Violet Grenade

by Victoria Scott

  He sighs, shrugs. “No. You don’t want to leave with me. You want to leave with you.”

  I expect him to exit the room. Or to yell. Or to report me to Mr. Hodge. But instead, he takes a single step in my direction. “And what if I said no? What if I told you that you don’t know what you want? Young girls seldom do.”

  This isn’t going to end well. I look at his stance, at the way he’s blocking the door.

  “Come here, Domino, and give me what you promised.”

  I back up, my knees hitting the edge of the mattress.

  Wilson?!

  Here! I’m here!

  Jack reaches out, slowly at first. As if he expects I’ll come to him easily. Realize my mistake in rejecting him. When I dodge his hand, the sadness on his face changes, slowly, slowly. The anger twisting his face is so unnerving my head spins.

  And then—

  Jack grabs my wig and rips my head toward him. His other hand covers my mouth.

  Terror seizes every muscle in my body. I was prepared to give myself to Jack. But not like this. Never like this. He lifts me up and throws me onto the bed. My back hits the mattress, and I cry out against the springs.

  Did I ask for this?

  Have I made Jack into this monster?

  No! Wilson answers inside my mind. No, no, no, no, no!

  Jack reaches down and tears my shirt with the hand that held my hair. The other remains over my mouth. I cry out against his clenched fingers.

  Say the words, Wilson pleads, leaping around inside my head. Say them, Domino!

  I won’t be able to stop you, though.

  Wilson pulls his hair out. We don’t have a choice!

  Jack tells me not to scream. Uncovers my mouth and reaches for my waist. But I do scream, and when I do, he delivers a blow to my cheek so hard the world spins. Fear shadows his face, like he’s surprised at his own assault. He reaches for me gently as if he can make it better. That’s when I scream a second time.

  Jack tackles me, both hands pushing down on my mouth so hard I think he’ll break my jaw.

  Where are the other Lilies?

  Why isn’t anyone coming?

  Domino, Wilson says. His voice is so reasonable. So reassuring. Let him take over. That’s all I have to do. But I have to be level-headed enough to get us out of here, too. And if Wilson takes over, there’s no telling what will happen.

  So I make a decision.

  I bite down on Jack’s fingers.

  He hollers and tears his hand away from my mouth.

  “Wilson!” I yell over Jack’s complaints. “Help me!”

  Wilson steps firmly into my mind, cracks his neck, sets his gaze on Jack. So you want to play rough, tough guy? Well then, I’m your huckleberry.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Animal

  Come at me! Wilson screams. I scream.

  And Jack does. I spring onto the bed like a wild animal, crouched on hands and feet. I grab the pillowcase and then leap up and over Jack’s hunched form. The part of me that’s still me makes for the door to escape, but Wilson is controlling my body, too, and he has no plans of leaving quietly.

  Jack turns as I wring the pillowcase into a tight stretch of fabric.

  “You want to touch me?” I say.

  Not my voice.

  Not me.

  “You want to own me?”

  Jack lunges for the second time, and I let him take me this time, keeping my hands above my head. As soon as he closes his arms around me I let my knees collapse and drop to the ground. Surprised by the weight, Jack falls to the floor.

  We lay side by side, lovers whispering in the dark.

  That is, until Jack attempts to crawl on top of me on the freshly mopped floor. Wilson waits for the opportunity. Wait, wait. Don’t panic. Even though Jack’s on me. Even though he’s tearing at our clothes and panting between gritted teeth.

  Don’t panic, Domino Ray.

  There.

  Now.

  I shove my hand down fast and hard, a viper strike. I grab onto the same place that burns so badly for me. I watch as his eyes enlarge and spittle flies from his mouth, and I pull with all my might.

  He howls loudly. Loud enough that now I’m sure someone must be coming to help.

  I know that.

  I’m reassured by that.

  But Wilson doesn’t want anyone coming.

  I shoot out from under Jack as he groans in pain and leap to my feet. With breakneck speed, I step on one end of the pillowcase and wrap the rest around Jack’s neck. I pull back with every ounce of strength I have.

  Jack’s back straightens and he gasps at the noose around his neck.

  No matter.

  I lean away and pull harder, keeping my feet planted firmly on the other end. This is how a hundred-pound girl can kill a grown man in a laundry room. Just one way of many.

  My personal favorite, Wilson says hysterically. Look how red his eyes are. Look!

  “What’s wrong, Jack?” I say, grunting against the effort to end his life. “Do I take your breath away?”

  Wilson, stop! I scream inside my head. I won’t take another human life!

  Then don’t. Go away. Let me take over.

  Jack’s face turns a sickly shade of blue as he thrashes his arms, trying to break my grasp.

  That’s what’s so beautiful about strangulation, Wilson booms. Turns strong, capable adults into raging idiots. Look at him. All he has to do is take out your legs, or grab onto the pillowcase with both hands and pull. But nope! He’ll just keep flopping around. Flop, fishy, flop!

  You have to stop, Wilson. Please!

  No, he answers. Shan’t.

  Almost as if Jack read Wilson’s thoughts, he rolls to his left and shoves my ankle. I stumble just enough for him to inhale a lungful of sweet, merciful air. Wilson tries to regain his death hold on Jack, but now the man is reaching for me, despite his purple face and lack of oxygen.

  I leap back, and Jack rips the pillowcase from his throat. He coughs for several seconds as Wilson examines the room, searching for his second option. He remembers the champagne bottle and lunges for the hallway, but Jack grabs me, and I’m thrown back onto the bed.

  This time it’s his hands that wrap around my throat.

  I gasp, claw at his fingers.

  Wilson laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

  You really think that’s how easy I’ll go down?

  Wilson prepares himself for another assault, but before he can do anything, the laundry room door bursts open.

  Cain stands in the doorway, chest heaving, fists clenched.

  Jack spins around.

  “Oh, good,” Jack says, speaking to Cain, and pointing at me. “This little snatch—”

  Cain hits him. He hits him, and it’s the shot heard round the world. Jack’s head snaps backward, and he pauses in the air for a fraction of a second, a beast on his heels. And then he hits the floor.

  He’s out.

  No pillowcases or fancy moves or strategizing.

  Just one blow from the stone giant and he’s one, two, three, down for the count.

  But Wilson hasn’t had his fill. He doesn’t want Jack unconscious. He wants him dead. I lunge on Jack, the pillow in my hands. I shove the pillow over Jack’s face, but Cain is telling me we have to go. We have to go now.

  Cain pulls me backward, but Wilson fights against him. He’s not done with Jack. He won’t stop. He can’t. Jack hurt us. He must be punished.

  “Domino!” Cain yells.

  Two Lilies appear in the doorway, yelling for Marie. They see me on Jack, scratching at his face.

  Wilson, stop, we have to go, I plead.

  No, never!

  “Domino, you have to come with me.” Cain grabs me around the waist and hoists me up. I spin around to face him, Wilson’s anger pulsing through me. “I won’t make you come,” Cain says, “but if you want to, we have to go now!”

  “Where do you think you’d go?” one Lily screech
es as the other girl rushes to Jack’s side.

  Marie shoves her way into the small room. “What’s going on in here?”

  Wilson analyzes the situation, and decides he can still end Jack’s life. What’s more, he wants the money we were promised. The same envelope one of the Lilies now holds in her hand. She tucks it behind her back, and the other Lily who sees her do it blocks my path. Seems they both want to cash in on my private deal.

  Though I know we don’t have time for this fight, Wilson makes me lunge toward them.

  But this time I’m able stop myself before impact.

  I am here, too, Wilson. I didn’t leave. And I’m telling you to back down.

  But you need me, Domino. I can get our money and finish him, too.

  BACK DOWN!

  Wilson hesitates just long enough for me to grab Cain’s hand and yell, “Run!”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  See Domino Run

  Cain and I bolt from the Lilies’ home and race toward the main house. I have only two objectives now.

  Get Poppet.

  Run.

  A voice rings out in the night, stopping me. “You’re running, aren’t you? Morons!”

  I turn to see Lola staring back at me, the red lipstick on her mouth smeared. Swallowing my apprehension, I call out the first thing I think of. “Come with us.”

  She blinks in the dim light. “You’re crazy.”

  Cain pushed my lower back. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Will you tell?” I ask.

  Lola looks up at Madam Karina’s window. “Yeah, I will. But I’ll throw them off. It’ll give me time to run while they’re looking for you.”

  “We’re headed that way.” I point down the road, to the right.

  “Well, I saw you go that way.” She points to the left.

  I tip my head at her, and then race toward the main house. Mr. Hodge isn’t at the front like I expect him to be, so I fly up the stairs. Cain is one step behind me. When we get to the third floor, I sweep into the Tulips’ entertainment room. Poppet is sitting in a white high-back chair, speaking with an older gentleman. When I see that he’s holding her hand, drawing circles in her palm, I have to once again fight Wilson for control.

  She sees me, sees the sweat on my forehead and the expression on my face, and she’s on her feet. She zigzags through the customers and bolts past me toward her bedroom. I take off after her and then watch as she fills a bag from her closet. Each thing has its place, and it’s as if she went over this a hundred times in her head.

  “I’ve got it,” Cain says when she’s done. “Can you run in those?”

  She kicks off her high heels. “I grew up barefoot. Why change now?”

  Cain hurries down the hall, and Poppet and I rush after him, adrenaline firing through me. The three us storm down the stairs, turning corners and hearing girls yell in our direction. We sound like a herd of water buffalo moving through the house. Between stealth and speed, we choose the latter.

  I think we’re in the clear until I see Mr. Hodge standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  Cain sees him and drops Poppet’s bag. Mr. Hodge readies his short, massive torso in front of us like there’s no way we’re getting past him.

  Jack appears from the side door, holding his jaw. Behind him are a half dozen of Madam Karina’s girls, doting on the injured customer.

  “You’re going to pay for this.” Mr. Hodge narrows his beady eyes. “I’m going to make sure—”

  He never gets the rest of the sentence out, because suddenly Cain is moving. He rushes down the stairs like Usain Bolt and skips the last three steps, opting to lunge through the air instead. His fist connects with Mr. Hodge’s face and, déjà vu, Mr. Hodge goes down.

  Unlike Jack, though, he’s not out.

  “Come on!” Cain urges.

  “Oh my God,” Poppet laughs as she grabs her bag and leaps over Mr. Hodge. “You punched The Neck!”

  The three of us sail through the front door, and Cain digs keys out of his pocket. We dive inside the black demon car, and Cain starts the ignition and steps on the gas. On our way down the drive, we pass Eric’s gold sedan.

  “Where to?” Cain asks.

  “You don’t have a plan?” Poppet shrieks.

  He shakes his head. “Not past keeping the car keys and hitting that prick, Jack.” Cain glances at me. “I watched you through the kitchen window. I won’t apologize.”

  “Turn here!” I yell.

  Cain jerks the car to the right and pushes the car as fast as it’ll go.

  “Where’d you learn to hit like that?” Poppet asks Cain, bouncing in her seat.

  “Keep driving until I say.” I stare forward, trying to gauge how far we are from my intended destination. My body itches for movement, to run ahead of the car and expend some nerves. I’m a ball of tension, glancing in the rearview mirror every ten seconds. If we see Eric’s headlights, it’s over. As it stands, my plan may not work for a slew of reasons.

  My hope rests on Lola and her convincing Madam Karina and the others that she saw us going left down the road. She’ll help, because the longer they search for us, the more time she’ll have to slip away unnoticed. But Pox isn’t a large town, and it won’t take long for Eric to decide we went in the other direction.

  How can I help? Wilson asks. I know I tried to take over back there, but I’m better now.

  Just let me think.

  Right-o. Thinking is your territory. I’m the doer. Let me know if you need any doing.

  We’re two hundred yards away when I tell Cain to pull into a field on the left. The property looks deserted, an old ramshackle house and a front yard filled with busted tires and a scarecrow that’s missing an arm. I tell Cain to park wherever, and we get out.

  Cain grabs Poppet’s bag from the backseat of the car, and Poppet props her elephant on her hip like an infant. The two give me a questioning look.

  “We’ll walk from here,” I explain. “If they’re looking for the car, or have a tracking device on it, we don’t want them to find us in it.”

  “But where are we going?” Poppet asks, her bare feet disappearing into the tall, dry grass.

  I point forward. “We’ll skirt along the side of the road, but not on it. It should only take us a few minutes to get there.”

  It’s Cain who finally figures it out. “You want to jump the train.”

  “I’ve done it before. It’s how I left home.” It’s something I’ve never told anyone, not even Dizzy. He knew I loved them, the trains, but he didn’t know why. Not the whole truth, anyway. Not the fact that a train often has empty cars perfect for desperate travelers. Not that the horn sounds, to me, like a beacon of hope and renewal. He only knew I loved them as a child. Not that they served as my salvation.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Back Pocket Hope

  The three of us step over barbed wire fences, and voluptuous cow patties, and deep holes where rattlesnakes might lie. And eventually, we spot the tracks in the distance. Cain, Poppet, and I bunker down nearby, and wait an entire dread-filled hour before I hear the telltale sound of a train approaching.

  I run out from our hiding spot, and Cain jogs beside me. Poppet hangs back, ready. Cain and I position ourselves on the tracks, arms waving wildly, ice forming in my lungs. The train travels closer, bright lights cutting through the darkness. It’s a unit freight train, no passengers, one type of cargo. I love this type of train—the simplicity, the efficiency. It does one thing and it does it right. And tonight, it just may save our hides.

  The red-and-white arms descend on either side, and a yellow flashing bulb illuminates Poppet’s face. And then, farther down the road, a vehicle appears. A red siren swirls on the hood, dirt kicking up in a cloud behind the gold sedan.

  The ice in my lungs shoots to my fingertips. Eric has found us. Even if the train slows enough for us to jump aboard, we may not make it. Cain and I exchange a look and wave our arms faster. My heart sledgehammers in my chest, and Popp
et screams over and over that Eric is coming.

  The train engineer spots us and hits the brakes. A screeching sound blocks out anything else. The sound of Poppet yelling—gone. The sound of Eric’s manic siren—gone. Now there is only this metal fiend rocking down the tracks, attempting to slow its momentum. The driver doesn’t want to kill us, but he will anyway if we don’t move.

  This isn’t a suicide mission, so I grab Cain’s arm and we lunge off the tracks. The whoosh of air throws me off-balance, and Cain has to jerk me upright before I lose my footing.

  “There! there!” Poppet points to the first open train car she sees, and together we start running. The train hasn’t stopped, but it might be slow enough now that we can attempt boarding it.

  “Run alongside it!” I yell. “Run as fast as you can, and let the car come to you!”

  The light from Eric’s vehicle paints everything in red, and though I’m too afraid to look, I can feel the shadow of his car as it approaches and stops, can sense his footsteps as he lunges toward us. A blast rings through the night, and I cry out.

  “He’s shooting at us!” Cain roars.

  “Keep running!” My chest heaves, and sweat drenches my arms and neck. We’re close. So close to freedom but I can’t think about what Eric is doing. Can’t wonder whether his bullets are a warning or something worse.

  The train car Poppet spotted approaches, catching up with us as we run, heads back, mouths open.

  Another shot is fired, and Eric shouts. No longer able to stand it, I look back. He’s running after us, waving a Glock, his face redder than seems possible.

  Cain reaches for the handle outside the train car. Misses three times before grabbing hold. He jumps like a natural athlete and barely stumbles before pulling himself inside. In a flash, his arm is back out, reaching for me. I grab the handle with one hand, and onto him with the other.

  I’m pulled inside to safety.

  Poppet is the only one left, running barefoot, her face painted with fear.

  “Reach for me!” Cain says.

  The train is gaining speed again. The engineer must be familiar with this, teens teasing his pet. So he brushes off what he saw and focuses again on his precious schedule.

  Eric runs behind Poppet, closing the distance between them. He’s near enough that I can see the saliva wetting his thin lips. I stretch my arm out, fear wrapping itself around my throat, and beg her to run faster. Faster!