroyed his
voice box, so he had no real voice to speak with. He had lost an eye, hence his
new name, and he was the only person in the Compound that never went barefoot,
because someone had hacked off the front of his right foot.
That was just the physical side of his problems. Gabe found several pages of
summaries of psychiatric evaluations done on Patch since he was rescued by
Rhianna from wherever she found him. Basically they all said that whatever had
happened to the man had so traumatized him that the person who had been Cory
Lincoln had retreated deep into his mind, leaving Patch behind. Patch was a
simple man, but an intelligent one. But according to Rhianna, there was little
of the original Cory Lincoln left. Gabe was no psychiatrist, but he could
understand the conclusions drawn by the several doctors who had seen the man.
Eventually, maybe, Cory might appear again. But it was doubtful.
Gabe however, felt that with the right environment and the right people around
him, Cory might make it back from wherever he was hiding. And if there were any
place in the world it could happen, it would be here in the Compound.
But Gabe, like the rest of the community, couldn't help but be impressed with
the skills Patch brought with him. The man was a master when it came to
training horses. Gabe didn't know whether to believe what Rhianna told him he
had trained before he came here, but he certainly had the touch! Whether these
skills were a part of Patch, or a part of Cory, Gabe didn't know. But he
intended to help Patch find out. But now Gabe had a different problem.
"Paul," he said, walking up to the Compound's Guardian, "a word?"
Paul Anderson glanced at the doctor for a second and nodded, before quickly
finishing his conversation with Johan.
Johan smiled and gave both men a slap on the back before hurrying off toward the
pigpens.
"What can I do for you, Gabe?" Paul asked.
"It's about our visitor," Gabe answered.
"Is she ready to leave?"
"Er...No, not quite."
Paul raised an eyebrow, and turned to watch Patch and Ruthy treat the injured
horse.
"What's going on?" he asked calmly.
"Well, physically she can make the trip, that's not a problem, but there's more
to this woman than her injuries show."
"Such as?"
"I feel that it would be in her best interest for her to stay up here with us
for a while," said Gabe, not wanting to go into Shawna's drug problems if he
didn't have to.
"You afraid of her boyfriend finding her?" Paul asked.
Gabe shook his head. He had his own opinions of this supposed boyfriend.
Shawna's injuries looked to him more like she received them in a car wreck
rather than being beaten as she said, and he knew car wrecks having interned at
a busy Boston hospital before coming here. It was one of the mysteries about
her he wanted to solve.
Paul continued to talk. "I was going to drop her off with the Sheriff, have her
tell him all about it. She's an outsider with outsider problems. I'm sure the
Sheriff can handle it."
"No, it's not that," Gabe said. "I can't explain, but I do think she should
stay a while longer."
Paul turned to look at his friend. "Is she going to give us any trouble?"
Gabe shook his head.
"Okay. I guess I'll tell Grady we aren't going to town today."
"Thanks, Paul," said Gabe, relieved that his friend wasn't pressing him for
answers...yet.
"How long is, just a while?"
"A week, maybe more."
Paul nodded and watched Patch until the horse was led into the barn. Silent,
Gabe waited a few minutes, and then moved away to tell Shawna she could stay.
As he turned, he saw, near the side of the barn, a horse and wagon all ready to
leave.
Tending to the horse was Grady, a rather solemn looking man in his late
twenties. He was another of Gabe's special concerns. Grady had lost his wife
three months ago; she had drowned while swimming in the river. Her death had
hit Grady hard, rendering him almost helpless in grief for a while.
Slowly he was returning to the community, but Gabe was worried about who was
coming back. Before the accident, Grady had been a generous and friendly man,
but now he was angry and withdrawn, and rarely spoke to anybody. Gabe's
attempts at counseling had fallen on deaf ears, and even the community elders
were concerned about him.
Formerly one of the Compound's Blacksmiths, Grady had given up that job to work
in the stables. The Smithy was a community center, which was not where Grady
wanted to be. He, like Patch and Ruthy, was happiest when left alone with the
horses.
Conscious of the weight of the community on HIS shoulders, Gabe went back inside
to tell Shawna the good news.
End of Part 3.
