Matt felt the first sock peel off Rheese’s foot. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t feel them. It was as though they didn’t exist. But then he became aware of Rheese’s closed right eye. It hurt and had stinging sweat and blood in it. He imagined that he could somehow control Rheese’s right eye in the imprint. In his head, he said, Open up, eye!
And it happened. Impossible, but it happened. No, wait, wrong eye. That must have been when Rheese opened his left eye. I didn’t have anything to do with that.
Through the left eye, he watched himself pulling off Rheese’s other sock. But then he suddenly realized something. With his own right eye he could see the darkness of the sock on his face, and a bit of light from the side. And he could smell it! Ripe and disgusting.
Left eye: view of Matt standing up . . . fading. The imprint was sliding into dark space.
Right eye: the sock sliding off to the right. He could even feel it on his face. This was unprecedented. That was at least four senses of his own body that he was able to use while still reading an imprint. His body returned to him completely, and he turned to see Rheese, dirty, battered, and exhausted, right beside him with the sock in hand.
“Fando ran off, lad. We need to get out of here before he returns.”
Matt glanced around—their clothes were gone. “Can you even walk?”
“It bloody hurts, not sure what works. I . . . I might be bleeding inside . . . and I think bad things happened to these back ribs . . .” He reached around under his arm and winced from some tentative probing. “And this bleeding—I don’t know . . . I need a hospital.” He poked beside the knife’s exit wound on the inside of his calf, then pulled his knee inward to see the other side.
“Tie that sock around it for now,” Matt said, and Rheese complied without hesitation. When he was done, he reached behind him. His hand reappeared with the opal cradled in the palm. “At least you kept that.”
Rheese looked at it. “It’s something, I suppose, for all this.”
“You’re probably imprinting on it right now, just so you know.”
“Ack, the historical record! And me in my skivvies. No, thank you.” He picked up the other sock and dropped the opal inside. “Let’s go. No idea when that psychopath will be back.”
Matt stood up and was helping Rheese to his feet when a voice right behind Rheese made him jump.
“Yeah, who knows? It could be any fuckin’ second.”
It was Fando. He apparently hadn’t gone far—perhaps just circled back and waited. He walked a few steps downhill toward them. He wore a smug grin on his face, his gun in hand.
“Hand me that nasty-ass sock,” he said.
Rheese paused, perhaps debating whether hurling the thing off into the dark would help them in any way. Apparently deciding against it, he lobbed it into Fando’s free hand.
“Lots of people out here lookin’ for you, Turner. They had to have heard that shot earlier. Could run up on us any second.” He stuffed the sock into his pocket. “So here I am, thinkin’, do I just book it outta here? Go home? But people are lookin’ for me back home. And then I think how yer gonna go home to yer big-ass house, thinkin’ how lucky you are to be alive, and how I’m off in Bumfuck, East Nowhere, tryin’ to keep from gettin’ caught, or maybe I already been caught and I’m rottin’ in some jail, with my kid thinkin’ Daddy’s a piece-of-shit loser, and my woman gettin’ banged by some new punk-ass fool. And I start gettin’ all these, like, visuals in my head of her with some other dude sweatin’ on her and her doin’ stuff to him, and she likes it, even, and thinks this dude ain’t a loser like that other son of a bitch—what was his name . . . Fernando? Oh, yeah! And I think now, no, screw that shit! That ain’t a life! I ain’t got no brother.” His voice cracked on this last word. “My best friend just got killed ’cause of both you pinches pendejos. So then I ask myself—just now I asked myself—’Self, how you get outa this goddamn shit pot?’ And you know what the answer was?”
Matt said, “Let us go?”
Fando’s mouth flashed a humorless smile. “Please shoot me in the face.”
“What . . . ?” Matt said, and Rheese echoed him.
“That’s all I hear,” Fando went on. “Every time shit comes out of yer mouth, that’s all I hear: ‘Please, sir, shoot me in the face.’”
“I didn’t mean . . .”
“Yeah, whatever—shut up. The answer was, there might be no goddamn way out of this. You gotta take yer chances. But if both of you are dead, I at least feel better about being a piece-of-shit loser somewhere, knowin’ there ain’t no witnesses sayin’ I did this or I did that. And hopefully, if I get my way, that never even happens. I’ll eat a bullet if I’m about to get cau—”
A gunshot rang out from the darkness behind Matt, blowing bark off a tree behind Fando. All three jumped. Matt and Rheese hit the ground while Fando crouched down, shooting blindly into the woods as he ran backward. He tripped on a root and fell back.
Someone yelled, “¡Nadie se mueva!” and another shot resounded. Fando regained his footing and took off down the hill, disappearing.
Matt heard many footsteps approaching behind him and stood up cautiously, hands high.
“Matthew! Oh, my God!” Tuni cried, stepping out of the shadows.
“Tuni!” Matt said in bewildered joy.
A black man with a slung rifle and with a pistol in his hand appeared behind her, eyes locked on Rheese. Other men streamed out of the forest, surrounding them, while still more ran past in pursuit of Fando. They all had rifles, too, and those who stayed had theirs pointed at Rheese.
Tuni rushed to Matt, arms wide to hug him, but he stepped back, panic on his face. “Wait!” he yelled. “Wait . . . you can’t!”
She stopped in her tracks, realizing that he was in only his underwear. “Oh . . . of course—right! Where are your clothes?” Then she looked at his face and chest, seeing the horrorshow of blood Matt himself had forgotten was there. “Oh my dear Matthew. Your face . . .”
Matt peered down at his chest. “Oh, right, the blood. He got me good in the nose . . . head, too, but I’m okay—just a little stuffed up. Could probably use something stronger than ibuprofen, too. My clothes, well, they’re somewhere in this forest, I guess. But I—I can’t believe you’re here! You actually came all the way here! I’m . . . oh, my God, you don’t even know . . . I’m just so glad you’re okay. You have no idea . . . no idea.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “You have no idea!”
Matt reached up toward her face to touch her cheek when two of the “soldiers” began grabbing Rheese and picking him up roughly. Matt stepped back from her and hurried to Rheese, patting one of the men on the shoulder “Easy,” he said, smiling. “Con cariño, por favor. Él es un víctima también. Como yo, ¿no?”
The men backed off a little, confused. They turned to the black man with Tuni, looking for instructions or clarification. Rheese quietly thanked Matt and stepped forward from the crowd. Tuni stood there, bewildered.
“What’s this, Matthew?” she said.
“I’ll explain it all,” Matt said. “But for now, just know that the two of us were in the same boat all this time.”
Tuni looked confused, blinked, shook her head. “That’s not . . . that man . . .” She could hardly look at Rheese. She inhaled a quick breath, held her hands out before her, flat, and focused on Matt. “It doesn’t matter. Let them handle it. Just come with me. It’s all over now, baby.” She slid off the two rings she wore on her right hand and stuffed them in her pocket, then reached out to Matt. “It’s all over. Oliver, tell them they can take this trash back.”
The black man, Oliver, gestured to the men near Rheese and they grabbed hold of him again. But Matt pushed the Cubans back once more, “No, no . . .” receiving increasingly annoyed and perplexed faces in return.
“Matthew, forget about him!” Tuni’s chest began to heave and her face turned. Oliver whispered in her ear.
Mat
t saw the anguish and frustration, but she just didn’t understand yet.
“Exactly, yes!” she said to Oliver. To Matt, she said, “He bloody kidnapped you, regardless! Left me with some psycho to hold me hostage. Whatever else has happened is irrelevant! They’re taking him to bloody jail! Hell, he could stay here by himself and starve to death for all I care.”
Matt needed to explain but she had suddenly dropped deep into her dreaded stubborn mode, an often unreachable state that he’d typically walk away from until she cooled down. But this was a higher stakes situation than their comparatively meaningless arguments of the past. He realized he needed to appeal to her humanity.
“Tuni, listen! This is a human being, and we . . . you and me . . . are good people, right? He saved my life today. How it started . . . yeah, that sucked, but you’re okay, I’m okay, and, trust me, everything changed here. It’s hard to explain—kind of embarrassing, actually—but I’ve been him, if you know what I mean. I know where he’s coming from.” Matt turned to address the soldiers and Tuni’s whispering friend. “Listen. You guys know English . . . ¿Entienden inglés? ¿No? Este hombre fue secostrado junto conmigo. The other two men took both of us hostage. Los dos estamos víctimas. Ambos. No es justo detenerlo. Understand? Favor de no detenerlo.”
The soldiers nodded and lowered their weapons, then ran off down the hill in pursuit of Fando. Two of the men stayed back.
“Thank you, lad,” Rheese said. “Honestly, I . . . I can’t say enough.”
“This is unbelievable, Matthew!” Tuni gasped. She was beyond hearing reason from Matt. “I can’t abide it. Think for a second who this man is! What he’s done to both of us. You’re standing by him? Is this that psychological rubbish where the victims feel sorry for their captors and relate to them?”
Rheese murmured, “Stockholm syndrome.”
Matt growled with frustration but tried to keep it together. Sweet talk her, maybe. “No, it’s nothing like that, baby . . .”
“Don’t call me that!” she yelled. “Not right now! I can’t believe you. I am . . . I’m just . . .” Her angry face suddenly turned stoic. Her voice went quiet. “. . . disappointed. Utterly, completely, beyond disappointed. You . . . you can just set aside everything? Everything he’s done to you? For God’s sake, to me? Think about the life we’ve been building, our plans! Things he doesn’t give a shit about destroying. I can’t believe you’re on his side in this.”
“I’m sorry, ba—Tuni. But there’s no side in this. I get where you’re coming from, I do, of course! But I’m fine. I’m here, alive. And you’re fine. Right?”
Her chin and voice lowered as anger began to brew again. “I am alive. I am physically unhurt, yes. But that in no way excuses this . . . this monster. An attempted murderer on trial does not get to simply go home when the judge verifies that all the victims pulled through.”
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying,” Matt said, shaking his head. “He’s real sorry. I know that personally. Tell her, Doctor.”
“Truly, I am.”
Tuni’s eyes glanced at Rheese, she glowered for a second, then returned to Matt.
“Oh, then everything’s just bloody dandy! Let’s all go out to a pub and have a good laugh on it.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Can we just go?”
“Yeah, I think that’s the best idea,” Matt said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Matt looked at Rheese, who cocked his head up the hill.
“Oh, right.” Matt said with hesitation. He turned to Tuni with the uneasy air of a child about to ask Mom something that may not go over well. He spoke quickly and matter-of-factly, knowing it would sound ridiculous, but that being cute would win out. “Hey, um, would you be opposed to us taking a detour on the way out? There’s an undiscovered Viking town just up the hill from here. It’s, like, a thousand years old.” He smiled apologetically.
“Un-fucking-believable. That man is still out there somewhere,” Tuni said through her teeth. “You would keep me in a life-threatening situation so that you and him can go play archeologists? It’s true! You care nothing about me, our plans, our future . . .”
“They’re your plans,” Matt said quietly.
Tuni looked like she had been slapped. “Excuse me? You’re going to speak to me—”
Oh, now the high and mighty . . . Matt couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Yes, I will speak to you that way, princess!” Tuni was stunned. “I almost died today. That fucking psychopath out there was going to kill Rheese and me, not you. You have no clue what’s been going on out here and you start coming at me with your ‘big plans’ and our ‘future.’ I want to go five minutes up a fucking mountain . . . five minutes out of your way, and you’re going to throw a goddamn tantrum because I don’t immediately bow to every one of your demands, and without question. Perfect example of Princess Tuni in action.”
Tuni just stared at him, astonished.
“Turner . . .” Rheese began.
“Shut the fuck up, Rheese! And plans? What fucking plans are you referring to, exactly? When you say plans, I know exactly what you mean: children. Did you ever really, really think that one through? Me as a father? Out of your mind! It’ll never happen. ‘Future?’ You say future and I see a big fat question mark at the end of a sentence. ‘When will Tuni leave me?’ because I was never good enough for you. No one is good enough for you, let alone the highest-maintenance freak on the planet.”
Silence. Tuni tried to find words, then just shook her head in defeat.
“I don’t know who you are,” she said. Tears fell from both eyes.
“No,” Matt said. “You don’t. You can’t see past your plans.”
“Come on, Oliver,” she snapped. “We’re leaving.”
“Yeah, go! If not now, a month from now . . . a year from now! Only a matter of fucking time!” She continued stalking away with Oliver and the two remaining soldiers close behind, their flashlights bobbing to and fro.
Unbelievable, Matt thought. He opened his fingers, realizing they had been balled into tight fists.
“We should probably follow them, Turner,” Rheese said softly. “They have flashlights—and guns.”
“Fuck!” Matt shouted. “Can you believe how fucking selfish she is? I’m standing here practically naked . . .” He heard Tuni scream and sob from somewhere off in the darkness, but he was still angry and her outbursts were only to bait him to go after her. He was supposed to come running and beg forgiveness.
Rheese tried to push him along. “Yes, yes, fine all that. You can sort it out later—not while our only protection disappears into the night.”
“Protection from what? Garza’s dead and Fando is about to be caught by twenty armed and trained troops, if they haven’t got him already. No, screw that! I’m going up this damned hill while I’m here, ’cause I sure as hell won’t be coming back. Hell, you’re the one that brought up the village in the first place!”
“I’m severely injured, lad. Honestly, I don’t even know why I brought it up. It’s my fault she’s upset . . . eh . . . on many levels . . . And we’re in our skivvies.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, Rheese. Maybe you don’t mind leaving this place with only your bruises and broken bones, but it has to have been worth something for me. We’ll catch up to them when we’ve seen it. Listen . . .” Matt inhaled deep and shook out his arms, trying to clear Tuni out of his mind. “Haeming was walking up this wide path. There was a massive gate with two sort-of tower things. Should be right up here.”
Matt started uphill, grumbling.
“Now hold on there,” Rheese said after him. “You do realize that you’re not thinking bloody clearly, lad . . . Do you even know which way she’s going? How will we . . . blast it!” When Matt didn’t answer, Rheese limped after him. “Slow down, lad! I’ve only just been beaten half to death.”
TWENTY-NINE
“Abel, are you there? It’s Tuni.” Treading cautiously over a patch of crumbled limestone, she slowed to grow some distance between her a
nd Oliver, ahead of her. Her eyes stung; vision blurred, the tears streamed like they were flowing from two faucets. Her chest burned. She felt as though her heart had literally been ripped from her.
“I’m here. What’s happening?”
“We’re on our way out. Heading to the truck. It’s over.” She glanced back, half hoping to see Matthew running to catch up. But the other half was much louder, stronger.
“You have Matthew? Oliver says we’re not arresting Rheese. What’s going on exactly?”
“Matthew told them that he and Rheese were both victims. That Rheese committed no crimes or has somehow redeemed himself. It’s bloody nonsense. I just want to go home.”
“Regardless of Matthew’s claims about the current scenario, Rheese has multiple arrest warrants from numerous countries. He’s coming back with us. Where are you now? Are they still with you?”
“I don’t know where we are—just going to where we parked . . . I think. As for them, we left them . . . out there. Oliver can tell you. I don’t care anymore.” Another look behind. “Where are you?”
“My team is intercepting the other mercenary. With Oliver’s men coming down from above and us moving up, we should be closing on him any minute now. You stay with Oliver at the truck until I get there, all right? I need to know you’re safe.”
“Okay.” The tears gushed anew and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Oliver appeared beside her and helped her along. She clutched his shirt as they stumbled after his flashlight’s oval beam.
* * *
Abel sat in the passenger seat of Oliver’s team’s truck. The three Cubans who had accompanied him up the hill sat outside on a termite-pocked log, drawing in the dirt and discussing whose improvised outfit looked the most authentic. Abel switched to Isaiah’s frequency.
“Here, sir,”
“Send all your men south, up the hill.”
“What to say to them?”
“Be on the lookout for anything unusual. Meet at the upper clearing whether they find anything or not. You drive up here when they go. Meet me at the end of the road.”
The Opal (Book 2 of the Matt Turner Series) Page 20
