TAKING HIS SEED

by Zoey Parker

  “Marcus!”

  But he was turned around. Which way were the stairs? Which way was the bathroom? He felt around, but it was all the same carpet and empty space. No Marcus, no items in the room at all. Where were his couches? Where was the table?

  He crawled along the wall. If he kept going, he’d make it around the whole perimeter. That would take him to the bathroom and then the stairs if he just kept following the line of the wall.

  His hand reached to the wall again, and he almost fell when it landed on empty space. He’d found the door. The bathroom was so black, he didn’t want to go in, but he slid along the ground, feeling. The toilet, hot to the touch, the wooden vanity that almost burned his skin. He circled the room, but no Marcus.

  He kept following the line of the wall. It was the only way to stay on the right path. If he got turned around, it was all over. He crawled back out into the big room. He kept crawling and feeling around him. Now the sirens were getting louder. Definitely help was coming. Good thing because he didn’t think he could keep this up much longer. How long had it been? Felt like hours he’d been down here, breathing in the smoke and coughing and crawling along, but it was probably only a few minutes. A person couldn’t last very long in this smoke, so if he were still alive, it couldn’t have been as long as it felt.

  Then his hand hit something that wasn’t floor or wall. He felt in a circle. A leg. Definitely a leg. “Marcus?”

  No response. The leg didn’t move.

  Rowan crawled up the body to his head. It was Marcus, he was pretty sure. A brief thought ran through his mind—what if one of Abram’s guys who started the fire had gotten stuck and he was about to rescue him? But no, that was stupid, irrational thinking. His guys said Marcus was in here. Said he had gone to the bathroom and this body was very close to the bathroom. He wished he could see better just to be sure, but there was no time to worry about that now. If he rescued the wrong guy, he’d just choke him when they got outside. No problem.

  Rowan tugged on Marcus’s body and managed to drag him to the wall. Beside the bathroom was a small room that held the water softener and furnace, and some random boxes of old things he was storing. But in the room, there was a window. A small one, but a window all the same, and it was big enough that they could fit out of it with some help.

  He crawled a foot, then tugged and slid Marcus’s body along behind him. It was slow progress, but they were moving. He found the door. Something about feeling the door in a fire before opening it came back to him. Probably learned it ages ago in high school. This door didn’t feel hot. In fact, it felt somewhat cool in comparison to the heat of the room. So it should be safe.

  He reached up the door, and found the knob. He turned it quickly, but not quickly enough. He yanked his hand back, but it throbbed in pain. He couldn’t see it clearly, but it must be burned, the way it was hurting so badly. He had no choice but to press it against the floor to use as traction to pull Marcus into the room.

  Pain tore through his hand and up his arm. His head buzzed and he couldn’t tell if the black spots were smoke or he was about to pass out. He couldn’t hear anything now over the ringing in his ears.

  Some warning bell in the back of his mind said this was bad. He was about to pass out and they would die down here.

  But then Marcus’s body cleared the door. This room didn’t have carpet. It was still bare cement. Which made it easier to slide the body along. It also made it cooler by the tiniest fraction.

  Rowan stuck his foot out and kicked the door closed. Smoke still crept in under the door, but there was less in here than there had been in the main room. He collapsed to the ground for a moment, letting the slight cool seep into his body. He was so close now. But the window seemed so far away. Miles away from him.

  He had to stand. It was the only way to reach the window, and even then, it was still high. He pulled himself up, using his storage shelves. He inched his way along the shelves, his hand burning bright with pain every time he moved it. He stopped and pulled Marcus behind him every few steps. Was he getting heavier?

  The shelves ended and Rowan felt the brick wall. It was the coolest thing he’d felt in ages. This was the wall at the edge of the house, not an interior wall. On the other side of these bricks was dirt and cold earth, not flames and smoke.

  He reached up, but the spinning in his head made him stumble back. He fell on top of Marcus. And that was it. He couldn’t get back up. He wouldn’t be able to reach the window. All he could do now was lie here with his friend, his club member, and hope the firemen got to them before the flames and smoke did.

  He closed his eyes and let images of Becca flood him. His mouth pulled into a smile. Becca. Where was she now? Was she home or at work still? Was she sitting in her apartment with Emma? Were they doing something fun like coloring or playing with Emma’s stuffed animals while he was lying here, dying? He’d never see her again. Would she cry for him? Would she come to his funeral?

  That ass Abram had ruined everything. Had almost killed him. Though that led him to Becca, so maybe that had been okay. But now it seemed his angel had only saved him to give him a few more days. A few days to be with her and to see what love might be like. To know what it felt like to be cared for. He could love her. He could have loved her forever. But he was going to die because of Abram. If only she would appear again and save him.

  Maybe they would just take turns saving each other. She had saved him when he was dying on the road from stab wounds, he had saved her when the gunman showed up and threatened her. Well, okay, he’d protected her. She’d gotten away herself that time. But he had been there in case they came back.

  His eyes flew open. If Abram had sent guys to come for him again, why wouldn’t he send guys to go after Becca again? He found the energy to sit up. But the movement was too much. His head whirled and he leaned away, raising his helmet just in time to get it over his head before he threw up. Luckily, he’d not thrown up all over Marcus.

  He heaved and coughed and when he was done, wiped his mouth. The air felt cooler with his helmet off. It had protected him, but it had made things darker and his head heavier. Now he felt like maybe he could stand again. Maybe he could get them out.

  He forced himself to his knees, avoiding his puddle of puke, and crawled to the wall. The edge of the shelves was there. He reached out and grabbed them with both hands, forgetting all about his burned hand until the sharp agony shot through him. He cried out in pain and pressed the hand to the cooler wall. It did little to help.

  The window. It was close. He shuffled along the wall until he saw a square where the smoke was lighter. This had to be it.

  He reached up to the window and pushed. It didn’t move. Right. There was a lock. He couldn’t reach it, though.

  He had to turn around and get a box from the shelves. One on the floor would have to do. He couldn’t pick a box up in his current condition. He shoved one with his foot until it was under the window. Then he stepped onto it, his feet weighing a ton each as he forced his legs to move them.

  He stood and almost fell again. The room was spinning around him and the smoke was thicker up here. He hadn’t put his shirt back over his mouth and started coughing and could not get himself to stop. He fumbled and felt the lock. He barely had the strength to turn it, but he heard the click.

  Then the window popped open. He hadn’t even had to do anything. It just fell open. Was that right? He knew the glass tilted outward, but it’d never been that easy. He had to push it.

  “Rowan! Rowan!”

  He realized someone was calling his name. He blinked through the smoke and could make out figures. Now that the window was open, the smoke was swooshing past him, going for the new hole. But it also gave him some fresh air. He coughed again, but could breathe now.

  Someone grabbed his hand. There was another hand on his other arm and he was being lifted. He landed on wet grass and lay on his back, a coughing fit taking over him. He coughed so hard he threw up again, turnin
g his head just in time to avoid puking all over himself.

  He blinked through the smoke. He couldn’t see or hear anything.

  Someone grabbed him and pulled him. His back touched gravel and he stopped moving.

  The smoke had gone. He could see, but his eyes burned. He rubbed them and kept coughing. Cool water. Someone poured it on him. The cold was so shocking after the heat, he shivered.

  “Rowan?”

  He blinked at the voice. Who was there?

  “Marcus,” he coughed out. “Get him out.”

  “We got him. He’s right here.”

  Rowan couldn’t see.

  “It’s okay, man. Everyone is out.”

  Rowan fell back to the ground, the wet gravel sticking to his face. He closed his eyes. His work was done.

  Chapter 10

  Becca’s heart stopped. She had to grab the edge of the counter to keep from falling. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  Lucille was sobbing. She could barely speak and Becca was having a hard time understanding her.

  “Slow down, Lucille. What happened?”

  Becca realized she was getting looks from the two customers in the store. She hurried to the back and found her purse.

  “She was…backyard,” Lucille choked out. “Then. Gone.”

  “Did you hear her scream or anything? You looked for her?”

  “No scream. Looked everywhere.” Lucille was hysterical and Becca could feel her own panic approaching that point. She had to think.

  “You’re home?” Becca asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Becca hung up and dashed into the office where Penny was doing paperwork. She looked up, startled. But the look in Becca’s eyes must’ve told her something because her own eyes went wide.

  “What is it?” Penny asked.

  “Emma…” She choked on the words. Somehow, if she said them they would be more real. She wanted this all to be a nightmare. Maybe she’d sat down on her lunch break and fallen asleep and this wall all just a dream. “Emma’s missing,” she finally said.

  Penny gasped in shock. “Oh my gosh. What?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Yes, go.” Penny got to her feet, walking with Becca to the door, both of them hurrying along.

  “I’ll call you,” Becca said as she reached the door and pushed it open.

  Penny stood in the door way, watching her, shock still etched in her face.

  Becca didn’t know how she managed to get to Lucille’s. She didn’t remember getting into her car, pulling out of the gift shop parking lot, or making several turns. She fumbled for her phone. It took three tries to enter the passcode. When she finally did, she scrolled to Rowan’s name with shaking hands, trying to drive and not hit anything.

  She called him and his voicemail picked up. She hung up and immediately called back. Nothing. She didn’t want to leave a message, so she let her phone fall to the seat beside her.

  It had to be the same men who put a gun to her head. The men looking for Rowan. The men after Rowan, who’d nearly killed him. Oh God. What if they had Rowan, too? What if that was why he wasn’t answering? The thought made her cold.

  She tried to think about what was happening right now, but her mind kept jumping. What were they doing with her daughter? She pictured Emma’s little face, how it must be terrified, and the tears flooded her vision. Did she have Cuddles with her? Was she clutching her little friend close for comfort? Was she wondering where her mommy was and why she wasn’t there to save her?

  She had to stop the sobs so she could drive, but she couldn’t breathe anymore. Her chest hitched and when she saw Lucille’s house; she was so grateful she’d made it.

  She slammed her car into park and ran from the car to find Lucille. She was in the backyard, looking and calling out for Emma through her tears.

  “Lucille!”

  She turned and ran toward Becca. They met in a hard embrace.

  “I’m so sorry, Becca. I thought she was fine. She plays outside all the time and she’s fine. I just…I just…”

  “No, it’s not your fault.” Becca rested her hand on Lucille’s shoulder. “Did you call the police?”

  Lucille nodded. “They’re on their way.”

  Becca looked around the yard. There was no clear sign of struggle, but she didn’t really know what to look for. Trampled bushes? Damaged trees? Lucille’s yard was lined with thin trees on one side, bushes on the two others. Through the line of bushes were her neighbors and through the trees was a creek and then the backyards of other houses.

  “Which way did they go?” she asked.

  “They?”

  “The people who took her.”

  Lucille blinked at her. “You think someone took her?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I…I thought she just wandered off. Took her?”

  Could Becca be wrong? Maybe Emma had been playing and saw a butterfly or something and chased it? Could it be so simple? Maybe no one had her daughter at all. Maybe Rowan wasn’t answering his phone because he was busy. Or didn’t want to talk to her. Could life be so wonderful?

  “What happened exactly?” Becca asked.

  “I don’t know. Emma was out here playing. I went inside to get my phone and when I came back out, she was gone. I called for her. I thought she just wandered off.”

  “Maybe she did.”

  She was sure Lucille had checked, but just to be certain, Becca went to the trees and looked at the creek, up and down to make sure she didn’t see any sign of her. What had she been wearing that day? Think. Think.

  That morning they had cereal for breakfast. Emma still had on her pajamas and she spilled milk on them when she tipped the bowl to drink the leftover milk. Her pink kitty cat pajamas. They’d gone into her room to change, put the pajamas in the hamper and picked up…

  Her mint green shirt with a glittery heart on the front. That was what she was wearing. And black leggings. With her silver sparkly flats. She loved those shoes and Becca could barely manage to get her to take them off. “But they sparkle, Mommy!” she’d protested one night when Becca was trying to get her to take them off to get in the bathtub. “They don’t need to be cleaned,” she’d protested, which didn’t make any sense. Becca had pointed out that if they were sparkly and didn’t need to be cleaned, then she better leave them out of the tub, or the glitter might get cleaned off. That had been enough to make Emma immediately kick them off. She’d let nothing take away her sparkle.

  Becca looked up and down the creek again, making sure there wasn’t one of those sparkly shoes sitting on the shore. She walked back up the bank and crossed through into each neighboring yard. No sign of her anywhere.

  “I did look everywhere,” Lucille said.

  “I know you did.” Becca patted her shoulder. “When did the police say they were going to get here?”

  “They said right away, but it’s been several minutes.”

  Of course. To them, it was probably just a kid who wandered off. Not an extreme emergency. They’d be here soon, but likely wouldn’t come with sirens wailing, flying down the street.

  “I’m going to drive around a little,” Becca said. “Call me as soon as they get here.”

  “Okay.”

  In her car, Becca called Rowan again. Maybe she should leave a message? She called back and this time when the voice mail recording came on, she said, “Rowan, please call me back. It’s Emma and it’s an emergency.”

  She drove up and down the street slowly, pulling over when another car was behind her. She called out for her, but saw no signs of her. Not a shoe, her stuffed bunny, nothing. She turned around again and drove back.

  Would Emma even have wandered off? That seemed so unlike her. She liked Lucille and always looked forward to going to her house. She wouldn’t just leave without some reason. She wasn’t the type to wander off. Even in stores, she clung to Becca and would point and tug at her mother to go look at somethin
g rather than go over on her own. She was the type to cling, not to wander. So would she really have left Lucille’s yard to go exploring?

  As much as she wanted to believe it could be true, Becca had to admit it just didn’t sound like her child at all. Emma wouldn’t wander off. Certainly not so far that she couldn’t be quickly found. Certainly not so far that looking for her by car wouldn’t locate her. No. Becca had to face the truth. She’d been taken. And she’d most likely been taken by the men after Rowan. Though there was always the possibility Nick had shown up and snatched her. At this point, Becca didn’t know which would be worse.