by Jonas Saul
Blair was moaning something. She stopped pummeling Jane to take a breath.
“What?” Sarah shouted at him. “Stand up. Tell me what you think, Blair. What’s on your mind?”
The macabre scene around Sarah was ridiculous. She was fighting a woman who couldn’t defend herself. Sarah was never a bully. She fought those that deserved it.
“Yes, Jane Turner, you deserved that.”
Jane had dropped to her knees by her son, her eyes a deep red and swelling where the bridge of her nose had been damaged. Her right cheek was bleeding and her lower lip was already swelling and bleeding.
Disgusted with how far this had all gone, Sarah walked over to the building and leaned against the wall in the shade to collect her breath. Her eyes puffy, nose still running from when she cried for Aaron, she stared at nothing for a moment.
“Tell me how to take this thing off,” Sarah said. “If not for me, save your son’s life.”
“I can’t.” Jane’s nasally voice was hard to hear. “Once it’s on, there’s no taking it off. Had it built that way.”
Puzzled, Sarah asked, “I thought you said this dirty bomb thing was from an old Russian military arms dump or something like that? But yet, you’re having the bombs built for you? Doesn’t make sense.”
“The bomb itself is old. Conventional bomb. Small, like grenade. Modified to fit into the Kevlar. I was told it’s something like a squib, a miniature explosive.” Jane had used the sleeve of her shirt to dab at the blood that came from her nose. “Think of it like tiny sticks of dynamite wrapped in high levels of radiation.”
“Great thought. Gee, thanks for that.”
Jane got to her feet, wobbled and stepped closer. “What about the million in cash? Don’t you want it?”
“What a stupid question. How am I supposed to spend it if I’m dead?”
“What about your word, then?” Jane pleaded. “You said you’d help me. Well, here we are. Now’s your chance. Help me. Get in that car and drive us to the conference. This isn’t over yet. It has just begun.”
Sarah blinked. With effort, she turned to look at Jane. “Can you hear yourself? I mean, just listen to yourself.”
Blair was still on the ground. He had stopped vomiting. He had shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched them talk. He looked beaten, done, exhausted. There was no way his mother could come back from this with their relationship intact if he were to live through it. But somehow, Sarah was sure Jane didn’t care much about that.
“I hear perfectly well.” Jane put her hands on her hips. Her nose looked awful. Red and puffy, it resembled an odd-shaped pomegranate sitting between her eyes. “I thought you’d be behind this more, Sarah. Aren’t you all about girl power? We need to stick together. Fight the power. Isn’t that what you do traipsing around the world? Because if you’re not willing to see this through, you’re letting rapists get away with their crimes.”
“Oh man, you’re more fucked than I thought.” Sarah clenched her fists and turned toward Jane. “Are you asking for another thrashing? I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”
“That makes you just like them.” Jane stepped closer, her arms out as she pleaded. “Sarah, these men are the walking wounded. Let me have my coup de grace and I’ll give them peace in death. Then I can carpe noctem.”
“Where the hell is all the Latin coming from? You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass seven ways to Sunday.” She thought of something else and decided to ask. “Why did you have your own men killed?”
Jane moved inside the line of shade the church offered. Sarah looked at Blair. By the expression on his face, he clearly wasn’t aware what had just happened here had been orchestrated by his mother.
“That was necessary,” Jane said. Her tone had changed. Her mind was slipping. Sarah could see it in the woman’s puffy eyes. “I did it,” Jane kept talking, “and I’d do it again if given the chance. But people don’t come back from the dead. So I guess I can’t kill them twice.”
“Consider yourself lucky. If the dead did come back, after this vest kills me, I would return to kick your ass every day.” Sarah touched the Kevlar bomb strapped to her chest. “I don’t know why I’m not attacking you right now. If this thing goes off, at least I didn’t have to wait out here until four in the afternoon to die.”
“You won’t be here until four. We leave within the hour.”
“Yeah? How’s that? You think I will let you take me back to Las Vegas to blow people up? No, when this baby goes, I’ll be the only victim. Unless you want to stick around. On second thought, please do. We’ll have a going away party. We’ll call it, Fuck Jane, Fuck Me, Fuck You and Fuck Us All Party. How’s that sound?”
Jane looked at her feet and started shaking her head back and forth, mumbling the word no over and over, like a quiet chant.
“Sarah?” Blair said.
“What?”
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of this. If my sister had spoken up sooner, I might’ve been able to.”
“I’m going to go to the vehicle now, Mommy. I will wait for you there so at least you and I can finish this.”
Sarah frowned. What could he be up to? The gentle, loving soul that Blair was wouldn’t do that. She didn’t believe for a second that he would willingly go to Vegas to hurt people. It wasn’t in him.
Blair got to his feet and started toward the vehicle with a loping gait. He stumbled, righted himself, and continued toward the SUV.
What the hell? Has everyone lost their shit?
Jane’s chanting continued, but was slowly getting louder.
“Shut up,” Sarah said.
Jane didn’t.
“Shut up!”
When Jane kept looking at the ground, saying no over and over, Sarah moved in.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She shot her fist out fast in a right jab to the tip of Jane’s nose, then stepped back to the wall. Jane stumbled backward, her hands covering her nose, blood seeping out through her fingers harder and faster than before. Jane moaned and cried out. The chanting had stopped.
“What have you done?” Blair shouted from beside the SUV.
“I shut her up. She needed that. Hey, wait a second. Don’t ask me what I’ve done. What the fuck have you done? It’s your mother. You got me into this.” Sarah leaned against the church’s wall again, shaking her head. “Everything’s fucked.”
“No, Sarah. All you’ve done is piss her off. You don’t know my mother. Pain motivates her. She’s taunting you. You’re adding lighter fluid to a raging fire.”
“Oh goody. Maybe I should do it again. Would love to see Miss Lunatic here really mad.” Sarah widened her eyes and moaned like someone fresh out of bedlam. “Maybe even off her rocker.” She changed her face back to anger. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” She pushed off the wall and stepped closer to Jane who now had blood running down her chin as she cried. “I am going to kill you, Jane, with my bare hands, before this vest gets me. You hear me?”
“You’re not thinking this through,” Jane said, her voice sounded like it was coming out of a tin can now. “If persuaded, I can take that vest off you. I know how.”
“Bullshit. Why would I trust you? And even if you could take it off, what about the radiation? I’m as good as dead anyway.”
“They’ve got pills for that sort of thing.”
Blair was coming back from the SUV. In his hand was a man’s shirt. He had grabbed one of the dead men’s shirts to help blot his mother’s—his murderer’s—nose.
He stepped up to her and stopped. Before dabbing her face, he dropped the shirt. Concealed under the shirt was a weapon from one of Jane’s guards.
Jane gasped, looked down at the gun, then back up at Blair.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice hysterical.
Blair began to cry again.
“Oh my shit,” Sarah said. “Just shut her up already.”
“How could you think this would end any other way out here?” Sarah asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Blair and I are strapped to Kevlar death and it’s your fault. There are guns lying around. You can’t tell me you didn’t, for one second, see this coming?” Jane moved away from Blair and closer to Sarah. “Shoot her, Blair. End her lunatic rantings. I don’t fucking care anymore.” She waved a hand. “Unless you have a way out of this, Jane? If so, you better start talking.”
“Blair, honey,” Jane pleaded. “Don’t do this. You don’t want to hurt your mother.”
Blair raised the weapon as he stepped to close the distance between them, placed the tip of the gun near Jane’s forehead, and pulled the trigger.
The gun’s report was loud, but it faded fast.
Nothing happened. Jane staggered back a bit, but kept her hands on her nose, using the top of her shirt now to plug the wound.
Blair examined the weapon in his hand, aimed at his mother, and fired again.
“Blanks,” Jane said. “I gave all the guards weapons with blanks. There was no way I could risk one of them getting a shot off at Boris’ men. Boris would’ve killed me.”
“Oh my fuck,” Sarah whispered. “You had anticipated this.”
Blair dropped to his knees, crying. “I’ve failed as a man. I can’t even beat my mother when she wants to kill me. I’m useless. I’m a nobody.”
“You’re not a nobody, Blair,” Jane said in a cooing voice. “Sarah’s a nobody. At least you stood up to me. Sarah didn’t. She’s a nobody.”
“Yeah, I’m a nobody,” Sarah shouted. “No problem. Just watch how nobody kicks your ass.”
Sarah lunged. Jane was quick. She had seen it coming, calling Sarah on from the start. Jane stepped sideways, feinted left and as Sarah countered the move and lunged in with her arms open to tackle Jane to the dirt, Jane stuck her with something sharp. They fell in a heap of dust, hair flying in her face, and a pain that spread fast in her deltoid area, near the base of her neck.
“What the—” Sarah tried to say, but her mouth tightened and stopped her talking.
Quickly, Sarah’s body went limp. Jane rolled her off and got to her feet. Whatever it was worked quickly. It had a calming effect, a dull throb. Things stopped working all over her body. Her hands ceased movement, but she could still feel them.
Okay, this sucks. Hey, Sis, little help here.
Paralysis set in limb after limb as, out of the corner of her eye, Jane walked over to Blair and stabbed him, too, with whatever she had concealed in her palm. Blair fell over and lay spread eagle on the dirt, unable to move as well.
Only Sarah’s eyes moved.
What did you do? Sarah tried to yell, but her mouth didn’t respond.
“A very strong muscle relaxant,” Jane said. “I had it tweaked to work extremely fast.” She stepped into Sarah’s view. “All your muscles are so relaxed, they won’t respond to any commands for about two to three hours. If I start to notice you twitching, I’ll dose you again.” She smiled and Sarah saw all the psychosis for what it was. Absolute madness flashed behind Jane’s eyes. Whatever had hurt her in the past forever changed her to this new person. “Now, the tricky part. Getting you and Blair into the SUV by myself.”
Jane went to work on yanking Blair across the dirt. Without the luxury of being able to move, Sarah could only listen to Jane’s ministrations as she lumbered over her son’s inert body.
Instead of allowing panic in, she calmed her mind by listening, waiting. Vivian had taken over her body in the past when a chemical or drug commandeered her limbs. All Sarah had to do was wait for Vivian to stop this.
When the dirty bomb strapped to her chest blew, Sarah would die, but Vivian would never let Jane load her into the SUV and drive her back to Las Vegas. That would be tantamount to mass murder. Better the three of them die here, by this abandoned church than to be taken to Vegas where innocents could be included in the list of the dead.
After what felt like half an hour, Jane had worked tirelessly to clean up the scene and load Blair’s body, leaving Sarah to roast in the sun as it had moved westward, placing her face out of the shadows.
I don’t need a tan, Vivian. Any chance you’re around?
Something pulled her. She tried to look down, but couldn’t. Then she was sliding along the dirt. Jane had a hold of her ankles. This had gone too far.
Vivian, you started this. Take over my body and end it. Here and now.
But there was no response.
Fine. You want an apology? You want me to say I need you? Is that what this is about? If so, fuck you because these are real lives we’re talking about back in Vegas. You have to stop this. You can’t let innocents die because you’re upset with me.
The shadow cast by the SUV covered Sarah’s face. Jane had done it. She was about to load Sarah’s dead weight. In the time Sarah had waited in the sun, none of her fingers or toes had moved. There was nothing she could do as the muscle relaxant still held her body in its vice grip.
Jane wasn’t kind in her manhandling. At first, Jane lifted Sarah’s legs into the backseat, walked around to the other side, and climbed in. Then she proceeded to pull Sarah’s legs as hard as she could, forcing Sarah to bend backwards, her butt stuck on the lower edge of the door, her head going upside down and adding pressure to her neck.
Jane got out and walked back around to Sarah. She seized her under the shoulders, whispered a count of three to herself, then stood with Sarah whose legs were still inside the SUV, and forced her to bend at the waist as she pushed her in the vehicle. Sarah clumped down onto her thighs and found breathing difficult. Something was obstructing her diaphragm. She gasped a breath. Then another.
Jane shut the car door behind her and could be heard walking around to the driver’s side.
Sarah struggled to breathe. Her head lightened. She struggled and breathed again. Jane turned on the SUV.
One more breath. That was all she could get. Darkness clouded over her eyes, consuming the edges of her vision as raw panic set in.
Someone yelled.
Then she was shoved backwards and her airways opened. Instantly, she could breathe again. Her vision came back just as fast.
“Sorry about that,” Jane said. “Didn’t see you struggling there.”
Sarah’s back rested against the armrest of the SUV’s door, her legs across the seat in front of her. Vivian hadn’t stopped it. Vivian hadn’t come to her rescue. There were no words of wisdom or hope. Only silence from the Other Side.
Jane drove away from the church with her new dirty bomb device intact. Jane got what she had wanted. The bomb, the documents in the manila envelope to get her into the conference hall, and the perfect delivery system.
Someone once said something like a secret is a secret when three people know it as long as two of them are dead. Someone also once said: Hurt people, hurt people. Sarah should have considered that. Jane was smart. Jane was rich. But more importantly, Jane was hurting. And now dozens and dozens of people, if not hundreds, would be hurting because Sarah went along for the ride and wasn’t able to stop her.
This was Sarah’s fault. She had wanted to buy drugs. She had turned her back on Vivian. And when Jane revealed her issues and what she wanted to do in Las Vegas, Sarah agreed to come along in order to stop it. She had good intentions, but someone also once said good intentions pave certain roads one shouldn’t travel on.
She shouldered the pain, the blame. If she could go back, there were a hundred things she would do different. But she couldn’t go back. There was no tomorrow, only sorrow for the people left behind. Her loved ones, like Aaron, Parkman, and her parents. And all the loved ones of the soon-to-be dead at the convention in the Venetian.
Even if the maid from
the motel contacted Detective Collins with the note she had left in the sheets of her messy bed, would he show up at the Venetian? Would he know how serious Jane was and what she intended to do? No, he wouldn’t. He would be unprepared and probably die, too, because of Sarah.
Somewhere, deep down inside, as all hope was lost, Sarah felt a spark of life begging to be heard. An irrational voice in the darkness of her misery. There was still a way, the voice said. Focus, listen, observe, and take every opportunity to make this right and the chances of success would increase.
