by K. L. Savage
Pain means I’m fighting.
And I will not be defeated.
I throw my fist next, punching it straight through until more dirt falls on me. I grin, and soil sprinkles against my teeth. I feel the grains, I taste the earth, and it means I’m getting that much closer to getting out of here.
It’s a race against the clock, and I’ve never been the kind of man to lose.
I’ll rise from this grave. I’ll be reborn into a new man.
A worse man.
Darker.
Hungrier.
More bloodthirsty.
I’ll dare anyone to try to stop me from seeking vengeance. If they do, I’ll rip out their tongues and add them to my never-ending collection.
Left.
Right.
Left.
I take turns with each fist and continue to bang my head with a laugh that can only be described as insanity. The flames of hell warm my back, and the darkness in my soul possesses me. I latch onto the wood with my mouth and rip the wood free, digging my palms on either side of the hole I’ve created as the soil buries me.
I will not stop.
And once I’m free, I will inflict chaos.
I am conquest.
I am war.
I am famine.
But worst of all, I am death.
Chapter Fourteen
BOOMER
I’m not sure how long we’ve been walking. Fog is swirling along the surface of the ground, and I hear the flap of wings around us as birds fly, or maybe bats. It has to be bats since it’s Halloween because this night is going in a direction where if they are bats, they are probably blood-sucking bats.
I have my grenade at the ready. I’m not afraid to blow one of those up.
“Stop,” Seer says, lifting his fist in the air. He turns his head left, then right, debating on which way to go. I don’t know what we would do without him. He’s a secret weapon, someone who can see things that no one else can.
If he weren’t here, Knives wouldn’t have been found, and we wouldn’t be on our way to finding Tongue.
“This way,” he whispers in his Cajun accent, pointing us northeast with his finger. Did the guy who kidnapped them know we had Seer? It makes sense that the clue he gave us wasn’t a clue at all.
An owl hoots behind me, and I nearly jump with the grenade in my hand. I don’t care what anyone says—the woods during Halloween, going on a scavenger hunt to find Tongue, fog thickening in the air, it’s fucking creepy.
Twigs snap under our boots, and the wind blows through the branches, caressing my face like a ghost. Maybe it is a ghost.
I shiver at the thought.
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.
No, no he isn’t. Tongue is too bad ass. He can’t die.
I won’t let my thoughts distract me from the mission. Not today.
“Here,” Seer says, turning his palms down toward the ground. “This is where I’m getting energy.” He shakes his head. “Very bad energy.”
“Your gift freaks me the fuck out,” Tool grumbles, giving Seer a wide berth as he walks around him.
“So you’ve said, mon amie,” Seer says, unbothered. He squats, touching the dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. “Your friend isn’t here.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“I just do,” Seer replies, his eyes following a path on the ground until he stares at a tree in front of him. “Look…” He points.
The sign reads, “WRONG WAY. TURN AROUND. TRESPASSERS WILL BE EXECUTED.”
“That’s our sign,” Reaper says. “I don’t understand where we go from here. Isn’t there supposed to be another clue?”
“Shh,” Seer hushes us, placing his finger against his lip.
“Don’t hush—”
“Shh!” he hisses at me, shutting me up indefinitely. I could blow his ass up, but I won’t since we need him.
Seer touches each tree, and soon he’s walking in a circle.
A perfect circle.
I’m not the only one who notices, and we all take a step back. Seer looks up, and his eyes widen. “Oh my god,” he says just as Bullseye is tossed down from the treetop, a rope wrapped around his neck.
“Bullseye!” Reaper yells along with the rest of us.
Seer moves out of the way, and instead of the rope catching and making Bullseye’s neck snap, he continues to fall. If he hits the ground, he’s legs will break. I dive under him to break his fall. My stomach rubs against the ground, and I’m waiting for the impending doom of my back breaking when a few other guys land on top of me.
I know when Bullseye hits us. It still fucking hurts. The pressure pushes me into the ground to the point where I can’t breathe.
A few guys groan as they fall off me.
“Bullseye!” Reaper yells, limping his way over to Bullseye’s prone body.
I’m barely able to catch my breath, and I’m crawling on the ground to get closer.
“You could have fucking killed yourself, Boomer,” Reaper chastises me, grabbing onto my cut angrily. “You would have if the rest of us didn’t cover you.”
“Bullseye could have died,” I argue the best defense I have.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he warns, giving me a stern look before giving his attention to Bullseye. “Bullseye? What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Talk to me,” Reaper asks desperately.
Bullseye was in the house when we all met to read the first letter. How the hell did he get out here?
“Someone jumped me when we left the house. I woke up high up in that tree with a noose wrapped around my neck,” he groans, tilting his chin down to stare at the dart embedded in his chest. Lodged against it is a sheet of paper folded up into a square. “You guys are crazy for blocking that fall. Are any of you hurt?”
“I think your fat ass broke my leg,” Reaper informs him just as Bullseye shouts in agony as he plucks the dart from his chest.
“Fucking asshole used my own darts against me.” Bullseye tosses the chunk of flesh off the dart, slips the letter off the needle, and hands it to Reaper. “Sorry about your leg. What the hell is going on?” He looks around and sees Knives slumped against the tree. “Fuck, I’m glad to see you. Tongue?” Bullseye has hope in his face, but when he stares at all of us, we all give a shake of our heads. “Damn it, what’s the note say?”
Reaper unfolds the note and exhales, wincing when he tries to move his leg.
“Looks like you found my bullseye. X marks the spot.
If you are here, you’re almost there.
Go where you pray, and you may make it before the end of the day.
The air is getting thin, and his walls are caving in.
Tick-tock.
His life is on the clock.”
THE GROUNDSKEEPER
“Well, that’s a problem,” I mumble and scratch the back of my head. “None of us pray.”
“I’m so tired of these games. What the fuck does this guy want?”
“He wants to play, Reaper,” Seer says simply. “I’m afraid this is where my help ends.”
“What the fuck? Why? We need you,” I sneer, plucking the grenade clip off and holding the trigger in. “You better come with us, or I’ll blow you to bits. I won’t let you be the reason my brother dies.”
“I can’t help you with sight because I cannot see him.”
“You couldn’t see Knives either…” It dawns on me what he says. “No. No! We aren’t too late. You heard the clue.”
“Maybe Tongue’s mind is too dark for me to get into. I’m sorry, but someone needs to stay with Bullseye and Knives until someone can pick them up. They can’t walk. Knives needs a break. He did just die and come back. Beautiful last memory, by the way,” Seer says to him.
“Glad I could bring you beauty, Seer,” Knives snorts with sarcasm and closes his eyes in exhaustion.
“Go where you pray,” Mercy repeats, and it dawns on him. “Church.”
“We don’t go to church,” Reaper remi
nds him.
“No, but we hold church.”
“No,” Tool scoffs and shakes his head. “You think he’s at home? We went on this wild goose chase for him to be at home?”
“He isn’t home. He’s buried underneath it. Where church is? But how? How did he get there?” I question and take a step back. “We need to go. We need to call home. Is anyone’s phone working?”
“I don’t have a signal.”
“Me either.”
“Same.”
Everyone throws in their answer one after the other. Reaper tries to stand, but he can’t because of his leg. Knives and Bullseye are down. Seer volunteered to stay. It’s up to me and the rest of the guys to get to Tongue in time.
“Go,” Reaper orders. “We’ll be fine.”
I don’t waste another second. I throw my grenade to the side as far as I can, and a cloud of dirt falls over us as we sprint through it. My arms pump, my legs burn, and the need to shove a grenade down this asshole’s mouth urges me to run faster.
Three miles until we’re home.
Thirty minutes until midnight.
Tongue, you crazy motherfucker, you better find a way to live.
Chapter Fifteen
SARAH
“Do you hear that?” I ask Juliette who’s sitting next to me as we wait patiently for the men to come back, hopefully with Tongue and Knives. I’m petting Tyrant, Juliette’s dog, with my left hand and Yeti with my right. Chaos, Skirt’s dog, is laying on the floor in front of us, snoring.
“Hear what?” she sniffles.
Everyone is crying, especially me.
“I thought I heard a banging, but it could be Pocus up and finally moving around.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Dawn says, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen stomach.
Oh, how I ache to be pregnant.
“How can this be happening?” Scarlett, Boomer’s ol’ lady asks. “Today was supposed to be about fun, fake scares, costumes, and now lives are at stake? Why?”
“I don’t know.” My chin wobbles when I think about Tongue being somewhere dark and alone, crying out for help. I lay my head against the armrest of the couch, and a few tears fall down my jaw and land on the leather.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
All of us girls gasp and turn around toward the doors where church is held. Silence surrounds us, and I lick my lips nervously. “You can’t tell me you didn’t hear that.”
“I did that time,” Dawn says, cradling her daughter against her shoulder. She has bright red hair, just like her dad. Dawn’s eyes are full of fear, and when the banging happens again, we all scream and huddle against one another.
“I’m going to go check it out,” I say, slowly getting off the couch.
“What?” Scarlett reaches for my arm to stop me, but I’m already walking. “No, get back here. Sarah! You can’t go in there alone. Juliette, stay here with Dawn and Sunnie.” Scarlett leaps over the back of the couch and comes to my side. “We need a weapon.”
“You guys better be careful,” Dawn whispers, tears floating in her eyes. “Sorry, this is just a terrible day.” She’s been crying ever since we found out Knives and Tongue were missing. Granted, all of us are emotional, but since she is growing a baby her hormones are all over the place.
I try not to be jealous.
I try to be happy for her and Skirt. This is their second child. I seem to be the only one who doesn’t get pregnant with every breath they take.
“Whistler’s baseball bat,” Scarlett points to the corner. She grabs for it and gets into the swinging stance as we get to the door. The top of the bat is spiked with nails, so if she swings, it is intended to kill.
“Be careful where you swing that thing.” I reach for the handle and turn the knob that leads to the room where every decision for the club is made.
Bang.
A long pause.
Bang.
Bang.
The last two thumps are close together, but whoever is behind these doors is losing steam. Scarlett gives me a nod and lifts the bat higher. I tilt my chin, silently telling her I’m ready, and swallow the nerves and fear.
I swing the door open with a warrior cry, and we run into the room, ready to take on whoever is here.
“What…” Scarlett says, spastically looking around the room. Her ponytail whips me in the face with every turn. “This doesn’t make sense.”
The room is empty since we were using the conference table at the gate for people to pay entry into the Monster Mash.
The floorboard cracks under our feet, and we scream, getting away just in time before a hand bursts through. The nails are covered in sand, red dirt, and soil. I can’t even see flesh; all I see is a bleeding fist.
“Oh my god,” I say in realization and run forward. Tears blur my eyes as I fall to my knees. “It’s Tongue! Get down here and help me!” I yell at Scarlett. “Juliette! Dawn! Patrick! Gator! Someone, help us.” I try to rip the floorboards off, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough. “No, come on. Come on,” I grip the board and rear back, giving it everything I have, but it just won’t budge. My arms strain and burn, and with every tug, a tear escapes me.
I lay down on my belly and grab Tongue’s hand. He holds onto me tight, and I do the same, gripping him for dear life. “Tongue,” I yell to him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re going to get you out. Hold on a little bit longer. Just hold on for me.” I bring his bloody hand to my mouth and give his knuckles a kiss.
Then, I let go. He reaches for me again, but I get up and run to get the bat. Wiping my tears on my shoulder, along with my Halloween makeup, I warn the girls, “Stay back.” I swing the bat over my head and smash it against the ground. “I will not lose you to some fucking psycho,” I yell, slamming the bat against the floor.
I do that until the floorboards finally snap in half. I’m sweating, my back is burning, my biceps are telling me to stop, but I can’t. I won’t let my friend die.
I smash the wooden planks around his hand in a full circle, making a wide enough area for him to get out. Once the wood is broken enough, I toss the bat behind me and fall to my knees. I grip the wood in my hands, and it breaks off effortlessly since I cracked it with the bat. “Tongue! We’re coming, okay? Just hold on. Please, hold on.” His hand isn’t moving anymore.
“Tongue?” I ask again, hoping he can hear me, but his hand doesn’t flinch. “Oh god. Faster!” Me, Scarlett, and Juliette rip the floorboards up until the ground is showing. Our fingers are bleeding from splinters stabbing our hands.
“What’s going on?” Patrick finally enters the room.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I hiss at him, throwing the last board across the room. “Get down here and start digging. It’s Tongue.”
Patrick doesn’t say a word. He flies into action next to Scarlett, and all of us start throwing sand behind us, digging until my nails are full of dirt, and every time I inhale, I fill my lungs with clouds of dust. I cough, my eyes burn from the sand getting into them, but it doesn’t stop me from digging.
I can see his elbow.
“Tongue! I’m here. We’re here.” Please, don’t be dead.
Another bang from the front of the house sounds, but I don’t have time to stop and see who it is. For all I know, it’s the asshole who is responsible for all of this. I’ll take the bat to him. I’ll pummel him until nothing is left of his body but ground fucking beef.
“Tongue is in Church!” my brother yells from the main room, and I can hear the pounding of boots like a stampede coming in this direction. “You found him?” Boomer asks as he skids to a stop at the doorway.
“He punched through the floor, but I haven’t seen his hand move in a few minutes, Boomer. I think we’re too late.” The words are high-pitched as another wave of emotion hits.
“The hell we are. We’ve been through too fucking much to let one of our own die,” Slingshot says, joining in on the rescue mis
sion.
“Knives and Bullseye are okay. I’ll update you later,” Boomer says, kneeling next to me and getting fistfuls of sand to unearth Tongue. It’s hard for him to grab onto anything since he’s missing a finger.
“Bullseye?” Scarlett gasps and stops digging. “He was in trouble too?”
“What matters is everyone is fine,” Mercy says. The men who came in are huffing and puffing, sweating like pigs. I’m going to assume they ran here. “Bullseye, Seer, Knives, and Reaper got left behind. Everyone is fine. Don’t worry about Reaper.”
“Of course I’m worried about Reaper. I’m worried about everyone at this point.” My hand hits something hard. I knock on the wooden box. Another wave of tears run down my face. “Tongue? Can you hear me?” I ask again, dusting the sand off the top of his head.
“I can’t believe he punched his way from six-feet. God, he’s a badass,” Mercy says with admiration and hits his elbow against the top of the wood. Badge does it on the other side and snaps the lid off.
I hope we aren’t too late.
Chapter Sixteen
TONGUE
I feel hands clutch the top of my shoulders and pull me out of the death trap I’m in. I’m so tired. I fought like hell to get to the top, but the sand was too much. It became too heavy. I felt Sarah’s hand around mine and heard her voice. It was quiet, muted from being encased in pounds of dirt.
When my head is free, I inhale much-needed air and cough, spitting out dirt in chunks. Once my entire body is free, they lay me down. Sarah is crying, curling her arms around me as she sobs.
“You saved me,” I rasp, my throat dry from the sand. Another round of coughing hits me, and I spit out more sand. Sarah wipes off my face, getting the dirt from my eyes, and then someone pours water on my face. It feels good, nice and cold.
“Just wait. I’m going to wipe your eyes clean.” She sniffles, grasping my hand for dear life like she did when she dug for me. “I thought I lost my best friend.”
“Never.” I open my mouth and drink the water greedily, washing down the remaining soil and earth in my mouth.
