Inside the maze, weeds and litter cluttered the path.
A squall rose, and choked off. Amanda ran toward the sound,
blessing the free stride these breeches allowed.
When the path turned, she dropped to look through the stems at the
base of the shrub-wall.
The blue-frocked child writhed on the ground, hugging herself.
Boley stood over her, smiling, one boot planted in her dark hair.
The bushes were thin here--Amanda dug through the clawing twigs.
Boley turned. She slashed his broad, smiling face with the riding
crop. He roared and shook his head, spraying ruby droplets. Then
smiled again, put up his huge boxer’s fists, and beckoned.
She grinned wildly, fear hammering her ribs. He outweighed her
twice over. What lunatic would close with him? She could only
distract him, get the child away, then escape.
She darted in and swung, drawing a red line down his bullish neck,
and spun out of reach. She struck him twice more, dancing about
him.
The child grasped Amanda's ankle. Amanda crouched and pushed her,
willing her to run.
Boley was coming, smiling. He took her next slash across his palms,
closed his hands on the crop, and jerked it from her. Disarmed.
She punched his bulging eye. The shock slammed up her arm, but the
man staggered. His broad Dutch hat fell away, and blood painted his
face.
He slashed. She ducked, and ran. Shrubbery walls stopped her.
Cornered.
He lashed her up-thrown arms. Gravel dug into her knees. She
smelled blood.
Will my sisters know I died? How long would they watch the road,
waiting?
Live or die, I will leave a mark on you! She surged to her feet,
driving one shoulder into the man’s belly, forcing out an obscene
belch.
She reeled. A stinging film of blood and sweat blurred her vision,
hid any opening in the green walls. From a distance, though, she
heard a gasping wail. The child was away.
Boley lifted her, a dizzying instant overhead, and threw her to the
ground. Her breath burst out. She drifted, until a hand closed on
her throat.
Boley straddled her, his knees grinding into her arms. She writhed
desperately. He planted one hand on her chest, and swore.
He cursed again, wonderingly, groping the vertical bones of the
vest under her shirt. Then he leaned forward, smiling, dripping
blood on her face, his knees crushing her arms.
With a wrench she thought would tear loose every joint, she threw
him off.
Behind him! A gap! A way out!
Boley drove his huge fist into her side. She crumpled, nauseated
with the pain, but drove her heel through his knee. He screamed, a
high-pitched raw sound.
The gap? Where? She couldn't see. Couldn't think. Boley fell as
much as lunged at her. She staggered out of reach, and ran.
Stumbled. Ran. Away. Away. She found the maze's gate.
Out. Safe.
She ran, and fell. Found an alley. Fell again. Dragged herself to
the darkest place, and hid.
