by Lee West
“That’s the Cramers’ house. I think they were in Kentucky for their annual family visit. Everything must’ve happened while they were away, like us,” said Jane.
“Alright. We break into their house and watch our home for any signs of Lea. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see her. Who knows, maybe she and Tank rekindled something and he’s treating her well,” said Sam.
“You’re kidding, right?” said Jane, with an incredulous look.
“Just being hopeful,” said Sam. “I hate to think of the alternative.”
“Who’s this Tank character?” asked Mark.
“He’s our daughter’s ex-boyfriend. Six foot two, two hundred and fifty pounds, with a shaved head and prominent neck tattoos,” said Jane.
“Aryan Brotherhood?”
“He’s been known to hang with them,” said Jane.
“A real charmer,” said Sam.
“I bet. I’ve seen him in action. It’s hard not to. He’s everywhere. Your boy, Tank, is in charge of this area. He’s their chief asshole or whatever he calls himself. He’s one mean son of a bitch. I watched him assassinate a few of our neighbors for no reason at all. Be careful with him,” warned Mark.
“We really don’t have a choice,” said Sam.
“Use the tree line for cover. Then cut in through there, between the yellow and tan houses. If you need any help at all, close the shades in the corner room of the Cramers’ second floor. I’ll see it and get to you as quick as I can,” said Mark.
“Thanks, man. You’ve been really helpful. Hopefully, we’ll be able to return the favor,” said Sam, shaking Mark’s hand.
“Seriously, be careful out there. Those guys will kill you on sight—or worse.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Breaking in to the back door of the Cramers’ garage was not as difficult or as loud as Jane thought it might be. Sam lightly cracked a pane of glass in the door and carefully pried one of the larger pieces of glass out with his folding knife. Once the piece was removed, he pulled the rest out and unlocked the door.
Like Mark’s house, the Cramers’ house looked disheveled and picked over. The pantry doors stood open and the refrigerator was picked clean of anything useful. The bedroom closets were open, clothing tossed throughout the rooms.
“Geez, you would think those guys could’ve left the kid’s room alone,” said Jane.
“Yeah, it does seem really senseless to trash a little girl’s room. Good thing the Cramers weren’t home. I’d hate to think what Tank and his crew would do to children.”
“They’re absolute garbage. We need to get Lea and get out of here as soon as possible,” said Jane.
The master bedroom afforded them a perfect view of the front of their home. Sam took out his binoculars and stood far enough away from the window to remain hidden.
“Let’s see what we have.”
“Given that there are four vehicles parked in our yard and driveway, we can assume that there are at least four of them in there,” said Jane.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not making any assumptions with Lea’s life on the line. Right now, I only care about seeing one person—Lea. Maybe I’ll get lucky and see her standing close to a window.”
“I doubt it. We might have to get in there and search,” said Jane.
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t suggest that. I don’t like our odds.”
“I don’t see how we have a choice,” stated Jane.
“I know. Maybe we’ll see an obvious opening or some kind of pattern in their behavior we can use. We might be able to get in and get out quickly,” said Sam.
“We can only hope. You keep watching. I’m going to look around to see if I can find anything we might need. I don’t think Stacy or Jim would mind.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find much,” said Sam. “Those animals took everything.”
~ ~ ~
Lea Archer’s head pounded from dehydration and malnourishment. Sitting alone in her family’s basement, she’d lost track of the days. Time seemed to pass in a blur of either abject boredom or sheer panic. At times, it felt to her that her confinement in the basement had just begun. At other times, she feared she had been chained to the metal support beam for weeks. In either case, she’d all but lost hope that she would be rescued either by her parents or anyone else.
The days following the power outage were terrifying. Without the constant hum of electricity-fueled machines, the world became eerily silent, until faceless strangers started to scream in the night. Blinded by a deep darkness, she had no way to discern the location of the screaming or the nature of it. Night after night, bloodcurdling shrieks punctuated the silence, creating a complete state of panic for Lea.
Her parents probably had no idea of the danger she faced. In the beginning she kept a calendar of the days, carefully marking time until they would walk out of the mountains and arrive back home. She knew they would have no reason to leave the mountains early, and when they did, it would take them a few more days to walk back. The thought of being alone for that long terrified her.
A couple of days after the lights went out, the sound of a lone vehicle rumbled through the neighborhood. Lea knew it was Tank’s Trans Am within seconds. Her first instinct was fear. They’d broken up several months ago, after she suffered a year and a half of constant emotional and physical abuse at his hands.
He’d been all right at first, but his true colors shone shortly after they started dating and partying together. It took her far too long to overcome his iron fist and walk out of the relationship. Actually, she hadn’t exactly walked out. She’d been driven to a recovery center by her parents. Somewhere Tank couldn’t find her. Lea hadn’t seen him since she got back, most likely due to her mom being a police officer and her dad promising to kill him if he ever showed up again.
When Tank drove his Trans Am up the driveway like nothing happened after the power failed, she’d been rightfully scared. She should have trusted that instinct and hidden herself or ran out the back door. Instead, she almost welcomed him, for the perceived safety he represented against the chaos unfolding outside the house. He could be charming and frighteningly sincere sounding when he wanted to be. If she had only known that Tank was the one responsible for the insanity.
“I came to make sure you’re okay. You are the only person in the world that matters to me. I want to make up for everything between us and make sure you’re safe. I want to be with you and protect you.”
He looked kind, thoughtful, and even a little sweet. She unbolted the door and wrapped her arms around his thick neck, allowing his strong, heavily muscled arms to encircle her. For the first time since the incident, she felt safe.
A day or so after Tank moved in, he left to get supplies. He returned with more food, candles, flashlights and booze than she would have thought possible. She was a little worried about the alcohol, given that she had been dry since arriving at the recovery center and wanted to keep it that way.
When she asked him how he had acquired so much stuff, he bashed her across the face with the back of his hand and shouted that she should mind her own fucking business. The real Tank was back. He’d actually never left. The beatings slowly increased to an almost predictable daily affair. At first she tried everything she could to avoid making him angry, but nothing worked. Every time he came back from town, he would punch, kick or simply slap her. Her face and body were covered in bruises and welts that never disappeared. She was sure her nose had been broken and one of her front teeth had been knocked out.
The beatings got so severe, she knew it was just a matter of time before he killed her. Determined to survive, Lea quickly packed a bag of essentials and planned to leave while he was in town. Moving around the house, collecting anything she could use to survive, along with some sentimental things, kept her busy. On the day she planned to leave, her pack sat near the door while she filled her last water canteen. Suddenly she heard the sound of Tank’s Trans Am grinding through the neighborhood. P
anic hit her hard. She moved through the house, trying to conceal the last efforts of preparation for leaving. Thinking she’d covered her tracks, she flopped down on the couch and waited for him to come through the front door.
As usual, he stormed into the house, intending to beat her after he pounded down some cheap booze. That was the pattern. Go out. Return. Start drinking. Beat Lea. While in the kitchen rummaging for a bottle, he suddenly stopped moving. Silence filled the house. The sound of her heart pounding loudly in her head drowned out the sound of her breathing and panicked thoughts. In her haste to conceal the evidence of her imminent departure, she’d merely shoved her backpack into the kitchen pantry. The pack’s size and heft made it impossible to put back into the basement before he came into the house. He hadn’t been gone long, so she’d hoped he would be in and out of the house quickly and the pack would go unnoticed.
Bursting through the kitchen door into the family room, Tank screamed, “You fucking bitch! You planned to leave me! After everything I’ve done for you!” His fists rained down on her in an animalistic fury. Blow after blow, she struggled to hold on to herself, shielding her face as best she could from his rage. The last thing she recalled seeing was the metal toe of Tank’s now bloody work boot—just before he rammed it into her broken nose.
She woke in the basement, tied to the metal support beam, the lower half of her body slumped against the cold concrete. Her arms and shoulders ached from their static position around the beam. Waves of unbearable hunger and thirst punched through the pain. From her new prison, she heard voices upstairs day and night and knew Tank had moved several men into the house. She worked on the rope ties that bound her, trying to loosen them—but knowing it was futile.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jane crouched below the window of the Cramers’ master bedroom. Frustration clawed at her while she surveyed her home for signs of Lea. Hours had passed without seeing her. From Jane’s vantage point, she could determine that five men had taken residence in her home. She’d angrily watched Tank and four other men take turns urinating in her backyard flower garden—wanting nothing more than to drill a bullet through each of their skulls. Continued restraint observing these animals got more difficult as the hours passed. Jane now freely fantasized about bursting through the front door with a baseball bat and bashing their heads in, one by one. Of course, she knew her fantasy would never come to pass. But visualizing her triumph over Tank and his crew was strangely soothing.
Walking into the bedroom, Sam asked, “Any sign of her?”
“No. Just Tank and his four buddies pissing all over my flowers.”
“Sorry, you did work really hard on that garden. For what it’s worth, it looked great when we left.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if Mark was right. Maybe Lea has left and we’re just waiting around for nothing. It’s clear that they made the backyard their toilet. If Lea were there, I would think she would’ve needed to relieve herself by now. But there has been no sight of her. I’m really starting to wonder if she is gone.”
“The thought crossed my mind too, but we can’t leave until we look through the house,” he said.
“Yeah, I need to see for myself. I would like to see some of her stuff missing—like her hiking boots, sunglasses and purse. Anything. Then I’d know she made it out. But where would she go? How will we ever find her?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that we need to wait and keep watching the house. As soon as we see an opening, we run over there and search as quickly as we can. After that, we get out of Evansville. With or without her.”
“She might’ve heard the force is gathering in the northeast. Maybe if she isn’t there, she’s heading to the new HQ—looking for us.”
“We can only hope. Besides, if she is gone, she has supplies at her disposal, right? She knows about the storage unit. I would imagine she would go there first to gear up.”
“I think you’re assuming she listened to all of our survival talk. Let’s face it, most of what we say goes in one ear, out the other,” said Jane. “She certainly didn’t listen to us about Tank, and we could see that problem coming a mile away.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that. One step at a time,” said Sam. “If she’s not in the house, we’ll figure something out.”
Turning her gaze back to her home, Jane sat quietly scanning each window with binoculars. As time passed, surveillance of their home became increasingly difficult. With night falling, darkness blanketed the neighborhood. Jane knew not much more would be gained by looking out into the darkness. However, she could not pull herself away. Watching for Lea made her feel like she was actually doing something for their daughter. Still holding out hope that she was alive.
Neither of them had wanted to bring up the possibility that she hadn’t survived the past two weeks. That they might find their daughter in the house—dead. She didn’t want to think about it.
“You hungry? I have some of the granola Doris gave us, along with peaches and some nuts,” said Sam.
She turned her gaze away from the house.
“I didn’t notice before, but now that you brought up food, I’m starving. Where should we go to eat? We really can’t put on any flashlights in here, or they might see us. Remember what Mark said about the light drawing Tank and his guys into homes?”
“Right. I checked out the basement earlier, and it’s nicely furnished. The finished part of the basement has no windows. I don’t see any reason we can’t use flashlights down there.”
Jane took a last look through the window, willing Lea to step out of the shadows. Only a vast, empty darkness returned her long stare.
Jane and Sam moved carefully through the pitch-black house, using the house’s predictable floorplan as their only guide. Once through the kitchen and on the basement stairs, the hand railing allowed them to walk confidently down into the home’s subterranean level.
“Hold on. I’m going to close the door and jam some socks under it. That way none of the light we use down here will escape the basement,” said Sam, busying himself at the door.
“Good choice. Not only will the light be kept from leaving the basement, but the stench of those socks will ward off any would-be intruders.”
“Thanks, I aim to please,” said Sam.
Turning on the flashlight, Jane said, “That’s better. I’m glad you did some exploring. I’ve been so fixated on Lea that I didn’t even consider where we would sleep or how we would get around in the dark.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about how dark it was at Charlie’s and Doris’s houses, even with candles and flashlights. After what Mark said, I figured we needed a spot to land that didn’t allow any light to escape.”
“Speaking of Charlie, I’m going to try to contact him in a couple of hours. They should be at the next safe house if all went as planned.”
“Sounds like a plan. It’ll be nice to hear they got there in one piece. I know the two safe houses are fairly close, but given what we encountered on the horse trail, I’m starting to think anything can happen out there.”
“Did you catch what Mark said about everyone moving north?” asked Jane.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I sort of had a rough plan that we would get Lea, resupply at the storage unit and then walk or ride bikes north—maybe to the lake. I figured we could occupy one of the summer cottages,” said Sam.
“I thought the same thing, though I’m sure we’re not the only ones who came up with that plan. If enough people took off in that direction, who knows? There might not be room left for us up there.”
“All we can do is focus on the first part of the plan—finding Lea,” said Sam, shaking a few peanuts from a bag.
~ ~ ~
The night was the worst for Lea. The basement was dark and dingy enough during the day, but when the sun began to set, pitch darkness enveloped her quickly. Alone, sitting on the cement floor with her hands bound to the metal pole in front of her, she was terrifi
ed of the night. Her mind searched the darkness for familiar sounds. Any unusual noises started an uncontrollable cascade of horrific mental images. She pictured spiders, rats, mice, even snakes were coming to get her, crawling across her skin, into her ears, tangled in her hair. She begged Tank to let her out, just during the night. His typical response: “You should thank me for not killing you, you dumb bitch.” He always punctuated his responses with a swift kick to her bruised side or stomach. At this point, she’d rather deal with the unknown in the dark than Tank. She often wondered if death would be merciful compared to the miserable fate that undoubtedly awaited her.
When her wish for death started to become a fixation, she would try to recall the History Channel shows she’d watched with her dad about POWs. They were trained to keep fighting and resisting, even in captivity, when their situation was the grimmest. They continuously searched for ways to escape or foil the enemy’s plans. Recalling their struggles and triumphs gave Lea the strength she needed to continue to fight against Tank. There wasn’t much she could do, but she wasn’t ready to give up, so she did the best she could.
Lea worked on the ropes that held her to the metal support post at night. Tank never came into the basement in the dark, so she rubbed the ropes back and forth across the pole, trying to create enough heat and friction to fray her bindings and break free. She knew it would take a while, but she had nothing but time at this point.
When she got careless, her charm bracelet would clang against the metal pole. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it stopped her cold, especially during the late evening and early morning hours, when the house was still. She’d wait for Tank to burst through the doors. He rarely checked her ropes closely enough or with any regularity to notice the fraying. She would use his laziness against him. Lea determined to keep working against Tank until the ropes finally broke and she could sneak out in search of her parents.
