When the hour passes, and still no Jason, I come close to breaking down. It builds with each passing minute, and I stretch those minutes, but when I can no longer deny an hour has passed, I’m bent to the point of snapping. Like hysterical crying, fetal position, catatonic snapping. Something’s happened to him. There is no way in hell that man would leave us unless it is absolutely necessary or if he …
I’ve never had a panic attack, but I feel one creeping up, poisoning my brain and what little bravery I still possess. Maybe we should just stay in here. They haven’t found us yet. No reason they will now. Just give him a little more time. Because the alternative, yeah not ready for it yet.
I concentrate on the children’s breathing, their steady feel against me. They may be asleep. Adrenaline crash. I almost gave in to sweet oblivion thirty minutes ago and had to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep sleep at bay. At least in Pennsylvania I had an activity to keep me occupied. Regardless, the twins trust me enough to fall asleep. They have faith I can keep them safe. Jason too. As God as my witness, I will not let them down. I’ll die first.
About ten more minutes pass, each more grueling than the seventy before. I’m so thankful I cried all my tears out earlier. I have to go, don’t I? He’s not coming. They’ve … Okay, I guess I have a few more tears left. I shut my eyes tight like a prison cell and wipe the few escapees away. Keep it together, Viv. Fight now, cry later. My shifting stirs Nicki, who moans a little. Intuitively, I place my hand over her mouth and nose. Nicki quiets, and I remove my hand.
It’s time.
I rub Dusty’s arm to wake him. He wiggles against me so I assume he’s conscious. “You guys okay?” I whisper so softly I can barely hear myself.
“Where’s Mommy?” Dusty whispers back.
“I don’t know.”
“Is Uncle Jason here to get us?” Nicki asks.
“No, doll face.”
“Are Mommy and Uncle Jason dead?” Dusty asks.
I am momentarily at a loss for words. “I-I don’t know.” I kiss the top of his head. “But it’s time to go. We can’t stay here anymore.” I kiss Nicki’s head too. “I need to find a way out, okay? But I have to leave you here.”
“No, no,” both whisper desperately.
“I have to, I’m sorry. I will come right back, I promise.”
“That’s what Uncle Jason said,” Nicki counters.
She’s got me there. “This is just how is has to be. I have to make sure it’s safe for you, and I need you both to be strong and brave for me, okay? I will come right back for you, I swear. But … if I don’t, you both stay here as long as you can. Take care of each other. And if a bad wolf comes, you fight. You kick, scratch, punch, do what-ever you have to, to get away from him.” I peck them again. “Just stick together, alright?”
The kids hug me tighter. “I love you, Aunt Viv,” Nicki says.
Those words bring fresh tears. “I love you both too.” Just go, Viv, before you really lose your nerve. “Stay quiet. Be right back.”
My everything has grown numb from sitting Indian style for over an hour. I release the kids from my embrace to help move my legs so my knees point up. The pins and needles intensify as I press my foot against the door. It’s difficult, but I manage to get on
all fours and crawl out. I peek my head out first. The closet door is open, so I can see the bedroom. Clear.
I quickly crawl out, close the door, and reposition the stack. They’ll be safe there. Please God let them be safe in there. As quickly as I can, I creep across the bedroom, gun steady in my hand and stop by the side of the door. My heart is pumping so fast I feel it in my ear drums. I glance into the hall but can only see diagonally across to an open bedroom. Damn it. Just get on with it. I click the safety off the gun, raise it, and stick my head out the door to get a snapshot. Body on the floor, I think Claire’s father Chris from the plaid shorts, four doors down. All but three doors open. One guard with his back to me but holding a shotgun as he walks the way I need to go. Go.
I move to the next room and immediately hide behind the half open door. Guess that’s the plan: go room to room when his back is turned. Six rooms. I can do it. Go. I move out the door, but just as I reach the next room the guard begins to turn around. I leap into the bedroom.
“Hello?” the guard calls.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit! This door is almost against the wall and if I move it, he’ll notice. No concealment there. I drop to the floor and suppress a gasp when I see a bloody Adam hiding under the bed. The shock doesn’t stop me from rolling in next to him. He’s still warm. Breathing but unconscious. He lays on his stomach, and judging from the pinpoints of blood up and down his back, along with the gaping hole in his left shoulder, he was hit by a shotgun. Fuck. I hear footsteps thudding closer and hold my breath. The guard must be checking all the rooms because there are steps, a second of silence, then more steps. I can’t see his feet, but know when he’s checking this one from the noise. A door creaks open down the hall, saving us from further inspection. The guard moves on.
“What’s up, dude?” a man asks.
“I, uh, thought I heard something,” the guard says. “Think I’m just edgy.”
“Yeah, been a hell of a day,” the other man says.
Adam shifts beside me and when I turn my head, his eyelids flutter. I cover his mouth and nose to stifle any noise.
“Hey,” the second man says, “you want a turn? Might loosen you up. If you don’t like the cheerleader type, Mal’s got an Asian around here. Or you can choose one from the cages.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. Adam rips my hand from his face and grimaces in pain.
“Uh, I’m good,” the guard says.
“Dude, to the victors go the spoils. This is a guilt-free zone. War has its upsides. You’re not gonna pussy out now are you?”
“It’s just, it’s mostly women and kids, man. This isn’t cool. I—”
I’m not sure, but I think I hear a slap. “Man up and stop being a little bitch. They are not people, they are the enemy. They killed ours, we kill theirs. This is payback. Enjoy it.” The asshole pauses, probably to smile. “Good. Now, I’m gonna get something to eat. Worked up an appetite. Bring you back an apple or something.”
“Thank you. Sir.”
There are more footsteps moving away as I think the second man walks down the stairs. The guard’s steps move away too. I can breathe again. Adam too, though his breathing is far too shallow for comfort. “How bad is it?” I ask as quietly as possible.
Stupid question. He’s the color of a wedding dress and as sweaty as her shotgun wedding groom. “Still bleeding. Need to change.”
Fuck. I can’t just leave him here. He’s Jason’s best friend, my friend. He could die. I can’t save them all. The only thing I have going for me is nobody knows I’m here. I can’t save Claire or Linda or anyone else in those bedrooms because they’ll notice they’re missing. But him. I can save him. I have to save him.
I squeeze his hand again before pulling off my hoodie, not easy with maybe an inch of space above, bunch it up, and press hard on his left shoulder. He winces in pain but suffers silently. I remove my hand and he uses the good one to keep pressure on. “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
With gun in hand, I abandon my hiding spot and pad toward the door, once again putting my back to the wall before glancing out. The guard is almost at the other end of the hall with his back to me. As fast as I can, I move the opposite way, pausing only to gaze down the stairs to see if the coast is clear. Almost there. I make it to the master bedroom and one step in, stop dead.
Oh God.
Sam, sweet Sam who I sent to this room, lies face up with four bullet holes visible on his white shirt and one in his forehead. His brown eyes stare up at me with no trace of life left in them. I’m sad to admit poor Sam barely gets a glance before my eyes find the secon
d body lying on its side, one remaining blue eye on me. The wind’s knocked out of me. I want to fall on my knees, cry out to the heavens but the same thing keeping me going keeps me upright. The back of my father’s head has exploded out from the three bullets he took: one to the forehead, the eye, and cheek, along with a shotgun blast to the gut. Overkill. They were afraid of him. Cold comfort.
In a daze, I slowly stumble over to the men, kneeling beside them but gaping at my father. Hesitantly, with my shaking hand, I touch his cold neck. No pulse. He’s dead. No question. My daddy’s dead.
The clarity and calm that’s kept me alive so far blows away like dust on the wind. The tears don’t even give me a chance to stop them. My heart hurts, it actually physically hurts. It wretches inside my chest. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair. I was just getting to know him. I actually … I actually liked him. He was proud of me. He saved my life. He died saving my life, giving me a chance to run away. He loved me. He was a good man. Flawed like the rest of us, but his heart was always in the right place. He loved me. And he’s dead. They killed him over a job he never wanted but took to keep this family safe. There was so much more I wanted to know, to ask. I just got him back. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
I just gaze at my father, tears streaming, then up over to the door. The tunnel. It’s right there. I could just go through. Run and never look back. I’d make it too. I’d survive. I don’t have to go back out there. I can just … go. But when I return my gaze to Frank, and know I’ll never be able to do that. I hate myself for even considering it. I have to get his grandchildren out. I have to find Jason. I have to keep them all safe like he would. They will not get away with this. They won’t. They will not take this house, they will not take any more of our lives. As long as there is a spark of life in me, they will not win.
More footsteps wallop me back to the present. The guard. I swipe my tears before rising and sprinting toward the bathroom to hide. I sit on the toilet and close my eyes to listen better. Footsteps come, footsteps go. I stay still, alone with my rage. I grab a face towel from the rack and wrap it around the gun. If I have to fire, it’ll muffle the sound. A large part of me prays, prays I’ll have to use it. Once those kids are safe, all bets are off.
I don’t glance at Frank or Sam as I move back to the bedroom door. After waiting for the guard to pass the stairs, I bound to the next open room two down. Then another. Hot footing it, I continue all the way back to the children just as he reaches the end maybe seven feet away. I’ve made it, halfway at least. Of course now comes the hard part. There’s a reason I’ve gone through life as unencumbered as possible. It’s damn easier. With two small kids and an injured man in tow, it will be a damn miracle if we make it down that hall again. The guard trots past once more as I hide behind the door, then wait ten seconds before returning to the closet. “It’s me,” I whisper before uncovering the crawlspace.
My charges are huddled in the hole, clutching onto one another before both leap out into my arms. They really thought I wouldn’t be back. “It’s okay, I’m here,” I whisper. I pull them off a second later. There isn’t time. “Listen, we’re going to Grandpa’s room. Stay close to me and don’t make a sound. If anything happens to me, stay together, run, and hide.”
“I don’t want to go,” Nicki whispers.
“Hey,” I say, petting her hair, “you’re a Dahl. You are strong and you are brave just like your daddy and his daddy before him. And I will be right beside you the whole way. Can you do this for me? Please?”
They nod in affirmation.
Dear God, please help me get them out safely. The guard is almost done completing his trip again as we rush to Adam’s room, the children behind me in case the bullets start flying. They don’t. I stick the kids in the closet out of sight before retrieving Adam. My sweatshirt is close to saturated with blood, but his eyes slowly open regardless. Still got some fight left in him. I glance around the room for something to hold the makeshift bandage—it’s better than nothing and can’t have him leaving a blood drip path to us—and locate a belt. After gently pulling him out of hiding, propping him against the nightstand, I put on my nurse hat once more and get to work, keeping my head down so I can’t be seen over the bed.
“Will you be able to walk?” I whisper.
He nods yes, then winces as I tighten the belt under his armpit. I mouth, “Sorry.” We wait for those footsteps to pass before I help him stand. As I re-wrap the gun with the towel, Adam takes a step and wobbles. Shit. I leap up to steady him. He leans against me as his eyes flutter, almost dead weight. “Leave me,” he whispers. “Just leave me.”
“Yeah, not happening. And I very much doubt Mona McGregor goes for quitters. Want to see her again? Then move your ass, Adam Blue.”
Oh, the power of true love. I think the mention of her name ignites his engine. He still needs assistance, but the man puts one foot in front of the other. The kids come out when I nod them over. I hold up two fingers so they know we’re going two doors down. After checking the hall, I nod for the little ones to go first. They sprint down to our rendezvous, making it safely. The guard doesn’t turn. Though we’re slower, Adam and I reach it too. Then again. We stop diagonally to our destination, so Adam can take a rest. Me too. I’m worried my heavy breathing will be detected. Five seconds only, and this time the adults go first. I want to be in the room to stop any screams when they see Frank. The guard’s almost at the other end of the hall when Adam and I complete the run. The children hurry across a second later.
“Hey!”
I hear hurried footsteps down the hall. Shit. I quickly lead Adam to the wall panel, he’ll have to open it, as I point the gun at the door. The twins stare at Frank, lips quivering, but I can’t worry about that now. Adam pushes in the code just as I spot the muzzle of a shotgun round the corner. I don’t have a clear shot as he uses the doorframe for cover and shotgun trumps pistol regardless. He’s got us dead to rights. Without hesitation, I step forward to put my body between them and his gun, not realizing I’m doing it until it’s done. But the guard doesn’t fire. He peeks around the corner, only half his eye visible, not enough for a clear shot.
“Dude, now what?” the second man says down the hall.
The muzzle vanishes along with the eye. I move toward the children and shove them down the tunnel. “Nothing, I’m just paranoid,” the guard says. “Thought I saw one of them take a breath in there.”
“Go check.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just as I help Adam inside the passageway, the guard enters. Jesus he can’t be more than eighteen with a baby face and wide brown eyes. I can sense his terror from here, yet he keeps the shotgun down. I don’t raise my pistol. Immediately, he nods for me to follow the others, and I don’t wait for him to change his mind. “No, he’s dead!”
I don’t look back. The door closes on the tiny staircase. The twins are three steps ahead with Adam only one from them. He winces quietly with each step but endures, gagging all noise when we pass the office access door. Men laugh on the other side, probably toasting their victory. We continue down without stopping. It’s quieter on the bottom. Could be my imagination, but I think I hear women sobbing behind the door. Later.
“You two stay behind us,” I whisper to the kids before hitching Adam to my side again. “Tell me when you need a rest,” I say to my friend.
As quick as possible towing an invalid and small children, we begin down the tunnel to freedom. I can’t believe we made it. I could kiss that guard and his conscience. I’d like him more if he freed the women in those rooms and shot that douche-bag rapist—
“Wait,” Adam whispers to me a few seconds later. We cease walking as he cocks his head down the tunnel. I don’t hear anything but water dropping from the ceiling. “Someone’s down here.”
“One of ours?”
“Maybe. But if we can hear him, he can hear us.”
&n
bsp; Crap. “We have to keep going.” I spin around to the children. “If I point to the ground, I want you to lay flat on your tummies and cover your ears.” They nod.
We continue down the dark hole and soon I begin to hear the footsteps too. After today I’m taking no chances. I point to the children, and they follow orders. I take a second to strategize. Surprise has worked so far. “Think you can shoot?” I whisper. Adam nods in affirmation. “I’ll distract, you fire.” I hand him the gun, which he tucks down the front of his jeans before covering it with his shirt. I grab hold of him again, and we continue on. The children will be safer back here. We pick up the pace, as does the person. “Hello?” I call out. “Who’s there? It’s Viv. Hello? We need help!”
Sooner than I’d like, a stranger walks into view under one of the lights, holding what I think is an Uzi. Of course. He couldn’t just have a water pistol or foul language. But I can see the finishing line and this bastard is the only thing in my way to crossing it. He’s going down. “Stop,” the man orders. I release Adam, who topples to the ground, and hold up my hands in surrender.
“Oh, God, please, please don’t shoot,” I whine still walking slowly toward him. “I just want out of here. Please, sir. I want to go home. Please let me go home.”
“I said stop,” says the man, advancing with the gun on me.
I obey. “Please. I just want to leave. I want to go home. Please don’t hurt me,” I plead desperately.
“Calm down, lady.”
“No, you’re gonna kill me, and I don’t want to die, and they shot my friends and—”
He moves the Uzi to the right. “Seriously lady, I’m—”
The moment he’s close enough, I kick the man square in the gut like I’ve done hundreds of times in cardio kickboxing. Shayla would be so proud. The man doubles over and I move aside just as Adam slips out the gun and shoots the fucker right in the forehead. I’m getting way too used to this crap because I feel no horror as the back of his head explodes out. Not sure if it kills him, but it sure as hell knocks him down. Without hesitation, I grab the Uzi and point it at the fallen man. He stares up at me with dead brown eyes, a trickle of blood rolling down from the hole.
Werewolf Sings the Blues Page 28
