Into the Pines

 

The pines stood like a crowd of shadows. They watched as the couple got out of the black Mercedes. Faye screamed as another contraction ripped through her. When the contraction had passed, she stopped. She had never seen pines like these. They stole the light from the dusk.

            ‘Come on, we have to reach the altar by nightfall,’ said Christian.

            Christian grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the pines. Her contractions were gut-splitting and she hadn’t the strength to argue. He was all she had. The morning dose of Fentanyl was leaving her body. Christian promised her a hit after she gave birth. They marched through the thick orange needle ridden mud. Her white canvas shoes were caked with brown sludge.

            ‘I can’t see anything Chris, how do you know where to go?’

            ‘My faith in him guides us.’

They moved through the forest, snapping twigs and rustling bracken as they went. Faye was frightened by the endless dark of the pines. Her mind drifted from the trees.

*   *   *

Faye drifted back to the midnight street. The road was dark. She felt the familiar fear and anticipation of the game. She needed her final fix. There was no other way to get money at that time of night. The traffic slowed as the night deepened. She hadn’t made a buck. The hunger for the fix turned into a ravenous cold across her body. She was willing to do anything for twenty bucks. That’s all she needed to calm the freezing fires in her blood.

            Christian pulled up in a black Mercedes. His pale young face peered out of the pine fresh white leather seats. Faye sensed danger. She overrode her instincts and got into the car to make a sale.

*   *   *

Faye screamed louder as the next contraction broke her from the daydream. She fell to the mud breathing heavily, unable to walk. Christian picked her up.

            ‘You can’t give birth here. We must get you to the altar. My child needs to be sanctified.’

            Faye was too weak to argue. Christian lifted her from the needle ridden floor without compassion and they carried on through the darkness. The sappy mud stuck to her knees. Christian found the path.

            ‘This is it. This is the old logging track that leads to the altar. We don’t have long before the moon reaches its peak.’

            The stars were out. Faye looked up and remembered the night of her abduction.

*   *   *

Christian drove through the dark with the doors locked. Faye’s withdrawal got the better of her and she threw up in the back seat. Christian drove out of the city and into the corn. When she regained herself he gave her the one thing she needed more than safety: Fentanyl.

            ‘There’s more at the house. You can have as much as you need. You won’t need to work the streets anymore.’

            As the rush of relief entered her junk-sick cells, she contemplated his proposition. There was an alarm beeping in her mind. This whole situation screamed of murder. The man in the black Mercedes had abducted her and driven her into the rustling quiet of the corn. She had no weapons. He had taken her phone. She was lost to the world. Nobody knew where she was, not even her pimp. He hadn’t asked her to do anything yet. The surging fear was numbed by the Fentanyl. As long as she had her fix she wouldn’t feel as afraid of him as her rational mind told her to be.

            He took her to a trailer and gave her a room. There was a bottle of liquid Fentanyl and some clean needles. She took another hit and lay back trying not to panic.

*   *   *

Another contraction took hold of her. She gripped Christians hand with a strength he wasn’t ready for. Christian rubbed at his mangled hand.

            ‘We’re getting close. Can you smell the smoke?’

            Faye sniffed the pine infused air and caught a whiff of wood smoke.

            ‘All we have to do is follow the smoke, we’re not far now. He is waiting for us.’

Faye felt the pain sweat from her as the contraction subsided. The moon had started to rise. All the confusion of the last ten months came back to her in fragmented visions. She followed Christian the way a worshiper followed a priest. The pain of her contractions broke her from his hold, and when the pain subsided she returned to the dreams of the past.

*   *   *

In the days that followed Faye’s abduction she began to warm to her new life. She had all the Fentanyl she could use. She no longer had to work the streets after midnight. The doors and windows were locked and she lacked the strength to try and break them. She didn’t have much of an appetite, yet she ate the blueberry pancakes he ordered from the diner. If he was going to hurt her, surely he would have done it by now. She didn’t know what he wanted. The men she used to service were quite simple in their wants. Christian was an enigma. The fear that he was going to kill her kept resurfacing and she kept burying it with Fentanyl.

            When she found a rhythm with her new life she wanted an answer. She waited for him to bring her the pancakes.

            ‘Why did you bring me here?’

            ‘You have been chosen.’

His answer filled her with a new and deeper fear. He sounded insane. She had encountered psychotic men before. She knew the difference between mad and insane. She had no way to escape so she played along.

            ‘Chosen?’ said Faye.

            ‘You will carry the son of Baphomet.’

            Faye nodded and began to sweat. He wasn’t just crazy; he was religious as well. Now she understood why he had kidnapped her. He meant to impregnate her. She wanted to escape. Yet her life had become much simpler. She didn’t have to sell herself for a fix anymore. And she had a roof over her head. The rational side of her said “Get the hell out of here now,” the junk-calm side of her said “wait it out, if the Fentanyl stops then make your escape.”

            After Christian’s intentions were made clear. He began to watch her. He was trying to work out when she had her period. In the evenings after she took her afternoon hit. He would read to her from the dark scriptures.

            The more he read the more she listened. He called her the impure, the harlot vessel, the midnight queen, the brewer of darkness, the holder of the light. He called himself the pure, the virgin seed, the giver, the black lightning. It began to resonate with her in the dark hours after her fix. Finally, when she was ready, fourteen days before her next period, she did not protest. She consented to becoming the bearer of the virgin seed. The ritual was complete.

*   *   *

The smell of wood smoke grew richer the closer they came to the altar. Christian felt a growing pleasure in nearing the end of his mission. Faye’s contractions were becoming more frequent, her agony more extreme.

            Ten months of scripture, ten months of drug fuelled isolation, ten months of waiting to give her baby to Baphomet, was nearing its end. Christian’s dark whispers had filled her ears and now they were reaching their goal. She hadn’t had her afternoon fix. The car-drive had been swift in the moments after her contractions began. Christian assured her she would get one when the baby was born. The need filled her mind. She stumbled on through her pain towards the fire light.

            Five cloaked figures stood round a plain oak birthing chair on top of a stone altar. Seven fires lit the scene. The altar had a carved Latin inscription set inside a pentagram. It read:

“Welcome Child of Baphomet”

            The moon was waxing above. The figures took down their hoods to reveal shaven heads stained with goat’s blood. Faye began to tremble. She was guided to the chair and the chanting began. Her contractions were every five minutes. Her screams blended with the chanting. Out of the darkness came a red robed priestess with a crown of ram’s horns. She knelt down in front of Faye.

            “The son of the dark one is here.”

            The baby was born onto the altar. They knelt in silent prayer. Faye felt a momentary relief. Then she called for her fix. The umbilical cord was cut.  The baby was passed to the priestess, who unfurled her robe and gave her breast to suckle. The baby took it.

            ‘Drink the milk of the chosen mother.’

            Before Faye could protest she was lifted from the chair and carried back into the darkness. She was given a fix. Then she fell asleep exhausted.

*   *   *

When Faye woke up she was back on the street at the spot where she was abducted. It was morning and she felt as if she had been drained of everything but the soft breaths of dewy air. Her baby was gone, so was Christian. She didn’t have any money and she wanted a fix.  The ordeal made tears run down her cold cheeks. The remedy was stuck on the end of a needle.