Back to the Plains

Part 2: The Memories

"Our memories have voices too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark."

-Stephen King, Duma Key

The emergence into consciousness is quicker this time as Ali, wherever she is, is not alone. Someone is nearby. She can hear their footsteps on the ground. She listens before she dares to open her eyes. Underneath her fingertips, she can feel a soft fabric, but whatever she was lying on had to be the hardest mattress in existence. Is that stone? The steps come near, and she can hear a soft humming of a woman. What did they do, drop her off with their mom? Ali's anger spikes remembering how the men had treated her. As soon as the steps slowly retreat, her eyes shoot open. She is in a room, and the only light is coming from the only window. Who puts a window on the roof? Ali questions, seeing the blinding light illuminate a ladder. A rooftop escape. She glances around, seeing no real windows and no real doors. The only way in or out is up, so up she will go. Despite her aching muscles, she sits up soundlessly. The other person in the room is a woman, as Ali had suspected by the voice, with long dark hair working over something on the opposite side of the room, facing away from her. The woman continues to hum, paying no attention to her patient. Ali notices the woman's clothing, glancing over the tanned material two-piece with beads accenting it. Right, Native American cosplay. Ali mentally shrugs at whatever weirdness these people are playing and makes a break for the ladder.

The sudden noise causes the other woman to startle and face her just as Ali reaches the ladder. The woman speaks, but it is in a language that Ali does not understand. Taking a step towards her, Ali decides it is time to go and forces herself up the ladder and onto the roof. As her eyes adjust to the sunlight, she notices the sun is low but is it a sunrise or sunset? Has she been out a few hours or all night? Hearing pursuit following her up the stairs, Ali looks for a way down. She had almost expected herself to be in some hole in the ground, but this is rather a building above ground, with a weird door on a roof. It is not the only building either, and each one has other cubicles attached like the one Ali woke up in. Observing her surroundings quickly, she notices the handles of another ladder, and runs to it, ignoring the sandy gravel under her feet. Just as the strange woman's head pops into the opening, Ali disappears down the other ladder and hits the ground as quickly as possible with a small jump to skip the last few steps. That move sends a jolt of pain from her ankles to her neck. Son of a nutcracker! It hurt, and Ali is sure she twisted an ankle, but it is not about to stop her from escaping. She forces down the yelp that is about to escape her lips, and takes off running, dodging the other buildings and straight past a group of teepees. This is so weird!

As Ali runs, she knocks into random people. Of course, it was not on purpose, but she is the clumsy one. Her escape is catching attention and Ali hears voices hollering at her, but again, the language barrier keeps her from understanding. She continues to run and finds herself at the edges of a creek. She does not have any creeks or rivers near her house. Then again, Ali wonders just how far they took her to reach this place. The edge of the creek sits possibly four feet from the top of the water, though the water itself is only maybe a foot deep. The water runs quickly over the river rocks. Ali debates on jumping across, but it is a long jump, quite possibly eight feet across. She could never make it. Studying the creek in both directions she sees there is no narrowing in her view, only widening. Her only chance is to climb down. Just as she makes up her mind to try, she is once again captured around the waist and dragged away from the edge. Ali finds she is fighting back, letting out the occasional scream of the pain in her ribs. She turns slightly and Ali sees that a man has grabbed her, confirming her suspicions, and is now gripping onto her forearms close to the elbow. The stitches on her right arm scream at her in protest to the abuse. Ali struggles, looking down, and rams her right knee as hard as she can in a place no man wants to be kicked. It works like a charm. He releases her and the man drops to the ground. A crowd has now gathered, and she can hear the occasional hysterics of laughter at the scene.