The Descent

'I should have. She's been useless to me.'  He  gestured,  and  two  soldiers  dragged  the feral girl in and tied her to the wall nearby.

The  first thing Ali noticed  was  her  smells.  The  girl  had  a  raw  odor,  fecal  and  musky and  layered   with  sweat.   Her  hair  smelled   like  smoke   and  filth.  Blood  and  snot streaked  the duct tape.

'What has been done to this child?'

'She's been an ungodly temptation to my  men,' Walker answered.

'You allowed your  men –'

Walker  peered  at  her.  'So  righteous?  You're  no  different,  though.  Everyone  wants something  from  this  creature.  Go  ahead,  extract  your  glossary  from  her,  Sister.  Just don't leave  this room without permission.'

Troy  stood and draped his jacket on  the  girl's  shoulders.  The  girl  backed  away  from his  chivalry,  then  opened  her  legs  as  far  as  the  ropes  would  allow,  and  pumped  her groin at him. Troy  backed away.

'I wouldn't fall in love with that one, boy.' Walker laughed. 'Ferae naturae. She's wild by  nature.'

Ali and Troy  went to feed the girl.

'What you doing?' a soldier demanded.

'Taking off this duct tape,' Ali said. 'How else can she eat?'

The  soldier  gave  a  hard  yank  at  the  tape,  and  snatched  his  hand  away.  The  girl  all but garroted  herself on the wire, lunging  for  him.  Ali  fell  back.  Laughter  sprinkled  the room. 'All yours,' he said.

The  feeding  needed  caution.  Ali  spoke  to  her  with  a  low  voice,  enunciating  their names, and trying  to  disarm  her.  The  food  was  noxious  to  the  girl,  but  she  took  it.  At one  point  she  spit  the  applesauce  out  and  made  some  elaborate  complaint,  which emerged  with extraordinary  softness. It  wasn't  just  the  volume  that  was  soft,  but  the

formal  delivery.  For  all  her  ferocity,  the  girl  sounded  almost  pious.  She  seemed  to  be speaking  to  the  food,  or  discoursing  on  it.  Her  temperament  was  sophisticated,  not savage.

When  she  was  done,  the  girl  lay  back  on  the  rock  floor  and  closed  her  eyes.  There was no transition between  the meal and sleeping. She took what she could get.

Two days  passed. Ike  still did not show himself. Ali  sensed  he  was  somewhere  close, but the search teams  came up empty.

The   soldiers   beat    Shoat    senseless,    trying    to    pry    loose   the    secret    of   his homing-device  code.  His  stubbornness  drove  them  to  a  fury,  and  they  only  stopped when Ali placed her body across Shoat's. 'Kill him  and  you'll  never  learn  the  code,'  she told  them.  Nursing  Shoat  added  to  her  duties,  for  she  was  already  taking  care  of Walker  and  several  other  soldiers.  But  someone  had  to  do  it.  They  were  still  God's creatures.

Walker  wavered  in  and  out  of  fever.  He  railed  in  tongues  in  his  sleep.  The  soldiers exchanged  dark  looks.  The  room  filled  with  deadly  intent,  and  Ali  grew  more  and more concerned. The  only good news was that Ike  was nowhere to be found.

On  the  second  night,  Troy  bravely  tried  to  stop  a  mercenary  from  taking  the  girl outside  to  some  waiting  friends.  The  soldiers  gave  him  a  pistol-whipping  that  would have  gone on but for  the  girl's  laughter,  and  her  strangeness  made  them  lose  interest in hitting Troy.  Much later she was returned  to the room,  sweaty  and  with  her  mouth duct-taped.  Still bleeding himself, Troy  helped Ali bathe the girl with a bottle of water.

'She's carried children,' Troy  observed  in a low voice. 'Have you seen that?'

'You're mistaken,' Ali said.

But there  among the tattooed zebra lines  and  hatch-marks  hid  the  stretch  marks  of pregnancy. Her areolae were  dark. Ali had missed the signs.

On  the  third  night,  the  mercenaries  came  for  the  girl  again.  Hours  later  she  was returned,  semiconscious.  While  she  and  Troy  washed  the  girl,  Ali  quietly  hummed  a tune. She wasn't even  aware  of it until Troy  said, 'Ali, look!'

Ali  raised  her  eyes  from  the  yellowing  bruises  on  the  child's  pelvic  saddle.  The  girl was staring at her with  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  Ali  lifted  the  hum  into  words.

'Through  many  dangers,  toils  and  snares,  I  have  already  come,'  she  softly  sang.  ''Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.'

The  girl  began  sobbing.  Ali  made  the  mistake  of  taking  the  child  in  her  arms.  The kindness  triggered  a  terrible  storm  of  kicking  and  thrashing  and  rejection.  It  was  a horrible  enlightening  moment,  for  now  Ali  knew  the  girl  had  once  had  a  mother  who had sung that song.