by Dan DeWitt
She barely paid any attention to what he was saying on the phone. She was only looking for a weapon. He was sitting so close to her to make it easier to swing the phone back and forth between them. If she had even a nail file, she could jam it in his eye. But the table was empty and she had just gotten out of the shower.
Then it clicked. Look where he's sitting.
It would have to be soon. It sounded like the call was winding down.
She wished that he would stop paying attention to her. Although his face was turned toward the phone, his eyes kept darting back to her. She willed her husband or Ethan or anybody to keep him talking.
Then the doorbell rang.
Her eyes flicked to the clock. Right on time.
This definitely caught Trent by surprise. He whipped his head to the front door, but Jackie didn't have to. She knew who it was. Her leg acted on her behalf, and in the split-second before it connected, she hoped for the first time in her life that her husband hadn't kept a promise to her.
Her heel connected with the leg of the chair, and she knew in an instant that it was still broken. It gave with little resistance and the chair collapsed under Trent's weight. He yelled as he fell backwards, but Jackie was already pressing her advantage. She stood up, grabbed her chair back and whipped it over her head like she was trying to ring the bell and win a prize. The chair connected with his shoulder and exploded into fragments. The only piece that didn't go flying was the spindle that Jackie was tied to. She got a grip on it, intending to send this bastard to Hell.
Trent was already recovering, and Jackie couldn't get the fatal wound that she wanted.
He managed to spit out, "You fuckin' bitch!" Before she struck again. She swung the spindle sideways at his gun hand and only managed to dig a deep furrow in Trent's cheek. His face absorbed most of the force of the blow and it was ineffectual by the time it reached the gun. He held it tight and raised it in her direction.
Jackie knew that if he got a bead on her, she was dead. Then he would go after her family. She had no choice but to throw herself top of him and pin his arm with all of her weight. This left her completely exposed to his other hand. He grabbed a fistful of wet hair and yanked her head back, trying to get his hand free. It was agony.
The doorbell rang again. Jackie screamed, "GRACIE!!!" while she tried to drive the spindle into Trent's stomach. She wanted to feel that sharp piece of wood slide through him until it scraped tile, but she had no leverage, and couldn't cause enough damage. She fought like a demon to stay on his arm. He realized that he wasn't going to get the gun free anytime soon, so he changed tactics. Instead of pulling her head back, he put a palm on the back of her head and drove it forward.
Jackie realized what was going to happen too late. She felt her face smash into the bottom of the cabinet, then again. Stars exploded in her eyes and she tasted blood. All of the strength left her and she nearly went limp. Trent got his gun out and pressed it to her temple. "Let's see how your boys feel about watching your execution on camera, bitch."
Jackie couldn't be sure, but she thought that she heard a bottle breaking followed by Trent shrieking like a gutted animal.
O
A lifetime in banking (as much as a lifetime can be for a twenty-nine-year-old, that is) had taught Gracie Treadwell several good habits: a respect for money, the value of proper wardrobe, and that everyone loves a punctual person. When she was off the clock, the first two definitely suffered from time to time. She had been known to splurge on something completely fleeting and useless, and her knockaround clothes were often a disaster, but she was always on time.
She wouldn't know it for a few more moments, but that particular habit would save a life.
She and Jackie Holt had spent an increasing amount of time together in her husband's absence. What began as an awkward meeting about the extensive savings that he'd been hiding had evolved into a friendship. Gracie had few friends in this town, and Jackie had fewer (even though it was her hometown, her friends from school had either moved away or they'd grown apart), so it was a stroke of luck that they just happened to enjoy each other's company.
This was their weekly movie date night. Gracie had swung by a Redbox for a rom-com and picked up some snacks and the makings of boneless buffalo wings. She had a lot that she wanted to talk about, including a recent disastrous conversation on match.com. She got to the door precisely at the top of the hour and rang the doorbell. Jackie had already told her that she was welcome to just walk in, but Gracie had never been comfortable doing that with anyone, including close family.
After the doorbell had faded she heard a crash of some kind. She looked over her left shoulder into the street, and then the right, expecting to see a fender bender or someone taking out a stop sign. But the street was quiet. She could hear some noise inside now, and it sounded like maybe Jackie was moving furniture. Gracie tried to look through the windows, but all of the shades were drawn.
"Hmmmm," she said, and rang the doorbell again.
This time there was no confusing what she heard. It was a desperate cry, and it was her name.
She tried the door handle, but it was locked. She yelled, "Hold on!"
She tried to break the door down with her shoulder, but she didn't have enough mass behind it to break the deadbolt away from the frame. She instead opted to break the glass. She was wearing a heavy pea coat, so she smashed the glass with her elbow. She reached through and fumbled around for the door lock and the deadbolt, taking a few cuts on her hand in the process. "Come on, come on!"
After what seemed like an hour, Gracie got the door unlocked. She went through it, and instantly an alarm started blaring. She supposed that was good. Let the cops come, and please be quick about it.
She got into the hallway and saw a man assaulting her friend in the kitchen. It looked like he had a gun to her head, but he hadn't seen the visitor yet. She ran at him, keenly aware that she had no weapon, and also that she was still carrying a bag of groceries. She reached in and found what she wanted on the first try. The glass was cold to the touch after being exposed to the nighttime air. She grabbed it by the neck and swung it against the man's face as hard as possible.
She meant to take his head clean off.
Instead, the bottle of extra hot buffalo sauce erupted and coated nearly his entire face. Both of his eyes were completely covered. The unbroken remains of the bottle continued through and ripped his face up. The reaction was immediate and one of horror. He shrieked. It was one of the most satisfying sounds that Gracie had ever heard.
Then she heard a gunshot and a white hot pain coursed through her shoulder and back, and she was staggered.
Her intervention had not only done a good deal of damage, but it had bought her friend the time she needed to regain some of her wits. Jackie still held the spindle. She spun and finally was able to jam it home. She was aiming for his armpit, but she was still woozy and only succeeded in driving it deep into his side.
He dropped the gun and it was kicked away by one of them. This was completely by accident, as none of the three had any type of coordination to call on. One was nearly unconscious, another was blinded by pain, and the third was simply blind, however temporary that may be.
Trent managed to extricate himself from the pile of bodies. He wiped the sauce away from his eyes with his sleeve. The pain was excruciating, but he could make out vague shapes. He had lost his weapon and was both wounded and outnumbered. At any other time, he would've stayed and killed them anyway, but that alarm was the deciding factor. He sent a blind kick into someone and heard a whoof of pain. He used his hands to guide himself out of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to taunt Jackie. Her hand shot out blindly and disappeared between the dishwasher and the cabinet. "You're already dead, you and your family. I'm going to cross everyone off of the list, anyway. You -”
Jackie's hand reappeared, and Trent's bravado evaporated when he saw the barrel pointed at him, wavering, but not as much as he would have liked.
>
Jackie, nearly unconscious, managed to croak out, "Fuck. You." and fired four times before collapsing backwards.
Trent felt two impacts, one in his side, the other in his thigh. His leg collapsed beneath him and the last two rounds sailed over his head, missing him by inches.
Trent rolled out of the doorway. He half-crawled, half-lunged to the open door and into the night.
Gracie put her hand on her shoulder wound and could feel too much blood. She was already getting lightheaded.
"Oh, my God, Gracie ... " Jackie's voice was so far away, but Gracie thought that couldn't be right, because she felt hands pick her up off the floor and cradle her. Then she felt a different kind of pain in his shoulder, like the pressure was gradually increasing. She was aware of this new sensation for only a few seconds before passing out. The last thing she remembered hearing was, "Come on, where the fuck are you???"
O
A soon as Orpheus heard the house alarm, he knew that whatever that Trent fucker had planned for had been completely blown up by the unexpected guest. He told Fish to call 911 and Tim to call Trager. His phone was tied up, and he certainly wasn't going to disconnect the call. Whatever had happened, someone had gotten the best of Trent. He'd retreated. Now, the only question was what kind of damage he had done.
"Jackie!" He barked as loud as he could to be heard over the house alarm. "Jackie! Talk to me!"
He repeated this several times and got no response. His heart sank.
The view on his phone changed, and he was looking at his wife. Her face was bloody and swollen, but she was alive. "I'm here, Cam! I need your help!"
"Jesus Christ, are you okay? Are you armed?"
She was clearly struggling to keep her head clear, and she spoke in clipped sentences. "He's gone. Shot him. Need your help."
Tim gave him a thumbs up. "Cops are on their way, honey. Hang in there."
"Not me." She turned the phone around and Orpheus saw the prone form of Gracie. Jackie's free hand was pressing a dish towel to Gracie's wound.
One look told Orpheus that it had hit an artery. "Oh, my God."
Jackie was on the verge of tears. "I can't stop the bleeding! Where's the fucking ambulance???"
Orpheus knew that only one of them was allowed to panic. Jackie had held him together on enough occasions, now it was his turn. He spoke to her calmly. "Listen to me. There still an orange paracord lanyard hanging on the mail thing in the kitchen?"
"Yeah. Getting it." She hastily propped the phone up so she could reach for the lanyard without taking the pressure of Gracie's shoulder. "Got it."
"Grab something long that won't snap easily."
She produced a wooden spoon from the drawer above her.
"Good. Good. Now you're going to make a tourniquet."
He walked her through the process, and she was a quick study. "Help can't be more than another minute or two out. Keep that tourniquet on there. Don't think that you need to check, just keep it twisted. That can only hurt her chances, understand?"
She nodded at the screen, but she wasn't really seeing it.
"Jackie, listen to my voice. You're going into shock, and that can't happen right now. Talk to me."
When she didn't immediately respond, he repeated it with much more force, "Talk to me, goddammit! If you go into shock, that tourniquet slips and she dies! She needs you!"
She licked her lips and inhaled deeply through her nostrils. She was coming back. "I'm here. I'm here."
"Good. Just keep talking."
"About what?"
"Doesn't matter. Tell me what a dummy I am half the time."
She blurted out something that was equal parts laugh and cry. "Half?"
"There you go."
Jackie reacted violently to something off to her right, and Orpheus was afraid that Trent had changed his mind and come back to finish the job. It was only the police, and they had a paramedic with them. The first thing they did was get her to relinquish control of the tourniquet. The paramedic counted to three and took over before beginning his own treatment.
A police officer knelt down next to her and asked her if the attacker was still in the house. She shook her head and said that she didn't think so. He said that they would do a quick search and then tend to her. She said something that Orpheus couldn't quite make out, but judging by the fact that the alarm mercifully fell silent, it had to have been the alarm code.
The two officers disappeared to make sure that Trent was gone, and were back at her side within thirty seconds.
In those thirty seconds, Jackie Holt had forgotten all about her husband. She hugged her knees to her chest and convulsed with uncontrollable sobbing. Orpheus' heart broke for her.
Orpheus looked over at his son. During all of the events on the island that he was aware of, Ethan had kept from descending into the darkness. Now he saw a look that he'd never seen before.
Someone had pushed him too far, and it wouldn't end well for that man. Not at all.
As for Orpheus?
He was familiar with that look. He was pretty sure that he was wearing it right now.
O
Martin Trager had come through, once again. Tim said that Trager hadn't even hung up with him before he was on another call to his security team and dispatched them to the Holt household.
Trager had called him after things had calmed down. His call had found Orpheus in his office, if not wasted, then surely too drunk to drive. He'd never had a day like this in his life.
"Jesus, man, drink some bottled water, would you? We need you shipshape. It feels like things are coming to a head. Again. Yay."
"Get me off of this fucking island, Marty. Right now. I need to be with Jackie."
"Jackie's being taken care of. She's safe. So, no, I'm not going to do that."
"Maybe you didn't fucking hear me. That wasn't a request."
Trager kept his voice calm, measured. "Yes, it is a request, and one that I just denied." He paused to allow Orpheus to swear at him for a moment. "Listen, Holt. Just listen for a second. If I let you off of the island on some revenge trip ...”
"I just want to see my wife."
"Yeah, that, and then you want to find this asshole and kill him, and then kill the assholes above him. I let you off the island, guess what happens? The other four follow you, because I can't legally stop them from giving up their commissions. Then all of you go to war with people we don't even know about yet, the entire island op gets fucked up, and everyone you know and care about is put at extreme risk. Including your wife, again. Is that really what you want? I'm saving you from yourself right now. Hate me if you want, but you're staying put for the time being."
Orpheus drained the small amount left in his glass and slid the empty away from him. He allowed himself to calm down and consider what his friend had just said. Orpheus didn't like it, but Trager was right. "How is she?"
"Jackie's ... better than I thought she would be. I tell you man, she's a warrior. She has a fracture in her orbital socket. The swelling and bruising makes it look worse than it is, although she's in a lot of pain."
"Painkillers?"
"No thanks to the doctors, I can tell you that much. The shit they gave her was offensive. It just so happens that she knows a guy who can get her better stuff which, coincidentally, will help her sleep."
"Mentally?"
"She went through the wringer, but she seems to be pretty accepting of it all. In my experience, those are the people who bounce the quickest and the fullest."
"Thanks." Orpheus was afraid to ask the next question. "What about Gracie?"
"She's going to be okay. Her arm's messed up, but she, and I quote, 'should eventually make a full recovery.' She busts in, save's your wife's life, and the debt is repaid five minutes later. That's good karma. And, just between you and me, a couple of bad bitches. She's under guard. Jackie's staying at my place, and I've added security." This comforted Orpheus, because he'd been to Trager's home on a couple of occasions. In additio
n to it being huge, it was like a fortress.
"What about her parents?"
"I have guys tailing them, but I think they're out of play."
"I do, too."
"Did I forget anybody?"
Orpheus had given this a lot of thought. "If this is a revenge tour, I think we need to warn Ethan's friends from the island."
"You mean the gay guys?"
"Yeah. From what Ethan has told me, they were involved, too."
"Just get me names and a number and I'll fly them out. What if they resist?"
"Ethan assures me that just telling them about Trent being alive will probably be enough."
"Got it. I'll have them stay at my place, too. They'd better not criticize my design sense."
"Marty, I appreciate all of this."
"No worries. I mean that shit seriously. Don't you worry about what happens over here, because I'm on it. You just work your angles there while I handle things here. Any ideas?"
"We did, but it feels like I'm pumping a dry well right about now."
"I'm sure you'll come up with something."
Missing Pieces
Now that they'd been fed, Jen and Lena were back in the lab, going over the late doctor's stuff once again. Lena had learned all that she could about the chip for the time being, and was only waiting on word from her friend to see if she could cast any further light on it. Now she was attempting to crack the doctor's computer, but his password was being stubborn.
Jen was still going over the address book, and was growing increasingly frustrated. "This is dumb. I'm tempted to just start calling these numbers."
"You're that bored, huh?"
"Desperate is more like it. I'm at a dead end. I know that the chip does something. I could even guess at what that something is at this point, but knowing what it does doesn't help us fix it. We need to know how it does it."
