Down the Broken Road

by J. R. Backlund

  “Riley Gordon?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “Manish called me. He told me you’d probably be coming here. He also told me you were someone I could trust. That you’re trying to figure out what happened to Adam.”

  “That’s right,” she said, trying to control her breathing.

  “And you think it’s got something to do with what we did in Afghanistan?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  He looked around and shook his head. “Not here. You want my help, you’ll have to come with me. I got a place nearby where we can go. It’s safe there.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t have to. We can go our separate ways, and I’d be good with that. But if you want to know what happened in Guldara, you’re just going to have to take a leap of faith. I’m on your side, whether you believe it or not.”

  Rachel had no way of knowing whether or not he was telling the truth, but she was certain of one thing—he was not the monster that had attacked her. The giant that had killed Ramirez and Parker.

  “Give me an address,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “That’s not going to work. There’s no address where we’re going. Besides, the cops are after you, and they know what kind of truck you’re driving. The last thing I need is for them to see that thing turn onto my property. It’s been all over the news, and, to be honest with you, I wouldn’t be surprised if Manish called them on you after he talked to me.”

  “Shit.” She tried to think of a different plan. Something that didn’t involve getting in his car.

  He started to back away. “Either come with me right now or don’t. It’s up to you, but I’m not hanging around here anymore.”

  She looked to her left. Beyond the trees, Carly’s Tacoma sat in the empty lot, waiting for her. She could make a run for it and be gone in under a minute, hopefully before any cops showed up. But that would come at a price. She would lose her best chance to get the answers she needed.

  “You can keep the gun, if it’ll make you feel safer,” he said.

  It did. She made up her mind, said, “Screw it,” and followed him.

  * * *

  Gordon’s car was a red Dodge Charger. It was loud, and he drove it too fast. The wheels screeched as he turned onto the highway heading away from town. As the road slid between wooded slopes, he seemed to relax a little. Rachel spent most of the ride turning in her seat, constantly searching for patrol cars.

  “We’re far enough away now,” he said. “You can relax. We’re almost there.”

  She faced the front and made herself sit still. “How do you know Manish?”

  “I was a patient at the center for a while.”

  “You and Adam both?”

  “Yeah. I was first. I talked him into going there once I found out he had a problem with pills.”

  The landscape leveled out and opened up to farmland. On a curve, the headlights swept into emptiness. With nothing to reflect the beams, Rachel knew she was seeing a vast field. The road straightened, and Gordon slowed the Charger. A dirt road appeared on the right. Gordon made the turn and pushed into a cut separating smooth seas of green that dimmed to black in the distance.

  “My family used to own all of this,” he said. “We’ve sold most of it. We’re down to just a couple hundred acres now.”

  The headlights hit a line of trees. The road squeezed through them, emerging into another field. A gray structure stood on the left. An old barn, clad in weatherworn planks. Gordon parked in front of it and killed the engine.

  “This is it,” he said.

  “You live here?”

  “Sometimes. It’s a lot nicer on the inside.”

  They got out, and she followed him to the side where a bare bulb lit a door. He unlocked it, pushed it open, and stepped in, disappearing into the darkness.

  Rachel hesitated. “Riley?” Her hand moved instinctively to her hip.

  A light came on, and he was there, standing closer than she had expected. She took a step back and said, “Shit.”

  “Sorry,” he said, stifling a laugh. “Come on in.”

  She went inside and looked around quickly. The room was small for what it held, resembling a studio apartment with a kitchen, a living area, and a queen-sized bed all sharing the space.

  “I’ll leave the door open,” he said, moving past her. “It gets a little stuffy in here.”

  Rachel kept her eyes on him as he stepped toward the kitchen area.

  “A couple years back, I turned this into a hunting camp. It also makes for a nice spot to get away from everyone for a night or two.” He opened a cabinet door and reached inside. “Can I make you a drink? I’ve got Jack in here and a few Cokes in the fridge.”

  He was trying too hard to put Rachel at ease. She was growing more suspicious of him by the second.

  “I didn’t come for cocktails,” she said. “How about we just get on with why you brought me here.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He withdrew his hand from the cabinet, and it was holding a black semiauto. She spotted it immediately and had the .380 out of its holster and leveled on his torso before he could turn to face her.

  “Drop it!” she yelled. “Put it down! Now!”

  He held it low and smiled. “You might want to look behind you.”

  Rachel didn’t have to. She felt the hard ring of a muzzle pressed against the back of her head. A man’s voice said, “Checkmate, bitch.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The man had sneaked up behind Rachel, through the open door, while she was preoccupied with watching Gordon. She cursed to herself and let go of her gun. As soon as it hit the floor, Gordon stepped forward and picked it up, turned it over in his hand, and said, “Isn’t this cute?”

  The other man circled into view, keeping his pistol aimed at Rachel’s head.

  It was Seth Martin. He glanced at Gordon and said, “All right, you got her. Now what are you gonna do?”

  Gordon’s smirk grew a little wider as he said, “It’s time to get high.”

  He went to the cabinets and laid both of the guns on the counter. Then he opened another door and took out a plastic bag, dug through it until he found a pair of zip ties. He made a loop with one, fed the other one through, and made a second loop. Then he approached her and said, “Give me your hands.”

  She stared at him for a moment, not wanting to comply. His jaw tensed. He squeezed the zip ties in his fist, turning his knuckles white.

  Martin said, “My boy Flash has a bit of a temper. I’d do what he says, if I were you.”

  She held her hands out. He slid the loops over them and cinched them tight, pinching her skin and binding her wrists together. She winced, and Gordon smiled again.

  “Don’t worry. In a little while, you won’t feel a thing.” He stuck his hand inside each one of her pockets and dug out her phone, the flashlight, and the keys. “And you definitely won’t be needing these.”

  He walked back to the counter and continued sifting through the bag.

  Martin glanced over his shoulder and said, “Dude, what are we doing? Where’s Stoller?”

  “Stoller fucked up with the reporter,” Gordon said. “He’s not gonna mess this up too.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Martin asked. “You seriously haven’t called him? He’s gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

  Gordon was taking items out of the bag and laying them on the counter. There was a blue strip of rubber, a box of syringes, and a tiny bag of white powder.

  “It’s all right, Seth,” Rachel said. “He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

  Martin gave her an incredulous look. “Dude, let’s just smoke this bitch. This is stupid.”

  Gordon sighed, turned, and tossed him the keys he had gotten from Rachel’s pocket. “Go get her truck and bring it back here. It’s parked at one of the offices around the corner from the
center. It’s a gray Tacoma.”

  He looked annoyed. “What the hell for?”

  “We’re gonna put her in it after I give her the first dose. I know a good spot. We’ll take her there and give her a couple more. Make sure it’s done right this time.”

  “Why didn’t you just let her drive her truck here in the first place?”

  “Because I didn’t want her out of my sight, dumbass. I wanted to know if she was going to text or call someone to tell them where she was going.”

  “Whatever, man. This is fucked.” He studied Rachel for a second. “You can handle her on your own?”

  “I got this. Hurry up.”

  Martin shook his head in frustration and stormed out.

  Gordon picked up his gun and turned to Rachel. He waved it toward the bed. “Have a seat. And don’t be stupid enough to think you can make a run for it.”

  She walked over and sat down. Tried to think of a way to get him talking. Maybe she could reason with him. Or at least get him to lower his guard so she could find a way to escape.

  “He called you Flash,” she said. “Flash Gordon. It’s not the worst nickname, I guess. Is it because you’re so quick to lose your temper?”

  He put the gun down and opened a drawer, took out a large spoon, and then went to another drawer for a cigarette lighter. “Nope. It’s about me being fast at something else, actually.”

  “What would that be?”

  He looked at her. His smiling eyes turned inquisitive, wondering what she was up to. He walked over and crouched down beside her.

  “You really want to know?” He put a hand on her knee. “One weekend, we were on leave. Seth and I took a trip down to Savannah and partied our asses off all Friday night. The next day, I’m too hungover to drink. So Seth goes out on his own. A few hours go by, and he shows up back at the hotel with this girl. Just some drunk sorority chick, but she had a kick-ass little body. Kinda like yours.”

  His fingers started to massage her thigh.

  “Seth starts taking her clothes off, telling me he’s already done her out in the parking lot. Now she’s talking like she wants a threesome. He looks at me and says, ‘Dude, you gotta hit this.’”

  He slid his hand up. Rachel pinned her forearms to the top of her thighs, blocking him.

  He chuckled, stood up, and went back to the counter. “So I did. But I didn’t last very long. I was done in a couple of seconds. Of course, Seth wasn’t going to just keep something like that to himself. Pretty soon after that, the guys started calling me Flash.”

  Rachel was searching the room, looking for something heavy she could use to hit him with, but there was nothing. “Seems like a strange thing to brag about.”

  “Oh, it used to piss me off in the beginning.” Gordon went to the sink and turned on the faucet. “But if you act like it bothers you, they’ll just fuck with you even more.”

  He caught some water with the tablespoon, then dropped a few pinches of the white powder in and used a syringe to stir it. He grabbed the lighter, flicked it on, and held the flame under the spoon. Once the solution was heated enough, he stirred it again and sucked it up into the syringe. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to be telling anyone.”

  He laid the utensils on the counter, picked up the blue strip of rubber, and walked over to Rachel. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her arm straight.

  “No.” She wrenched free. “Please. You don’t have to do this—”

  He struck her with the back of his fist. It caught her on the cheek just below her right eye. She was dazed. Black spots appeared in her vision.

  He yanked her wrists again and wrapped the rubber strip around her upper arm. He tied it tightly, then seized her throat and growled, “Don’t make this any harder on yourself. It’s either this, or I beat you to death with my bare fucking hands.”

  Her lip quivered. She nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact.

  He let her go and went for the syringe. Holding it in his fingers, thumb on the plunger, he came back, ready to inject her. She recoiled, slid off the bed down to the floor. On her back, she kicked to get away from him.

  “No, no, no, please.” She held her arms tight to her chest. There was panic in her eyes.

  He stepped over her and reached for her arm. Before he could grab it, she sat up, swung at his other hand, and knocked the syringe free. It flew across the room and hit the wall, disappearing on the other side of the bed.

  “Fucking whore!”

  He cocked back to punch her, but she was already moving. She rolled back and brought her hips up. Her left leg snaked around his right. Her other leg hooked behind his left knee. She kicked and he came crashing down.

  Rachel kept her legs entwined with Gordon’s. She shifted her hips closer to his and secured her hold on him. His right leg was twisted awkwardly, and he was trapped. He flailed, pulling hard to free it, but Rachel had him locked in. She tucked his foot under her arm and hooked his heel with the crook of her elbow. It was one of the few jiu-jitsu techniques she could do with her hands bound.

  With a grunt she twisted, using the power of her whole body against his ankle. She heard it pop, and he screamed in pain. But she wasn’t finished. She straightened her legs on his contorted knee. She repositioned her hands and pushed on his shin to make it worse. Both of her hands and both of her legs worked against his cruciate ligaments. She felt them give, and he screamed even louder.

  Pretending to be helpless, overcome by terror, had done the trick. He had underestimated her, and she had made him pay for that mistake.

  She freed herself from his useless leg and got to her feet. He moaned and cursed as she ran to the far side of the bed and found the syringe. She came back and knelt beside him. “Don’t worry, Flash. In a second, you won’t feel a thing.”

  His eyes went wide as she stuck the needle into his neck and pushed on the plunger.

  She wanted to give it all to him, but she didn’t know how much he could take. She squeezed slowly until half of it was in his bloodstream. A second later, his eyes rolled back, and he was silent.

  Rachel ran to the cabinets and pulled open the drawers until she found a knife. She held it like an icepick and carefully slid the blade between her wrist and the zip tie and started to saw. She kept checking the door and tried to think of how much time had passed since Martin had left to get the Tacoma.

  “Come on,” she said, working faster.

  She sawed and pulled and sawed some more. The zip tie popped, and her hands were free. She dropped the knife, grabbed the .380, and slid it back into the holster. Then she grabbed Gordon’s gun and checked to make sure a round was chambered.

  She went to the door and peeked outside. The Charger was still there. Martin must have taken his own car, which had probably been hidden out back. She thought about taking off in the Charger, making her getaway before Martin returned. She was turning to go back for the keys when something caught her attention.

  Through the trees, headlights bounced up the dirt road.

  * * *

  Martin stepped inside, spotted Gordon on the floor, and froze. “What the…?” He pulled the gun from his waistband and quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of the woman. She must have made a run for it.

  He approached Gordon, looked him over, and said, “Dude, your leg is fucked, bro.”

  Gordon moaned and exhaled white froth onto his lips.

  Martin saw the syringe lying next to him and said, “Oh shit. Stoller’s gonna be so pissed. I’m sorry, man, but I had to call him. He’s on his—”

  The hard ring of a muzzle tapped the back of his head. A woman’s voice said, “Checkmate, bitch.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Rachel made Martin lay his gun on the floor and move away from it. She kicked it under the bed and said, “Where are my keys?”

  He dug them out of his pocket and tossed them to her.

  “Let’s step outside,” she said.

  “Why? What are you gonna do?” His voice w
as taunting, but there was fear in it. “You gonna take me for a ride?”

  “Maybe.” She started backing toward the door. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. If I were you, I’d be praying I don’t decide to just shoot you.”

  “So you can be charged with another murder? Face it, you’re in over your head.”

  “Shut up and start walking.”

  He followed her through the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the Tacoma. Then she heard a sound coming from the field beyond the trees. The low roar of an engine. She looked over and saw headlights coming in fast.

  “That’ll be my buddy, Stoller,” Martin said. “You’re so fucked.”

  “Turn around.”

  He smirked. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

  “Do it!” she yelled.

  He raised his hands and spun around slowly. “Tick tock, sweetheart. You’re almost out of time.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She aimed the gun at the back of his calf and fired. He dropped to the ground and rolled to his side, screaming and holding his leg.

  Rachel turned and ran for the Tacoma. She jumped in and started the engine but left it in park. Outside, the flickering headlights became solid beams as they emerged from the trees. Rachel ducked down and waited.

  The approaching vehicle came into view. It was a black F-150. It slid to a stop with its lights shining on the barn. The door opened and a large figure stepped out.

  It was him.

  Rachel felt herself trembling. The monster was coming for her. But he didn’t know exactly where she was. The sound of the F-150’s engine was masking the Tacoma’s. He started for the barn, crossing directly in front of her.

  He spotted Martin on the ground, heard him yelling something, and stopped. Suddenly, he turned to face her truck.

  Rachel threw it in gear and slammed on the accelerator. The Tacoma shot forward and barreled straight for him. He stood his ground, and she braced herself to hit him. With only a few feet to spare, he jumped clear, landing just out of her path.

  She turned and headed for the dirt road, flicking on the lights so she could maneuver through the trees. Behind her, Stoller was up and running for the F-150. She rounded a pair of tight turns, sliding into the grass and almost spinning out. When the road became a straight run to the clearing, she checked the rearview. A pair of sweeping beams told her Stoller was wheeling around in pursuit.