Contents
Dedication
Chapter Heading
Barbara
Chapter Heading
State of the Union
Chapter Heading
The Chat
Night Six
Greg at the Store
Day 6
The Chat
NIght 7
Tink wakes up
Day 7
The Chat
Contact the Author
My List
To my only one.
April 16, 2016
Day Four
Craziness gets multiplied, not added.
- Bryce Chapman
*******
Barbar Minor
1:30 a.m. (Western time)
Eastern Nevada.
Barbara Minor checked the rearview mirror as she drove westbound on Interstate-80. Every news station announced the military and police blockades keeping everyone out of Utah, but she saw no one as she crossed the Nevada-Utah border. Sure, there were signs and pieces of heavy wood used for roadblocks, which Barbara got out of her car to push through the ashy fog and off the road. However, there were no soldiers.
To an onlooker, her two hundred eighty pound physique must have looked ridiculous while dragging the wooden horses through the ash-snow. Maybe the police or military were off in the distance somewhere, hidden by the cloudy air, laughing at her. Barbara thought the joke was on them, though, because if it were important enough keep people out, then someone should be protecting the line. So it obviously wasn’t that important. It’s not like police just up and take lunch breaks, or the military leaves restricted areas to take walks. Barbara watched enough television to understand when the media was being dramatic.
Still, she kept looking back, fearing she was ignorantly involved in a high speed chase. If not the police, surely her husband had noticed her disappearance by now. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out where she would have run off to, especially once he noticed his gun case was empty.
Yet, there was no one behind her.
The only explanation was that the stars were aligning. It was good enough for her.
Feelings didn’t matter, though. Barbara’s son, Zachary, lived in Salt Lake City, and was there when the fires began. Barbara was done listening to the media say how she was supposed to react. They said to be patient and wait for the fires to stop, but there wasn’t enough time for patience. Barbara listened to the media for too long, and now hopelessness began to set in. She refused to be the depressed mother who never took a chance, or who never tried.
Zach was alive, alone, and couldn’t afford his mother to twiddle her thumbs. The media said he was dead, but a mother’s intuition is never wrong.
She feared someone would stop her on the way, but instead, she was now only twenty miles from the Great Salt Lake. It was all lining up perfectly; fate was on her side.
She looked at her glove compartment, smiling with relief because she didn’t have to open it, yet. The time would come, but somehow she made it through the roadblock without having to reach in there. Reality was adding up better than her plan.
It wasn’t really a plan, though. She didn’t know what to do when she arrived in Salt Lake City. What if the fires were as big as the news said? What if she couldn’t make it to Zach’s apartment? What if she couldn’t find him? Those questions were only distractions, though. They meant nothing. They stopped nothing. She had gone too far to turn around.
She would find him, no matter what, because he needed her.
The fog continued to get thicker as she drove east. She turned off her high beams, making it easier to see directly ahead. Small speckles stuck to the windshield wipers. There was a smell of burnt rubber flooding into the vents. She closed them. If it were a car problem, she would just drive until the car died. If it were the smell from the fires, then she would deal with them when she got there. The ash was proof the fires were more than just a rumor started by the media, but it would take more than that to keep her away.
Her throat felt scratchy, either from the ash or nerves. Probably both. She barely slept since learning about the Salt Lake fires, and now she was close. It was all too perfect; she was going to find Zach, and she was going to take him home. The government could go eat lemons for all she cared. It didn’t matter. Their rules and warnings didn’t stop her from going this far. “Fate is on my side,” she said, reminding herself.
Apparently, her senses were heightened similar to her emotions. Her arm jerked the steering wheel, causing her to swerve to her left, before she even realized something was running across the road. Her first thought jumped to wondering why deer were so stupid, while her body tried to prevent an accident. As the wheel spun counter-clockwise, she realized she wasn’t avoiding an animal.
It was a person.
Her reaction was too slow, though.
The left side of Barbara’s luxury sedan clipped the person at eighty five miles per hour. The headlight shattered as she felt the body roll up the hood and crack the top of the windshield. She slammed on the breaks, causing the car to jerk left to right before skidding to a complete stop.
Her hands were shaking as she lifted them off the steering wheel. The fog didn’t hide the crumbled body lying on the other end of her tire’s trail. She wanted to cry. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to see her son. She wanted to leave. She didn’t want to get out of her car. Just when things were going well, reality has an awful way of rearing its ugly head.
She remembered packing a snap-on button, used as a flashing hazard light. In the case of an accident, the light was used to catch the eye of oncoming traffic. She reached in the center console and pulled it out.
Then, she pulled the gun out of the glove compartment.
Cool air breezed inside as she opened the door. She made the decision to keep the keys in the ignition, reminding herself this was a temporary stop. As if to add insult, the flashing light shined a bright red, which reminded her of her damage. The red light showed a trail of blood behind the car. It was awful to hurt someone.
This wasn’t a time to feel regret, she had a job to do. Even accidental manslaughter was excusable if she found Zach. She had broken a number of federal laws, already. Death was ugly, but even if she spent time in prison, it was worth it.
Still, Barbara was a good person. She turned around and placed the gun beside the lever that reclines the driver’s seat. There was no way she could sleep at night if she didn’t at least check on the body, but she didn’t need the gun for that.
Maybe he was breathing, maybe there was a chance. It would be better if she shot him, and took him out his misery, wouldn’t it? She couldn’t just turn around and rush him to the hospital, but maybe she could bring the person with her, if he was healthy enough. Or maybe, she could drag the body off the road and cover him with a little of the ash. She wouldn’t do this if there was breathing, or if the person even looked alive, but sacrifices would be made to find Zach. She knew that when she set out on this trip. Which is exactly why she stored her husband’s pistol in the glove compartment. She was breaking the law, so someone was bound to get in her way. The decision was already made; she would cut down whoever stood in her path.
Reality hurt, though. It was one thing to imagine shooting someone who tried to stop her from crossing into Utah. It was another thing to see a disjointed body crumbled on the road because she was daydreaming of finding her son while driving entirely too fast on an ashy road. It wasn’t slick, but the soot was deep enough where plenty of hazards could be sticking out of the ground. It reminded Barbara of growing up in Wisconsin, and the snowy nights in early winter.
She stopped walking as
she closed within only a few feet from the body. It dawned on her, there was nothing to be done for this man. He was clearly dead. The only excusable reason to waste any more time was to move the body, but did she really have the heart to drag it into a ditch? He might be dead, but he was still a person. Barbara couldn’t even stand taking out her trash. Would she be able to do this? Plus, this wasn’t going to ensure she wasn’t going to be charged with a crime later. Her chances of getting away with this were slim.
But she already knew that. She knew violence was coming, she just didn’t expect it to happen this way. It was far more awful than she imagined.
How did she make it this far? This plan was destined to fail from the start. She wanted to be there for her son, wanted to be the mother who would sacrifice everything to find him, but she wasn’t a killer. How could she think this would end okay? How did she dare bring the gun?
Barbara turned around and headed back to the car. She would accept whatever punishment came, turn herself in, but not until she found Zach. There was too much damage done, but it would be worth it if she brought her son back home. Before anything though, she was going to throw the gun out
The wind blew dust into her shirt sleeves, tickling her armpit. Each little speckle felt cold, like little pieces of filmy snow. She walked back to her car faster than she left it, carefully retracing each footstep in the trail. Guilt stared from behind as she approached the car.
Except it wasn’t guilt.
Two men were standing over the body, staring at her.
Somehow, people witnessed her crime in the middle of the desert. Her fate would be handed to her earlier than she expected. Now, her only hope was a hit and run.
“Sorry,” she said, as if it made a difference. “I swear, I didn’t see him.” She focused on the car as she was only about four more steps away. It was better to run away now, instead of having to reason with two strangers on why this behavior was acceptable. People who saw dead bodies weren’t going to listen to a murderer.
Her hands clasped the door handle and pulled.
Click.
The door opened. She hesitated to go inside. Guilt made her want to vomit. This whole idea was wrong. Everything made her feel awful. This wasn’t part of the plan. Sure, she might have said to herself she was willing to shoot someone, but that was the police. That was the military. People who got shot every day. Not a random person in the middle of an ash desert. Why were they out here to begin with? Why was she out here?
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Barbara turned back to look at the men. “I’ll call an—“
Her words fell flat as she saw the two men running at her.
They crashed into her in unison. The men struggled against one another as their bodies toppled her to the ground. Dust flew up in the air and into her eyes. She felt a hard force in her stomach, then against her shoulder, and then under her jaw. Her teeth made a loud clicking noise that rang in her ears as her body continued to take blow after blow.
Their weight held her down and their strength was far too great for her to escape. Each fist dug into her pelvis and knees and wide stomach with rapid succession. It was an odd time to be grateful, but Barbara felt gratitude in knowing her attackers hadn’t hit her in the face anymore. The one punch under her chin was more painful than the beating she was taking to her stomach and legs. She felt like a disposed candy bar with ants chewing her apart.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
The men were only visible because of the dome light, her hazard button, and small lights in the door, but they only displayed dark silhouettes on top of her.
She pulled her arm out from under one of them. The car was beside her, maybe she could reach inside. Could she figure out a way to get the gun? Her flabby arm stretched, her fingers tickled the soft bottom of the pistol. A shot of pain inside her kneecap caused her to draw back. An attacker straddled her thigh and was bludgeoning down onto her leg. Her knee cap tore from left to right with each blow. He was trying to cave her leg in. She squeezed her eyes and reached through the pain.
The handle of the pistol felt like sandpaper in her grip, her finger squeezed into the trigger hole.
Pop.
One shot came, on accident. The loud cry caused a ringing in her ears. The attackers didn’t stop. Her eyes followed the pistol, it was as if it had mind of its own as it turned and pointed at the man attacking her knee.
Pop.
There was no guilt this time. Barbara pulled the trigger without regret, blowing a hole through the back of the man’s head.
This caught the other’s attention. His black eyes glistened in the faint light as the gun pointed at him. Barbara saw his right hand reach towards it. The trigger pulled and blew through his palm and into his neck. The man rolled off her.
“Euwwww,” she cried. Death continued to spread and ruin her. She hated everything, but looked over to his empty face. “You did this.” Her words came out trembling. “Not me.” Barbara leaned up and tried to stand. She screamed as she put pressure on her left knee. Pain exploded to her hip and down to her toes, causing her to drop the gun. Her weight shifted onto the car door before she fell over. She sat back onto her seat with her legs still outside the car.
The gun was just out of distance to reach. If she moved, she could reach it, but if she moved, the pain was going to come back. She didn’t want any more pain. She wanted Zach home, safe. She wanted to be safe.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Instead of getting the gun, she turned and put her right leg inside the car. She clasped underneath her left leg and lifted it into the car. A heavy breath exhaled out from her. Her knee was throbbing, but she was okay. A fever dream of reality couldn’t stop her from finding her son. She was a few miles outside Salt Lake, she just needed to push forward a little. All of this would be worth it. The keys jiggled against the ignition as she prepared to drive off.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Barbara leaned over and reached for the door. Thoughts of her son calmed her through the agony of her broken leg. She might walk with a limp for the rest of her life, but it would be worth it.
It had to be worth it.
As she reached, fingernails pinched in her skin. A white hand gripped her wrist and pulled. The swift jerk jarred her shoulder out of socket causing her top half to fall onto the road.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Long, bloody fingers slid into her mouth just as her head hit the ground, and began dragging her from the car. Her cries were muffled. Her wild kicks only landed against the door, knocking it backwards hard enough causing enough momentum to carry it forward and close shut. The Bings stopped.
Her desperate efforts resulted in fingernails scrapping against the top of her mouth. Her head dragged against the road and through the dust.
The fingers released.
Barbara exhaled.
A fist raised over her head.
It was the final thing Barbara saw before her skull was crushed.
*******
Acacia Gold
4:30 a.m. (Western time)
Las Vegas, Nevada
“Listen lady, do I look like a john to you? Do I look interested? Why do you think I need to know your street name?” the sloppy detective said. “Birth name. Please.” His ugly smile put his gapped teeth on full display.
She always had to explain her name to stupid people; either the spelling, pronunciation, or whether it was her street name or actually on her driver’s license. If she wasn’t being interrogated and wearing handcuffs, she wouldn’t answer so nicely. She’d been arrested enough times since moving to Vegas to know when to keep her attitude in check; after all, she was innocent.
“Officer, with all due respect, most of my johns wear uniforms, so yeah, you look like a john.” She took a sip of the warm water. “My name is Acacia Jade Gold. My sister’s name is Anastasia Diamond Gold, and my brother’s name Azul Silver Gold. Do you want my social security number to confirm? You already have my ID, did you look at it? I didn’t kil
l that girl, obviously, so why am I cuffed?”
“It’s four in the morning. I should be in bed. And instead I’m talking to a whore about a dead whore.”
Acacia shouldn’t even be sitting with this ugly dude. She wasn’t guilty of anything, other than discussing options with a potential john under the stars. Any man driving around west Las Vegas late at night was either desperate or not sober. Either way, they were looking for company. This particular john acted like he was in a hurry, and Acacia doesn’t do business with overly nervous men. If they’re too nervous, or too calm, they’re probably bad news. She didn’t spend more than two minutes talking to him. He went down the block to the next group of girls.
It was her own stupid fault for being interrogated though.
She was nosy enough to watch him drive down the street and approach another working girl.
She was nosy enough to keep watching when two crackheads pulled him out of the car and tried to rape the girl.
She was dumb enough to call the police. As if the police were going to show up out of nowhere after one hooker’s phone call and care enough to find out who actually killed them.
“Not just a girl, officer. There was a john too.”
The detective leaned in to the table. His 5 o’clock shadow was now a four-AM beard with thick, burly eyebrows. He didn’t just look similar to a john, Acacia was pretty sure he was a john. Never one of hers, but he’d been down the street more than once. She’d recognize those eyebrows anywhere. “What game are you playing? You were the only person there. Correction, you were the only person there and you were stupid enough to try to run away from Vegas police. Do I look stupid to you?”
“Yes.”
“Listen here, you dumb whore, I’m not your friend, I’m not your john, until you tell me what I want to know, I’m your pimp. Either you do what I say, or I’ll slap the taste out of your disease infested mouth.”
“You can see I’m scared right?” Acacia said, folding her arms. Men always felt the need to try to intimidate women when they weren’t obeying like pets. This detective should be able to read people better than to assume his attitude would get anything other than an eye roll.
Dark Divide (Shadow and Shine Book 2) Page 1
