Falling

by Rebecca Swartz

  Lena screamed and flung herself to the side, bumping into me with some force just as I was stepping forward to stop her weaseley brother. The Glock was knocked out of my grasp and skidded across the smooth floor in Kael’s direction. As I tried to regain my balance, Leonard rolled and bounced to his feet. He lunged at Lena, one hand snagging the revolver from her, the other reaching out to shove her violently back. He spun, lifted the weapon, and pointed it at me.

  “You ain’t a cop anymore,” he sneered.

  I had barely managed to stay on my feet. For a split second I considered trying to dive out of harm’s way. Kael had scrabbled sideways across the floor for my gun, which was closer than her own. She bared her teeth like an attack dog as she brought the Glock up. I twisted my body, to try to throw myself clear. There was no time for anything else. Two blasts rang out, so close together they almost seemed as one, deafeningly loud. A red-hot hammer slammed into my left shoulder and I dropped like a marionette whose strings have been cut.

  For a handful of seconds I was numb. I could neither hear nor breathe. And then I felt hands on me and I panicked. I kicked and lashed out, thinking it was Leonard trying to finish the job. Suddenly, Kael’s face was before mine, her hands trying to fend me off, her eyes wide, mouth working, her voice seeming to come from far away. A couple of seconds later, sound, breath and feeling returned to me. And with the feeling came the pain.

  I groaned aloud and reached to clutch my shoulder, thought better of it, and instead tried to right myself.

  “Can you give me a hand here?” I heard Kael ask. Lena appeared at my side, placed a hand behind my uninjured shoulder, and helped me sit up. Her face was pale, the most worried I’ve ever seen on a human being, save for Kael’s at that moment.

  “Relax, you two, I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth, though I was hardly certain of that.

  I glanced to where I’d last seen Leonard. His crumpled form lay completely still where he’d fallen.

  I looked at Kael. “Did you do that?”

  She gave me a tight nod. “Damn right.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “He is,” Lena spoke up. “I checked.” She was curt, to the point, and not at all broken up.

  “I came to check on you first,” Kael admitted.

  At my look, she shrugged. “Priorities,” was all she said. Then, “Let me take a look at your shoulder.”

  With great care Kael peeled back the shirt from my shoulder, which alternately throbbed and burned. She gently pushed the tank top aside and peered closely, then leaned around to look at the back.

  “How is it?” I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

  “I think—” She paused, giving the fabric a slight tug as she fingered it, making me wince. “It looks like it went right through.” She leaned back onto her heels and looked me in the eye. “It’s not bleeding a lot. Can we…take this off?” She gestured at the button-down shirt.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  With Lena’s help, Kael carefully removed my shirt, which allowed her a better look.

  “Yeah, it looks good,” she announced, her relief clear in her voice, underlining my own. She quickly folded the shirt and held it over the exit wound.

  “It’s not bleeding very much,” she repeated. “Which is a good sign.” Her voice tightened. “Jesus, Amy, you’re very lucky.”

  I nodded and swallowed.

  “Do we need to call nine-one-one?” Lena asked, glancing between Kael and myself.

  For the first time, Kael seemed to really look at Lena. She frowned. “Are you—?”

  With a faint nod, Lena said, “His sister.” Her eyes darted briefly in Leonard’s direction. “Lena Bowman.”

  Kael blinked. “Oh,” she said. She gave a faint nod of her own and then a shake of her head. “Okay, well, Lena, I think we need to bandage this up for Amy first. And then we need to talk.”

  To me, she said, “I can’t stick around here, you know that, right? You should go to the hospital, but I can’t be here when the police come. I need to leave as soon as I can.”

  My mind had been working in that direction as well. It was all well and fine that Leonard Bowman was dead, and that Kael had killed him, since that had undoubtedly been her plan all along. But she’d used my gun, and so any gunpowder residue would be from that gun. But that residue wasn’t on me, and it wasn’t on Lena. The natural question to that would be, who fired the gun? For some reason, my brain couldn’t come up with a solution to that scenario.

  Kael addressed Lena once more. “Do you have anything we can use for bandages, anything at all, just to stanch the blood for now?”

  “Yes, sure.” In a flash, she was out the door.

  I gave Kael a tight grin. “Who put you in charge?”

  Her eyebrow rose. “I’ve been in charge all along. Didn’t you know that?” she quipped.

  I chuckled, then winced at the twinge of pain it caused. I felt her lift the shirt from my back and lean to see the area better. She replaced the shirt with gentle pressure, and rocked back on her heels again. “You’re bloody lucky, you know that?”

  “That’s a trick question, right?”

  She gave me a faint smile.

  “I’m not going to the hospital,” I told her flatly.

  She looked at me with obvious surprise. “Say again?”

  “Not if it means being separated from you, watching you leave again. I’m not doing it.” I sounded stubborn and unreasonable, but I didn’t care.

  “Amy, that’s ridiculous. You have to go to the hospital.”

  “You said it’s not that bad,” I countered, even though my shoulder was really starting to throb and I felt a bit sick to my stomach and light-headed. “We’ll think of something else.”

  “Like what? A walk-in clinic?” Her eyebrows climbed a little higher. “You’ve been shot. You need to go to a hospital.”

  “Get me a mirror, let me see how bad it is, then we can discuss where I need to go.” I was gently insistent, but Kael seemed to suddenly zone out, her eyes blank.

  I waited a couple of seconds. “What? What is it?”

  Kael refocused on me. “I think I just thought of something.”

  At that moment Lena entered the room, and when I saw her, an idea came to my mind as well. She was carrying hand towels, a pill bottle, a woven web belt, a bottle of water, a plaid dress shirt, a section of folded blue fabric, and a plastic garbage bag. She knelt at my side and laid her possessions in my lap. She held up the pill bottle.

  “Ta-da!” she said. “In case you need it right now.”

  “What is it?” I asked, peering at the contents.

  “Tylenol 3, with codeine.” She made a sympathetic face. “I don’t have anything stronger, sorry.”

  “No, no, that’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I’d rather not be a drug-addled mess on top of everything else. Kael?”

  She looked up from where she was sifting through the other items. “This is great, Lena, very helpful.” To me, she said, “Go ahead, take a couple of those. Let me tell you my idea, okay?”

  “Okay, sure. I have an idea too. But can I ask you something?”

  She returned my look, openly curious. Her features softened and the corners of her mouth lifted in a sweet smile.

  “Yes,” she stated in a lowered voice, “I love you.”

  My breath left me in a rush and an abashed and somewhat self-conscious heat coursed through me. I glanced sidelong at Lena, but she was busy trying to open the pill bottle.

  “Okay, well good,” I said to Kael, a tad gruffly. “Nice to know I at least risked my life for someone who loves me.”

  Kael’s smile broadened. She reached for the water bottle, just as Lena managed to get the pill bottle open.

  “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” Kael said, which caused me to blush even more. She opened the water bottle, took a couple of T3s from Lena, and passed them to me. After I’d washed the pills down, she recapped the bottle.

 
“Now let me tell you my idea,” she said.

  Chapter Forty

  In the end, it turned out to be a very good idea.

  We would drive to Asheville, which was only three hours away, where Kael’s Aunt Kate lived, and where, I discovered, Kael lived as well. Jillian, her aunt’s partner, was an ER nurse. She was certain that Jillian could and would care for me. Her plan relied on a huge amount of trust, and I pointed that out to her.

  “You don’t know what we’ve been through,” Kael said. “And I would rather trust them than the system. I don’t trust the system at all.”

  We used the hand towels to construct a bandage of sorts, securing them in place with the belt strapped across my chest. It was tight, but not uncomfortable. The section of blue fabric, part of a bedsheet, served as a makeshift sling. We had no idea where the bullet had gone, but since in the confusion I had ended up with my back to the open balcony doors, we surmised it must have continued out that way.

  Once I presented my idea, Lena was perfectly willing to take the blame for killing her brother.

  “Both of you have been doing what you think is right,” she said, very solemn. “Now, I want to do what I think is right. I want to help you.”

  Kael and I looked at each other. And then Kael cocked an eyebrow and gave a minute shrug, and I nodded too.

  I was helped to my feet, where I carefully considered the room, trying to remember precisely where I had been in relation to Leonard. When I figured I had it about right, I motioned Lena over. Using one of the hand towels, I had wiped the Glock down to remove Kael’s fingerprints. I now handed the weapon to Lena.

  “Put your fingerprints all over it,” I told her.

  She took it from me and turned it over and around, as if inspecting it.

  “The idea,” I went on, “is that since we won’t be installing the security system until Monday, and you’re feeling vulnerable, I’ve left the gun with you before heading to the beach. I have my receipts so I can prove I was there. I’m not due to show up here again until tomorrow sometime. Your brother shows up this afternoon, acting crazy, drags you up here and threatens to rape you.”

  She winced at that and I touched her arm gently. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and a little shudder rolled through her. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

  “You picked up my gun at some point,” I continued, “or maybe you were carrying it around, you can work out that detail, and when he was distracted you pulled out the gun, threatened him, fired into the ceiling to show him you were serious. He wouldn’t listen, made his move to attack you, so you shot him.”

  I studied her closely to be certain she wasn’t wavering. “Got it?”

  She nodded, bit her lip. “Got it.”

  “All right,” I said, and backed well away. “Go ahead.”

  She hesitated a moment, then swiftly raised the gun with two hands and fired. All three of us flinched at the report. Lena lowered the weapon and looked over at me.

  “Place it on the floor,” I instructed her.

  She did so, gingerly.

  “Now follow us downstairs and to the door.”

  The T3s were starting to kick in and I was feeling a bit woozy. Kael was in front, so I grabbed onto her shoulder so I didn’t tumble down the stairs. Lena opened the door and followed us to the Jeep. Gunshot residue is composed of burnt and unburnt particles, which can be tracked and traced. I wanted to make sure Lena’s movements covered up our own.

  “Oh look, it’s champagne!” Kael teased as we approached the Jeep.

  “That’s enough,” I chastised her. “I know you love this Jeep.”

  She helped me into the vehicle, and shoved the empty gun case and the garbage bag with my discarded shirt behind the seat. She’d returned her own handgun to the knapsack, which she placed on the floor at my feet.

  “Will you drive straight through to Asheville?” Lena asked, hands tucked loosely into her pockets.

  “Yes,” I replied, for both of us. “And I hope to be back tomorrow sometime. I’d like to stick to our story.” I eyed her closely one more time. “Will you be all right?”

  This time she offered a clear, unhindered smile. “Yes. Thank you for letting me help.”

  “Well, I think we should be the ones thanking you.”

  “Definitely,” Kael spoke up. “Thank you, Lena, for everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lena told her. “Stay safe.”

  We left Ashleigh House and drove out of Hills Valley just as the sun was setting.

  * * *

  We reached Asheville at ten thirty that night. By then, I was in substantially more pain than I had been, and while the T3s had taken the edge off enough to make me feel a little stoned, I was gritting my teeth by the time we rolled into town.

  I was feeling more and more like the fugitive I now was. I made sure Kael adhered to the speed limit, even though she desperately wanted to floor it and get me to where I could receive help sooner rather than later. We couldn’t risk drawing any attention to ourselves. Thankfully, we only had to stop for gas once. As we were getting ready to leave the gas station, I finally gave voice to something that had been concerning me.

  “Don’t you think you should call them? Warn them we’re coming? Make sure they’re even there?”

  She looked over at me with a little lopsided grin. “Don’t you think you could relax a bit, pretend you’re happy to see me, maybe even kiss me?”

  I stared at her a moment longer, and then she was out of her seat and out the door. She jogged around to the passenger side and opened the door.

  “I didn’t want you overextending yourself,” she explained.

  She leaned in to press her lips, lightly at first, to mine. Immediately, a shock of desire coursed through me; she must have felt it as well, for our kiss deepened. Reluctantly, I used my right hand to gently push her away.

  “Awww,” she breathed.

  “This is not the place,” I told her. “I have a gunshot wound, and that takes precedence over your libido.”

  “My libido?” She grinned. “Oh, that’s rich.”

  I started to laugh and then winced and clenched my teeth against the pain.

  “Ah. I see your point,” she said, closed the door, and jogged back around to the driver’s side. When she climbed in, she looked over at me. I mouthed the words I love you, which made her smile.

  “Ditto,” she said.

  * * *

  The thing with trying to keep a secret is that eventually it can become a burden, and weigh you down in ways you never expected.

  Kael and I were almost cavalier in our behavior as we drove. I, because I didn’t want to sit morose and tense during the drive, and Kael because, I suspected, that was how she dealt. She had checked the makeshift dressings twice, and all was well enough. My color was a bit on the pale side, but I was coherent and cognizant. We made small talk and it was lighthearted, easygoing, as if we were just out for a drive, as if I hadn’t been shot, and she hadn’t killed a man, and we hadn’t covered up our involvement with someone else’s help. It proved how very good we both were at ignoring the elephant in the room. Elephants are large, though, and are bound to gain your attention at some point.

  After a rather protracted silence, Kael glanced over. “I read about you. Some news articles from a while back.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, without looking at her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “And I’m glad that I killed him.”

  That got my attention. “Why?”

  She met my eyes briefly. “So your hands would stay clean.”

  “My hands aren’t clean,” I said.

  “You don’t do what I do, so yes, they are.”

  “‘Do’?” I asked.

  She caught her lip in her teeth and was silent for a while. When she spoke up again, she did so slowly, sounding careworn and diminished somehow. “I know that what I’ve been doing is…retroactive justice. I know why I’ve done it, even if maybe it doesn’
t make sense to anyone else.”

  “Were you abused?” I asked gently, staying away from specifics, merely broaching the topic. I was very aware that it was the first question of its kind I had ventured.

  She nodded warily.

  “Then it makes sense,” I said.

  We settled into another stretch of silence.

  “We’re not that different, you know,” I said thoughtfully.

  She looked over at me with a frown. “Sure we are. You didn’t continue.”

  “It wasn’t…personal for me,” I pointed out. “I may very well have if it had been.”

  “And you’re not crazy,” she added, this time without looking at me.

  Taking in her profile, I considered a moment. “You know, not everyone who takes the law into their own hands is a nutjob.”

  She glanced at me with a wry grin.

  “People have their own reasons for doing the things they do. Some of them are crazy, some aren’t. I don’t think you’re crazy. And like you said, you knew why you were doing it.”

  She shot me another look, this one almost severe. “I wasn’t just doing it for myself, you know that, right?”

  “Of course,” I assured her. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Like I said, I don’t think that you’re crazy.”

  She looked grateful for those words.

  “I do think, though, that if every girl who’d ever been sexually abused grew up to kill their abusers, the population might have a very hard time recovering.”

  She made a hunh sound. “Well, then,” she said, her tone very dry, “I guess it’s a good thing there aren’t too many like me out in the world.”

  We rode along in silence for a while, but I could see she was frowning, thinking.

  Finally, she spoke up again. “I’m through, by the way. I don’t…want to do it anymore.”

  I was immeasurably relieved to hear her say it. “That’s good to hear.”

  After another pause, she said, “You know, it feels…strange—to actually be talking about it.” She gave a small, derisive snort. “Even though we’re not really talking about it.”

  “There’s no rush,” I told her. “It’s your story. You tell it however you want to, whenever you’re ready.”