Survive the Blast

by Dave Bowman

  She’d moved on with her life. Annie had left the past behind her.

  Her time with Chip had become a collection of hazy memories. Bad memories that she rarely brought to her mind.

  Until now. Until she was lying on the floor in Dan’s house.

  She had been able to escape one abusive guy before. She could do it again.

  But this time, she couldn’t just run out the front door. She had Charlotte to think of.

  Annie would need time to find the room Charlotte was trapped in, unlock the door with Dan’s keys, and flee the house.

  Annie would have to somehow incapacitate Dan.

  Which was going to be pretty difficult to do without any kind of weapon.

  And she was going to have to figure it out fast. Because from somewhere in the house, she could hear movement.

  He was coming for her.

  23

  “We meet at last.”

  The man with the missing tooth grinned down at Jack.

  The bedroom door was open. A little light streamed in, just enough to see the guy.

  Jack didn’t know what he was talking about. He had never seen the man before in his life, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping this guy calm.

  Jack held his hands up, slowly.

  One gun was in the waistband of Jack’s pants. The other, the one belonging to the first intruder – where was it?

  He had foolishly left it somewhere on the floor in the anguished moments after shooting that young guy. But that didn’t matter either. Jack couldn’t reach for either pistol before this man standing before him would shoot him.

  “Just stay calm,” Jack said. “Don’t lose your head. We can fix this.”

  The man laughed.

  “Oh, I’m not the one who’s going to lose my head.”

  His long, gray beard bobbed up and down as he spoke. His face had an odd color – it was a little gray too. His eyes bulged out. It looked like the radiation had already taken its effect on the guy.

  There was movement on the other side of the room. Naomi woke, then sat bolt upright. She looked paralyzed in fear. Her eyes were wide open and stricken.

  “Frank.”

  Jack’s insides seized up.

  It was Naomi’s stepfather. The one who had killed her mother.

  He’s followed us all this way from Naomi’s apartment. He wants his revenge.

  Frank heard Naomi’s voice. His smile widened when he heard it. But he didn’t take his eyes off Jack.

  “Say goodbye, Boy Scout,” Frank said, leveling his gun at Jack.

  Like a sudden explosion, Jack swung into action.

  He hit Frank’s arm away, striking it hard and fast.

  Frank’s gun was knocked out of his hand and clattered to the floor in the doorway.

  Without hesitation, Jack sprang up from his seat. He tackled Frank, his head and shoulders crashing into him. Frank stumbled back.

  Jack started to reach for his gun. But before he could grab it, he had to duck. Frank’s fist came flying from the left.

  Jack was surprised at how fast Frank was. Jack raised his arm, aiming for Frank’s face.

  Before Jack could get in a punch, Frank gave Jack a heavy strike to his back.

  Pain seared in Jack’s ribcage.

  Before Jack could respond, another blow fell on him, this time in his gut.

  Jack snapped up and landed his fist on Frank’s temple, hard.

  Frank flinched. Jack kicked at Frank’s side, but Frank grabbed his leg and sent Jack flying to the floor.

  Jack landed with a crash. Things were starting to look bad.

  Frank jumped on top of him. Before Jack could throw him off, Frank started raining punches down on Jack’s face.

  Over and over.

  Jack was reeling from the pain.

  He tried to get a punch in, but couldn’t. Frank was too vicious, too fast.

  In the confusion of the action, a thought flashed through Jack’s head.

  It can’t end like this.

  Through his blurred, bloody eyes, Jack saw Brent enter his frame of vision.

  Brent tackled Frank from behind, his arms reaching around Frank’s shoulders and neck.

  But Frank was much too fast for Brent. Frank hit him, landing a punch square on Brent’s eye.

  Brent fell off to the side, yelling out in pain.

  Jack knew this was his last chance. He was losing strength. It was now or never.

  Just before Frank’s next punch landed on Jack, Jack summoned all his strength to roll over to the side under Frank’s weight.

  Jack dodged the punch.

  Frank’s fist landed on the floor. He screamed out in pain.

  Jack kicked him off, sending the guy rolling over to the side.

  Fighting through the pain, Jack sprang to his feet. He pulled the pistol out of his waistband.

  Flicked off the safety.

  Frank’s eyes went wide.

  Jack pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot filled the room.

  Frank’s hands went to his chest, where he’d been shot. He held up his shaking hands in front of his eyes. They were covered in blood.

  He fell to the floor.

  Frank’s face changed as he stared up at Jack. He started to beg, to plead. He held his hand up in a defensive gesture.

  “Shoot him!” Naomi screamed from where she stood in her corner.

  Frank turned to Naomi. It was the first time he had looked at her.

  “You killed my mother!” Naomi screamed at him, her face red and furious.

  Frank looked back at Jack. Frank lowered his hand, letting it fall to the floor.

  The pleading look on his face disappeared. The act was over.

  Frank’s mouth turned up in a deranged smile as he looked at Jack, daring him to do it.

  Jack fired once more, and Frank was hit again in the chest. He collapsed against the floor, his face hitting the tiles and rolling to the side.

  Jack exhaled slowly. The room fell silent. It was over.

  Frank was dead.

  Slowly, Jack’s eyes moved away from the dark heap on the floor. Jack looked over at Brent and Naomi.

  “Are you okay?” Brent asked.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, though pain raged through his body. “Are you two all right?”

  Brent nodded. His hand went to his face, touching the inflamed skin. He flinched.

  Naomi stood staring at Frank’s body, speechless. She didn’t answer. She appeared to be in shock.

  Frank’s body lay motionless on the floor.

  Jack sighed. Might as well get it over with.

  “Brent, you know the drill,” Jack said. “Let’s get our friend here to the next room. Naomi, are you going to be all right alone for a couple minutes?”

  Without taking her eyes off Frank, she nodded silently.

  Jack shuffled over to the dead man. Already, the pain-killing adrenaline was fading in Jack’s body, leaving behind sharp pain and aches.

  Jack and Brent dragged the body to the other bedroom. Walking back after the deed was done, Jack realized he now had the blood of two men on his hands.

  He wiped his palms on his pants.

  Once inside their makeshift shelter, Jack closed the door. He and Brent sat close to Naomi.

  She began to cry.

  Brent looked questioningly at Jack over her head.

  “It’s all right,” Jack said. “That’s better than being in shock. At least we know you’re still with us, Naomi.”

  Brent put his arm around her. Naomi rested her head on his shoulder and wept.

  Her mother was gone. Justice had been served, but the loss was still there.

  Jack rested his pistol in his lap. The other two – including Frank’s – lay securely at his side.

  He didn’t expect to sleep at all that night.

  24

  Dan was descending a flight of stairs.

  The sound of him moving through the house echoed in the hallway.


  Inside the dark room, Annie fought back her panic.

  Her heart began to beat furiously. She started to feel dizzy.

  If Dan went to wherever he had trapped Charlotte, he would hurt her best friend. Maybe kill her.

  If Dan came to Annie, she would have to somehow knock him out so she could get away.

  She began to crawl on the floor of the dark room. She felt around the space, hoping to find some useful object.

  But there was nothing.

  She moved toward the contraption she had glimpsed when he’d thrown her in the room. She was terrified to get close to it, but she pushed her body forward.

  Her fingers landed on a large, horizontal wooden board. Wrapping her hands around the board, she tried to move it. But it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Her hands moved below the board, which was attached to some kind of cold metal legs. It was all bolted in place to the floor.

  Annie fumbled around the wooden piece, trying to land on something she could use as a weapon. She felt some kind of cord or rope, about a foot and a half in length, attached to the board.

  Pulling with all her might, she wasn’t able to detach the cord from where it attached to the platform.

  She whimpered, barely audible. There was nothing she could use to fight Dan.

  And now, he was in the hallway.

  She might not be able to use the cord as a weapon against Dan, but she could use it to trick him.

  Grabbing hold of the cord, she wrapped it tightly around her neck. She pulled on the rope, cinching it against her skin, until she could barely breathe.

  She let go of the rope, letting it hang from its place on the board. It had been enough to make her skin look red and inflamed. Like she had choked herself to death.

  His footsteps on the hardwood floor gradually grew louder.

  He was coming for her.

  Her heart racing wildly, she dropped to the floor. She positioned herself where she might have fallen dead, or at least passed out, from the strangulation.

  She hoped it was enough to convince him.

  His key turned the lock in the doorknob.

  Annie took one last breath and held it.

  He stepped inside and locked the door behind him. The two candles he held cast a warm glow in the room. His shadow moved over Annie.

  “Annie, dear,” Dan crooned. “Time to wake up.”

  Annie lay perfectly still. She was already feeling the urge to exhale. She ignored it.

  Dan began to cross the room toward her.

  “Annie, rise and shine,” he whispered.

  He came to a stop right beside her and peered down at her.

  Her lungs were screaming, about to burst. Just a few moments more.

  “Annie?” Dan asked.

  His voice had changed. It lost the singsong quality. Now he sounded annoyed.

  He set the candles down on the wooden pedestal. He looked at her a moment more. He moved the hair out of her face to see her eyes open and staring vacantly ahead.

  “Annie!” he exclaimed breathlessly. Now he sounded afraid.

  He hesitated a second more, staring at her.

  From somewhere deep within her, a force exploded through her body.

  Her leg shot out, kicking him square in his face.

  The sole of her foot made a loud cracking sound when it hit his nose.

  It felt good to have this energy powering her. It felt good to fight back.

  He yelped and fell onto his back. His hands went to his face. He yelled something at her, but his voice was muffled behind his hands.

  And anyway, she didn’t wait to hear it.

  She pushed herself up to her feet. With one swift motion, she grabbed the first brass candlestick holder.

  She held it from its long metal stem. She raised it over her head.

  She brought it down against the side of his head, striking it directly against his temple.

  He screamed in pain, but she didn’t stop.

  She brought it up again, and this time landed a blow against the back of his head. He fell face downward.

  He groaned into the floor. He feebly lifted his hand and tried to push himself up.

  But he fell back down again.

  Taken over with fury, Annie struck his back with the blunt object. She unleashed all the rage she had at being held captive. With that brass weapon, she pummeled his back until he made no more noises.

  Panting, she stood up and surveyed her work.

  He was bleeding and unconscious. But he wasn’t dead.

  Annie took a few moments to catch her breath. She stood in the room lit by the single remaining candle. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

  She gave his gut a solid kick to make sure he was good and out. Then she knelt beside him.

  Reaching in his pants pockets, she found a set of keys. She grabbed both the lit candle and the holder she had used as a weapon.

  She started toward the door, but she had an idea.

  She doubled back toward Dan. She grabbed the cord from the wooden platform, wrapped it around one of his hands, and tied a square knot. She did the same with the other hand.

  “I guess your torture device saw some action after all,” she said as she crossed the distance to the door.

  Annie gave Dan one last look. He wasn’t moving.

  It took her a while to find the correct key for the door. Finally, she found the right one and unlocked it. She walked into the hallway. She locked the door behind her, leaving Dan where he couldn’t hurt her.

  Annie set out down the hallway, careful to protect the flame of the single candle.

  “Charlotte! Where are you?” she called loudly, her voice ringing out through the silent house.

  Annie heard no response.

  She walked down the long hallway, lined with closed doors.

  This is the creepiest house I’ve ever seen. Who knows what’s in all these rooms.

  She called for Charlotte again. All she heard was the echo of her own voice.

  Annie felt her chest tighten.

  What if she was too late?

  Annie called for her friend again and again, each time more frantic.

  She arrived at the end of the hallway. The space opened into a large living room full of painted portraits on the wall.

  Annie spun around, looking at all the possible ways she could go.

  To her left rose a wide staircase.

  That way.

  She began to run up the stairs, her heart pounding. The wounds on the soles of her feet seared with pain, but she hardly took notice.

  I have to find her. She has to still be alive.

  At the top of the staircase, another long hallway stretched before her.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Annie entered the hall, calling Charlotte’s name.

  A few steps more, and she heard something.

  Annie held her breath.

  Was it her?

  Annie listened, and she heard the voice again.

  “I’m in here!”

  Annie breathed a sigh of relief. Charlotte was alive.

  Charlotte’s voice sounded so far away, so tiny. Annie hurried through the dark hallway, ignoring the painted portraits on the wall that seemed to mock her as she moved past them.

  “I’m in the last room!” Charlotte called.

  Annie arrived at the very last room, where the hallway dead-ended.

  “I’m here, Charlotte!” Annie called. “I’m going to get you out of there. Just hold on!”

  Now to find the right key.

  Annie looked at the large set of keys in her palm, then at the door before her. This last door was different from all the rest. Larger and more ornate, with scrollwork carved into the wood.

  It’s got to be this one.

  She selected the largest key of all, the one that looked to be antique. Inserting it into the keyhole, she smiled as it turned and opened the door.

  “Oh, thank God!” Charlotte said.

  Annie
stepped inside the room, lighting it up with the candle. She gasped.

  In the corner, Charlotte was strapped to a chair, with the same kind of cordage Annie had seen in her own room.

  “Poor Charlotte!” Annie exclaimed, rushing over to her side.

  She fumbled with the knots for a moment, struggling to untie them. She looked around for a knife or something to cut them with, but finding nothing, she returned to untie them. Charlotte urged her to hurry.

  “I thought I was going to die in here!” Charlotte said. “But where – where’s Dan?”

  “I locked him up in the room downstairs,” Annie said as she finally made some headway with one of the knots.

  “Is he dead?” Charlotte asked.

  “No,” Annie said. “But he’s unconscious. He won’t bother us for now.”

  She finally loosened all the knots, and Charlotte stood up. Wiping the tears away from her eyes, Charlotte gave Annie an emotional hug.

  “Thank you so much,” Charlotte gushed. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. We never should have gotten into Dan’s car.”

  “It’s okay. Just try to remember this next time, all right?” Annie asked, looking at her friend with a smile.

  Charlotte nodded. “I will. You’re the boss from now on.”

  Annie looked around the room. A large bed with luxurious linens stood in the center. Mahogany furniture, exotic tapestries, and fine art filled the room.

  “Gross,” Annie said, disgusted. “I guess this is Dan’s room?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think so. He went downstairs somewhere to sleep. I don’t know… I get the feeling this is his parents’ room.”

  She walked over to an armoire and picked up a framed photograph.

  “Look,” she said, handing it to Annie.

  Annie peered at the photograph. It looked to be taken in the 1970s. A young couple sat on a picnic blanket in the middle of a field dotted with wildflowers. The man and woman smiled down at their two sons, who looked to be about ten years old.

  “I guess it’s Dan’s family, huh?” Annie mused. “What happened to him? They look like the perfect, happy family.”

  Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. “Picture-perfect on the outside, rotten on the inside.”

  Annie squinted at the photo, noticing something she hadn’t seen before.