Virtuality

by H. L. Wegley

  Jess got up and glanced in the mirror. She was a mess, as if that mattered. She walked out into the living room.

  Vince wasn’t there.

  She turned toward the kitchen doorway.

  The front door crashed to the floor.

  Jess whirled toward the sound.

  Sal leaped into the room, leveling an automatic weapon at her face.

  Another crash came from the kitchen, followed by the staccato popping of an automatic rifle.

  Vince had been in there earlier. Had they shot him?

  She turned toward the kitchen doorway.

  A burst of gunfire chewed a hole in the ceiling above her head, showering her with fragments of plasterboard.

  “Hands on your head and don't move, you little …” Sal’s vile words meant nothing to Jess. She had to see if Vince was still alive.

  Noises continued in the kitchen. Blows, grunts, crashing furniture. Vince was fighting someone. If he hadn’t been seriously wounded, Vince would kill that person. He was strong and fierce in a fight.

  Jess put her hands near her head but inched toward the kitchen door.

  Sal’s gun spat fire, filling the room with ear-splitting cracks. A gaping hole appeared in the wooden floor in front of Jess’s feet. Wood fragments stung her bare legs.

  She stopped.

  Vince stumbled through the kitchen door and homed in on Sal.

  His gun swung Vince’s way.

  Jess dove onto Sal’s arm. Her body took the barrel of his weapon to the floor.

  Sal pulled the barrel loose and jammed the cold, steel barrel against her head. “Stop, now! Or she dies.”

  Vince pushed his palms at Sal. “Don't shoot! I'm stopping.”

  Another man ran in the front door, behind Sal.

  Louie. He had several zip ties hanging from one wrist.

  “Him first.” Sal motioned toward Vince.

  Louie approached Vince’s muscular body slowly, cautiously. “He took out Joe. Almost ripped his head off, Sal.”

  “Then get the cuffs on him, you idiot.”

  Louie pushed zip tie cuffs toward Vince. “Hands in here, now.”

  “Do it, van Gordon,” Sal said. “Or I'll think of something really unpleasant to do to your girlfriend.”

  Vince glared at Sal. “I know a guy who killed a man after they put three bullets in him. You hurt her and you're a dead man, Curly. You can empty your magazine, but I’ll kill you before I die.”

  “Curly? Hey, boss. I think he just insulted you,” Louie said.

  “Ignore his insults. Put the cuffs on him.”

  After Vince extended his hands, Louie slipped zip-tie cuffs over them, yanked hard on both ties, then stepped back.

  Joe crawled through the kitchen doorway behind Vince and grabbed the arm of a chair. He pulled himself to his feet while Sal watched.

  “You okay, Joe?” Sal said, after the man managed to stand.

  “Don't know yet, Sal. I'm a little groggy. That guy can punch.”

  Sal shook his head. “That's why Louie should've cuffed his hands behind him. But, for now, slip another tie around Mohammed Ali’s wrists.”

  Jess lay quiet on the floor with Sal’s gun barrel pressed hard against her temple. It would be easy to check out. If she tried something, he would kill her. But for the moment, she had a purpose in this life, prevent these thugs from getting the system that would unleash hell on earth.

  But could she?

  Sal pulled his gun from her head. “Time to get up, my dark-haired beauty. You have some questions to answer.”

  Jess rose slowly to her feet, looking for some way to take out Sal without endangering Vince. But Louie had given Joe his gun and Joe waved it in Vince's direction.

  Too risky.

  Larry approached her with zip-tie cuffs extended. “Don't try kicking me again, or I'll—”

  “So that's why we had to straighten your nose. Louie, I'd be ashamed too, to let a skinny broad do that to me. Now, cuff her,” Sal said.

  After her hands were cuffed, Sal lined up Jess and Vince along the living room wall. Sal paced back and forth in front of them, holding his gun in the ready position.

  He nodded toward Joe. “See if they have any weapons.”

  Joe, approached Vince with caution and patted his pockets. Joe’s hands froze after touching Vince’s right front pocket. “He's got a gun, boss.”

  “Well, take it, you dunce.”

  Joe pulled Jess’s .38 from Vince’s shorts pocket then stepped in front of Jess.

  She stepped back. “You do the wrong thing, Moe, and I’ll break your neck before you can kill me.”

  “Jess, don’t move.” Vince’s voice growled out his command.

  Sal pointed the gun at Jess’s head and smirked. “Hey, Moe, I mean Joe, I think she just insulted you.”

  “I’m trying to ignore her. But a babe like her … that’s hard to do.” Joe patted Jess’s pockets. “They're clean now.”

  “It's time for those questions.” Sal eyes bored into Jess’s.

  Vince leaned toward her. “I moved the code, Jess. All of it.”

  He had spoken loud enough to be heard. What was Vince up to?

  The answer came like a punch to her stomach. Vince was diverting the thugs’ attention to him, trying to take the brunt of whatever these men would do to get their questions answered.

  She couldn't let him do that. “He's lying,” Jess said. “Only I know where your precious system software is, and you'll never find it.”

  “That's right,” Vince said. “You ask her and you'll never find it, because she doesn't know where it is.”

  Jess studied Sal’s eyes as they narrowed. She gasped when she saw the lights come on. Jess knew where this was going.

  “She knows. He knows. Who knows?” Sal’s index finger swung back and forth pointing at her then Vince. “Didn't that wise king—what was his name? Oh, yes. Solomon. He had a problem like this with two women and a baby. So I'll tell you what. Since van Gordon insists he knows where the software is, Louie’s going to have some fun with our dark-haired beauty until Vince tells us. Got your knife, Louie?”

  Jess looked up at Vince. It was one of the few times she saw terror in his eyes. Sal had called his bluff, and it would force Vince to tell them the truth.

  Louie pulled a long knife from his pocket, opened it, and pointed the blade at her.

  Vince’s leg exploded in a kick that hit Louie in the chest and sent him across the room, crashing into the far wall.

  “Stop, van Gordon!” Sal pointed his rifle at Vince's midsection. “You okay, Louie?”

  Louie didn't move.

  “Joe, check him out. And you, van Gordon, down on your knees. You too, Ms. Jamison. Now!”

  Jess and Vince complied. But were they being forced to kneel to prevent more kicks or for an execution-style killing?

  “He's breathing, boss,” Joe said.

  A deep, guttural groan came from Louie, who lay face down on the floor.

  “Everybody stays where they are while Louie composes himself.”

  “You mean regains his composure.” Vince corrected him.

  Jess shot him a sharp glance. “Cut it out, Vince. You're only making this worse.”

  “I didn't think it could get any worse.”

  Their gazes locked. What did Vince mean by couldn’t get any worse?

  “Listen to the broad, van Gordon. You might learn something.”

  Louie crawled across the floor to his knife, scooped it up and rose to his feet, rubbing his chest. “Now, I've got a bone to pick with both of you.”

  Vince chuckled. “Yeah. It's a wishbone and it looks like you got the short end.”

  Louie’s face contorted to a hideous caricature of itself. He took a step toward Vince, brandishing his knife like he intended to use it.

  “Cool it, Louie.” Sal said.

  Louie stopped.

  Sal shook his head. “We've got a little problem here. You see, you two were supposed to be
shaking in your boots by now, but you're still playing games. I don't like games, unless I make the rules.” He pointed at Vince. “But I don't think he would follow my rules, if you follow me.”

  Jess leaned toward Vince. “Sal’s going to get Patrick.”

  “To verify the system?” Vince whispered back.

  She nodded.

  “Shut up, you with the dark hair. Your beauty is fading fast.” Sal paused. “Got a job for you, Louie. Take the SUV, drive to the lab, and bring back Patrick Michaels.”

  “Boss, when we saw him last he was dealing with a mess out there. What if he won't come?”

  “Persuade him. With that wuss, it shouldn't be hard. We need him to make sure we got everything these two stole.”

  “See, Vince. Told you so,” Jess whispered.

  “Shut up. I don't want to hear any more from either one of you. Besides, we're going to have a private meeting when Louie gets back with Patrick, and you two aren't invited. Joe, check out that shed in back. See if we can lock them up for safekeeping … with a few more zip ties, of course.”

  Joe disappeared, headed toward the back door.

  Sal stood in front of her and Vince, swinging the barrel of his gun back and forth across their position against the wall.

  If Sal followed his plan, she and Vince would be alone for an hour or more. They would be tied up, but alone. It could be their final hour alive.

  Tied up with the man who had just shattered her heart—that was no way to die. And the question she’d wanted Vince to answer—why he'd really left seven years ago—did it matter now? And the answer might only bring more pain.

  A door closed and Joe entered the room. “That place is built like a fort. No windows and we can bar the door.”

  “On your feet.” Sal prodded Jess with the barrel of his rifle.

  Vince glanced at her eyes, then pursed his lips, looked away, and stood. His eyes told her he had the same thought as her. Vince and Jess together, locked in a room, but locked in separate worlds. It was no way to die.

  Jess stood beside him.

  “So what happened to all your wisecracks?” Sal’s gaze went from Jess to Vince. “No wisdom to share right now? You'll share plenty when Louie gets back. Now, out the back door and don't either of you try anything, or I shoot her first.”

  When they reached the shed door, Sal opened it and shoved them inside.

  Joe appeared walking around the corner of the cabin with a half dozen zip ties in his hand.

  “Use them all. Make sure they won't get loose,” Sal said.

  “Sit down on the floor.” Joe waited until Jess and Vince sat. “I'm gonna make sure nobody kicks nobody again. It looks like you two have been shacking up out here, so I’m gonna do you a big favor. Give you some more togetherness.” He chuckled as he tied their ankles together using two ties. “You're not gonna to get away, but if you do make a run for it, I get to watch a three-legged race.”

  The rest of the ties went around Jess’s and Vince's wrists. Too many to break with the techniques she’d learned in a self-defense class. This was beginning to look hopeless.

  “Joe, search the room again.” Sal’s voice came from outside the shed. “Remove anything that could be used as a weapon.”

  “There's a shovel here, boss, and the pile of wood. I can't remove that.”

  “Forget about the wood. Bring me the shovel.”

  Joe snatched the shovel from the front corner of the shed, walked out and closed the door, leaving Jess, Vince, and a pile of wood inside the shed in the dark.

  A loud thunk came from the front door.

  “They just barred the door with a shovel handle.” Vince’s voice wasn't angry, and it wasn't a frightened whimper. It carried no emotion at all.

  That wasn't like Vince. He was fiery in a crisis and he never gave up. What was going on with him? Vince wouldn’t just give up, would he?

  She’d hoped the desperate situation might revive something in Vince, a last memory Jess could take with her to her death. She had to say something to break the foreboding silence. “I don't think we're going to get away this time.” Great. Her voice sounded like Vince’s, a complete surrender of all hope.

  “It's not like we have a lot of choices here. We can try to get away when they come for us. But, if we try too hard, Curly will shoot us. Or, we can wait for them to torture us to find out about the software and whatever else they want to know.”

  “Torture could mean a lot of things I don't even want to think about.” Jess shuddered.

  Vince moved. He had felt her response.

  Vince lifted her hands, shackled to his, and pulled them to his chest. “Me too, Jess. So we’ll fight them until they have to kill us. We don't give them the chance to torture us.”

  To die fighting alongside Vince—it was better than submitting to a lonely, torture-filled death or the same kind of life. “We need to plan how we’ll do that. And we'll have to move in unison.”

  “Maybe not.” Vince spoke softly.

  “What do you mean?” Jess managed to cradle one of Vince's hands in hers. She pressed them against Vince’s chest.

  His heartbeat became a strong drumming. “Joe stopped searching after he found the gun. I still have a small pocket knife tucked away in the change pocket inside my big pocket. Cargo shorts have a lot of hiding places.”

  “Can you reach it?”

  Vince’s hands moved, pulling hers with them. “No. The bands are too tight on my wrists. My hand can’t slide down far enough.”

  “Vince, it's just fabric. Slide your shorts up and turn your pocket inside out to so you can reach it, doofus.”

  “Yeah. I can do that. Sorry, Jess.”

  “You're sorry about what? Being a doofus?” Something had just changed in Vince. She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but his body movements conveyed it. His voice and his words too.

  “I am so sorry.” Vince’s voice broke on the last word.

  What was he sorry about? Regardless, she couldn't do this again, and they had no time for sorting through relational baggage.

  It was best if she didn't reply.

  “I was being completely selfish, Jess.”

  Whatever Vince’s bait, she wasn’t going to bite. “Okay. Be selfish. But get out that knife.”

  “I’ve got it. Don't move your hands, if you value your fingers.”

  “I was afraid one of those Mafia guys might cut them off, like in the movies.”

  “Knife is open. Be still while I work on the wristbands and cuffs.”

  “Doofus.”

  “We're back to that again?”

  “Vince, it’s easy to cut the ones around our ankles. Cut them first, then we can move to a better position to work on our wrists.”

  “Yeah. I'm a doofus. Lean forward with me. Relax your hands so I can reach our ankles.”

  Jess leaned with Vince.

  Vibrations came through her bands as Vince sawed on the first ankle tie.

  The tie broke.

  He worked on the second band.

  It popped loose.

  “We need to stand,” Vince said.

  Shoulder-to-shoulder, they rose to their feet.

  “Over to the wood pile.” Vince nudged her ahead. “It's directly opposite that light coming in under the door.”

  With the Cascades to the east of the cabin, the sun hadn’t risen yet, but there was enough light to mark the door and use it to navigate the darkness.

  “Ouch.” Vince stopped.

  “What happened?”

  “Cracked my knee on the corner of the stack of wood. Here, put your wrists beside mine and let me press them down on the flat side of this piece of wood. The cuffs are the easiest to get to. I’ll cut them first, then the other ties.”

  She pulled her wrists apart, though they were tangled with Vince's, and pressed them down on a piece of wood.

  “Be still, cutting now.”

  Each push of Vince’s hand sliced through plastic.

  Her
hands came free. “I’m loose.”

  “I can’t reach my cuffs. Jess, would you—”

  “Give me the knife.”

  The warm knife handle touched her fingers. “Got it. Now you hold your hands still.”

  Jess located the center of the cuff on Vince's hands and sliced it against a chunk of wood. They were free from the zip ties. But now what?

  Vince’s hands clamped on her shoulders and he pulled her against his chest.

  She pushed away from him. “Vince, before this goes any further, you need to answer the question I asked you after the falls.”

  “Jess, we don't know how much time we have.”

  “It will take over an hour for Larry to drive to Snoqualmie and bring Patrick back. It's only been twenty minutes. Maybe less.”

  “We can't count on that. We might not have any more time. We need a plan to surprise them when the door opens.”

  “You don't want to answer my question, do you? You’d cut off an ear first.”

  “So we're back to that again.”

  “You tell me, van Gogh.”

  “Tell you why I left seven years ago?”

  “Yes.” She tried to stop her tears but couldn’t. And Vince could probably hear her sniffling.

  “I'm not sure you can understand. I'm not sure anyone would understand but me.”

  “Think about it, Vince. Even though you’ve been away for seven years, there’s nobody on this planet that understands you as much as me.”

  “Maybe. Probably. Okay … Jess, don't get me wrong. I love Paul. But living life five years behind someone like him puts you in a big shadow.”

  “Someone like him? What does that mean?”

  “Paul was impossible to measure up to. Teachers expected me to. People in the community and at church expected it. Even my parents.”

  “Sounds to me like Vince van Gordon expected it. I don't think anyone else did.”

  “Everybody loved Paul. He was on his way to making a fortune, developing new technology, and he was a man who practiced his faith, no matter the cost.”

  “That's all true. Now tell me who Vince van Gordon was.”

  “He was a guy who always came up short. Could never match what his big brother did. He was also the man who ended up as your only other option after Paul died.”

  “Only option? You are a fool, Vince. Why would you even say something like that?”