The Ex

by Margaret Ferguson

  Gradually, they came into view; Mary Beth still tucked in AJ’s arms.

  I continued walking in his direction, my senses on full alert, blood running down my arm from the gash in my hand.

  “Stop right there,” AJ ordered. “Are you wired?”

  I shook my head.

  “Prove it,” he insisted.

  Tentatively I reached down and slid off my shirt. Then I turned around my hands high in the air, waiting for AJ to nod before slipping it back on.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, curiously as he ordered Corbin to cuff me again.

  I looked over his shoulder as Arnold continued talking to the computer, Leon still beside him on one side, Marichaelle on the other. I nodded toward them. “I see you got your coverage.”

  “And why do you suddenly care?”

  I glanced at Mary Beth for a brief second, and in that moment, I saw a mix of surprise and confusion; though, I’m almost sure I also saw a hint of relief, too. A relief I shared knowing that she was okay. But, I had to stay focused. I had to stay on task. I tried not to let her distract me from what I knew I ultimately had to do.

  Kill AJ.

  Countdown

  Chapter 32

  Corbin slid new restraints over my wrists.

  “Hey,” I breathed out.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Make sure they are tight,” AJ instructed.

  Corbin gave me a little slack, but not enough for me to free myself. I winced when the nylon grated over my wound. “Sorry,” he offered.

  “Anything I need to know?” I asked under my breath.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s scared we’re not getting out of here,” Corbin whispered, fear heavy in his words.

  “No talking,” AJ barked.

  Corbin moved backwards as I warily stepped forward.

  “Arnold,” I called out, refusing to meet AJ’s angry stare. “It’s important I talk to you.”

  Arnold turned and waved me over like he was inviting me for a drink. I walked right past AJ, ignoring him and the gun at Mary Beth’s chin. Ignoring AJ’s hateful glare that followed me the whole way.

  Arnold patted the space between himself and Leon like we were all old friends. “Sit here,” he offered. “Join us.”

  Leon gave up his seat, so I tentatively sat beside the Alpha, trying to stay out of camera view. Unfortunately, Arnold readjusted the computer so that I was visible. And then, Arnold continued speaking to his audience. “This is Brandon Edwards. We call him Eddie.” His eyes were curiously watching me as he spoke. “Well, Eddie. Why would you come back inside, when you were already outside the restaurant? I know our audience would like to hear. So, would I,” he added, suspicious of my intent.

  I was so close; our shoulders touched, close enough that out of restraints I could snap his neck with one twist. Only, now I couldn’t. Not in front of twenty million viewers. I tried not to think that my mom might see this. Or Emily. “I came back because you promised me that once you were able to get your message out, you would release the hostages.”

  Arnold’s stare became a lost look on the computer.

  “Were you being honest with me, Arnold?”

  He slowly massaged his temples and then looked up into the camera. “I’m a man of my word,” he said to the world. “Leon and Marichaelle, here, were integral in helping me get my message out, to inform you all what the VA was doing, is still doing to its veterans. So, Leon,” he looked at one, then the other, “Marichaelle, you may both go.”

  They looked at him with disbelief, and then at one another. Without any prompting, Marichaelle yanked Leon by the arm, dragging him toward the window and their freedom.

  “Now, Elizabeth, and the other young girl.” I nodded toward the woman who had given him the wireless password.

  I saw him clenching his jaw. He was conflicted, but then, unexpectedly, Arnold turned and looked over his shoulder at Elizabeth. “Go.”

  The two women looked at each other, then me, then AJ, then Arnold. When no one contradicted him, they didn’t even wait to be freed from their cuffs. Immediately, they wriggled and maneuvered themselves until they were standing, warily eyeing AJ as they squeezed past him, through the rubble and then scurried from the building. Suddenly, cheers of excitement rose from outside. When I looked down at the screen, several people were immediately thanking him through messages, praising him for being bold enough to let hostages go. A small self-congratulatory smile grew on Arnold’s lips.

  I noticed the computer battery power was down to twenty percent.

  Arnold turned the camera back on himself. “There are more questions from viewers about Agent Orange that we need to take now,” he redirected the conversation as though he were a talk show host.

  Slowly, I rose and looked around the room at the remaining hostages.

  “Arnold,” I interrupted again, from behind him.

  He could see me on the camera, without turning. But I’m pretty tall, so I had to bend over so that his audience could see me as well. “Why don’t you let the rest of the hostages go now?” I suggested.

  “No,” AJ hollered. “That’s not what we agreed to.”

  I continued prodding Arnold, while the whole world watched and listened. “You still have some injured, in here. You can show some good faith and do the right thing by letting them go, Arnold.”

  I watched as he glared into the camera, put on the spot.

  “Don’t do it, Dad!” AJ yelled angrily. “You can’t!”

  Bubbled messages continued to pop onto the screen, not lost on Arnold. Messages begging him to release hostages, telling him he needed to release the wounded.

  “Arnold,” I pleaded. “You wanted the world to see. Well, they see you. They hear you. You had an important message to share. You showed them what had to be done. And everyone from the President to the veterans you are trying to help know what you are trying to do. They know you are righting the wrongs that have been done to them. To you.” I could see that I was reaching him. “Now, you have to show them what mercy looks like, Arnold.”

  Benson’s eyes were on mine as the world watched. “Release the wounded,” Arnold said, flatly.

  “No!” AJ insisted, now pointing his weapon at the remaining hostages who began to cry and plead for help. “I won’t do it,” he hollered. “This isn’t what we talked about.”

  “AJ, release the hostages. Now.” When he saw his own flesh and blood, in the camera, standing over the hostages, daring them to move, Arnold reluctantly stood and walked to him. AJ was standing maybe six feet away from his father. Unbeknownst to them both, they were still fully visible by the camera. Arnold stood before his son, pulling the boy’s head to his own. “We need to do this, AJ. It’s time,” he added. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  AJ began to whine. “But—”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Arnold repeated, nodding his head until AJ matched his motion. “Okay?”

  AJ continued nodding. “Okay,” he sniffed.

  Arnold returned to the computer while I moved to the wall and carefully began helping the wounded to stand. The redneck and the waitress with the broken arm. Wounded soldiers and staff. Civilians. Fourteen in all. I helped them, one by one, past AJ and his vengeful stare, past the burned hallway, and through the broken window. The second the freed hostages were visible, more cheers erupted from the street.

  “Now her,” I instructed AJ, nodding toward Mary Beth.

  “She’s not wounded. She stays. End of discussion.”

  I sighed, trying not to show my utter disappointment. I turned to Benson. “You did the right thing, Arnold. Thank you,” I offered from behind him. I looked at AJ, knowing that he was fuming inside. Then I turned to the remaining hostages, while Arnold continued answering questions online. I breathed out. It wasn’t over yet. There were still twelve hostages left, including Corbin and Mary Beth.

  And myself.

  I looked at AJ. “When’s the last time you gave any of them something
to drink or to eat?”

  “They’re fine!” AJ snapped.

  “Really, AJ?” I looked amongst the hostages. “They need something to eat. So, does your dad. You know he does. There are pizzas in the freezer. What do you say?”

  “I say, you need to sit there and shut up like the rest of them. Or else.”

  I glared at him.

  Suddenly, Arnold called over his shoulder. “Feed the hostages, AJ.”

  AJ’s face fell. He pulled Mary Beth to the kitchen door and peered in. It was completely pitch black on the other side. Immediately, he backed up. “You,” he motioned with his gun at Corbin. “Go make some pizzas.”

  “Me?” Corbin asked, looking between me and AJ.

  “Don’t look at him,” AJ yelled. “He’s not in charge. We are!”

  “How am I supposed to see?” he asked.

  When AJ didn’t have a solution, I piped up. “Turn on the stove,” I suggested. Corbin tentatively approached the door, as if afraid of what he might find on the other side.

  AJ continued to glare at me, gripping Mary Beth tighter. “And, no funny business,” he called out before Corbin disappeared through the kitchen door.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She smiled weakly. “I’m okay.”

  AJ leaned back against the wall, taking Mary Beth with him. “Of course, she’s okay. Why wouldn’t she be?” He queried. “I’ve been taking good care of her, haven’t I, sweetie?” Then he kissed her hard on the cheek.

  I cringed inside, turning my attention back to Arnold.

  “It’s not doing us any good to write our congressman, but if every person seeing this wrote his representatives, something would happen. It would no longer just be us fighting for our rights, but all of you standing up for us: for your fathers, and their fathers and mothers. To make our government do what is right; to do what was promised for us, promised you from the beginning,” he said, refolding the paper and placing it back in the envelope. “Our job has always been to serve, and we always will. And I’m sorry that it took this to get the world’s attention. But, now, you know what has to be done. Now, it’s up to each of you to fight for those who fought for you.”

  “Well said,” I remarked from behind him, as I watched responses scroll across the screen, still thanking him for releasing hostages, others pleading for him to release the rest.

  He patted the seat beside him again, and I obliged him by sitting. I glanced over at him. “Here we are, again.”

  He turned to me. “So, how does it all end?”

  “I think that’s up to you.” I glanced at the computer once more. “But you are running out of time.” I pointed at the battery power. “That’s fourteen percent. Which pretty much means you only have fourteen minutes left.” I stood and took a few steps toward the southwest corner of the building. “In fourteen minutes the power will run out,” I spoke a little more loudly.

  He looked at me, shocked. “But… we aren’t done yet!” he exclaimed.

  “The electricity is off,” I shrugged. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

  “Tell them to turn it back on!”

  “I think it’s time, Arnold,” I suggested.

  “What do you mean, ‘it’s time?’”

  I turned to him and eventually his eyes met mine. “It’s time,” I breathed out.

  He ignored me. “Tell them to turn it back on,” he repeated, more authoritatively.

  “I can’t do that,” I defended. I looked down at the screen as new bubbles popped up that included words like liar, idiot, insane. I merely stood and walked to where the hostages were, slid down the wall and sat beside them, where I could see myself on the computer. A second later, he growled.

  “I told you,” AJ stressed as he paced. “He’s trying to be in control.” He pointed the Glock at me, instead of Mary Beth.

  Arnold turned and stood, taking his weapon from its holster and pointing it at me, as well. “I said—” suddenly, he began coughing, again. “Tell them—” he coughed harder, doubling over until he was able to stop. He turned to me, his eyes red and watering, and raised his weapon again.

  “You have thirteen percent, Arnold,” I called out. “Is this really how you want to be signing off? By shooting an unarmed hostage?”

  Corbin walked from the kitchen with a flashlight in his hands. “Oven is warming. I’ll put the pizzas—” He stopped when he saw Arnold’s gun pointed at me.

  “Get up,” Benson barked.

  Only, I refused to stand, the viewers watching this play out in real-time. His hand. His gun pointed at me. He chambered a round, and I swallowed hard. He then shot into the ceiling, the flash lighting the room and frightening the hostages, not to mention, making my ears ring. Suddenly, I felt and saw the gun against my temple once more, and I closed my eyes, preparing to die. And since, at this point, I had nothing to lose, I kept talking.

  “You have the power, Arnold. You have twelve percent left to show the world that you aren’t a monster, that you don’t want to hurt anyone else,” I rambled. “Time is ticking, Arnold. What are you going to do?” I looked up at him, babbling on. “You and you alone have the power to end this. You have a voice right there. You’re talking to the world. You tell them.” I nodded toward the computer. “I’m guessing you have about eleven minutes left Arnold. Don’t waste your time on me.”

  Arnold tilted his head, momentarily dazed before glancing back at the screen, where bubbles that minutes ago had praised and encouraged him, now chastised and belittled him, rather than empathizing with him. Hundreds, if not thousands of messages flowed over the screen in real-time, telling him that he and AJ were crazy. Oh, how fickle the human psyche is. It’s hard to sell a point that your intent is for the good when you’re holding a gun to someone’s head to make that point.

  “I need you to turn on the electricity,” Arnold demanded to the screen. “And I need it now,” he insisted.”

  “What are you going to do if they don’t, Arnold?” I asked.

  AJ twisted around, his eyes moving between the entrance and the hostages. “I’ll kill someone.” Then he looked down at Mary Beth. “I’ll kill her,” he said simply. Casually. Like he was ordering take-out.

  And then, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Something that told me he wasn’t bluffing.

  “Okay. Just, let me talk to them before you do something rash!” I hollered. “Please!”

  “You had your chance.”

  I looked at Arnold, who was fixated on the computer screen, watching everything he had tried to say be dismissed and dissected and destroyed. “You have two minutes to turn back on the electricity,” he warned those watching. “Or someone will die.”

  With my back to the wall, I rolled onto my knees, reached back into my sock and pulled out the paring knife. I tapped the man beside me until he looked down and saw it in my hands. I handed him the blade, then slowly, I stood.

  “Let her go!” I took a step toward AJ as he took a step backward. “She doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “We all deserve to die,” he stated. “What are any of them to you?” he asked, pointing his rifle at the hostages one by one then returning it to Mary Beth’s cheek. “What is she to you? Why do you even care?” He spat, his hand tighter on her throat.

  “Don’t!” I yelled, momentarily fearful he would make good on his threat. Somehow, he must have heard the emotion in my voice because he lowered the gun, if only a fraction of an inch. It was then that I knew; I’d blown it. When our eyes met for a brief second in time, it was as though he could see into my very soul.

  “What is she to you?”

  I drew in a deep breath and then breathed out, “She’s nobody.”

  He immediately raised her hand, glancing at her wedding band. “Turn around,” he demanded. When I refused, he stepped to the side, looking around at my hands, at my bare ring finger. Suddenly, his eyes wore a wry smile. “Thou doest covet another man’s wife,” he said flatly. “Doesn’t thou?”
>
  AJ shook Mary Beth by the arm before pressing the gun to her cheek again and holding his finger frighteningly tight to the trigger. “You’re in love with her?” he surmised. “She’s the reason you came back in here,” he taunted. “Well, I’ll be. Mister high and mighty, here, is no better than you or me,” he directed to his father, who continued staring into the computer screen, willing the battery to last longer.

  I ignored AJ, hoping he’d let it lie.

  “You didn’t come back here for any noble cause,” he chided. The man jerked her violently by the forearm before pointing the Glock at her chin again. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  When I didn’t respond, he glared at me, his stare boring into my heart.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. You still have me,” he declared, squeezing her face with his free hand.

  I scoffed and shook my head, turning away. Only he called my bluff. When I heard him rack a round into the chamber, I looked back. His eyes were suddenly dark again, devoid of emotion, his finger frighteningly tight on the trigger.

  “You think you’re better than me?”

  “No, just different,” I retorted.

  “A sin is a sin,” he reasoned.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? I’m going to hell for what I’m doing. Thou doest covet another man’s wife,” his voice deepened. “You think just because you don’t admit it, that you’re innocent?”

  His words cut me to the bone. But more than that, they pissed me off.

  He stepped closer to me, dragging her with him. “Your eyes,” he taunted. “They give you away.” He looked at her before sneering at me. “See how he’s avoiding answering the question,” he mocked, pressing his cheek to hers. When they parted, he moved the muzzle of the Glock to her temple.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded meekly, trying to control my breathing as I felt the anger, and fear, growing.

  “Admit it,” he snarled. “Admit your sin.” This was no longer a game of cat and mouse. “Say it out loud!” he demanded.