by Sophia Sharp
Rich shakes his head again. “It’s too high up to reach from inside.” He gives me an appraising look. “Especially for you.”
I hit him on the arm playfully before I remember myself. I blush at my own stupidity. His eyebrows go up in surprise, but that’s all the reaction he gives.
“I climbed a gutter outside to reach the window,” he continues. “There’s nothing either of us can grab onto to reach it from inside. Our only option is in front of us.”
“Guarded by a bear,” I mutter under my breath.
“Right.” Rich smiles. “But you haven’t seen me in action yet.”
“What?” I ask. “What do you mean…?”
Before the words are out of my mouth, Rich is gone. With the slender grace of a dancer, he slides soundlessly behind the bar. He ducks down. When he reemerges there’s a heavy wine bottle in his hand. He shoots me a smile and a wink, then crouches low and begins darting from the cover of one table to the next.
I have a bad feeling about what Rich is planning. But I can’t do anything but watch.
Victor is still engaged with his phone. Rich moves like a ninja, until he’s mere feet from Victor. The bigger man still has no idea anything’s going on behind him.
My nails dig deep into the flesh of my palms. I’m dying from anxiety. If anything goes wrong…
Rich straightens behind Victor. He glances over at me, to make sure I’m watching, and gives me a great, wide smile. Hit him! I want to scream. Every moment Rich delays just gives Victor another moment to turn around and see us.
With the showmanship of a street performer, Rich flips the bottle in the air. He catches it by the neck on its way down. His arrogance astounds me. Victor is still oblivious to what’s going on behind his back. Finally, mercifully, Rich hefts the bottle with both hands, brings it above one shoulder, and swings it at Victor’s head.
The bottle crashes into the big man’s skull with enormous force. The glass shatters. Victor collapses from his seat to the floor. Dark, frothy liquid gushes everywhere.
Rich looks down, then back at me. “See?” he calls out. “Easy as—”
“Oh, my God!” I scream, “Rich, watch out!”
Rich whips around. He jumps back just in time to avoid Victor’s lunge at his legs. Apparently, the bottle did nothing but daze the enormous man.
Victor pushes himself to his knees. His face is twisted in a dark mask of fury. Blood trickles down the back of his neck from the head wound. His eyes find Rich. “You,” he growls. With an ear-splitting roar, Victor launches himself at Rich.
Rich sidesteps the attack—but just barely. Victor crashes into a table, knocking over the chairs stacked on top. He picks himself up and turns around. Rich is positioned about ten feet away, his hands up defensively, his knees bent. Rich is the taller of the two, but I would never have bet on him in this fight. Victor must outweigh him by at least eighty pounds.
Victor picks up a chair and hurls it at Rich. Rich ducks under its path. It collides with another stack of chairs behind him, sending them all toppling to the floor.
“Come now,” Rich taunts in a low voice. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Enraged, Victor roars again and barrels toward Rich. At that moment, I’m reminded of a linebacker with a clear lane to sack the quarterback. Rich surprises me with his quickness. He kicks up a stool just before Victor reaches him, then curls to the side and slams it hard against Victor’s back. The stool shatters. Pieces fly everywhere.
The blow sends the bigger man staggering a few steps. When he turns around, there’s bloodlust in his eyes. “I’m going to kill you,” he promises Rich. “And when I’m done, I’m going to go back and rape that slut sister of yours.” He smiles through his thick beard. “In fact, I think I might keep you alive long enough to watch, yes? Just so you can hear her scream.”
Rich doesn’t answer. Victor reaches to his belt. My heart leaps to my throat when I see him pull out a large hunting knife. Rich has no chance against an armed man Victor’s size—not without a weapon of his own.
Not a flicker of fear shows on Rich’s face. Only grim determination.
Never taking his eyes off Victor, he kneels down and picks up a broken leg of the stool. The piece of wood isn’t much longer than Victor’s knife. He might as well be fighting with a pillow for all the advantage it gives him.
This time, Victor approaches Rich slowly. Rich steps sideways, and the two men start circling each other in the clearing they’ve made. Victor continues his taunts, but Rich does not respond. He just watches the big man, cautious, wary.
Without warning, Victor lunges forward and stabs at Rich’s body. Rich steps aside and deflects Victor’s extended arm, letting the large man’s momentum carry him forward. With a flick of the wrist, Rich’s wooden rod comes up, and catches Victor in the mouth. I hear a sickening crunch.
Victor falls against a table. He spits out a mouthful of blood, then picks himself up and spins around, swinging his knife wildly. The blade catches nothing but air. Rich is already a safe distance away.
Rich and Victor begin to circle one another again. It’s like watching two feral cats, each searching for a weakness in the other. Victor tries another slash, aimed at Rich’s face. Rich swoops beneath it. He slams his makeshift weapon into Victor’s knees. Victor cries out in a mixture of pain and rage.
I don’t know where Rich learned to fight, but I decide that I’d underestimated him before. Even without a real weapon, he’s more than a match for Victor.
As Victor scrambles up again, the blood making a nasty red stain where his mouth should be, I also decide that now is my best chance to slip away unseen.
I crouch low and start to make my way from table to table, keeping to the outside of the room. The sounds of the fight continue. Mostly it’s just Victor’s heavy breathing, interrupted every so often by a curse, or a grunt, or another roar. I take that as a good sign. It means that Rich still has the upper hand.
I dart from table to table, quick as a rabbit. Soon, I’m at the last table before the doors. They’re at the end of a short corridor. But, there’s a problem: There’s nowhere for me to take cover between here and there.
My only chance is to make a run for it. I peek over the tabletop to where the men are fighting. They’re still focused on each other. But if I stand and run, I will be dangerously exposed. Even if I get outside, I don’t know how far my still-frozen limbs can carry me. I don’t even know where this bar is!
I duck down, considering my options. The grunts and noises of the fight continue. If I wait for Rich to win… then I’ll be putting myself back in his arms.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I do not want to rely on Rich for anything else. Ever again.
That seals my decision. Taking a deep breath, I stand and run forward…
“Penny!” It’s Rich. “No!”
I spin around. Horror fills me at what I see.
Victor is staring at me with rage in his eyes. He’s bloodied and bruised, while Rich is none the worse for wear. But Victor is about twenty feet closer to me than Rich is.
With a vicious snarl, Victor launches himself at me. Horrified, I turn and run for the doors. I reach them, and press down on the handle. They don’t budge.
Oh, shit!!!
I turn around to see the hulking beast of a man lumbering toward me. A sharp beam of light reflects from his cruel blade. I hesitate too long in the corridor, and suddenly I’m trapped. Victor’s massive shape fills my only escape route. He stops, his eyes dark and greedy. He looks like something out of a horror movie. Blood mattes his hair and continues running down his neck. His gaping mouth is red and snarling like an inferno. I have nowhere to go. I—
All of a sudden, Victor crashes to the floor. The knife slides out of his grip and comes to rest at my feet. Bewildered, I look up. Rich has tackled Victor and wrestled him to the ground. They grapple with each other, Victor snarling and trying to flip over, Rich desperately pinning his arms to th
e ground. The heavier man clearly has the advantage on the floor. Rich might be taller, his arms might be longer, but he doesn’t have Victor’s raw strength. Not even close.
All thought of escape has abandoned me at this point. I know that if I don’t help Rich, he’ll lose. And then Victor will have me to himself. Tam will come back. They’ll tie me up again. Rape me. Maybe worse.
Those possibilities run through my head in less time than it takes to blink. Acting on pure instinct, I grab the knife and rush forward. Rich is still on top, but Victor has managed to turn himself over. Rich is fighting off Victor’s arms with all his might, but he’s at a clear disadvantage. I see my chance. Sliding to my knees, I stop just short of the struggle and press the sharp edge of the blade against Victor’s neck.
The man freezes.
“One wrong move, you asshole,” I say, surprised at the venom in my voice, “and I slit your throat.” I don’t know if I’m actually capable of doing that. Victor doesn’t know, either. I look up and meet Rich’s eyes. They’re wide with surprise. I nod.
He reaches over and takes the knife from me. Victor’s arms are sprawled wide on the floor. Even he knows a losing situation when faced with one.
I rise, and step back carefully. Rich looks at me, all of his surprise gone. “We’re going to have to tie him down,” he says. “Check behind the bar. Maybe there are more of those plastic things they used on you.” I’m surprised at the steadiness of his voice. My whole body is shaking—and I wasn’t even in the fight.
I nod and run to the bar. Halfway there, I hear Rich grunt. I turn back. “What is it?”
To my surprise, I see Rich take the blade away from Victor’s throat. “He’s out cold,” he explains, picking himself up. “The blood loss must have finally gotten to him.”
I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“The bastard must have lost four pints of blood, maybe more.” Rich prods at Victor’s shoulder with his foot. “Anybody else would have passed out long ago. The man doesn’t know when to quit. I’ll give him that.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask. “The whole time, you were so calm—Oh God, Rich, your leg!”
“What?” He looks at where I’m pointing, and gives a sour grunt. “Oh, that? That’s nothing. A little knick I got from the fight.”
It definitely isn’t “nothing,” and it’s definitely more than “a little knick.” There’s a dark stain on the side of Rich’s left quad. His jeans are cut right in the middle of it. Each time Rich breathes, the stain grows larger.
“Really, Penny, I’ve been hurt worse before.” To prove his point, he takes a step toward me. When his weight shifts to his left leg, his knee suddenly gives out.
I reach his side before he can hit the floor. I catch him by the waist, grunting with the effort of holding him up. “Nothing?” I ask. Looking down, I can see that his white sock is stained red. “Rich, you’re bleeding badly. We need to get you to a hospital!”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Just help me to a chair.” I do, and he settles down heavily. “I need to get some pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Here.” He hands me the knife. For the first time, I notice that the blade is red with Rich’s blood. “Cut me a strip from Victor’s jacket.”
I rush over to the unconscious man and kneel down. Before I start cutting, I look back at Rich. “Are you sure he won’t wake up?”
“You could fire a cannon by his ear and he wouldn’t wake up.” Rich takes his hand away from his wound, and grimaces at what he sees. “Hurry, Penny. I don’t know how long we have before Tam comes back.”
The reminder spurs me into action. I hack off the sleeve, then run over to Rich and help him tie it around his leg. “How is it?”
Rich extends his leg, testing it. He stands up, and takes a cautious step forward. “Not bad.” I know he’s lying by the grimace on his face. “I can still walk, so that’s good.”
“Rich, we should really get you to a hospital—”
He stops me mid-sentence. “No. That’s a terrible idea. We’ll be sitting ducks for Tam and his cronies to come find us. Besides, I’m just—” His knee buckles again and he lunges forward. I dart to him and put my arm around his waist to hold him up.
“You’re not,” I scold. “You can barely stand. We need to get you proper attention—”
“Penny, look around!” Rich yells. “Do you not remember where we are? Did you forget what just happened? We need to get the hell away from here as fast as we can! Do you think that when Tam comes back he’ll just sit on his fucking hands and wait for Victor to get up? No! He’ll go looking for us. For me. For you. And he’ll find us, unless we’re far, far away.”
I don’t respond. If I open my mouth now, I know I’ll just get yelled at. Given that Rich is probably close to losing the same amount of blood as Victor had, I decide it’s best to avoid a flare-up.
I take a deep breath, and speak very deliberately. “Where to, then?”
“Out. I’m parked on the street. From there, we just drive.”
“Where?”
“Away.”
I help Rich limp to the door. There, he bends down and lifts up the bottom latch, making me feel like an idiot. He pushes open the door into the cool night air.
I glance back before leaving. The bar looks like a war zone. Toppled tables, broken glass, and Victor’s blood is everywhere. Stains from every step Rich had taken make dark red spots on the floor.
I shudder. Somehow, despite going through all that, I made it out all right.
Chapter Six
We drive for hours. Rich doesn’t say where we’re going, and I don’t ask. The whole time, he stares straight ahead, his eyes on the road. The tension in the truck is thick.
I don’t dare move, except to sneak a glance at Rich every once in a while. Every time I do, he seems paler. In spite of everything he’s done, I’m worried about him. The wound in his leg has stopped bleeding, but I can tell by his face that it still pains him. I’m half-afraid he might pass out and veer into the oncoming lane.
He proves resilient, though. Maybe I should expect that of him by now. For better or for worse, I am stuck with him for the foreseeable future.
Finally, he takes an exit off the highway and pulls up to a ramshackle motel on an empty street. Half the letters in the neon “VACANT” sign are dark. The rest flicker on and off like dying fireflies.
Rich doesn’t park out front. Instead, he turns off onto a gravel road and stops his truck out back. He turns the engine off. “We’re here.”
I swallow hard. Rich’s eyes are bloodshot. His face is ghostly-pale. He looks as if he hasn’t slept for a week. “Okay,” I say softly.
He grunts, and staggers out of the cabin. I run around to catch him. He mutters a low thanks, then points to a flight of stairs. I help him all the way up. On the third floor, he stops in front of a green door and unlocks it with a key. He pushes off me to step inside. I follow him.
The room is a little bigger than the first motel where we stayed. There’s one queen bed, a brown sofa, and a kitchenette to the side. A balcony overlooking the front road is directly in front of me. The sliding door is open, and a draft of chilly night air blows through the room. I close the door behind me to cut it off.
Rich heads to the kitchen counter. I notice an open bottle of whiskey there, along with a half-filled shot glass. Rich takes the shot, pours more whiskey to the rim, and downs it. He motions at me with the bottle. “You want some?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Suit yourself.” Rich shrugs and pours a third shot. He dips his head back to swallow it whole, setting the glass on the counter with a loud thud. Then he pushes away, clutching at his leg, and painfully limps to the sofa. He collapses and closes his eyes.
Carefully, I pick my way to him. I’m still wary. Instead of sitting beside him, I perch on the edge of the bed. I wait for him to speak.
A good ten minutes pass without either of us saying anything.
&nb
sp; I open my mouth… and close it again. Being here with him goes against every safety instinct in my body. Rich had sold me out. He’d drugged me and given me up to Tam and Victor. I still don’t know why.
But, he’d also came back for me. He’d fought Victor for me, too. Rich had flown across the room right when I thought Victor was going to get me. He did it despite his bad leg. He’d tackled the thug to the ground, even though Victor had a knife, even though Victor was stronger, just to save me. It could have all ended horribly for him.
Despite everything he has done to me, I owe him. Sure, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation were it not for him, but he had risked his life for me. He’d done it right before my eyes. For that, I could show him a little gratitude.
I have to stay cautious, though. There are so many unanswered questions in my mind. Where did Rich learn to fight? Who did Tam and Victor think I was? Perhaps most important of all: Why did Rich come back for me?
I glance at the car keys Rich tossed aside on the kitchen table. It would be easy for me to grab them and make a run for it right now. He’d never catch me—not with his leg. If I was quiet, I could be in his truck before he even realizes I am gone. I know there’s enough gas in the tank to get me to the nearest city center. From there, it would be a short distance to the police station. If I told them everything that had happened, they would help me.
Leaving now is what any sane person would do. It is what I should do. I’d be free of Rich and all his problems. I start to push myself up…
And sit back down. Something compels me to stay. I can’t just leave without getting answers. I can’t just leave without understanding what is going on. I thought I understood things, back before the gas station. It turned out I hadn’t had the slightest clue.
Most of all, I can’t leave without getting an explanation from Rich about what he had done.
His eyes are still closed. His chest rises and falls with deep, heavy breaths. “…Rich?” I say softly.
