Background
If John Morgan were a tree, he'd be an oak; others find shelter from his strength. A character firmly rooted, drawing others to his circle of family and friends: under the shadow of the Eden Tree.
|
The honeymoon couple were taken. They came for them in the middle of the night. Screams and shouts muffled by strong hands, they were bundled into a transit van. The honeymoon was over.
The bridegroom, thrown side to side in the darkness, reached for his bride with his foot. With blindfolded eyes, hands bound, he wriggled across the hard metallic surface, until he found her. Reassured that she still breathed, he nestled his body close to her, feeling her warmth, the scent of fresh soap still clinging to her skin.
With no mobile phone he wondered how his family or friends could trace him. "It was a stupid idea to come here," he thought, blaming himself. His bride stirred and moaned. "Had they hurt her?" He thought. "Who were they, and why had they abducted them? It must be money." Moving his hips on the van's floor, he could not feel his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. His wallet was missing. "Of course", he said in his mind, "they took it. They took everything. He remembered the brutal search: money, watch, ring, phone, all taken. His tied wrists clenched. 'But', he thought,' they didn't check my sock. Big mistake'
The new bride moved her legs, trying to speak through the cloth. Muffled words that sounded like," you okay?" Typical of her, he thought, to be denying her bruises and concerned for him. The stench of metal and diesel burned his nostrils.
"Uh huh, I'm perfect," he said, reaching her again with his foot. The van turned a sharp corner, rolling them closer, pressed against the cold metal side. They were starting to climb. Several more sharp turns, hurled them around. 'The driver must be belting along,' the bridegroom thought, 'what's his hurry? Are we being followed from the guest house?'
Through the cloth he could see it was still pitch black outside. They climbed higher, and then the road noise changed. Tires churned up gravel. There was the sound of metal clanking. 'A gate is being opened', the honeymooner thought.
Through the van's windows misty lights appeared: the beam of a torch. Metal hinges creaked as the doors opened. The woman was lifted out first, followed by the man, both struggling to walk blindfold, slipping and falling as they ascended stone steps.
Forcefully pushed into a building where some lights filtered through the cloth around their eyes. The couple fell, onto a cold hard floor. It was a kitchen. The blindfolds were roughly removed, their eyes adjusting to the light. Another door opened to their left. The couple gasped as they looked up to see the largest man they had ever seen, towering above them.
