by Sweet, Izzy
Only gunfire.
Then all of a sudden there is nothing but silence.
Silence fades as footsteps and the loud screams of the girls come through the phone.
Shit. They have the girls. They have Abigail.
Amy is hysterical by the time I hang up the phone. We’ve been listening to static for almost two minutes.
Dialing Simon quickly, I shout as soon as he answers, “I’m fifteen minutes out! What’s the situation?”
“Give me a second, Andrew. The hit team is in a fire fight against our guys outside of the school.”
I try to be patient, I really do. But five minutes in I start yelling at Simon that I need information.
“They’ve blasted through our guys. Hurry up and get to the school, Andrew. We need you on the ground. Lucifer is on his way with Johnathan. They’ve taken one of the girls, it’s not sure who. The other has been hurt. Get there now. I’ll contact you with more information if I can get it.”
Fuck me. They took Evie and hurt Abigail. Shit
My hand must be crushing Amy as I grip it with my fears of not being able to protect my girls.
For her part, Amy is sitting there in shock. No words are escaping her mouth as she just opens and closes it.
* * *
When we finally get to the school, police cars and firetrucks have us blocked out. I call Johnathan though and he has our car escorted inside the taped-off area.
We come to a halt in front of an ambulance.
Looking over to the Amy, I say, “It’s okay, baby. We’ll be okay.”
Getting out of the car, we both race to the ambulance. My heart is thudding in my chest as I think of only this morning when Abigail said she loved me before jumping out of the car.
She’s been doing that for a few days now. Every morning I drop her off and she says, “Love you, Daddy.”
She’s accepted me into her world, and for once in my life I feel like I might actually have a heart and soul after all.
As we round the back of the ambulance, I see Johnathan standing next to a very angry looking Lucifer. Anger shouldn’t be his only reaction; he should be murderous if someone took his Evelyn, right?
The little girl laying on the stretcher is beneath a blanket, her little red princess slippers peeking out from underneath it.
Red slippers. Abigail wore yellow ones today.
Ivan.
Turning back to face Amy, I wrap her tightly in my arms.
Holding her as tight as I can, I say, “Baby, that’s not Abby.”
“What… what do you mean? They took Evie, not my Abigail!” she screams at me.
Then, without me being able to hold her tight enough, she spins around to see a bruised and battered Evie curled up on the stretcher.
There’s a loud scream of pure terror that ends just as fast as it begun. Amy goes limp in my arms and her eyes roll back into her head as she passes out.
Carefully sweeping her up into my arms, I walk over to the EMTs.
“Help,” I whisper.
* * *
Johnathan has been taking care of Amy in the ambulance. She woke up and has gone into a silent shock. When I ask him to escort her home and to watch over her, he doesn’t even bat an eye.
Nodding his head, he helps her to his black Expedition.
Johnathan seems to be in a state of his own. I know the man liked Abigail, and it’s obvious from the look on his face that her being taken is weighing heavily on him.
I walk over to Lucifer.
He pulls away from a sobbing Evelyn long enough to say, “They took Abigail. From what I can tell, they had no interest in Evelyn. When she tried to stop them they beat her up pretty good. They asked for Abigail.”
Nodding my head, I say, “I’ll get with the police and start questioning some of the staff. Where’s Paul?”
“He went down throwing his body over the girls. That’s where most of the blood on Evelyn came from.”
Fuck. They fucking took Abigail. It’s fucking Ivan, the fucking ghost who’s come back to haunt us.
Growling at Lucifer, I say, “It was fucking Ivan.”
“That’s my guess, as well. Ask around here quickly. I’m having Simon work on where he went. We will get what we need soon.”
I look long and hard at Lucifer. Long and hard. We could have had Ivan; this could have been avoided. My daughter’s life is in jeopardy because of his bad fucking decision.
“We’re going to need to talk, Lucifer. This shouldn’t have fucking happened.”
Nodding his head, he says, “Agreed. But for the time being we must focus all of our efforts on fixing the current situation.”
Walking away from him, I head to the police officers who are corralling the teachers hanging around the school entrance. There is a mixture of our armed men, the police, and staff there.
An officer is shouting loudly, “All teachers, please keep your students in their rooms. Soon, we’ll allow the parents to collect their children. Please report if any student is missing from your class. Now please head back to your rooms. Keep the children calm.”
The teachers mill about for a moment before I roar out, “Go to your classrooms now!”
I’m not in the mood for stupid people right now and they need to be professionals. They need to be able to protect the children like I couldn’t do.
After questioning a couple of officers about what happened, I head towards the room where Paul made his last stand.
We have the money in this town, we own the police. They don’t bat an eye when I start moving about.
Stepping into the room where the standoff happened, I kneel in front of a body Paul took down with him. From the looks of it, he did more than his share of killing. He took down six guys.
Six.
That’s a lot of men to kill while protecting two children and yourself.
Flipping over the bodies, I rip open shirts and check their hands. They have tattoos all over their chests and hands. Russian prison tattoos. These are the real deal when it comes to a Russian hit squad. These are the heavy hitters we should have originally been facing.
This was the loose end we couldn’t find.
Beside Paul, I sit down for a moment. Another brother is gone from our family now. This one died protecting us.
Too many holes fill him. The scene around him, the spent cartridges… he didn’t protect himself in the end. It’s obvious he gave no thought to himself, it was all for the girls.
Closing his eyes, I try not to allow myself to feel the deep down inferno of rage wanting to unleash inside of me. I need to be cool and calm right now; I need to collect information, not become a beacon of anger.
Shaking my head, I stand up from his body with the hope that the men he took with him will be his slaves in the next life.
Loud voices pierce through my fog as I leave the room. The office across from the one I was in looks almost pristine compared to the one I was in. Inside of it, I see two officers speaking with the principal of the school.
Stopping just outside of the door, I hear him say, “This wouldn’t have happened if these cretins would keep their children away from my school! But I get no say in the filth that comes through the doors. The board allows donors to bring their little brats here if they give enough.”
My tongue feels thick in my mouth. The bile that is rising from my guilt of Abigail being taken is quickly becoming rage. How dare he call my daughter filth.
Walking past one of the officers, I move directly in front of the small, sniveling man. He’s a short, fat, balding little fuck. When Amy and I arranged for Abigail to come to school, he gave us trouble and now he’s insulting her.
Grabbing his wrist, I yank him forward as I growl out, “Do not insult my girl!”
“Officer! Officers! Get him off me!” he screams to the two uniformed men and the detective.
That scream. That fucking scream causes me to stop. My hand locks on his wrist as I say, “I recognize your scream…”
They have me off him, but the man has gone from indignant red to a very pale shade of green. “What… you must be mad… get him away from me.”
Eyeing the detective, I say, “Make him scream it.”
Looking from me to the police, the principal’s eyes go wide. “Now, see here! You’re the law, he can’t…”
None of the officers make a sound or movement as I pull my .45 out of my holster and aim it at the man’s knee. “Scream it now.”
“In there!” he screams out. “In there! In there!”
That’s the voice I heard through the phone, this is my daughter’s Judas.
Looking back to the police, I say, “He told the hit squad where my daughter was hiding.”
Looking back and forth at each other, the officers start to go for the man before I shake my head. “I’ll deal with him. You guys go find another person to question.”
It’s a sign of how much Lucifer controls this city now that the police officers turn away from me and the blubbering man. They know right now there’s not a single thing they can do to stop me.
At a time like this there isn’t a pocket we can’t grease.
Grabbing the man by the shirt, I yank his tie loose then up and over his head. Cramming the ugly silk piece of shit into his mouth, I silence most of the wailing that was coming out. I slap the side of my pistol against his head and watch his eyes get hazy.
Holstering the .45, I head out of his office, yanking him with me.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly dial Simon. “What is it?”
“I’m taking care of the principal. Little fucking prick told the hit squad where the girls were at.”
“Fucks sake, are you serious?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll inform Lucifer. Go ahead and get any information you can. I’ll smooth anything over with the police.”
“Hurry up with the smoothing over, FBI just pulled up on the scene.”
“Will do.”
Dragging the man into one of our guy’s black SUV, I say, “Get a ride with someone else. I need to take this one in.”
It’s three quick punches that knock the little fucking shit principal out. Tossing him in the back, I head towards the warehouse.
* * *
Dragging his piss and shit soaked body to the interrogation chair only makes me angrier. This little bitch can’t even stand on his own two legs.
Slamming him down in the chair, I quickly secure his arms behind him. He’s still screaming into the gag when I hear Lucifer walk into the room behind me.
“Has he said anything yet?” he asks me.
Shaking my head, I say, “Not yet. Just got him here.”
Looking at the man’s unsecured legs, he asks, “I’ll call Harrold?”
“Probably for the best, Lucifer. I don’t think this guy knows anything of use but he fucking ratted our daughters out.”
Using medical scissors for his pant legs, I quickly have him stripped from his waist down. The little fuck is wailing again as I bring out the jumper cables.
Yanking the gag from his mouth, I say, “Tell me all you said, you little cockroach.”
“Nothing! I didn’t say a thing!”
“You told them where they were hiding!” I scream into his face.
Setting the jumper cable tips on each testicle, I watch his whole body lock up as he belts out an earsplitting scream. There are black scorch marks as I pull the tips off, then comes the smell of burning flesh.
The man screams again for a long time before I pull out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Here, let me make sure that doesn’t get infected.”
“Oh god, no!” he says as I pour it on his open wounds.
Shortly thereafter his eyes roll into the back of his head.
Dumping a bucket of water on his head brings him quickly back to consciousness. “You fat fuck! You told them where they were.”
“I… I…”
“Shut the fuck up! Did you see any of the men that came in?”
Nodding his head, he goes into great detail of the men he saw charging into the school. And when he speaks of a man with almost white hair, I just about snip off the finger I’ve been taking chunks from.
Fucking dammit, I knew Ivan would be involved.
Putting my .45 to the principal’s head, I give him a chance to say a final prayer. Pulling the trigger, I don’t feel very happy about having let Ivan live right now.
This man’s body in front of me is just the start of the many I expect to pile up before I get to Ivan.
I’m going tear him apart, limb from fucking limb.
20
Amy
Abigail is gone…
Gone.
I don’t know how much time has passed since I was at the school and since Johnathan brought me home, but it’s too much. It’s been too long.
“Have you heard anything?” I ask Johnathan, desperate for any news when he walks into the living room from the kitchen.
His eyes drop to my wringing hands and then slowly slide back up to my face.
With a frown he shakes his head. “Not yet, but they’re working on it.”
He settles his big body on the couch and pulls out his phone.
I have the strongest urge to scream. To pick something up and fucking break it.
Instead, I pace in front of the TV. Now that the shock has worn off and my head has cleared, I feel like I’m going crazy with inaction.
I need to do something. I need to get Abigail back. I just can’t sit here, waiting for things to play out on their own.
Ivan has my little girl and I want to fucking kill him.
Ten more minutes pass. I pace and pace until Johnathan’s phone rings. Whirling around on him, I watch him intently as he answers.
“Yeah?” he says into the phone.
I wish I could hear whatever is being said on the other end.
He grunts.
And grunts some more.
What a fucking Neanderthal!
“Okay,” he finally says.
There’s another grunt and he hangs up.
I stare at him. He seems completely oblivious to it.
“Well?” I snap, and tap my thigh impatiently. “Any news?”
His eyes jump up to me in surprise. “Not yet.”
I throw my hands up in the air. I’m so frustrated I could fucking cry.
I stomp out of the living room and head into the kitchen to get away from Johnathan before I throw something at him.
Why would Ivan take Abigail? Why? The only reason I can think of is to get to me… But why go through all this trouble to do that?
I stop pacing and lean against the kitchen counter. Thinking.
When has anything Ivan’s done in regards to me ever made sense? He’s fucking obsessed with me and sick.
He could have taken Lucifer’s daughter, he could have used her as a bargaining chip, but no, he took Abigail. Why?
Because he knows I’d do anything to get her back.
I can just sit here, waiting for the men to handle it. I trust Andrew, but I know Ivan. And knowing that Abigail is with him, unprotected…
Fuck. I need to contact him. I need a phone.
I don’t think Johnathan will just give me his though if I ask for it.
Spinning around, my eyes scan the kitchen, looking for something to use to persuade Johnathan to let me use his phone.
Booze? No, that would take too long.
A knife? No, too messy…
A rolling stick? Not heavy enough.
I pick up the cast iron skillet, weighing it in my hand, then I swipe the dishes off the counter.
They crash to the floor.
“Amy? Are you okay?” Johnathan calls out, and I hear his heavy footsteps as he comes running to the kitchen to check on me.
When he appears in the doorway, I take a
deep breath then swing the skillet at his head. It connects with his temple and the pan thrums in my hand.
Johnathan just stares at me, his eyes wide and confused.
“The fuck?” he slurs.
I swing at his head again and connect. This time he sways on his feet, his eyes rolling up as he collapses.
I jump back to avoid being taken down with him.
Opening my hand, I allow the skillet fall to the floor then I squat down and check him for a pulse. I find it in his neck. Steady and strong.
Good, I didn’t accidentally kill him.
I check his pockets, pulling out his phone, keys, and wallet. Then I straighten and run out of the kitchen.
I run for the garage, figuring I should leave before Johnathan wakes up to stop me. I’ll take his car, call Ivan and try to sweet talk Ivan into giving me back Abigail. I know from experience if I can placate Ivan even a little bit he usually forgives me for anything I’ve done.
I’m halfway to the Expedition when I remember Ivan’s diamond necklace. Maybe if I wear it, I’ll be able to better convince him…
Spinning on my heel, I run back into the house and up the stairs. I find the necklace right where I left it, under Abigail’s pillow.
Running back downstairs, I’m panting heavy from rushing. Still, over the sound of my own heavy breathing, I can hear Johnathan groaning as he starts to come to in the kitchen.
Shit.
I run into the garage and hit the button for the door. I only allow it to roll halfway up before I’m crawling under it.
I run to Expedition parked in the driveway, jump in and shift it into reverse.
Johnathan appears as the garage door slides up completely.
“Amy!” he bellows, and then clutches his head as if he’s in pain. “Fuck! Stop!”
I jam the button to lock the doors then hit the gas. I squeal out of the driveway, fishtailing and nearly taking out the mailbox before I hit the brakes.
Johnathan comes running out of the garage and I yank the shifter into drive. He chases after me, waving his arms in the air and cursing.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
