Prove It!

by Susanne Matthews

  “Hello, son. This isn’t the way I expected our first meeting to go,” Jackson Porter said, chuckling, “but it works. Javier’s sorry about the bump on the head. I was going to deal with the wicked witch I married first, but maybe this is better. Taking you with me and leaving her alive to suffer the loss will be an even sweeter revenge. Sorry about the scholarship, but you winning it was never the plan. Once we’re away from this godforsaken country, we’ll have everything we need. You’ll be a prince. How’s the head? Javier didn’t realize it was you until it was too late.”

  Malcolm didn’t answer, almost as if he couldn’t understand what was happening.

  Hannah chewed her lip, certain that glazed look in his eyes wasn’t a good thing.

  “What did you do to Mr. Snow?” she asked, noting Malcolm had paled and yet sweat beaded on his forehead. Was he going to be sick?

  “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?” he said, shaking his head. “I gave him what he deserved. Nobody double crosses me, little lady,” the man answered. “It’s really too bad it’s come to this. All I wanted to do was scare the kid. If his times fell, then the odds would go up, and I would win even more. But he didn’t listen, and I was forced to act. Thanks to your father—yeah, I know who you are—the Howard boy survived. Another loose end. I was just going to get what I came for and leave, but that kid showed up.” He pointed to Erik, “Came up to Pete’s door, bold as brass, and asked to see him. I was going to get Pete when I heard a noise and, there the kid was, rooting around in the closet. I figured he suspected something, so I had to do something of my own.”

  Hannah winced. Was he going to have to do “something” to them, too?

  “Where was I? Oh yeah. This is what I get for putting my faith in others.” He paced between her and the twins. “You just can’t trust people. Peter owed me. I saved his ass in college and came to collect. He was supposed to be keeping tabs on Malcolm and his mother.” He shifted his attention from her to Malcolm. “I gave him the money to pay off the debt and instead of doing so, he insinuated himself into your lives. Even that ditsy wife of his realized he was in love with Natalie. My wife!” He screamed the words, making Hannah jump. “No one makes a fool of me.”

  “What are you going to do to us?” she asked, fighting to keep her panic at bay. This guy was definitely a couple of camels short of a caravan. Malcolm didn’t speak, and she looked over at him. He was greener than ever. Not good.

  “Me, to you? Nothing. Bowser here is going to lock up, and we’re leaving. Sooner or later someone will come looking for you. But I’m taking my son with me. A boy belongs with his father.” He turned to Malcolm. “Get up.”

  “I don’t feel so good,” Malcolm said and promptly vomited.

  “Can’t you see he’s really hurt?” Hannah yelled, her fear and anxiety almost overwhelming her. “He’s got a head injury, probably a concussion. He needs to see a doctor.”

  Jackson cursed. “Javier, I swear to God if she’s right, and he’s seriously injured, I’ll skin you alive.”

  The large man beside him cringed and looked down at his feet.

  “As far as my son’s health goes, don’t worry, I’ll see to it he gets the medical attention he needs.”

  Hannah doubted Malcolm’s father was going to let them live. They could identify him.

  Jackson shoved the large, silent man responsible for his son’s injuries.

  “Help him out to the car. You’re sitting in the back with him. If he pukes again, it’s all over you.”

  The thug nodded and half dragged, half carried Malcolm out of the mill.

  Jackson watched them go. He turned to the other man. “Do what you have to do.”

  He looked over his shoulder as he headed toward the door. “Sorry, kids. It’s nothing personal.”

  Hannah tried to free her hands and feet, but she was shivering so strongly, she couldn’t make her fingers obey. She remembered the word of the day in English class—zhaghzhagh. The Persian word referred to having your teeth chatter uncontrollably in the cold. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. Timing was everything. She would never forget the word now.

  “Don’t worry,” Bowser said. “You won’t be cold much longer. I’ve lit a fire for you.”

  He started to laugh, the sound of it ripping away the last vestige of courage she had. Horror filled her as the smoke drifted over to her. She craned her neck trying to see behind her. That’s what he’d been doing ... the dragging and scrapping had been him building a base for his fire. Whereas she’d thought they intended to let them freeze to death, he intended to burn them alive instead.

  “No,” she screamed. “Please don’t do this.”

  The man laughed. “Thorry, but you’ll be toathty warm in no time.”

  He left the sawmill, slamming the door shut behind him. Tears crawled down Hannah’s cheeks as the smoke increased.

  “Please don’t let it end like this,” she begged God and whatever other deity might be listening. The acrid smoke intensified, and she started to cough. “I’m sorry, Mari, I’m so sorry.”

  * * * *

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?” Liam asked. It had taken forever to get the wheelchair secured in the van and what little patience he had was long gone. Thankfully, there hadn’t been much traffic. “This is taking too long. They could all be dead by now.”

  “Hold onto your horses. I’m already speeding, and the roads aren’t exactly in the best shape. We’re almost there,” Larry growled, his voice indicating he wasn’t too long on patience either. “The police should be on their way by now, too.”

  Liam certainly hoped so. Every second that Hannah was unaccounted for terrified him. What if Malcolm had led them into a trap? If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

  “There’s a dark-colored truck on the side of the road up ahead,” Larry said. “It’s not a new model. Is that the vehicle we’re looking for?”

  “It could be. Mina said they’d taken Malcolm’s truck. He drives a darker model. That’s why the police suspected he might’ve been the one who hit me.”

  Larry pulled the vehicle onto the verge of the road and stopped. Within seconds, Mina came running back to them.

  “A red SUV drove out of there, not two minutes ago. It was going really fast. I doubt it was big enough to hold all of them,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “But there’s something else. Look.” She pointed up. Dark smoke rose into the sky.

  Larry inhaled deeply. Liam tried to, but he was in the back of the van well away from the open window.

  “That’s not just wood smoke,” Larry said and cursed again.

  Liam gasped. “The only way there would be smoke out here is if someone set a fire, and you can be damn sure no one’s camping out in this weather.”

  “Agreed. Get back into your car, Mina. Call 9 1 1, and anybody else you can think of. We’re going in there. If a car came out, we can drive in.”

  Without another moment’s hesitation, Larry pulled around the truck and turned up the logging road.

  “This is going to be a little rough,” he said as he increased his speed.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Liam answered. He didn’t care how bruised and battered he got. He had to know if Hannah was inside that burning building and prayed she wasn’t.

  When they arrived at the group of buildings that had once made up Pinehurst Industries, Larry headed straight for the old sawmill. Smoke poured out of it through the holes in the roof and the broken windows.

  “I’ve got to see if anyone is in there,” Larry said, stopping the car and jumping out. “Wait here.”

  “As if I could go anywhere,” Liam said through gritted teeth.

  Impotently, he watched his therapist run toward the building. When Larry didn’t come straight out again, Liam realized his worst fears had been confirmed. There was someone in that building and the odds are it wasn’t just one person. In his fury he kicked the chair under him with enough force
to make it bounce in its moorings. Stunned by what he’d done, he gaped at his legs until a light on the far side of the building caught his attention. Flames!

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he undid the seatbelt keeping him in the wheelchair and pulled himself upright. Impatiently, he pushed open the van door, and holding the overhead strap, he stepped down from the van. His legs were as wobbly as those of a newborn colt, but they held him. Gritting his teeth, he moved slowly but surely toward the smoke-engulfed building. Hannah was in there, and he would do whatever it took to get her out. Within seconds, he was at the door. Opening it, he hurried inside.

  “Larry,” he called loudly. “Where are you?”

  “Over here,” the man said. “I’ve got Erik and Mari. How did you ... Never mind. Hannah should be straight ahead about twenty feet from the door. Cover your nose and mouth. It’ll help.” Larry coughed. “Move as fast as you can. This place is a powder keg.”

  Liam pulled his scarf up over his face and moved unsteadily in the direction Larry had noted. He almost tripped over Hannah. Bending down, he scooped her into his arms.

  “Legs, don’t fail me now.”

  As if his body had finally gotten the message, he stood upright, the girl he cared for more than any other cradled against him. She coughed.

  “You’re safe, Hannah. I’ve got you,” he said and turned toward the door.

  He reached the exit at the same time Larry did. The therapist had the twins draped over his shoulders.

  “Looks like your brain found out you can walk,” Larry said and chuckled. “I was wondering how much longer it would take.” The air filled with the sound of sirens. “Here comes the cavalry.”

  “What about the coach and Malcolm?” Liam asked once they were outside, paramedics and firemen racing toward them.

  Larry shook his head and handed each of his burdens to the paramedics waiting with stretchers.

  “There could be a couple more inside,” Larry said to the firefighter who approached them. “I can’t be sure.”

  “Gotcha,” he nodded and called to those behind him. “Masks on. Let’s do a quick sweep. We may have a couple more in there.”

  Liam reluctantly handed Hannah to another paramedic.

  “You need to let them look at you, too,” Larry said. “Acrid smoke from who knows what isn’t the best for you either. Your lungs are still healing.”

  “I’ll be fine now.” He coughed. “Don’t worry.”

  “Let’s check you out just in case,” another paramedic put his arm around his and led him over to the Fire Department’s squad truck.

  “Wait until your folks hear about this,” Larry said, sitting beside him, shaking his head. “I may have to consider a career change. Letting you into a burning building wasn’t in your treatment plan,” Larry said and laughed before a coughing fit took him.

  Liam chuckled. “Maybe it should’ve been, but I didn’t run. I walked. Next time, I’ll run.”

  The paramedic covered his mouth and nose with an oxygen mask.

  The two ambulances pulled away, sirens blaring. Liam prayed Hannah was okay. He’d gotten her out, but had he done so in time?

  * * * *

  Hannah awoke slowly, her head pounding. Her throat ached as if she’d come down with the worst case of strep. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t. An IV line was attached to her left arm.

  “Easy does it,” Mama said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Mama?” she croaked. “You’re here.” She promptly burst into tears.

  “There, there,” her mother said, pulling her up into her arms, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

  The oxygen cannula pinched Hannah’s nose, and she winced. She wanted to ask questions, but was crying so hard, if she tried to talk, no one could possibly understand her.

  When her sobbing subsided and she was able to catch her breath again, she opened her eyes. She was in one of the hospital’s ICU rooms. The last thing she remembered was being so cold she ached, and then there was all that smoke...

  “How did I get here?” she asked. “I thought I was going to die.” Fresh tears filled her eyes.

  Mama smiled. “No, baby, you’re going to be fine. As to exactly how you got here, why don’t I let your rescuer explain it to you? In my books, he’s a hero.”

  She moved aside, and Liam stepped forward.

  “You’re walking,” Hannah exclaimed, too surprised to worry about her scratchy throat. “How is that even possible?”

  “Ten minutes, no more,” Mama said. “You both need sleep.”

  Her mother left the room, and Liam stepped closer to the bed.

  Hannah stared into his eyes, and then looked down at his legs, shaking her sore head from side to side, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

  “You’re walking,” she repeated. Had she dreamed it all—his accident, Coach Snow, Malcolm’s father? “How long have I been asleep?”

  He smiled. “About twenty-four hours. You inhaled a lot of smoke, more than I did, but they’ve kept me here for observation because of my previous injuries.”

  “But your legs...”

  Liam leaned against her bed and reached for her hand. “Yeah. Funny thing about that. It seems your father and Dr. Miller were right. A lot of it was in my head. Once the physical injuries were healed, there wasn’t any reason why I couldn’t walk. When you’re suffering from psychosomatic injuries, an equally devastating event and an incredible adrenalin rush can snap you out of it. In my case, it was discovering my girlfriend was trapped inside a burning building.”

  “Girlfriend,” she said shyly, her cheeks heating.

  “Yeah, girlfriend—that is if you want to be.” He bit his lower lip, and looked at her, giving her a shy smile that begged her not to shoot him down.

  “I’d like that.” She smiled in return. This was what she’d always wanted. Memories of what had happened flooded her. “Oh God, Erik and Mari. They were in there with me. So was Coach Snow. Are they okay? Did they get out of the sawmill?”

  “Mari is fine and out of danger. She’ll go home, like we will, in the morning. Erik has pneumonia, but he’s responding to the antibiotics. He’ll have to stay a bit longer. He had a nasty gash on the back of his head.”

  “Malcolm! Someone hit him on the head, too. He got sick to his stomach.” She suddenly felt cold and shivered. “His father took him.” She gasped. He’s behind everything.”

  “I know. He killed Coach Snow, Hannah. He was probably dead by the time you found him.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and Liam used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.

  “What about Malcolm?” she asked.

  “Mina gave the state police a good description, and they caught up with the SUV at the Canadian border. There was a shoot-out. One man was killed, and Jackson Porter was wounded. The other guy, a man with a lisp I’m sure is the one who drove the truck that hit me, is singing like a proverbial canary trying to get a deal. Mr. Porter won’t hurt anyone ever again. He’ll spend the rest of his life in jail. Malcolm’s just down the hall, and he’ll be here for a while. Mari hasn’t left his side. In fact, now that Erik’s on the mend, she’s giving Malcolm all her attention.”

  “He’s her hero,” she answered, shuddering as the memory returned. “When we opened the door to the sawmill, Mari saw Erik on the floor and rushed right in before we could stop her. She didn’t see the man with the gun, but Malcolm did, and he yelled to get his attention. He rushed him, even though the guy outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. The guy hit Malcom, and he dropped. I thought he was dead. The man’s name was Javier, and once Mr. Porter realized it was Malcolm, he was really angry. He threatened to skin the man alive. As big as that guy was, he was terrified and so was I.”

  “Mr. Porter had every right to be. Of course, if he hadn’t started all this, Malcolm wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place, and neither would any of us. That guy fractured Malcolm’s skull. His brain w
as swelling. If he hadn’t received treatment when he did, he might’ve died. What did he hit him with?

  “The butt of the gun, I think,” she said. “But the man with the lisp is the one who started the fire. He would’ve killed us all.” She swallowed. He’d come pretty close to succeeding, too.

  “Okay you two. That’s it for tonight,” Mama said. “Say goodnight.”

  Liam leaned down, kissed her softly, and then stood up. His eyes sparkled, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “See you in the morning. Don’t forget. We have a date on Friday night.”

  She frowned. “We do?”

  “Christmas dance, remember? Wait until you see my moves.”

  Hannah chuckled. “I almost forgot. Now, I can’t wait.”

  He winked. “Somethings are worth waiting for.”

  Hannah watched him go and sighed deeply.

  “Yes, they are.”

  She closed her eyes and settled in the bed.

  * * * *

  Six months later

  “Congratulations,” Malcolm said, patting Liam on the back. “I almost had you.”

  Liam smiled. “Four tenths of a second. Not too shabby.”

  “Hey, finishing that close to the fastest man in Maine? I’ll take it. But don’t get comfortable. The Olympics are three years away. I intend to be right there with you.”

  “You’re on,” Liam said, holding out his hand.

  Malcolm reached for it and shook it.

  “Guys,” Coach Morrison called. “Hate to break up your mutual admiration society, but they’re waiting for you.”

  With Malcolm at his side, Liam approached the dais. Despite everything that had happened, to him—to them—they’d come back. They’d faced death and won. A man he didn’t recognize approach the microphone.

  “They doing the big presentation here, now? Malcolm asked.

  Liam raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  “Good morning,” the man said. “I’m Henry Wells, chairman of the board of the New Horizon Scholarship Program. Thank you all for attending today’s race and supporting the athletes who competed. We thought it fitting to do this here. In view of circumstances that rocked the high school athletic departments statewide this year, the members of the board have decided to honor the two individuals who have shown great courage and determination. They defied death and fought their way back to physical health and the winners’ podium. To that end, and wanting to ensure their remarkable sacrifices are never forgotten, there will be two scholarships awarded today. Please put your hands together for this year’s winners: Liam Howard and Malcolm Porter.”