by Krystal Wade
Thank God.
“You want to help me?” Walter smiled. “I knew it. You’re so much better than him—”
Chris reached out, put his hand over the gun, and moved it away from Haley until Walter held it by his side, finger still on the trigger. “But you have to let everyone go.”
What? “No.”
No. No. No. Haley wouldn’t let Chris do this, not for her. Not for this man.
“It’s okay, Haley.” Chris stepped around her. “Walter and I are friends.”
“Friends.” Walter nodded and the smile disappeared, replaced by a frown, by anger, hostility, air rushing through nostrils.
Oh God.
“First lesson in being my friend: don’t stab me in the back.”
Walter aimed the gun at Chris’s foot and pulled the trigger.
“Son of a bitch.” Chris fell against the table Niles lay on and searched for air, wheezed, dragged in a breath, and shouted.
Haley was sick of Walter. Sick of insanity. Sick of people hurting her. Sick of standing still. Haley rushed Walter and knocked him on his back, falling with him, gasping for air, gasping from the pain tearing through her lungs and shooting up her arms. His head bounced off the concrete and he rolled to his side, gun against the floor but still in his grip. Gritting teeth, Haley struggled to her feet and stomped on his hand. She stomped over, and over, and over.
Walter swept his legs around and knocked Haley onto her back.
No air. None. All gone. Tears stung at her eyes.
Not giving up. Not giving in.
Hold your breath. Get up, get up, get up.
Walter stood over Haley and aimed the gun, arching an eyebrow. “You surprise me more and more every day.”
Christine ran into the room and swung the tire iron at Walter like she was swinging for the fences.
He turned and ducked, but she didn’t miss. The tire iron collided with his arm, and he shouted a long string of curse words as he dropped his gun.
Homerun.
Richard reached out with his uninjured arm and swiped the gun, then pointed it at Walter. “Who’s the fucking failure now, bitch?”
He shot and missed; the bullet disappeared into the wooden walls.
Walter laughed, through all that pain, through a broken arm, he laughed and turned his attention to Haley. “You’re sitting there and thinking you’ve won, you don’t need to get up, this is over—”
“Shut up, or I’ll shoot again.”
“Go ahead.” Walter didn’t break his gaze, didn’t falter, and took a step toward Haley, arm held to his chest. “But you’ll never win when you allow people to do the fighting for you. I’ve tried to teach you. Just get up, get up and kill me yourself. I’ll tell you where you can find her before I take my last breath.”
Click, click.
The gun was empty. No more bullets.
“What are you talking about?” Chris pushed off the table and hopped to Haley’s side, held a hand out, his face covered in sweat. Pain. Chris was in a ton of pain. “Get up.”
She couldn’t get up. She couldn’t move, breathe, or help but wonder what the hell Walter meant.
“Give me that.” Walter held his broken arm out to Christine, and she swung again, and again, and again.
“Fuck you.” Christine grunted as she swung again and hit Walter in his chest, in his legs, in his stomach.
She reduced him to a fetal position on the concrete floor of his torture chamber.
Laughing.
He had something. He knew something they didn’t. Something that meant more hurt, more abuse for Haley.
“Stop.”
Christine kept beating the shit out of him, his bones cracking and breaking, Walter wheezing and bleeding. Richard and Chris watched, faraway looks in their eyes as they both lost blood.
“Stop.”
“Why?” Christine raised the iron above her head and waited for Haley to respond, looking wild, eyes wide and alert, lips tight.
“Christine, please. Please, put it down; put it down before… Walter wants us to kill him.”
She glanced down at him then back up to Haley and dropped the tire iron. “Oh my God. What have I done? What…?”
“Chris, help me up.”
Chris held out his hand, and Haley took it, noting how sweaty it was, how shaky. She lost her breath on the way to her feet. The rib had to be poking a lung. Had to be. She’d die from this soon if she didn’t get help.
“Walter?” Haley nudged Walter’s arm with her booted foot. “Walter?”
Silence.
Who? Who did he have? Who did Haley need to protect now? What had she missed?
“Walter?”
“I’m alive.” He sobbed, laughed, sobbed, laughed and covered his face with his hands. He covered a smile, the sick son of a bitch.
“I no longer feel guilty.” Christine picked up the iron and stepped up to plate. “Tell me you have a good reason for me to stop?”
Breathe. “Walter, who will you tell me how to find with your dying breath?”
“Did you ever”—gasp—“wonder why the doctors”—wheeze—“couldn’t get in touch with—”
“Gran?” Haley’s heart jumped out of her chest and died on the floor. “You hurt Gran?” Not her. Anyone but her. Anyone. “You took her?”
He laughed again, gasping somewhere in the middle of the maniacal thing. “So you didn’t stop”—gasp—“and wonder? You really are a selfish little girl. You’re more like him, more like your father, than you’ll ever be of your mother. Such a shame.”
“Shut up.” Haley kicked Walter, then stomped his smug face and screamed, “Kill him.”
“No.” Chris grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
“Let me go.” She threw a fist at Chris and connected with his jaw. “Let me go. He took Gran. Gran!”
But Chris didn’t let go. He wrapped his arms around Haley and pressed her close, whispering things, things she didn’t hear, couldn’t hear. He took Gran. He took Gran.
Selfish little girl. Never thought about the implications of the doctor’s words: though I couldn’t seem to reach her.
“… don’t know if he told the truth.”
Chris’s heart pounded against Haley’s cheek, and his voice sounded muffled with her head pressed to his heaving chest.
“… wants to make you like your dad because he thinks you’re similar, but you’re not, Haley. You’re kind. You’re gentle. You’re amazing. Don’t give in. Your sister and Niles need you. We have to get them out of here.”
“Dude, don’t forget about me.” Richard was on his feet now, leaning against the wall. When did he get up?
“And I’m pretty sure I need an ice-pack, possibly a fucking medal of honor.”
Haley glanced down at Walter. He was out cold. “I did that?”
“I’d say it was a pretty good combination of you and Christine, but yes, you two are heroes.”
“I think the term is heroine, and at your service.” Christine bowed. “Now, can we get Niles and Joce and get the hell out of dodge?”
“What about Gran?” Shaking, Haley went back to Joce’s side and took her hand. “I’ve gotten Joce back, but what about Gran? I don’t have a clue where she is.”
“We’ll lock this place up, take the weapons, and call the police on our way to the hospital. You’re going to have to let them take care of this.” Chris slapped Niles’s face. “Wake up. Wake up because I don’t think any of us can carry you.”
“I’ll call the cops and go get the truck,” Richard said, stumbling out of the room with his cell phone in hand.
“I’ll watch Piece of Shit. I think that’s the best nickname I’ve ever come up with.” Christine slapped the iron against her palm. Definitely not feeling guilty for nearly killing him.
“I’m here, Jocey.” Haley pushed a greasy braid behind Joce’s ear. “I’m here.”
“Ha… ley.” Jocelyn’s chin trembled, and her lips and fingers and toes were all blue. “Cold.
”
Haley slipped an arm under Joce’s back and leaned her forward. “I know. I’m going to get you help. I’m here. I’m here.”
“Heard… I… sorry.” Joce tried opening her eyes, but the best she could do was squint. “He… forced… letters.”
“Shh. We’ll talk later.”
“Truck’s here. Cops are on their way. They told me not to leave, but I’m not sure I want to sit around and fucking wait in this place. My shoulder hurts like a mother—” Richard turned around and ran for the TV screens. “Haley, get over here. Is this your Gran?”
Haley couldn’t see the screens well enough from this side of the room. She strained. “I don’t know.”
“Go. I’ll help Joce.” Niles pat Haley’s shoulder. Niles.
Never had the sound of his voice made her thrill this much. Never had she wanted to cry like this, had heat blossomed all over her face and a sob get stuck in her throat. Never had she imagined she’d throw her arms around him and squeeze the hell out of him and say, “I’m so glad you’re alive. And I’m so sorry.”
Haley met Chris’s eyes, and he looked away.
“Right. Okay.” Haley let go of Niles and held out her hand for Chris. “Come with me. I’m not sure I want to see what’s on that screen.”
He laced his fingers with Haley’s and squeezed, then limped with every step and yanked her arm to get across the room. She didn’t care as long as he held her.
“Here,” Richard said, pointing at a screen on the top right. “Looks like a bunch of boxes, like she’s in a warehouse.”
Haley gasped. “That’s Berkshires.”
She looked back at Walter and wanted nothing more than to murder him, but she headed for the door instead, leaving him in a heap, passed out. Haley left him for the police.
“I’ll grab the gun,” Richard shouted.
Christine smiled and pumped her weapon over her head. “I’ve got the iron.”
“Should we tie him up?” Niles asked, supporting Joce with his shoulder and sneering at the man who held him captive for five days, the man who tortured him.
“Leave him.” Christine pushed everyone through the door, then turned and locked it. “The cops will be here any minute. Let’s go get Gran.”
Everyone followed Haley up the stairs. The procession took at least five minutes with all the injuries, the weaknesses. Christine looked like she wanted to throw them all over her shoulder and carry them to the truck, chewing on her bottom lip and glancing at them, then toward the exit.
Haley stepped out of the cellar and into the night, then wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to shiver.
“Come on.” Christine took the driver’s seat of Richard’s truck.
Niles, Joce and Richard shared the others, while Chris and Haley climbed into the back and pressed as close to the cab as they could get, huddled together. The temperature must have dropped thirty degrees when the sun set, and a bitter wind bit at their skin.
Drive, Christine. Drive faster.
Several cop cars passed, lights on and sirens blaring.
Christine opened the window between the cab and the bed of the truck. “How you doing back there, Haley-loo-boo?”
“F-f-f-f-reezing.”
“Yes she is at Berkshires.” Richard leaned his head back. “Haley, do you know where at Berkshires? The cops are there and say she’s not.”
“W-w-w-hat?”
“That was the storeroom.” Chris pulled Haley closer and pressed his head against hers. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Who was he telling?
“Yes, I know we’re stupid for leaving, but you didn’t see the place. You’re also not suffering from a goddamned gunshot wound, missing half your blood—is she still awake? Keep her awake!—wheezing from broken ribs poking your lung, nor are you hanging out with Wonder Woman.” Richard threw his cell phone onto the dash. “They told us to go straight to the hospital.”
But they defeated Walter. Right?
They were taking charge. Going to get Gran. They fought back and survived.
A white pick-up truck rear-ended them.
Time slowed.
Haley flew out of the bed of the truck.
Time stopped.
She hit the ground and saw stars.
Haley couldn’t breathe.
Where was she?
Lying on her back, in the grass.
How long had she been here?
Nothing around but dark outlines of trees, moist, brown leaves and pine needles, and a far-off glow of white light.
“Haley!” Someone called her name. Who? Why was she here? “Ha-ley.”
Walter.
Haley rolled to her side and pulled her knees up. She tried to scream but couldn’t. Something thick and dry filled her mouth. A gag. Haley was gagged. When did he gag her?
“Did you know that PCP is an analgesic and disassociates pain from regularly functioning thoughts?” Walter placed his foot on Haley’s arm and rolled her back over. He smiled; blood covered his teeth. “Scientists researched it to use in surgeries as an early form of anesthesia. But the drug had terrible side-effects. Women fried their babies in cooking oil, some patients pulled out all their teeth, while others took pictures with polar bears, or sat in front of trains. They felt like superheroes, invincible. And to some extent, they were. Unless they did something like get eaten by a bear or hit by a train. You can hurt me when I’m using the drug, Haley, but you can’t stop me. You can beat me, break my ribs, my nose, but I won’t feel it.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She searched for Christine, Richard, Joce, Niles, and Chris… but nothing but darkness surrounded her. Darkness and trees and ferns and leaves and cold.
And Walter.
“I bet you’re wondering where all your friends are.” He glanced back. “I’ll go get them… right after I sit you up.” Walter grabbed Haley’s shoulders and slammed her back against a tree, knocking the wind out of her lungs once more. He secured zip-ties around her wrists, then disappeared into the darkness.
She writhed, screamed into the gag and pulled at the zip-ties, heart pounding, so fast.
“You’re wasting your time, Haley.” Walter carried Christine and propped her against a tree about ten feet away. She had a cut over her eye, a bruise on her cheek, duct tape over her mouth and zip-ties on her hands.
No.
He left, the darkness swallowing him whole, then came back with Joce. She wasn’t tied up or gagged. She was pale and not moving.
No. No. Haley stared. She tried not to show fear but cried uncontrollably, ignoring the fucking pain in her chest. That didn’t compare. Did. Not. Compare.
Walter returned with Niles, who fought and struggled and cursed, and Walter flung him against another tree, kicked, and screamed and raged and threw punches until Niles was quiet. Now, Niles wasn’t moving.
Haley couldn’t watch, but she had to. She had to face what she created, what she could have prevented if she’d gone to the police that first day. Joce and Dad would have suffered but no one else. Not like this.
Walter returned again with Richard, a silent, pale Richard. Then again with Chris who sat wide-awake, tied, gagged, and staring at Haley. He held her gaze and told her so many lies with those eyes. She wanted to believe; she wanted to believe they’d all made it out and this was just a dream.
Just a dream, dream, dream.
Wake up.
Chris shook his head—Was he telling her not to watch? Was he saying he forgave her for dragging him into this?—and Walter shot him in the leg. Chris lurched forward and screamed into his gag, face red and veins bulging, and Haley pulled against her restraints, fighting to get free, to get to Chris, to do something. Anything.
“Be right back.”
Walter returned with Gran, Gran who looked at him like the piece of crap he was. Gran who noticed Haley and nearly crumpled. Gran who squared her shoulders and didn’t make a peep when he slammed her to the ground.
Haley cringed, not
sure if she could handle watching him bring Gran any harm.
“Nice trick I played on you with that TV screen. Oh, sure, she had been there, but when I tracked your movements via your cell phone and knew you were coming to me, I thought I should make a trip to pick her up. Poor thing didn’t enjoy sitting in the bed of my cold pickup, but she’ll be over all that soon. You love her, don’t you?”
Haley shook her head. No. No. No. She forgot to ditch the phone like Chris had said. She’d be responsible for all their deaths, for all their injuries, for Gran.
“Sure you do.” Walter shot Gran in the leg, too.
Screaming, Haley fought to get up; she pulled and pulled and pulled until the zip-ties cut through the stitches in her arms and blood ran down her hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off Gran. Gran who rocked forward, hands pressed to her bleeding thigh. Gran with her teeth secured on her bottom lip.
Gran, so strong.
Walter stepped in front of Haley and blocked her view. “So much fun.”
Must watch Gran.
Must not let them die.
Joce. Joce.
Chris.
Oh God.
“… but I thought this would be so much better, such an easier way to harm Mr. Charming—and you for crossing me.” Walter knelt in front of Haley and grabbed her face, forcing her to look, look into his horrible, cruel gray eyes. “I’m going to kill every single one of them in front of you, and I’m going to make sure it’s slow and painful. And I’m going to make sure you watch. I’m going to let you live, let Mr. Charming live. Live with the guilt, the pain, the knowledge you could have stopped this. Your mother would want this. She’d want that man dead, and she’d want her employees avenged. And she’d want her piece of shit daughter taught an important lesson.”
Haley pulled away from Walter and closed her eyes.
He slapped her. “Open up, bitch.”
God, he planned to kill them all, and she couldn’t do a thing, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Haley couldn’t even tell them she loved them.
Please. Please, Mom, God, whoever, please help.
Walter paced the circle of trees, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Who should I shoot next?”
Me. Shoot me.
