by Nancy Isaak
Thwack!
* * * *
Everything seemed to happen at once after that.
I lost sight of Jude as the 11th and 12th graders surrounded her, throwing her to the ground.
Meanwhile, Alice jumped me a few feet from the bleachers, just as I stepped onto the field. She tossed me easily to the ground and placed her boot on my head, holding me in place.
Cherry—who I didn’t even know was following me—didn’t even make it out of the stands. Another 12th grader stopped her at the bottom of the stairs, by shoving a gun in her face.
But—it was Jude who was getting the worst of it.
Out on the field, the 11th and 12th graders were viciously punching and kicking her. With my face on the ground—held in place by Alice’s boot—I could just manage enough of an angle to see that Jude was being badly beaten. She was on the ground, bleeding badly from a gash on her cheek. Another had opened just above Jude’s ear.
Still, the older girls kept punching and kicking.
They were killing her.
* * * *
It was a little white Gucci bag that saved Jude’s life that day—and the young girl who shot out of the stands to wield it.
Lily swung her purse at the 11th and 12th graders—again and again—screaming at the top of her lungs. “You stop that…you stop that now! You’re killing her! You’re killing my Jude!”
And, amazingly—they stopped.
Filled with rage, Lily stood guard over Jude. Not taking her eyes off of the surrounding girls, she reached into her Gucci bag and pulled out her pepper spray—aiming it from one girl to another.
“I will kill you,” she warned them. “You come near my Jude and I will kill you!”
Below her, Jude turned on her side and coughed up a big gob of blood—peering up at the menacing slip of a warrior above her.
“Much appreciated, Sailor Moon,” Jude panted, painfully.
Then—she passed out.
* * * *
There were three patients in the Medical Center that evening.
While Belinda disinfected and stitched up Cammie’s wounds, Jay worked hard to save Jude’s life. Besides the gashes in her head and cheek, it was obvious that Jude also had a serious concussion and possible internal injuries from the beating she’d endured.
Ironically, Jude had never pulled out her gun.
It was still hidden in the fanny pack that Jay had quietly undone and stuck in a filing cabinet before anyone became the wiser.
I was forced, meanwhile, to treat the third patient.
* * * *
“You think I deserve this, don’t you?”
Tray was seated on the edge of a desk, while I slowly drew an antiseptic pad across the bloody slice on her cheek.
“I think you deserve a lot of things,” I said, honestly. “But I wouldn’t wish a whipping on anybody.”
“Not even me?”
I stopped and looked directly into her eyes. There was no animosity or anger there—merely curiosity. “Not even you,” I said.
Orla came up beside us.
There were Protection Detail throughout the Medical Center, watching all of us—but especially Jude and Cammie.
“How are you doing?” Orla asked Tray. “Sorry we don’t have a Plastic Surgeon on staff.”
“Are you kidding?” Tray grinned. “A scar will make me look even more dangerous.”
Orla patted her on the shoulder and wandered away, while I continued to clean up Tray’s wound. “Can I ask you a personal question, Tray?”
“Yes, Kaylee.”
“Did you like it? What you did today?”
“Do you want a truthful answer to that?”
At my nod, Tray leaned back and thought to herself for a moment. Then she looked over at Cammie, and—finally—back to me. “Kaylee, Kaylee,” she sighed. “There is something so sweet about you wanting to understand. I think that is simply part of your good nature.”
“Did you like it?” I asked again—this time more forcefully.
Tray responded by reaching up, gently placing a hand around my neck. She applied pressure, drawing me down, so she could whisper in my ear. “I hate to tell you this,” she said, quietly, “but this is simply part of my bad nature.”
I tried to pull away, but she held me tight.
Her tongue flicked out to lick at my earlobe, and her breathing increased—heavier now, almost panting. “Truth is, I loved it, Kaylee,” Tray said in an excited whisper. “I loved it so very, very much.”
* * * *
Ironically, the whipping Cammie took probably saved her life.
We found out later that she had been captured by the Protection Detail, the night that they had burned down the Westlake Village Library and stole all the books. Since then, she had been held—gagged and handcuffed—in the basement of the empty house across from the Foxes Compound.
They had thrown her onto a dirty mattress, locked her hands to a pipe, and left her a bucket to relieve herself in. Once or twice a day, someone (usually Tray) would show up to empty her bucket and give her something to eat.
And beat her.
At first, it was just light whacks around the head and shoulders. Later, Cammie said that Tray began to use the whip.
It was always on the legs and feet.
Tray said that was because she was saving Cammie’s back for the ‘big show’.
* * * *
There would be only one chance.
I waited until after midnight.
Then I snuck out of the house, following the culvert around Chumash Park and the townhouses, down to where it came out across from the high school.
There were two members of the Protection Detail there, smoking cigarettes on the front stairs of the Main Office. I moved farther down Driver Avenue, crossing where it was darker and less likely that I would be seen. Finally, I made my way back, creeping slowly through the shadows, until I could use Jay’s keys and enter the high school from the South side.
* * * *
The lack of moonlight made it incredibly difficult to see much of anything as I tiptoed toward the Medical Center. Since I wasn’t about to take the chance of using any candles, I had to feel my way through the darker portions of the school’s walkways.
My fingers reluctantly skimmed the walls—terrified by what they might accidentally encounter (bugs, snakes, Tray’s face!).
As I got closer to the Medical Center—thankfully—it became easier to see. There was a flickering of candlelight emanating from the Center’s open doorway, and I stopped just outside—listening.
Hearing nothing, I slowly peeked around the corner.
Jay was sitting by Jude’s bed, holding her hand. Both appeared to be asleep—Jay, with her chin to her chest, snoring softly—Jude, twitching and moaning, either from bad dreams or pain.
There were bandages wrapped around Jude’s head, stained red from where the blood was seeping through. Her belly looked odd—distended and slightly out of shape; I worried about what might be happening internally and, like Jay, hated that there was so little that we could do about it.
Off to one side, meanwhile, Cammie was ‘asleep’ on her own cot. Her wrists were tied, one to each side of the bed and—like Jay—she was snoring.
The final person in the room was Alice.
She was leaning back in a chair, her head against a wall. There was both a paperback and a gun in her lap, and she was sipping from a bottle of Snapple. On the floor, in front of Alice, there were two additional Snapple bottles…both empty.
Moving as silently as possible, I retreated back into the dark hallway, found myself a nearby classroom, and sat down to wait. Forty-five minutes later, Alice hurried past my hiding spot—no doubt on her way to the foul area.
* * * *
Jay was already sawing away at Cammie’s bonds with a scalpel when I raced into the Medical Center.
“Hurry!” I urged. “If we’ve got five minutes, I’d be surprised!”
A moment lat
er—Cammie was free.
She stumbled, coming off of the bed, and I grabbed at her. Before she could even recover, I was already dragging her out of the room and into the darkened hallway.
Glancing behind me, I saw Jay return to her spot next to Jude. She sat down in the chair that she’d vacated previously and—dropping her chin to her chest—resumed her ‘snoring’.
“We need to move fast!” I hissed at Cammie, tugging her around a corner.
The librarian said nothing—just nodded weakly.
* * * *
“This is where we have to part.”
Cammie and I were standing in the culvert, hidden by the trees. On one side was Chumash Park, on the other was a metal gate.
“That’s where you need to go,” I told her, pointing. “That gate will take you into a whole different apartment complex, right across from the 101 Freeway. You’ll need to move as fast as you can, Cammie. If you can cross the 101 and get into the hills, I doubt they’ll be able to track you…especially at night. But if you hear the sound of horses—hide!”
“What…about…you?” she panted—her voice filled with pain.
“Don’t worry about me,” I ordered, quickly shoving a key in her hand and closing her fingers around it. “And remember—my dad’s house is on Point Dume in Malibu. You have the address on Dume Drive. As long as no one’s been there before you, you’ll find a whole pantry full of food and even more in the basement.”
A trumpet started blasting…four long notes.
“Oh god! That means we’re supposed to ‘take cover and stay in our homes’, Cammie!” I cried. “I have to go now...they’ll be coming to check our house!”
“Can…you…make…it?” She looked scared, concerned for my well-being. “Come…with…me?”
“Worry about yourself, Librarian,” I grinned, trying desperately to appear confident. “See you in Malibu!”
Then I took off running—along the culvert, this time in the direction of Jude’s house. At the last moment, I turned and looked back; I could barely make out Cammie, stumbling slowly up the hill, on the other side of the metal gate.
* * * *
The Protection Detail was already banging on our front door, when I stumbled in through the back. As I ran toward the entry, I pulled off my jeans, shoes, and socks, throwing them to one side.
Bang, bang, bang!
“I’m coming!” I yelled. “Just give me a moment, will you?”
Quickly, I rubbed my hands through my hair, trying to achieve a ‘just-been-sleeping-look’.
Bang, bang, bang!
I eased opened the door, just enough to see that it was Tray and two 12th graders. All three of them were holding hurricane lanterns, the candles inside flickering bright in the night.
The 12th graders were also holding guns.
“What’s happened?” I asked, pretending concern. “Is it Jude…is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” said Tray. “Can I come in, Kaylee?”
I pretended to stifle a yawn. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
She ignored me, though, and pushed by, moving into the living room. The two 12th graders followed suit, one knocking me into the wall as she passed.
Tray immediately turned on the girl. “You do not touch her!” she growled.
The 12th grader moved some distance away from me, scowling.
“Anything you want to tell me, Kaylee?” Tray asked.
“Not that I can think of,” I shrugged.
With an amused snort, Tray waved her hands around. “Look everywhere,” she ordered.
The other girls immediately moved toward the bedrooms.
Tray, meanwhile, turned back to me. I tried to maintain eye contact, willing my gaze not to flick in the direction of the backyard.
I was scared that—if they expanded their search—they might find Pugly’s safehouse.
* * * *
Tray’s gaze traveled down my body; I was wearing just a t-shirt and panties. “That’s what you wear to bed?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” She tugged slightly at the bandage on her cheek.
“Itchy?”
“Like a mofo,” she admitted, scratching.
I reached out and slapped her hand away. “Stop it!” I ordered. “You’ll give yourself a scar.”
Tray smiled at me, then—one of those ‘supermodel-beautiful smiles’. I hated when she did that.
It always confused me that evil should be so pretty.
“You going to tell me what this is all about?” My words came out squeaky and nervous—and I quickly coughed, hoping that she wouldn’t notice.
Tray just continued her infernal smiling. “The Westlake girl escaped tonight.”
“From the Medical Center?” I pretended shock. “Are Jay and Jude okay? Like did she hurt them or anything?”
“They’re fine.”
“Then…why are you here?”
Tray didn’t say anything, just waited.
I decided that I should probably act offended. “You think that the Westlake girl is here?!” I huffed. “Why would she come here?”
If anything, Tray’s beautiful smile grew even wider. “Why indeed?”
At that moment, the two 12th graders appeared from out of the shadows, having apparently finished their search. They shook their heads at Tray.
“Okay then,” said Tray. “We’ve a few other houses to check. Let’s head out.”
As the two 12th graders exited through the front door, Tray remained with me. She was still smiling.
In fact—she looked positively delighted.
“You’re so much fun, Kaylee,” she told me. “I just love when we do this—this thing we do.”
I walked to the front door and held it open for her. “Have a good night, Tray.”
“You know, there’s a wonderful color to your face right now,” she murmured. “Two big spots of pink, right on the apples of your cheeks. I love that about blonds. That sweet pink color they get, usually from when they’ve been outside…running.”
Then—with a chuckle—she walked past me and out into the dark.
* * * *
I waited an hour, peeking through the curtains, wondering when the Protection Detail would be coming back.
Finally, I gave up—believing I was probably safe.
Hopefully—the same could be said for Cammie.
* * * *
“Oh, Pugly…I’m so sorry,” I cooed, when I finally opened up the door to Lily’s secret fort. “You must be so hungry, baby.”
Because I was carrying a candle and a bowl of dog food, I backed into the small shed, using my body to hold open the door. Perhaps—if I had been facing forward—I would have immediately noticed that there was already light in the shed.
And that Pugly wasn’t alone.
He was sleeping in Peyton’s arms.
* * * *
I carefully inched into the room, my eyes scanning the dark corners for anyone hidden in the shadows.
“Don’t worry…I’m alone,” Peyton assured me. She was sitting in a chair, cradling Pugly. A small candle was burning on a card table next to her.
Beside the candle was…a gun.
“Why are you here, Peyton?”
She shrugged.
“Did Lily tell you about Pugly?” I moved slowly closer. My eyes were on that gun and I wondered if I would be able to reach it before Peyton.
“It was Amelie,” Peyton said. “When they played together, here at your house—Lily told her about her dog.”
“But you didn’t tell the others?” I said, surprised.
She looked up at me, as if I should have known better. “Of course not…they would have eaten him.” Pugly yawned in her arms; he was starting to wake up. “What a funny little dog he is.”
“He farts a lot.”
“I have noticed that tonight,” she agreed.
We shared a smile.
“Did Cammie get away all right?” she asked.
Peyton nodded to herself. “I’ll take that as a yes…good.”
Having smelled the dog food, Pugly began wiggling in Peyton’s arms. She put him gently on the ground, so he could make his way to his bowl.
“Is Lily okay?” I asked.
“They haven’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re asking. But you’ll have to be careful,” Peyton warned. “They’ve put a guard on her now, some bitch from Oak Park who sleeps on a cot beside Lily’s bed at night. It’s because they’re scared that you’ll come for her.”
I was so confused.
“Why are you telling me this, Peyton?” Again, she shrugged. “Peyton…please.”
Carefully brushing dog hair off of her dress, Peyton stood up. “I should get back,” she murmured—talking to herself. “They’ll be looking for me. I know…I’ll go out through the back and make my way through the fence onto Thousand Oaks Boulevard. If I climb the stairs that go up the hill there, I can cut across and I’ll be home. Yes…that will work.”
Peyton headed toward the door. Just as she was about to open it, she seemed to change her mind. She turned back. “I told you my birthday was November 4th, right?”
I nodded.
“And that Orla and Tray’s were in the third week of November?”
Again, I nodded.
“So I probably told you about how we celebrate our birthdays together. Except this year…this year we added in Halloween…mostly because we wanted to wear cute costumes. And we had this amazing party planned—like a massive blow-out. All the 12th graders were invited, and a lot of the 11th graders…plus anyone else we thought was cool.”
