Casually, the Soldier plucked the knife from the floor then kneeled next to Jenny, placing the tip of the blade flat against her cheek. The iron man locked eyes with hers. “I’ve done some horrible things, but never anything to a child.” He grinned. “That could always change.”
Within an instant, the Soldier jerked her from the floor and filed her into the office.
“Danny!” She ran to him, seeking protection in his arms.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Why didn’t you help me?” She kept her voice low too.
“Couldn’t. They already—”
“No secrets, you two!” Griffin stood from where he leaned against the front of his desk. “You should have told me the truth, Jenny. All this time, I thought the three in your party were so innocent, but it seems all of you were quite the troublemakers. These fine folks”—He gestured toward the Soldier and his partner—“came a few weeks ago with some pictures of you guys. Had some pretty interesting stories of where you came from. They seem to think you’re criminals on the loose. What do you think about that? “
“Criminals?” Jenny looked to Danny, her eyes full of panic. “We’re not the criminals. They are.” She pointed to the Soldier blotting the wound on his arm with a small rag. “Didn’t you tell him, Danny?”
He said nothing.
“Danny?” she begged.
“What’s it going to be?” The Soldier gestured to the Guard, who handed Griffin an envelope affixed with a black wax seal.
“Only what we agreed. For now, you get just the two.” Griffin thumbed over his shoulder toward where Matt and Grant were being held. “The girl stays here with me until I’ve had time to look over the full proposal.” He looked to Danny. “Why don’t you go put this letter in my room and get us some food. We’ll discuss what else they’re looking for later.”
“We’ll get them back,” Danny whispered.
Jenny remained silent—the sharp glare Griffin gave Danny after seeing his lips move again was enough to convince her. All she could do was look on as Danny reluctantly took the letter and left the room.
What the hell, Danny? Jenny shrank into the corner, trying to disappear. Why are you just going along with this?
“Just the two for now?” the Soldier asked. “You sure?”
Griffin nodded. “Take that part of the deal for now, and we’ll be in touch.”
“Your buddy doesn’t seem excited about us being here.”
“Don’t worry about him. Give me a few days, and we’ll have an answer. Tell Haverty I won’t leave him waiting too long.”
The Soldier and Guard wandered out, leaving only Griffin and Jenny in the room.
“Oh, Jenny. They’ll never have you.” Griffin ambled toward the door, locking it to prevent her escape. “I have another deal involving you. It might not be as nice of a life as you’ve had here, but at least it’s living. Can’t say the same for Matt and Grant.”
“How can you do this?! You’re crazy if you think I’m doing anything you say!” Jenny grasped for the missing knife, wishing she hadn’t wasted it on such a feeble strike against the Soldier. It was now with Griffin that she truly needed it. She gritted her teeth, cursing herself for acting so soon. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice began to break.
“Don’t look so upset. You’ll finally find your place in the world.” He approached her, cornering her in the small room. “I’ll need a parting gift before you go. Something… to remember you by.” He began to unbutton her coat.
“Get off!” She forced his hand away. “No!”
“Nuh uh uh.” He wagged his finger at her then pointed to the revolver stuffed in the front pocket of his coat. “Don’t fight it, Jenny. You liked it the last time.”
Chapter Eight
His hands wouldn’t leave her. She had no choice but to fight. Not again. Never again. “Get off!” she screamed, clawing, striking him everywhere she could, but it wasn’t enough. Her coat lay in a heap. One of her shirtsleeves hung loose. Her collar stretched, ripped. Griffin grabbed hold of her shirt again and pulled, but Jenny slipped it and rushed for the door, stumbling through hurried steps. “Help!” But her pleas went unheeded. The exit seemed a mile away.
With little effort, Griffin took back control, jerking her upright by the hair, twisting it within his grip. “Now, Jenny,” he said through clenched teeth, “you aren’t playing very nice.”
“Let go!” She stomped the inside of his knee causing him to buckle only slightly.
“That’s all you got?” He swung her sideways by the hair—her body slamming into his desk with a bang. The edge caught her between the ribs, forcing a gasp for air.
“Stop! Enough!” She put her hands out in front of her. “Just stop! Please!”
He leered at Jenny, drifting toward her. “No...”—He smacked his lips—“I don’t think that would be very fun. I kinda like fighting for it. Makes it exciting.” A stiff slap sent her cowering to the floor. The harsh sting left her little choice but to raise her arm in defense, anticipating another. “Get mad!” He snatched her wrist and yanked her from the floor, screaming at her from merely an inch away, “Hate me! Come on, Jenny! Let that hate out!”
“Fuck you!” She kicked for his groin, but whiffed, instead striking his inner thigh. Futile.
“You’re pathetic…” Griffin shoved her to the ground and went to straddle her. Jenny countered with a flurry of kicks, keeping him at a distance. “That’s more like it!” Taking hold of her leg, he peeled off one boot then the other, pitching them into the corner. Her pants—the only thing preventing him now. His hands clawed at them. A sharp tug, but they wouldn’t budge. “Damn it!” He grabbed hold of her waist, slamming her body halfway onto the desk, face down and away.
Her eyes darted frantically across the desktop, searching from something, anything she could use to protect herself. Scissors! She stretched toward them, her fingertips pecking at the plastic handle. Almost! Raising onto her tiptoes… But not soon enough. Griffin lunged into the desk. A loud scrape across the floor and everything toppled from the desktop. Everything clattered to the floor. Shit…
“Let it go, Jenny.” He breathed into her ear. Her body shuddered, cringed, collapsed in on itself. “It’s okay to let some tears go. I didn’t mind it the first time.”
Don’t you cry, Jenny. If she couldn’t prevent Griffin from having his way, she’d at least steal some of his power. Take some of that satisfaction from him. His fingers crawled toward her waistline. The belt buckle loosened. She felt the tightness of her pants give way. The cold air began to envelop her entire body. Legs shaking, she squeezed her thighs together to thwart his effort. One of his hands pressed against the small of her back—his other struggled with his zipper. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying everything to leave this place, to find somewhere to hide in her mind.
Then, from behind them, a deep growl filled the room.
“Fass!” Danny shouted.
Sherman stormed into the room and latched onto Griffin’s thigh, violently jerking it back and forth, pulling him away from Jenny. Without hesitating, she stole the opportunity, scurrying off into the corner. Not the greatest position, but she couldn’t bring herself to slink past Sherman. Distracting him from Griffin was the last thing she wanted.
“Someone call him off!” he begged.
The thought never crossed her mind. Instead, a vengeful pleasure swelled inside her—to see him finally getting what he deserved—to see him struggling, pushing, prying at Sherman’s muzzle like she had done to him. Now, their fates had reversed. He was the prey, and she reveled in it—the horror descending upon him, his pain. All her time at the Depot she had been suffocating, but now, she could breathe.
Sherman’s teeth continued to gnash at the thigh, unrelenting, spurting blood through Griffin’s tattered pant leg. “Help!” Off-balance, he tried to escape, but crumpled to the floor. “Come on, Danny!” The pain in his voice rang out louder than his words. Terror in every outburst th
at followed.
Danny’s face showed no pity, no mercy. “Fass!”
With the command, Sherman released for only an instant then clamped down again, harder, into his calf. Never had Jenny seen something so violent. She expected Danny to call it off at some point, but he remained stoic, unflinching. Not moved by Griffin’s need for this to stop. Not moved by his pleas for help. It seemed Danny had made up his mind. Griffin was guilty, and this was the sentence.
Crack!
The gunshot startled the room, and Sherman released his bite.
“Hier!” Danny called to him.
Griffin raised the revolver from his coat pocket and toward the fleeing canine. Crack! Crack! Crack!
In a panic, Jenny dove behind the desk to avoid the sporadic gunfire, landing in the mess that had toppled over earlier. The scissors! She snatched them from the floor. I have to end this.
Crack! Crack! Click. Click.
The clicks echoed a million times louder than the shots in Jenny’s head. He’s dry!
“Shit...” Griffin cursed his misses and tried to stand, but his wounded leg was unable to bear his weight. Again, he fell to the floor, his back crashing against the desk. His head lolled from side to side, woozy from the loss of blood. “That mother…” he muttered, his voice weak, barely able to part his lips.
Jenny peered over the desk, rubbing her thumb along the scissor’s blade. Watching him, she knew he wouldn’t make it. Too much blood. Now, her decision was whether or not to walk away knowing he died or to play a part in it. It seemed simple enough with all he had done to her. All the nightmares he had given her. The constant angst that stalked her through the Depot. Can I really be the one who does it? Griffin’s head fell into the nook of his shoulder. No way. You’re not leaving until I get my last word. You’re not taking that away. Not after what you did to me!
Jenny came from behind the desk with only one thing on her mind. The rest of the room didn’t matter. Nothing did. Except this. She crouched down in front of him and lifted his head, staring into his eyes, watching him fade from this world. Click. Click. His finger still pulled at the revolver’s trigger. Jenny grabbed hold of the gun, ripped it from his failing grip then released the cylinder—all the spent brass pinging against the floor.
“What you did to me…” She clenched her jaw. “You…” An exhale, second guessing what she was about to do. “You know what… it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re already dead, not worth it. Fuck you.”
“I…” Griffin’s eyes fluttered, struggling to find hers despite them being right in front of his face “I... already did.” His lips bent into a crooked smile.
“You…” Jenny shook her head in disgust. Any chance of her walking away passed with his arrogant remark. It crossed the line, flooding her body with anger. Even on the verge of death, he offered no regret for what he had done to her. No repentance. His death was justified, and Jenny was now more than willing to assist.
Gazing into his dimming eyes, her breaths sped forth. Her hands shook, clutching the scissors. You deserve this. One last inhale—she held it in then plunged the tip of the scissors into Griffin’s throat, driving it as deeply as she could, twisting it the whole way through. A rasping groan. His body shuddered, but the wound barely bled—the crimson pool he sat within left little doubt why. She stood, considered pulling the scissors out, but decided against it. When the others found him, this is how he deserved to be. A coward who died screaming for help. Slumped against a desk. His clothing torn, blood soaked. Scissors jutting from his neck.
An unsettling silence shook her as she turned from Griffin. Apprehensive, her eyes gathered the room, trying to reassess the situation. Where’s— Her gut tightened. “Danny!” His boots lay just inside the door. His body out of view. Rushing over, she rounded the corner into the hallway. He lay there motionless, face down, pistol in hand while Sherman circled his body, whining, nudging him with his muzzle.
She knelt at his side. “Danny...” she whispered. He didn’t move. She took hold of his coat and tugged, then shook him, then more and more, harder and harder. “Come on…” Her voice broke into sobs and gasps. It couldn’t be helped. “No, no, no. Danny. No.” She tried to swallow her cries, to keep them down, but they continued to surface. “This isn’t right... It can’t be how—” Sherman pushed at his head again. “I’m sorry, boy. You might not want to see this.” Sobbing, she eased Danny’s head to the side, hoping it wasn’t true.
Only a vacant stare. Lines of blood from mouth and nose. From a wound just below his right eye. She ran her shaking hand over his eyelids. They accepted the darkness. Never to see the light again. “Why…?” Fucking Griffin. She shuddered from the cold, from her emotions. Everything in this moment. “Damn it, Danny…” Jenny stood for only a moment before panic struck her again.
Matt and Grant…
It wasn’t over. Not even close. Her head was spinning—too much happening at once. I know it’s not right to leave you, but… She bit into her lip. You know if I didn’t leave now, you’d be yelling at me. You’d be telling me not to waste any time. Well, you’re right. I have to go. Jenny steeled herself against the loss of Danny. Mourning would have to come later. She wiped the tears along her bare arm. It’s time.
Jenny undid the holster from his leg and fitted it around her own. Next, she took the Smith & Wesson from his hand, mindful to peel his finger away from the trigger. Fully loaded and ready to go, she reholstered the weapon. Alright… A moment of hesitation. What she was about to do was distressing, uncomfortable. His body was limp. Moving him felt wrong, but necessary. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this without your help. She eased into his pockets, respectfully searching for anything else she might need. Only his keyring and Sherman’s lead seemed useful. This isn’t good-bye. I’ll be back. I promise.
A strange gurgling noise came from inside the office behind her.
What now? Taking a deep breath, she took the pistol from its holster and brought it eye level. She positioned herself near the door jamb. Ready but nervous, only now did she remember the revolver she left lying at his feet. Take it slow. The muzzle wavered slightly while she cleared the room in sections. His body came into view—still slouched against the desk in his own filth. She took cautious steps toward him to retrieve the gun, cursing herself for leaving the damn thing, but when she had seen Danny, her concern for him had gotten the better of her judgment.
Nearing him, her stomach writhed—the smell of gunpowder—the smell of iron from his blood. With her pistol aimed squarely at his chest, she fished for the revolver with her foot. There we go! She slid it away, stepping backwards with her muzzle steady on him. Quickly, she scooped it from the floor along with her shirt, coat, and boots. She dressed, eyeballing Griffin the entire time. Is he dead yet? She needed to be sure. Before leaving, Jenny dared a touch on the side of his neck—his skin cold with a sickly pallor. No pulse. Dead. Gone, but it didn’t make up for Danny. Closure would come later. Now, she had to focus on getting her friends back.
“Hier!” With haste, she and Sherman tore through the back corridor to the office where she’d seen Matt and Grant earlier. There’s probably not much time left. At some point, someone would be there to investigate the gunfire. The rooftop guards had to have heard it. Perhaps, the crowd outside by the burn barrel hadn’t. That must have been the holdup—not that she was complaining. Jenny needed the delay.
If found, the Depot guards might hold her, question her. It wasn’t like she could say she hadn’t seen anything. With blood on her pants. Danny’s gun. Sherman. She’d be interrogated for hours—their interest fixated on what happened—the loss of two leaders. Matt and Grant would shift to the back burner. It was best no one saw her. The Second Alliance would only get further and further away. Her friends disappearing with them.
Damn… The door to the room stood open. No one inside. The chairs overturned, but the ropes and gags gone, more than likely still binding them, keeping them from calling for help. They had to sneak ou
t the back with them. There’s no way they’d just walk out the front with Grant and Matt tied up or whatever. People would wonder what the hell was going on. She eyed both ends of the corridor. But which way did they go? Probably not that way. Danny’s room was only a few feet away. That fact gave her pause. Wait, why…? She searched herself, trying to deny dangerous thoughts before they soiled Danny’s reputation. But she couldn’t think beyond them. Danny… Why didn’t you stop them? When Griffin sent you here with that letter, you could’ve freed them. Don’t you have a key to that room? What the hell…? “Now they’re gone,” she said under her breath.
No… There’s no way Danny would’ve just let them be taken without a fight. There has to be a reason why. But what? She began toward his room. He knew what was about to happen with the S.A. He told me to find them. It’s the last thing he asked me to do. He gave me a frickin’ knife because he knew the risk. Danny’s door sat open slightly. She creaked it further in, then shut it behind her, turning the lock. Okay… Beside her, two rifles, a pistol, and an array of knives lay out on his bed. A box of ammunition spilled across the floor. Must’ve been in a hurry to leave his—” She exhaled. Her shoulders sank. “That’s why… He heard me scream. All these weapons right here. He was planning on fighting back, but he heard me. And, he stopped. He let the S.A. get away, so he could help me, hoping he could save them later. But, obviously that can’t happen now. It’s on me. I’ve gotta do it.
Jenny pitched Danny’s rucksack onto the bed and began stuffing it. Ammunition. A few knives. One of the pistols. His flashlight and fire kit. Bottles of water. Cans of food. (Some for Sherman.) This might only be a day or two. Taking too much would only slow her down, and the houses along the way could still provide her with the basics if she found herself in need. She threw on Danny’s harness strap with binocular case and popped it open—binocs inside—now extremely accessible from around her torso. Almost ready. Her choice of rifles from the bed didn’t include her familiar M1A Scout. Instead, she took Danny’s favorite, his M4 carbine.
Almawt Virus Series (Book 3): Days Since...Jenny [Day 986] Page 11
