Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  Hans

  Oh. The woman lost the frown and stepped back from the door, giving her full attention to the phone. An hour ago she had gotten a text from her husband telling her that his plane had landed on schedule and that he was now at home, planning to get a good workout in after being crammed in a plane for multiple hours and also planning to work from home today so that he could relax. He wanted them all to go out to dinner tonight and spend some time as a family, hoping to catch up on what they had been doing lately. Her husband had also made plans to do more work from home for the rest of the week, which she had approved of. Hans never contacted her during work hours unless she asked him to, or unless it was necessary.

  When she selected the message, the text popped up.

  Someone broke into the house - got him on the ground - dont think there are others

  "Shit!" Richard's face lined with a scowl, outrage and fear molding her face into a terrifying visage of raw emotion. God damn it! If it had been her children instead of Hans-! GOD! DAMN! IT! Her teeth snapped together while she retreated to the wall across from the door, out of the way from the corridor as she cursed without thinking, too much fury boiling in the blood that was flowing through her brain, to permit restraint. "God damn it!" Her curse filled the hall, but no eyes were in position to look at her, though her voice traveled to a few ears that were unable to interpret what it said.

  Her fingers jabbed at the keys.

  Ill send some help - dont let him go - do not use too much force - thatll make it harder for me

  The text was sent and blazing blue eyes watched the screen as the woman pivoted to stride down the corridor, one hand already going to her walky-talky. But the buzz of a returned text took the hand from the walky-talky so that the message could be opened and answered.

  Sorry - force used - needed gun - hes fast

  Richard glowered at the phone, cursing again, but another message came that distracted her.

  Checked him - no weapons - skinny guy - can handle it - not a big problem so stay calm

  Off course I wasn't worried about that, Richard snorted without anything other than ill feelings, void of humor. But now her strides slowed to a walk and then she stopped, realizing that she didn't need to go anywhere if she had her walky-talky as well as her phone for methods of communication. She turned her steps back towards the interrogation room while responding to her husband.

  The gun makes this troublesome - put it away - Ill get someone over there

  A message came back.

  Cant - need it - he doesnt stop otherwise - tried and stronger than I thought - hes an annoying punk

  She reread the message once, twice, and stared at the words without realizing she had stopped in the middle of the corridor. 'Need it' Her gaze focused on this steadily, beginning to frown. Hans Rodriguez was a well built man with a youthful body though he had already reached the age of fifty-five. His hair was full though it was becoming silver in color, a platinum blonde, but his strength had barely dulled from where it had been when he was thirty-five or so. Worry tickled the back of her mind when her fingers clicked at her phone.

  What does he look like - is he a big man with short black hair and brown eyes - six foot ten - caucasian - in his twenties

  Though she didn't wait for a response with bated breath, her heartbeat quickened. It took some time before her husband replied.

  Back in the Rodriguez home, Hans was making his observations after brushing aside his feelings about the somewhat unexpected question his wife had sent him. She wants to know if she can recognize him, or figure out if this is a man she has already had troubles with before. A man that hates cops, targeting my wife and family…

  Hans' green eyes flashed with a hard scowl that Vincent missed as the teen was still grumbling into the tile floor, upset about having the stranger check his clothes for weapons. His paperclip and wire had been confiscated.

  Tall but only 5 foot 11 or 6 foot at most 6 foot 1 - think hes caucasian - very white - black hair - not short - red eyes - not a big guy - said he was skinny dear

  Within seconds after sending his last text, Han flinched when his phone began to ring, seeming louder than usual after the relative quiet that had persisted for the last few minutes. Vincent looked at it as well, his eyes following the phone and reading the bemused expression on his captor's face. Finally, the phone was brought to Hans' ear and the quiet returned for exactly three seconds, as if someone had purposefully counted out each one. Then a distorted buzzing sound of a voice shot out of the phone, loud enough for Vincent to hear.

  Meanwhile, echoing in Hans Rodriguez's ear and the corridor back at the police station, Richard's infuriated voice roared.

  "HAAAAAANS! LET THE BOY GO NOW, OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL HAVE TO COME HOME AND MAKE YOU RELEASE HIM MYSELF! HOW CAN YOU-" Her voice fell minimally when the echoes made it difficult for her to hear herself. "How can you do that to a boy? That is -! He is friends with your children! A boy! And you- And you-! Oh god damn it Hans, I'm so close to wanting to kill you right now! I've told you not to overreact and everuse or even take that thing out, inside my house! You had better fix this by the time I get home tonight or you will not want to know what I'll have in store for you! -Give the phone to Vincentimir, now!" There was one second of silence that impatience lengthened to seem like five. "NOW!"

  On the tile floor in front of the door, Richard's husband winced again with the phone pulled away from his ear to avoid damaging it further. Now with a ringing (nearly bleeding) ear, a hard frown with both disapproval and confusion in it, was cast to the staring teenager he assumed was 'Vincentimir' who was perfectly quiet now that he had figured out the person the stranger had been communicating with had not been law enforcement.

  Hans pushed the phone against Vincent's ear in time for the boy to suffer some of Richard's fury, making him yelp in pain, trying to get away from the speaker.

  "I hear you! I hear you! Stop yelling! I can hear you, Jesus fucking Christ! I HEAR YOU!"

  It was silent while quiet wrath brewed in the green eyes owned by the husband of the woman Vincent had just cussed at.

  The wife, in the mean time, quieted her voice and adopted a calmer tone. "Is that you Vincentimir?"

  Vincent stared at the tiles, letting Hans put the phone by his ear now. The only person with a female voice that called him that was…the one and only, Richard Rodriguez. "Chief?"

  "Yes. …Vincentimir, are you still on the ground?"

  "Uh…" Completely lost now, the teen just followed her lead. His eyes darted about, seeing the floor. "Yeah."

  "Then, Vincentimir, you have permission to kick my husband, if you can."

  Quiet.

  A light bulb went off and all of the dots could be seen and connected, drawn out of the ignorant darkness, leaving Vincent to give a heaving sigh and lay his face on the tiles with a weak chuckle that further bemused the mentioned husband who was watching. Vincent glanced up at him with curious, still confused and wary, eyes and his lips cracked an awkward smile before he returned his mouth to the receiver of the phone. "Na, I'm good Chief. I…" His words were spaced by a strange giggle that cracked, the boy's body becoming limp and numb now, his head coming to rest on the floor again when he couldn't hold it up anymore. "I guess."

  Hans watched quietly, beginning to understand what might be going on. The pale intruder was young, Hans now recognized, and he was no longer resisting or making trouble since he had started speaking to Richard. And the grin the kid was giving him now…

  The man hesitated but got off of the teen and stood up, holding the gun by his side with Vincent's red eyes following him part of the way before giving up and focusing on the phone that had been left on the ground by his head. Vincent picked it up and rolled, with a level of difficulty that made him grunt, to the side so that he could lay on his back, not capable of doing more after the excitement he had just endured.

  "He let me go now…so….but-" Vincent laughed again, airily, rolling his eyes up to th
e ceiling. Now he was at a loss for words, overflowing with relief and other warped feelings.

  Richard heard the laugh and sighed, feeling disgust and shame for having done this to the boy, though it wasn't her fault, tapping her fingers against the arm that was holding the cell phone up to her ear. "Good. So, Vincentimir, the man with you…is my husband, William and Leroy's father. …I'm at work right now and I can't leave….and both William and Leroy aren't supposed to be back until 2:30 in the afternoon... But I would like it if you could stay at my house until I get there. I would like to speak with you, Vincentimir, about some things, alright? You're not hurt or anything…?"

  "No, not really." Another chuckle bubbled up as Vincent felt his face begin to throb again, synchronizing with the pain in his back and the pounding blood that was rushing back into his arm after having Hans' knee cut off its circulation. With his instincts still on partial alert, the boy couldn't close his eyes to rest, but he let them become unfocused as he watched the ceiling. "So…I'll stay here then." With the crazy guy that almost killed me. Sounds great.

  "Yes…and tell my husband to help you out if he did hurt you. Ask him for anything. I don't care. He can be your slave for the day, you understand?"

  "…Yeah….I guess…" The sheepish response was murmured by the recovering teen who rubbed his face with his sleeve and tried coughing to make his voice stronger when he shifted his free hand to his hair.

  Richard sighed again and closed her eyes for a time while she spoke. "You need to be patient with my husband, Vincentimir. He's mute, so he won't be able to talk to you…he will most likely write what he needs to say down on paper. We generally communicate through sign language at home… I have to go now. I know Hans won't do anything else, but I'll apologize now. He's not the warmest person in the world, I'll tell you that. Okay?"

  "….yeah, Chief. 'Kay."

  The woman smiled sadly to herself with a nod of her head. "Goodbye Vincentimir."

  "Bye."Richard ended the call and refreshed herself with a long, composing breath, shaking her head at this mess. Her feet brought her to the door of the interrogation room and two flickering blue eyes looked at its occupants to find them staring or gawking at her, all of them pale while the suspect had begun to hyperventilate in his seat when she opened the door.

  "Oh god….please d-don't leave me here alone with her."

  Vincent stared dimly at the ceiling, barely registering the sound of footsteps that stopped near his ear. His eyes scaled the sky-scraper like figure that loomed over him from where he was laying on the tiles. Vincent's expression was neutral while Hans' face was just as undecipherable. The man stuck out his hand, at first appearing to be offering his hand to assist Vincent in standing up, but the teen knew what the hand really wanted and handed the BlackBerry over to the oldest Rodriguez he had yet to meet. Hans accepted the phone, having to bend a little to reach it, and he stuffed the phone back into a clip he wore on his shorts, completing the work-out attire Vincent stared at without an obvious opinion while figuring out the purpose of the clothes.

  The only thing out of place now…was the gun. Red eyes glanced over the weapon and then returned to it with a sharp jerk. Astonishment helped the red eyes become round when they traveled along the extended length of the barrel, blinking with fuzzy recognition. Damn. I think Jake's dad has one of those…or somebody. Shit, if I remember right, that thing's a monster. Shit…I had that thing pointed at my head?…fuck…I almost died today, didn't I?

  Vincent closed his eyes, his face twitching before he erupted into a laughing fit that bordered hysteria. The maniacal laughter, however, failed to affect Hans and the green eyes bore down on the teen just as indifferently as they had before. But he refused to let this pale, red-eyed freak out of his sight. The kid, if Vincentimir really was just a kid, was not someone he wanted under his roof or mingling with his children. No… the green eyes narrowed, observing the yawning cavern of the teen's jaws, locked in place as laughter poured out in an unceasing torrent… he didn't like the looks of this kid… at all.

  I'm so glad I didn't fight back now. Vincent grinned for a moment, spirits rising as his mood stabilized and he stopped laughing. But wariness and forming resentment weighed down his lips when he looked up at Hans again, analyzing this man that was part of the Rodriguez family.

  Somehow, distantly, in the back of his mind, Rodriguez's dad reminded Vincent of Walter. It must have been the scowl and the icy gaze…and probably that gun. Hans' punches were fast, very fast, but he wasn't as fast on his feet…if Vincent was just a bit faster, then Walter was a good deal faster. But their build was similar. Muscular but lean…nothing bulky unlike Rodriguez or Jake…but Walter had a body that possessed feline characteristics and stealth. While Hans was a quiet person, his body was not capable of the same stealth.

  Hans had taken a different route to the front door, assuming the door was where Vincent was headed, so that he could swipe the gun from his room, still covering about the same distance that Vincent had, perhaps only a little less. So the boy was right. His speed was faster than a fifty-five year old man's, but that was nothing really to be proud of.

  Two fingers snapped together, gaining Vincent's undivided attention, and the same fingers motioned back in the direction of the corridor that led to the kitchen. Vincent saw the sign, doing nothing for a moment so he could see the man scowl. He was already sore and achy, and his back cracked a few times when he stood, but Vincent managed to get to his feet and slowly toddle along after the man, stretching out his abused muscles with a few winces and a grimace for the stolid back he followed. But with time, Vincent straightened into a dignified posture and walked with longer strides into the kitchen where he parked himself by a counter while the blonde man fished around inside a drawer. Hans pulled out a large yellow notepad and a pen with a black cap that was soon removed. With another hard stare stabbing into the teen's face when Vincent slouched over part of the countertop with his elbows on the granite, green eyes flicked to the lined notepad to write in a print that was between cursive and regular characters.

  How did you get in and why are you here? What relationship do you have with my son and daughter? What is your name and background? Have you stolen or otherwise taken advantage of my wife's hospitality?

  Red eyes read the questions, squinting when they had a hard time making out a word or two. A pale hand reached for the notepad, taking hold of it, but Hans refused to let go. Their eyes met again, both sets narrowed and hostile. Impatiently, Hans jerked the notepad from Vincent's grasp and motioned to his own mouth with the un-capped pen, making a circular or emerging motion coming from his lips.

  Speak.

  Vincent blinked, taking in the message and he wetted his mouth, looking around for a way to make himself more comfortable. His legs were tired, so he moved towards one of the stools that were touched by the halo of a hanging light, where Leroy Rodriguez sometimes did his homework, having to hesitate and wait for Hans to reluctantly move out of the way and permit him to pass. The boy sat down, deflating a little when his body was allowed to rest, but he became more rigid again when Hans appeared on the other side of the countertop. The yellow notepad was placed at an angle that made the list of questions easier for the teen to reference.

  Vincent was finally ready to speak so his eyes revisited the yellow paper and then looked up to meet the green stare.

  How did you get in and why are you here?

  "I used the wire you took…to take out the screen…I came in through the window next to the Christmas tree."

  Hans would blink and his eyes might narrow as Vincent spoke, but his impassive expression never changed.

  The teen licked his lips to get rid of any nervousness he was developing, and then continued. "I just came by to say 'hi' to Rodriguez….Leroy or whatever his first name is. I call him Rodriguez. I call his sister Female Rodriguez, because she's Rodriguez…just only female… And I call the Chief, Chief….cuz she's the chief of police and stuff in the city… Ummm-"
Vincent took a breath and bit his lip, looking down at the pad again.

  What relationship do you have with my son and daughter?

  "Yeah… Rodriguez and I go to the same school…and I just met Female Rodriguez because she was with Rodriguez….and yeah, I guess Rodriguez is my friend…so….yeah. That's it for that one." Now the teen hummed in his throat, lowering his face more than he needed to so he could peer at the next question.

  What is your name and background? Have you stolen or otherwise taken advantage of my wife's hospitality?

  Vincent read this and frowned at both questions, a furrowed brow directed to the last question that made him pull away with a hint of a growl. A glower burned into Hans' unchanging face for a moment, and then the pale teen looked away with a snort of bare contempt. Hans didn't bother him that much, it wasn't contempt he bore for the man personally…Vincent resented the questions themselves. In a way taking after his uncle, Vincentimir disliked giving away information about himself in too much detail, if he gave away any at all.

  "I've never stolen anything or done anything to the Chief-"

  The sharp sound of aggressive fingers snapping turned Vincent's head to Rodriguez's father again, and Vincent looked down at the pen that was moving over the pad.

  Keep eye-contact when speaking to me. You will regret any lies you tell me, to be sure.

  Irritated feet tapped at the floor and Vincent emitted a grumble when he read the sentences, one eye twitching when he frowned at the man that had written them.

  "Fine. I can do that… I've never stolen anything or ever hurt or taken advantage of anything…I'm not using the Chief or Rodriguez or anyone else in your family, if that's what you're really asking." Vincent's eye twitched again, giving away the disdain he felt when something like doubt seemed to be present in Hans' face, though it hadn't changed. "My name…" The two pairs of eyes were fused together when the more personal subject was addressed, peripheral vision cut off in their tunneled focus. "…is Vincent…or Vincentimir. Only the Chief really calls me that. Rodriguez and his sister call me Vincent. …What do you mean by background?"