From Dust

by Freya Barker

  “I can’t believe you made me organize this, and now you’re gonna bail on me? Nice, Jacob ... real nice.” I slam the phone down on the counter, the sound startling Daniel who starts to cry. Just as I have him lifted out of his chair to comfort him, the doorbell rings to announce my parents’ arrival.

  After the first fifteen minutes, I’m ready to scream and slip into the kitchen under the guise of checking on dinner. Taking the phone into the pantry for privacy, I dial Jacob’s number to beg him to come home and rescue me. My parents still think he walks on water and his presence will at least distract them from me. I’m almost ready to hang up after five rings, convinced he’s ignoring me, when it’s answered. Not by Jacob—no—by a breathy sounding female.

  “Hello?” she purrs, followed by a high-pitched giggle and the rumble of a man’s voice in the background.

  “Hi, yes—can I speak to Jacob please?” My voice sounds almost as shaky as my hands are, holding the phone to my ear.

  “He’s busy right now, can I—mmmmm—can I take a message?“

  I hang up the phone, my stomach churning.

  The voice I heard whispering in the background was Jacob’s. It was unmistakable.

  “Open up for me.”

  I know this, because he said those same words to me, just last night.

  Gunnar’s called in twice today to make sure things were under control. The first time he spoke to Matt, and the second time is a little after nine and he asks to speak to me.

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine.”

  The growl in my ear makes it clear Gunnar does not like my answer. “Syd...”

  “It’s good, Gunnar. It got a bit busy over lunch but dinner’s been easy, and we only have a few drinkers tonight. Dino’s left already and Matt’s gonna lock up at eleven, as usual.”

  “Call me when you’re upstairs,” he orders.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat.

  “Syd. Call me.”

  Although I bristle at the tone, I also hear concern in it. Concern for me, and that affects me more than I’m ready to admit. “Okay,” I concede, and without saying anything else, he hangs up.

  I’ve been able to sort the kitchen out and do a last run through of the bathrooms when Matt pokes his head in the ladies’ room.

  “We’re all shut down for the night. Are you about ready?”

  “Just a few more minutes, but why don’t you head on out? I’ll just finish this and I’ll be done.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll take the trash on my way out,” he says, ready to go.

  “Just take the kitchen box. I’ll do the bag; I have some more to add when I’m done here. Just leave it in the hall for now.” A lift of his chin and he’s gone.

  It doesn’t take me long to finish cleaning the washroom and put away the cleaning supplies. I empty the trashcans in the garbage bag and put them back in the washroom with clean liners before tying up the bag and carrying it out the back door, leaving it cracked open a bit.

  A chilly wind comes off the water, rustling some loose trash around the alley. I heave the trash bag over the side of the bin just as I hear the phone ringing inside. Knowing that it’s probably Gunnar getting impatient or something, I turn and make for the back door. I barely have my hand on the handle to push it open when suddenly my head is yanked back by my hair. My hands fly automatically to my head to try and keep my scalp from being ripped off. All I hear is a ragged breathing behind me as I fall backwards, the only thing preventing me smacking my head on the stones is the hold on my hair. I try to look behind me, but only catch glimpses of a large man as I’m being dragged away from the door.

  “Help me...” I try screaming, but panic has my throat constricted and barely a sound comes out.

  “Shut the fuck up, crazy bitch! You got away once, and cost me my fucking job. Not gonna let you get away with that.” Bending down, he pulls me up by an arm, not letting go of my hair with his other hand. Tears are running down my face, but despite my blurred sight, I recognize his face right before he pulls me against him, one arm now wrapped around my chest. Jack. The guy who’d almost forced himself on me. The guy I’d nailed in the balls. I took him once, I figure I can do it again so with all my might, I start kicking back at his knees. When I land one, I hear his yelp loud in my ear, right before he flings me around and I go flying and slam into the side of the garbage, the breath knocked from my lungs. Gasping for air, I lie in a crumpled heap in the alley with Jack three feet away, grabbing his knee.

  “Fucking crazy cunt! Gonna pay for that!” The spittle is flying from his mouth and his lips are drawn back from his teeth. He looks like a feral dog. He’s completely beyond reason.

  I scramble to my feet as he reaches for me and push off to run, but he gets a hold of my shirt. Once again, he holds me pressed with my back against him, and arm banded around my ribs, but this time his other hand is around my throat, cutting of my airway. I struggle to draw air, feeling all strength leave me and I realize I’m fighting a losing battle when black spots appear in my vision.

  Next thing I know, I’m tossed onto a concrete floor. It reeks like rotten fish in here and the ground underneath me is slimy with scales. It has to be one of the buildings on the other side of the wharf, where the fish are brought ashore and prepped for shipping. The only light in here comes from the street lighting outside. The slam of a door has me turn my head and I watch Jack come towards me with a predatory gleam. Trying to scramble back, I get barely any purchase on the slippery floor and get no further than the wall behind me before he’s on me. With his legs on either side of me, he straddles my abdomen and grabs my throat again with one hand while the other starts pulling at the button on my jeans.

  “Had to shut the door. We’re gonna need ourselves some privacy.” I recognize the foul stench coming from his mouth as he leans down in my face.

  Oh, fuck no. Hell no.

  I haven’t survived this long, living on the streets to be raped by this piece of shit, who’s apparently pissed out of his brains if the thick alcohol fumes coming from his breath are any indication. My attempts at stopping his hand from yanking on my jeans, are stopped with a closed-fist blow to my face, whipping my head to the side. While momentarily stunned, he’s able to strip my jeans down my hips.

  “You stop fighting me, I’ll may make it good for ya. Should’a let me at you the first time.” I have to turn my head quickly to the side as vomit explodes from my mouth. Jack rears back and pulls his hand from my throat. “You fuckin’ puked on me, you crazy-ass bitch! But if you think that’s gonna stop me, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

  Standing up, he pulls me up with him and slams me facedown on one of the stainless steel cutting tables. The impact sends a shard of pain slicing through my face. He stretches my arms above me and holds them there in one hand while shoving down my panties with the other. I struggle against his hold and try to lift my head to look for something—anything—I can use to my advantage. A large hook with a wooden handle at the end sits just out of reach and I try to move my whole body in that direction, but he has me pinned tight.

  “Stop fucking moving!” he yells in my ear, pushing my head down on the table again with his now free hand.

  Over his erratic breathing behind me, I can hear whimpering and realize it’s coming from my mouth. I’m almost paralyzed with fear and if there’s one thing I’ve learned living on the streets, you never stop moving; stop moving, then you’ve lost already. With that reminder, a new surge of anger floods through me. I twist and wiggle, trying to free my legs and move away from his leg that’s wedged between mine. But his boot is holding my jeans down and effectively trapping my feet. The sound of his zipper makes me dry heave as I hear his mumbling behind me.

  “Sweet little ass is all mine. Can’t wait to fuck that little ass. Bet it’s nice and tight. Ah, yeah, baby. What hole should I stick it in first?” In his eagerness to get his jeans down, he lets go of my hands. Immediately my right hand starts
searching for the only thing I have within my reach. With one hand now keeping me down by the neck, his other hand slips between my legs and he shoves a finger inside me.

  “Gotta lube you up. Want you tight, not dry, baby.”

  With tears running down my face and gagging against the burn of violation, my fingers finally encounter something and I don’t hesitate to wrap my hand around it.

  “NO!” I scream as a burst of adrenaline allows me to push up and turn my torso, whipping my right arm around with the hook now clenched in my fist. I find purchase and relieved, I feel him back away. When I turn around, I see him hold the side of his head, the wooden handle sticking out through his fingers and blood seeping out between. He stumbles backward until collapsing on the floor.

  I killed him.

  Blind panic has me pull my feet clear from my jeans, run to the door and fling it open. I’m not thinking, I’m moving away from the horror behind me.

  “SYD! Where are you, Syd?”

  The familiar voice is up ahead and knowing I’ll find safety there, I take off running until I bump into a solid chest and find myself lifted off my feet.

  “Jesus Christ! Little bird...”

  It’s the last I hear before darkness takes me again.

  Gunnar

  “Daddy, do we have to go to bed?”

  Emmy tries in her sweetest voice, in hopes I can be swayed and Dex puts on his most angelic face. Little manipulators.

  “School tomorrow, guys, and I’ve already let you stay up this late. Come on. Let’s get you upstairs and get your teeth brushed.”

  The disappointment doesn’t seem to be too great because both of them turn to go, but not before pointing two prominent bottom lips my way.

  “Born actors, those two,” Tim says behind me, coming in through the sliding door after sneaking a smoke on the back deck.

  “Sure are. Guaranteed they’ll be asleep before their heads hit the pillow.”

  After tucking my kids in—something they still seem to want me doing—I grab a few brews from the fridge and join Tim in front of the tube.

  He’d come over earlier to help me extend my deck, something I’ve been wanting to do since I got this place. The yard’s a good size and the deck the previous owners had built was too narrow; it would only fit a couple chairs at most. This summer I want to be able to eat outside with the kids, and eat at a table. Besides, it’d been a pain having to go down the steps and around the side of the deck to where the BBQ sits, every time I want to grill, which is a lot. The bigger deck easily allows for the cooking station to be set up just to the side of the sliding doors from the kitchen, which will make grilling in the winter a less daunting task.

  We ordered some Chinese and managed to finish off the railing around nine, with the outdoor lights on ‘cause it was pretty dark already.

  I hand Tim the bottle and drop my exhausted body into the recliner.

  “How are they doing?” I indicate the screen where the Red Wings are trying to fight off first round elimination by the Bruins.

  “Tonight’s the night,” Tim says, an avid Bruins fan, just as Lucic is sent to the box ... again.

  “Fucking guy doesn’t stay out of the penalty box. I don’t know if they will. Boston’s power play’s gotta be the worst in the league,” I observe.

  “Have some faith, brother.”

  “Whatever,” I grumble, my mind already wandering to the pub where they should be closing shortly. Early night on Sunday’s. Monday is the only day the pub’s closed, so closing earlier on a Sunday nights allows everyone to get a decent night’s sleep before their day off.

  We watch Detroit tie it up in the third with only two minutes left in the game and when the whistle blows, Boston hasn’t been able to respond, despite the fact they had the goalie pulled the entire two minutes. Overtime.

  While the commercials are up, I quickly dial the pub because Syd hasn’t called yet like she promised. It’s coming up on eleven thirty. Place should’ve been locked up by now. The phone, which has an extension upstairs, just rings and rings before going to voicemail. Thinking she might be having a shower, I give her a few minutes before calling again, all the while trying to talk my cock down as I’m imagining her with water sluicing off her naked body.

  I call repeatedly with no answer. Suddenly, I’m restless and get up. “Gonna head over and check on the pub real quick.” I tell Tim, grabbing my jacket off the back of the kitchen chair.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Nobody’s answering. Syd was gonna call after they locked up.”

  “You’ve got a hard-on for that little waif, don’t ya?” He says with a big smirk on his face.

  “Fuck off. I’ve gotta go. You good here for a couple?” It’ll only take me about five minutes to get to the pub at this time of night, and at my speed anyway.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Set to watch overtime anyway.” With his hand up, he waves me off.

  I grab the truck, which is sitting in the drive. The bike’s parked in the garage where I prefer to keep it overnight. Bike would’ve been easier since I can park it behind the pub without blocking anything, but tonight I just leave the truck in the alley by the dumpster. Not like there’ll be any deliveries late on a Sunday night.

  First thing I notice when I get there sends a chill down my spine. The outside light is still on and the back door is open a crack. Inside there is no sign of Syd, nor up in the apartment either. I pull out my phone while walking back outside and contemplate calling the cops. Problem is, she could be out by the water as I’ve seen her do from time to time, and I’d have the cops over here crawling around. She might take off. She already made it clear she wanted nothing to do with emergency responders last time. Standing on the back door step, I can just see the water’s edge this side of the dock, but there is no one there. She could be on the other side. As I turn my head, my eyes catch something on the ground by the front wheel of the truck. A shoe. Looks to be one of Syd’s runners. Fuck.

  I don’t hesitate then and put in a quick call before running into the alley, yelling her name. Just as I pass the burned out shed, I can hear a scream and my heart about pounds out of my chest.

  “SYD!!” My voice bounces off the buildings. “Syd! Where are you?”

  Running towards me is a half-naked woman, her signature copper colored hair identifying her immediately, which is good because her face is covered in blood. I have to lock my knees to avoid buckling as she runs straight into my arms.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gunnar

  “Mr. Lucas, please sit down.”

  “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  Not gonna let some punk-ass cop dictate whether I sit or stand. Waste of my goddamn time anyway. I need to get back to Syd’s room.

  “Just a couple more questions, sir.”

  “Well hurry it up. Don’t see what the big mystery is anyway. Seems pretty obvious what happened, doesn’t it?”

  “How well do you know the victim?”

  “Jesus, this is useless.” I grab my hair, pulling hard, knowing the only way to get back to Syd is to get through his damn questions. “Fine, I’ll explain again. She works for me. My manager found her down on her luck and since one of our employees up and left just hours before, she offered the job to Syd.”

  “Actually, sir, I was talking about the other victim.”

  I whip around at his words. “Fuck you!” Stalking over, I lean in to within an inch of the stupid prick’s face. “Only one victim in all this. Only one! And she’s lying in a bed down the hall, fucking violated, face bashed in and in shock, and that’s where I should be. I’m fucking done!” At that I turn around, ready to stomp out of there when I see Sergeant Winslow standing in the doorway, looking almost apologetic.

  “Go ahead, Mr. Lucas. Harper here is done. I’ll follow up with you at a more convenient time.” A scathing look in the direction of the younger cop makes it clear he’s not happy.

  Though his proper manners grate on my nerves, seem
s Winslow is not quite the pussy I took him to be. Without wasting another word, I beeline it down the hall to where Syd’s being looked after.

  The moment she collapsed into my arms in the alley earlier, I heard the sirens coming down from the other side. Two police cars and an ambulance right behind. I ignored the calls from the officers and walked right up to the back of the ambulance where the EMTs were pulling out the stretcher, Syd still in my arms. I didn’t want to let go of her, but laid her on the stretcher anyway when the EMT promised to look after her. The cops were right behind me and I quickly told them what I knew, which wasn’t much. They didn’t stop me though, when I climbed into the back of the ambulance, but was told a car would follow it to the hospital.

  I still don’t know much about what happened. The only additional information I picked up is that they found the guy who attacked her in one of the fish shacks down the alley.

  An hour and a half he kept me in that fucking room with his asinine questions and with blood boiling in my veins, I stop to take a few breaths outside her door. A nurse is cleaning blood from her face and turns to me when I step in.

  “How’s she doing?”

  The nurse throws me an apologetic look before returning to her task. “I’m not sure I can give out that information, sir. Family only,” she says kindly.

  I sit down beside her bed and grab her hand. “I am her family for now,” I say weakly, suddenly feeling every last minute of the last couple of hours. The nurse regards me with a slight tilt of her head before jutting a clipboard with forms at me.

  “Then maybe you should fill this out as best you can and make sure you mark that under ‘immediate relatives’.

  With a wink, she walks toward the door where she stops and turns around. “Be back in a few minutes to pick that up.”