Chapter 3

Rene took possession of his new prizes and immediately posted them on the website he used as a trading vehicle. Traffic on his site was always pretty high because of the various special cargoes he handled, but as soon as the gorilla girl, as she was now being called, was posted for auction, the traffic went through the roof. White girls in Africa are always a hot item for sale, but the blog he had posted with her picture boosted interest way beyond even his expectations.

An opening bid of five hundred thousand US dollars was very quickly over taken. The auction had begun in earnest.

Over the next few days, her infamy among the collectors of the unusual grew as did the bids. Rene was amazed at the traffic on his website where he had advertised her, a digital photo of her as she had come from the forest and another showing her cleaned up into some resemblance of humanity; raised an unprecedented amount of interest from all corners of the globe. He neglected her somewhat, leaving her tied with a thong of leather around her throat attached to a chain, looped around a ring in the floor. Fortunately for her, his servant woman kept her bowl full with fresh water and brought her fruits and meat from his table. To Rene, she was only merchandise, once she was off his hands and money had replaced her, his interest would go to the next order.

But his plans were thwarted somewhat, a newspaper had got wind of the developing story of a strange woman being found in the forest, apparently living wild with forest gorillas only to be rescued by a small band of hunters and brought back to civilisation. Conveniently, the true saga of her capture was glossed over as was the brutal treatment at the hands of her captors.

Arthur Bell, an investigative reporter for Reuters, paid the first of many visits to Rene. Effectively, though not purposely, he had stopped the bidding on her, Rene would be universally condemned if he had gone through with the sale even through the bidding had reached over two million dollars. Rene was stuck with the curio that she had become. Now, he had to look after her a little better if he was to keep her. Arthur Bell was taking a rather personal interest in her welfare and immediate future, he began to investigate who and where she had come from. A nagging memory was pinging away in the back of his mind, but without research, it wouldn't come to him. He would need a few days; in the meantime, he would make sure she got the proper medical attention she needed for the injuries she had sustained in her capture.

Days passed into two weeks with little change in her circumstances, except that she was given a room to her self and was no longer tied to a ring on the floor. However, other subtle changes were occurring, she was less inclined to walk, using the back of her knuckles in an all fours parody of a gorilla's gait; gradually taking to an upright stance, copying her captors, but even more importantly, she was beginning to understand some of the language of her, even tried on occasion, to imitate the noises they made. Clothing was something she struggled with though. The woman, who tended Rene's needs, brought her a dress that was much too large. She flew into a rage when the cloth enveloped her body, ripping and tearing in desperation to get it off and smashing everything within reach while she screamed at the top of her lungs. Attempting to clothe her wasn't repeated.

Gradually, her curiosity value to the villagers waned, she passed from their everyday thoughts, probably because she was largely unseen, taking up a spare room in Rene's stilted house. Even he had almost forgotten her, passing on to another acquisition in his insatiable lust for wealth.

One who had not forgotten her though, was the reporter. Feverishly, he had scoured old newspaper clippings on microfilm, looking for the clue to her identity. Then Arthur found the series he knew he had been looking for; the jungle crash of a light aircraft with the loss of all of the family back in 1981. She looked to be about thirty, so the dates would correspond.

"Emma?" Arthur softly spoke to her on his next visit; hoping that she might remember her name and confirm her identity. She tilted her head, but made no other sign of recognition. He repeated her name, pointing to her and then pointing to his chest told her his name; "Arthur".

She tilted her head once again, blankly returning his gaze.

Resigned, Arthur rose from sitting opposite her to pace the room. She continued to sit on the edge of the cot provided as a sleeping place, watching his restless pacing, recognising at a fundamental level, that he was troubled.

He shrugged after a few minutes and left her to her room. He was certain that she was the child who had been lost so long ago, but was unable to prove it from her own mouth. Then another thought came to him; the family should be made aware that she had survived the crash, they might wish to take her home, but to the family. He ought to inform them he supposed. A little more research found the name of her uncle along with an address.

Arthur made contact a few days later and was shocked at the response he got. Her uncle had been vehement in this denial, but then said that even if it was Emma, he could care less, after the problems her father had caused him. The insurance companies had hounded him, not believing the story of a plane crash for a second; firmly convinced that it had been contrived. His own career had suffered greatly because of the scandal, but worse, he had lost a fortune with the collapse of Union Oil.

The call had been terminated abruptly, leaving Arthur with a feeling of despair for Emma's future. Rene would not keep her for much longer; her value was such that she was quite expendable. He decided to take Emma on as his own.

The transaction was agreed, a couple of hundred dollars secured Emma and she moved from her room to Arthur's house on the outskirts of the town. It gave him the chance to spend more time with her, learning as much from her as she did from him. She responded to his kindness, even smiled when he entered her room, but she resolutely refused to try and speak. She would answer to her name when he said it; looking up or glancing his way at the mention, but she didn't make any vocal attempt to converse.

They did become closer though; often touching shoulders as he talked at her, sitting side by side. Her nakedness was unnoticed by him, so familiar had it become. He cut her unkempt hair then, brushed out the tangled mess, teasing out knots until it hung in straight lines over her shoulders. She bathed in heated water and seemed to like the feeling of being immersed, laying back and closing her eyes.

Inevitably, there came a bond between them as a result of their continual closeness. To his surprise, Arthur found that he was falling in love with the woman, wanting to spend as much time as possible with her. His love was transmitted by his touch, gently cupping her face when he spoke, stroking her shoulders or holding her to him. She rarely responded to his overtures, silently statuesque, submitting to whatever he did with her, but in a trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. It was obvious that she didn't know how to respond or what was expected of her.

She had been with him for a month and had just stepped out of the tub of hot water where he had been bathing her. She stood, arms hanging limply at her sides while he towel dried her. Arthur stood from his kneeling position where he had dried her feet and was suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss her.