Vicki seethed. This impudent little bitch, she deserved a punch in the face, like Danielle had knocked the wind of Vicki. She looked up and saw the electrical cord of a lamp just to her left. She tugged on it and the lap cascaded down into her arms. With all her might she tossed it up at Danielle, who brought her arms up too late to protect herself and failed to catch it.
Danielle screamed and backed up as the glass lamp shattered, scraping her cheek and arms, the fresh blood rising quickly to the surface of her skin.
Vicki pulled herself up by the knobs on the dresser, trying to put a little weight on her ankle and wincing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Danielle advance towards her. Vicki reached out and sunk her grip into Danielle’s hair, bringing her face crashing into the TV. Danielle fell backwards against the bed.
Vicki didn’t waste any time. She knew she’d never win on her feet, not with her injured ankle, so she flung herself on top of Danielle. She clawed at her face and landed a punch on her left eye. Danielle screamed, weakly trying to push her off. She wasn’t a small woman, but Danielle’s thin frame wasn’t strong enough to shove her but an inch. Danielle pulled at Vicki’s hair again, and Vicki went flying to the floor. In the final minute before she landed, she grabbed Danielle’s shoulder and felt the satisfying tear of fabric.
Vicki splayed on her back but struggled to stand, just as Danielle issued a swift kick to her stomach. Struggling for breath, Vicki curled into a fetal position and heaved.
“Boss, it’s Jim!” Terry called from the other side of the door. “That khaki’s got a knife and… Boss? I heard screaming? You okay in there?”
Terry burst through the door, where Vicki was still curled on the floor, and Danielle pushed up from the bed.
“Boss?”
“He’s got a knife?” She looked at Terry.
“Boss, you said untouched, what about the girl…”
“She’s fine.” Danielle dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I just had to put her in her place.” She delivered another quick kick to Vicki’s rips and she gasped for yet another breath, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that erupted at the pain.
Vicki sucked in as much as she could and started to laugh. She didn’t know what was funny, but seeing Danielle’s hair sticking out in the back, the ripped shoulder of her sweater, and her swelling eye made Vicki undeniably happy. That’s what she got for shooting Ambrose, and she deserved more for turning her over to the military.
“I hope he kills you,” Vicki spat, still laughing like a giddy fool. “I hope Ambrose shoots you in the fucking face!”
“First he has to escape my jail cell.” Danielle narrowed her eyes at Vicki. She pulled the door shut and locked it behind her. “Stay here,” Vicki heard her tell Terry, “while I figure out what’s going on at the jail. I’ll be right back.”
“When’s the convoy due to arrive?” Terry asked.
A pause, then Danielle announced, “Half hour or so. They were close when Randy made the call.”
Randy? Vicki sat up. The same Randy with the dirt bike, the one who was armed to the teeth? He made the call? Oh no. No, no. Ambrose was in trouble. Randy, and surely Cole, were both on Danielle’s side.
She had to get to Ambrose. Struggling to her feet, her ankle shooting agonizing pain up her leg, she pounded on the door. She realized her sprained ankle was more than likely broken now. Even if she could escape, she wouldn’t get more than a few feet from the motel. She screamed, she cried, she pounded until her fists were numb, her fingertips bled, and her eyes burned with tears.
No one came.
Chapter Ten
Randy threw open the unlocked door by the cell. “He’s right, Cole, there’s a back entrance that leads to a fenced-in parking lot.”
“Impound lot,” Ambrose corrected.
“Huh?” Cole looked at him.
“Never mind. Let’s get these kids to safety.”
Cole nodded and ushered the little ones in the office, with Ambrose in the rear, who pulled the door shut behind him. Randy stood by the open back door, which Ambrose saw did indeed lead to an impound lot. Two patrol cars, an unmarked blue sedan and two other beat-up cars were parked just behind the small police building. The real prize sat in the middle of the lot: a large black truck with four wheels on the rear axle and a detached fifth wheel right behind it.
“We hit the jackpot!” Cole hissed loudly, and Ambrose shushed him. “Old Sally was out of gas anyway,” Cole added quietly, jogging to the truck.
In front of the police station, more shots rang out, and a woman screamed. Ambrose froze for a moment; praying, hoping it wasn’t Vicki. He wondered how a locked, possibly alarmed truck would help them get out of here.
During the shots, Ambrose looked over to see Randy had busted the window.
“Jesus.” Ambrose watched as Randy climbed in.
“Keys up top!” Cole whispered to his partner loudly. Ambrose could hear the jingling as Randy put them in the ignition. He walked around the fifth wheel after Cole, smaller than their older RV, making sure the tires were all in good order. To Ambrose’s surprise, the door was standing open to the fifth wheel, and two piles of ash blew in the crisp night air.
“Is this what I think it is?” Cole pushed Ricky and Jilly behind them, so they wouldn’t see.
Ambrose nodded. He probed the pile of ash and his foot hit something solid. He turned it with the toe of his boot. It was the top half of a golden shield, marked Sheriff. “It is… was… two officers, probably.”
“Randy,” Cole hissed from the passenger side. “Randy, the military’s been here before.”
“Yeah?” Randy asked. “How do you know?”
“Look.” Ambrose pointed to the ash piles by the truck.
“Oh shit.” Randy leaned out of the side of the truck.
“Vaporized.” Ricky hugged himself. Ambrose looked at him. The poor boy appeared shell-shocked, his face emotionless.
“I want my mommy!” Jilly burst into tears.
“We have to face the possibility they reached Klamath already,” Ambrose whispered.
The four of them stood there staring at the ashes.
“What are we gonna do?” Ricky spoke up first. Ambrose noticed then tears streaked his filthy cheeks.
“Randy, get this fifth wheel hooked up, it’ll look better if you’re a family traveling,” Ambrose said, and Randy tipped his hat and set to work. “Cole, get the kids in the truck, but don’t start it.”
“Gotcha.” Cole urged the kids to get in the back of the four-door cab.
“Where are you going?” Randy was busy pulling the blocks off the fifth wheel, but threw a look at Ambrose.
“Making sure the coast is clear. I’ll be right back.” Ambrose jogged around to the side of the lot, crouching down, trying to get a view of the motel across the street. That’s a lie, he thought, I need to make sure Vicki’s … alive. He swallowed hard at the latter part. He was less concerned about getting away as he was making sure she was safe.
He nearly gagged when he peeked around the corner of the jail to find the front of the motel was a bloodbath. Four bodies, three men and one woman, lay prone on the concrete. From the matted blond hair and black jacket, Ambrose could see one was Danielle. He couldn’t deny feeling disappointed he wasn’t the one to pull the trigger. If that was Danielle’s entire group, they’d been wiped out. He couldn’t tell, but it looked like they were all shot in the head. So that’s where the gun fire had come from. In the end, had Danielle begged for her life? Ambrose thought she probably had. Still, such a waste of life bothered him; it was Matt’s needless death all over again.
Right in the middle of the carnage stood Vicki, illuminated by the lone street light shining from the edge of the motel. Ambrose felt his breath catch in his throat. She was standing next to a tall man in a suit, his black hair carefully slicked back, his arm wound around her waist. She was clinging to him and staring up at him. He turned to face her, and Ambrose noticed the same man from the airport, the sa
me man who had been in handcuffs the last time they had seen him.
Why the hell is Vicki’s fiancé here with the military?
Oh, fuck.
He is the military.
Ambrose thought back to the Portland Airport, the explosion that started all of this. The private plane that wasn’t chartered to fly in. The explosion that rocked the commercial carrier. The bomb that vaporized an entire terminal. It was all a ruse, to get Will out. Of course, they’d go to great lengths for their commander and chief. But why act like he was a prisoner at the airport in Albany?
Anything to keep up the ruse.
Ambrose swore again softly.
And Vicki was just standing there, acting like it was all normal. Acting like he was the good guy, the savior.
Oh, God, was she in on it, too? Ambrose thought. No way, he tried to tell himself. No way would she know any of this, or else she couldn’t try to get back to him. But that nagging feeling crept into his heart like poison. How much did she know?
Will turned and barked at one of the soldiers in blue, who then jogged towards the jail. Ambrose ducked back around the corner, turning towards Randy. He waved his arms wildly and made a shush motion with his finger to his lips. Randy pulled Cole and the kids out of the truck and down to the ground. Ambrose dove behind one of the patrol cars.
The back door opened, and a flashlight shone around the lot, quickly. Ambrose held his breath as the light swept past him. Soon after, the metal door clanged shut.
“Just a dead guy in here,” the soldier called, “been shot in the knee, looks like.”
Ambrose heard Will bark more orders, then his voice soften, probably as he turned back to Vicki. Ambrose didn’t dare move.
“Let’s go,” Will shouted. “Nothing else to see here, folks, we got what we came for, didn’t we, sweetheart?”
Ambrose couldn’t hear Vicki’s response. Couldn’t, or didn’t want to; same thing, he realized.
Vicki had made her choice. Everything they shared in the farmhouse and afterwards … Ambrose’s throat threatened to squeeze the life out of him.
In the end, Vicki didn’t choose him.
Why would she? Will was the bad guy, but it was clear she loved him, and not Ambrose.
He tried to be angry, but the disappointment and sadness washed over him in waves.
Forcing himself to concentrate, he locked eyes with Randy, who was still safely tucked away under the truck, then Cole with his arms around both of his children.
Protect the women and children, Ambrose’s father would have said. Well, Ambrose had failed at the first, and now it was up to him to succeed with the second. He’d see them wherever he needed to go, even on a flight out if they needed it. Protect the children.
They waited an eternity, an hour maybe more, Ambrose focusing on taking one shallow breath at a time. Finally, the military engines roared to life, and Ambrose risked a glance around the corner, to see Will ducking his head into the back of one of the hummers. He held his hand up, and Ambrose could see Vicki looking around. Her eyes passed over the jail, searching, trying to find something. Ambrose’s heart swelled with hope that maybe she didn’t really want to go.
Don’t go, he pleaded her from across the street. Please.
She finally took his hand and stepped in the hummer. Will slid in after her.
As the vehicles departed northward bound, Ambrose turned and shoved his fist into the side of the patrol car, making little of a dent but shattering a few bones in his hand. He winced, shook out his hand, reached for the sling he’d grabbed from the jail cell, wrapping it around his destroyed fist.
Randy crawled out from under the truck and motioned to his white wrapped hand. “You okay?”
“Yup.” Ambrose yanked open the passenger door. “Right as rain.”
“She’s gone then?”
“She’s made her choice.” He shut the door. And it wasn’t me, he thought solemnly, before he pushed it away. Big men didn’t cry, not over weak women, and that’s exactly what Vicki had ended up being.
Randy jogged to the sliding chain gate on the far corner of the lot and flung it open, as Cole started up the truck. Randy slid in the back with the kids, who were holding on to each other, their faces frozen in so much fear and terror.
“Let’s go,” Ambrose urged.
“Where to?” Cole turned to him.
“South.”
Cole turned right at the highway, their path leading them further away from Vicki, her fiancé terrorist, and everything that had gone wrong in the world in the last week. Ambrose stared out the window. Where ever you are, Vicki Morel, I hope you’re happy.
Chapter Eleven
An hour before:
Vicki ceased her pounding and screaming against the motel door. It was clear no one was coming. Now, she decided to listen. She heard the noise of the engines before she even saw the lights on the highway. Peeking through the boards on the window, she could see the edge of Terry’s windbreaker standing to the left of the door. There was no escaping. She stared at the street light over the jail, where Terry had said they were. She scanned the front door, which even from across the highway she could see was standing slightly ajar. The screams had stopped, oh God, they had stopped, which wasn’t good at all.
The first covered Humvee pulled up in front of the motel, blocking her view, followed by two more, and finally a sleek black car. What was the car for? It stood out amongst the military vehicles.
Vicki gasped. It was their leader. Whoever he was, he was here. And they were going to take her.
Or kill me.
She shuddered at the last thought, as the boom of a shot gun rattled the motel room windows. Wrapping her arms around herself and collapsing to the floor at the end of the bed, she didn’t know how much hope she had left. What if they shot Ambrose? Terry said he had a knife. What if he was … gone? If they’d shot him, it didn’t matter if the military killed her. She didn’t want to live in a world without his smile, his light, his embrace.
She refused to admit he was dead. She knew he’d defy the odds, he’d stay alive. They had escaped death more than once, what was another chance?
Yet, deep in her heart, she knew.
He wasn’t going to save her this time.
This wasn’t a gun shot by a young girl or a goddamn cat in the woods; this was her life at stake. Ambrose, where are you? Hugging her knees to her chest, tears dripped down her cheeks as she realized the awful truth.
Ambrose wasn’t coming.
Despite all his good intentions and confessions made in the dark, he’d decided to leave her. Maybe he’d ridden off into the night like some valiant hero who didn’t have time for damsels in distress.
“I’m not a damsel!” She screamed into the silence, pulling her hair from her face. Her ankle was swollen and throbbing from when Danielle had kicked it and the length of time she had beat on the door. Every breath burned, and her stomach ached from the kicks. Untouched my ass, she thought, whoever collects me will know about what Danielle did to me.
That is, if Ambrose hadn’t put two to her temple.
God, Vicki thought, this time two weeks ago I was crunching numbers at an office desk. Now I’m wishing death and destruction on my enemies.
Well, that was before the world came to an end.
She put her head in her hands and cried. Outside doors clanged shut and orders in Arabic barked loudly.
A familiar voice floated to her overly sensitive hearing.
Instead of the butterflies that fluttered at the sound of his voice, her stomach dropped like a dead weight.
No, oh, no. Not here, not now.
The door to her room creaked open, and from where she was sitting, all she could see was the tips of shiny black shoes. She knew those shoes. She’d bought them after all; they had been brand name and three-figures expensive. He hadn’t liked them at first, but she wanted him to wear them, just once. “I do love a woman who has good taste in shoes,” he’d said, planting a kiss
on the top of her head.
“Vicki?” His face in front of her, his dark eyes, slicked back hair. The smooth shaven, rounded chin, with the slight cleft. He was here.
Will.
“Is this a dream?” She stared at him, blinking. “What are you doing here?”
“Yes, it’s me, sweetheart.” He knelt in front of her. “Oh, God, Vicki, I thought I’d never see you again.” He wrapped her in his arms and collapsed beside her.
Vicki felt cold. Lifeless. They weren’t the arms she wanted. She froze in his embrace. He tried to pull her to her feet, but she resisted.
“Come, Vicki, let’s go home.”
“I can’t…”
“Why not?”
“I can’t stand up, Will.” Her voice was flat, her arms limp at her side. “My ankle…I think it’s broken.”
Will pulled back and brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. “Vicki, my love, who did this to you?”
“The girl. The blonde. The one out there.” Vicki lifted her arm weakly and pointed out the open door. Behind Will, the jail was in plain sight, all the lights on, the door standing wide open. Vicki could see a figure in a hooded sweatshirt running towards them, her arms waving. “Her.”
Will turned and looked. Danielle was screaming something at the first soldier she could reach. Vicki thought it sounded like, “What are you doing? The Khaki… dead, he’s dead!”
Vicki shut her eyes tight and slumped forward into Will.
Ambrose. He was dead.
Her world crashed around her, shattered fragments of bright eyes and easy smiles, his wavy long hair, and his gruffness in his positivity, even when she pissed him off. Woman, do you ever shut up? She heard him say in her head. His voice haunted her:
I won’t kiss you again unless you ask me to.
In the end, she had let him. She had even wanted it, craved his touch. Heart and soul, she’d given herself to him.
What have I done?
What if Will finds out what we did?
Will was shouting for a soldier, who appeared in the doorway, setting his gun just by the window. “Help me!” Between Will and the strong man in the starched blue uniform, they helped Vicki to her feet. She tried to smile at Will, but her ability to smile was gone, she found. Limping, they helped her out of the dingy motel room. Danielle was there, Terry, and the one they had called Jim earlier. They were dancing from foot to foot, standing at the rear of the last hummer.
Lavender Dreams: Life After Us: Book Two Page 9
