“What are you doing, Karen?” Aiden’s voice filtered through the fog separating me from reality.
“I’m done. I’m tired,” I answered, voice monotone.
His hand moved into my line of sight, slowly taking the gun. “No.”
I was bereft, wanted to kick his ass for taking my way out. For removing salvation.
He turned me to the doorway, “If nothing else, there is your reason for living. He needs you.”
Brent held the lead rope, Five Alarm blindfolded, tossing his head. Brent said nothing as he walked Five into one of the corrals far from the smell of the carnage in the barn.
Five needed me, he’d been tortured, lost an eye and an ear, forgiving me when I couldn’t protect him. The least I could do was help him heal, live for the stallion who’d shown more courage than I did.
I nodded at Aiden.
I walked through the stalls, finding more equine and human bodies. They’d obviously forced all of them into the stalls, as the horses had been in the pastures. I wiped away tears, forcing myself to look at the carnage. They’d been murdered, either protecting me, or innocent as to the pure evil that stalked my property. The mutilation said Johnny and Jake, not the German government. They must have been waiting for a few weeks from the decomposed state of several bodies.
I’d seen much of the same thing in Iraq, and the sight triggered memories I knew wouldn’t stay buried for much longer. I gripped my temples, hands digging in my hair and pulling.
I heard the sound of whimpering. I paused to pick up Doc, the rottie pup. He was getting huge, almost too big to carry around. I stroked his fluffy puppy fur, burying my face in his neck. He smelled of concrete, and puppy. “Shhh, Doc, it’ll be okay.” In a stilted gate, I walked outside, unable to take more of the horrors.
The stench outside was worse than the stables and almost blew me over. Memories of battle became a slideshow on my inner HD, the smell familiar and nauseating. I was going to have to raze the entire property. Start over. Or sell it and move to a different location. Doc buried his nose in my chest. After the almost sterile air of the bunker for the past month, it had to be overwhelming.
I stopped at the backside of the house, mouth ajar.
“Did they use a damned rocket launcher?” I blurted.
In place of my beautiful, etched glass French doors, stood a gaping hole with signs of fire. Several similar jagged openings dotted the house, and as I followed it to the roof, I saw half of it missing. “What the fuck?” I was getting pissed, they’d gone a bit overboard. I’d have a little talk with the German government, they were going to pay for all repairs, even if I had to completely rebuild.
I welcomed the anger filling my skin. It was better than the sensation of a bleak future only moments earlier.
Inside, I picked my way to the living room, trying to hold in the sobs. It was a total loss, bodies hanging from the ceiling, some tortured, others missing limbs, one missing his head. Dried blood and bowel on the floors. I gagged and ran out.
Aiden stood on the front porch, grabbing me as I tried to sprint past him. He put Doc on the ground and held me as I vomited into the bushes.
“What the hell were they doing? Why wasn’t anyone sent in to clean up? What if those men have families, wondering where they are?” I cried, letting him hold my weight, unable to understand.
“It’s a message, don’t mess with them. Karen, honey, we’ll get it taken care of. For now, I think you should stay in town.” He waited for me to finish and left. He returned with a wet towel and some mouth wash. “Clean up.”
I nodded, wiped off my face and rinsed away the taste. How was I supposed to get anything in town? I’d lost my wallet ages ago. Luckily, I knew everyone, so it shouldn’t be hard to find a place.
I was wrong.
News spread by the Senator, in my absence, branded me a traitor to the United States government. It’d been retracted, but in tiny editorials, not like when it was splashed everywhere I’d done something wrong. Nevermind it was before I was born, or the Senator was the true perpetrator. I wondered if any charges were going to be brought against the jerk, but I knew the reality. He was too powerful.
I went home. The grounds were covered with big black government SUVs and cars. A lot of body bags were laid in neat rows, a command center set up, and crowds of people marched around, giving orders, taking orders, and cleaning the mess.
I heard someone yell, a scream of pain, and the rage of Five Alarm. Doc clumsily ran out of the stable, followed by six men with torn suits, two with bloody faces. For the first time in recent memory, I laughed. Five Alarm was getting his mettle back.
I raced to the stables as fast as my hip would allow, knowing the stallion’s trust was lost. He’d gained almost a hundred fifty pounds over the past month, looking more like his old self. But attempts to rebond led to a few fights.
I stopped at the doorway leading through the middle, and whistled long and low.
Turning to Aiden, my perpetual shadow, “Get me a rope and gloves, quickly. He’s going to charge in a few moments. Get everyone away from him, or they’ll end up hurt. Let me do this.” I pointed at door filled with what I needed.
Five’s hooves clattered on the concrete floor of the stables and he slid to a stop, facing me. I didn’t move. Aiden handed over the rope and gloves, stepping out of the way. I shoved my hands into the gloves, and prepped the rope, letting it out. I flicked my wrist back and forth, getting the feel of it. I’d have one chance, and Five, even underweight and weak, could run me down and cause severe damage.
I whistled again, watching his body language. His ear pricked forward, big body tense. He danced, snorted, turning again and again. He had to make up his own mind. I knew the millisecond he decided to charge me for freedom. I took a step forward, whistled a different chord and waited. He reared, scars a bright pink, reflecting the dim light of the stables. He charged.
I whipped the rope around, gaining momentum, and as he approached, I let the rope fly. It settled nicely around his neck as I pulled the rope against my good hip, turned sideways to take the hit, and dug in my boots, prepared to be pulled off my feet. I yanked hard, pushing my weight back. It succeeded in whipping Five Alarm to the left, and I spotted the hitching post. I pulled backwards, starting a tug of war I couldn’t win. I handed the end of the rope to Aiden, who tied the rope on the metal, getting out of the way.
Five turned his good eye to a man trying to sneak close. He charged and the man took off running. I released the rope and stood behind the hitching post. I untied it, wrapped it twice around the five inch thick metal, and used it like a pulley.
Ten minutes later, panting hard and shaking from exhaustion, I had Five tied to the post and no longer choking. Muzzled and haltered, I searched for something to blindfold him.
Aiden handed over his t-shirt, “Here, this should work for now. Good work.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and grinned.
“Thanks,” I gave a small smile. “Now comes the fun part. I have an old homesteader’s cabin on the other side of the property, with a two stall barn. I’ve kept it up over the years, and if I’m lucky, it’s still standing. No running water, an outhouse, but stocked with canned goods and clothing. I have to get him over there.”
Aiden winced.
After putting Aiden’s t-shirt over Five’s eyes, he calmed. I hated it. My glorious, beautiful, spirited stallion, brought low. Our bond, broken, maybe forever.
Emotions pulled in different directions. They filled me to bursting, I didn’t want them. I wanted to go away. I wanted it all to be over.
I knew what to do, what I had to do.
I threw myself into the void, into a place of pure static, a place I could survive. Where no emotion would get in the way. The place I went so many years ago to save the soldiers ambushed in a small hut, who needed someone able to kill without thought or worry. A place I’d kept close in case of emergency.
A place I wasn’t sure I could come back from, and remain intact.
I stayed hidden in the small cabin on the far west part of the property. Aiden guided the vet to the cabin, and he worked on Five, gelding him. The antibiotics and pain killers left him lethargic, his spirit gone.
Aiden stayed, refusing to leave my side. “The Colonel said to never leave, even if I had to hogtie you. Deal with it.”
My inner self was missing, hiding in the static foam I kept wrapped around me at all times. Time didn’t fly, nor did it crawl. It was normal, seconds turning into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days. The routine of rising with the sun, caring for Five, and living simply in the cabin, was a comfort in its own way. The day approached when the vet wanted to start weaning Five off the drugs. I wondered if his personality, the fire that was Five Alarm, would remain.
We found six of Five’s foals alive in a small gulley on the north side of the property, my lead mare, Fire’s Fuel, having kept them away from the stables. Aiden and I herded them to the small cabin area, hoping the companionship of other horses would help the rehabilitation of Five Alarm.
“When are you going to allow yourself to do the same, Karen?” Aiden leaned against the wooden posts, a foot on the first rung. He wore a t-shirt, jeans and boots, and baseball cap pulled low.
“Do what? I survived. I can walk normally, although it aches in the cold. We buried Chuck and the horses. The German government agreed to rebuild the ranch. That damned Senator is under investigation. I’m fine,” I turned to walk away.
He grabbed an arm, swinging me around. I should have been angry at being manhandled, but only logical thought remained.
“No, Karen. You should be grieving, you should be feeling something.” He brought his face close, the average brown eyes turning molten chocolate with emotion. “You’ve locked it away, as all of us do when we have to. But it’s time to release that static, it’s time to come back and face what happened.” The muscles in his jaw jumped, and the first sign of real anger skittered across his features. He went from nice looking to downright sexy. Too bad I didn’t have any girlfriends to introduce him to.
I raised an eyebrow, “Now you’re a therapist, huh?”
His nostrils flared, and he released me, only to clench his hands and stare at the sky. He ripped the cap off, threw it at me, and stomped away.
Shrugging, I let myself into the pasture, going to the lead mare, Fire’s Fuel. Five kept far from the small herd, not playing, or following natural horse instincts. He snorted when I stood ten feet away. He angled to see me better. I noticed his coat starting to return to its beautiful copper shine, and the weight gain. The scars across his face and side, the missing ear, all added to his beauty. He was a fighter to the end, an equine warrior.
On the outside, his health was returning, learning to live in a new world of only half eyesight, and unable to move like he used to. On the inside, I could see the fear, the need to survive driving him to stay as far from humans as possible.
I put a hand on Fuel’s neck, and she snuffled me before returning to grazing. I ran my hand along her silky bay hide, the smell and sound of horses soothing. In the back of my mind, the static foam sparked with color. Tendrils of fear snaked their way to the front, and I pushed it back.
I walked to the cabin, and found Aiden on a stool, elbows on knees, hands deep in his thick brown hair. It was a posture of defeat. Another spark of color in the static foam. Cracks and fissures began to work their way through it, and I couldn’t seem to stop the breakdown.
I fell to my knees in front of Aiden, putting hands on his knees. He looked up, and I gasped at the stark look in his eyes. “There is more, isn’t there.”
“There are a lot of loose ends, Karen. You aren’t safe yet. The reason Gage and the Colonel didn’t want you to read the notebook pertains to you.” He sat straight, gently taking my hands. “The reason you were being investigated …” he paused, taking a deep breath. “… is because Gage is the true demon. He recruited Johnny, Jake, and Rupert. That child you saved? It was his son, but his ex-wife had a restraining order. The boy was used as bait. But things went wonky, you were supposed to be the scapegoat, Karen.”
I sat back heavily, staring. The static foam disappeared and emotions roared through me. Too full, ready to combust, filled with pain and the need to scream. I’d been scarred, shoved through hell, and in the end, I was merely a pawn because they thought I’d known the truth.
The sensation of holding a tiny, innocent body against my chest, his fear palpable. An innocent child used as a pawn by the one person who should have been protecting him. The feel of Five giving everything because I demanded it, despite a gunshot wound. The slicing of skin, the tearing, the bites, the humiliation.
I shook my head, leaning back and crabbing to the far corner. I could feel my sanity fracture. Cracks lining the outside, the strength to hold it together leaving. Images of blood and death took my sight, and I screamed. I crawled for the bunk, scooting under it, curling into a ball. No more no more no more, circled in my thoughts as I realized all those deaths, the murders of good people, the mess left, were to put me in the hot seat. Beth, the sweet woman, who died as a message, her life leaving in arcs of blood. The little boy, going through a death defying throw to freedom. My attorney gunned down in a parking garage. My beloved horse maimed and scarred. The Colonel with his throat slit, those men shot, my home forever scarred with the carnage.
I found, in the depths of memories, the time Dad taught me to ride, started teaching me to train a horse. When Ringing Alarm was at her peak, a beautiful mare with shining potential. Not mutilated, tortured, and bloated from death in a stall. I stayed in that happy place. I held onto it with an iron grip, refusing to leave.
I wasn’t strong enough, and I knew it.
Chapter Twenty Seven
I regained lucidity in a hospital room, arms and legs tied down. I tested the leather straps, surrounded by a sense of lost time. I had an IV in my arm, hooked to a bag of clear liquid. A quick body check said I had tubes coming out of various orifices.
“What the hell?” I whispered to the quiet room. The door was closed and I couldn’t reach the nurses’ call button. “Hey! Someone get their ass in here!” I screamed at the door. Panic hit and I struggled, causing skin to tear, and blood to soak the sheets.
A nurse ran into the room, “Easy, honey, easy. It’s okay. You’re being strapped down for your own protection.” She checked the clear liquid, under the blanket and pushed a button. Within moments, several more nurses ran in, and one uniformed officer.
“Oh good, she is awake. Is she lucid?” he asked, and I recognized him from somewhere. He smiled and moved close to the bed. “Don’t really remember me, do you? I was there after the shooting in the parking garage in Denver.” His expression changed, becoming serious, and he reached to touch my hand. I jerked, eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, damn you must have been through some shit. Listen, I have to let them know you are awake, and I’ll make sure to come back, okay? Is that all right with you?” He took two steps back, body relaxed.
I nodded.
The nurses took off the leather straps, cleaning the wounds and blood. I wondered why they’d been put there in the first place. I saw my arms and stared in horror. I had healing scabs over almost every inch, gouges of flesh missing in places, my nails broken and filthy. I peeked down my hospital gown, and quickly dropped it.
“Where is Aiden?” my voice hoarse. A nurse gave me one of those ugly plastic cups filled with ice. All of them looked at each other, and I knew the expressions. “Let me guess, wait until the hot cop returns for details?” I glared.
“The ‘hot cop’ is more than happy to talk,” the officer answered from the door. I remembered his name, Kyle Rimergen, Aurora Police Department. But he wore a Laramie PD uniform.
“Officer Rimergen, I thought you were on the Aurora PD?” I pointed at the uniform.
“I transferred. I was shot twice and had enough.” He pulled a chair next to the bed. “You�
�ve been,” he waved a hand in the air, “gone for two weeks. Understandable considering everything you’ve been through. A lot has happened, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
I didn’t trust him. I couldn’t tell if it was my instincts firing up, or all the shit telling me not to trust anyone.
“Your friend, Aiden Middleston, has been taken into custody. Rupert managed to get the trial moved out another year, and,” he took a deep breath, looking to his right, “Gage is still unaccounted for. Apparently a notebook outlining everything was discovered in the rubble of your house.”
“Where are my horses and the puppy?”
He blinked several times, cleared his throat, “Someone named Brent Hayswood took control of them. Provided proof he worked for you.”
I nodded. I may have been angry at Brent, but he knew how to take care of the animals. He’d studiously avoided me in the bunker, yet I knew he’d ensure all the animals remained safe.
“They are desperate for you to testify, Ms. Karen.” He put a warm hand on my arm. “They want you to testify against Middleston, although I think they are arranging him to be a scapegoat.”
“Of course they are. I’m no longer available. What did they do with the Senator?” I met his hazel gaze, trying to find the static foam and wrap myself in it.
“Disgraced, the Germans are cooperating, as it is an international incident of unprecedented nature. Big media hoopla.”
“They are not to blame for this. I sure as hell don’t hold them accountable, except for the hiring of Wolfgang. Next question, how do you know so much?” I pointed at him. “You know an awful lot for a beat cop.”
“Good observation.” He smiled, and chills ran down my spine.
Oh, shit. I wasn’t strong enough to run, nor was I able to defend myself. I was a sitting duck.
“You see, Gage is my brother, Ms. Karen.” He reached behind and pulled out a large hunting knife.
The static foam wrapped around my soul, a welcome change.
Fractured Steel Page 13
