Burnout

by Stacia Leigh

  Another satisfied gulp. Ahh.

  Will turned his attention back to her. “You thought…what?”

  “I thought…” Was he really going to make her spell it out? “I thought we had something, like there was chemistry. Like we’d connected.”

  “Really?” He stopped moving and frowned with disbelief. “Because you humiliated me in front of everyone. Do you know how many rump-ripper jokes I had to listen to? There was never an ‘us.’”

  “I’ve apologized for the farting comment at least twenty times,” she murmured. “Guys joke about it all the time. Proudly, I might add—”

  “Not in the middle of hooking up.” He rocked his shoulders again, contorting up and down.

  “I know. I’m sorry. If I could hit replay, I’d keep my big mouth shut, and I wouldn’t be jealous of a girl like Izzy—”

  “Come on. Jealous? I wasn’t in the closet with her, was I? No, I was there with you.” Will’s lips tightened into a line as he continued to jostle his arms behind his back.

  “She liked you, Will, and I knew she wanted to get with you in the closet. When I chose you, she gave me one of her looks like ‘game on.’ It sounds dumb now, but at the time I just…I felt…you know, I had to think fast, so she wouldn’t get you alone. It worked, didn’t it? A little too well. You said some pretty horrible things to me. I was never supposed to look at you, talk to you, or call you…ever again.”

  “I was mad.” Will sighed. “Listen. Forget it, and let’s concentrate on the here and now. We’ve gotta move fast. McCord’s in the bathroom, and in about ten minutes, Pitty’s gonna hit R.E.M. like a freight train. I finally got the knife out of my cast, but with this broken thumb, I don’t think I can cut myself free. Let’s sit back to back, and you take the knife. Getting through the duct tape should be easy, but be careful. Don’t slit my wrist, alright?” He turned, facing away from her with the folded pocket knife clutched in his fingers.

  The fan still whirred behind the closed door, and Pitty slouched deeper into the couch while blinking at his phone. When he rubbed his eyes, Miki decided it was safe. She shimmied around until her backside met Will’s. Her fingers walked along his cast to his palm to the knife handle.

  “Got a hold of it?” Will asked. “It’s really sharp, okay?”

  “Calm down.” She opened the blade with a click and walked her fingers up the thick bands of duct tape.

  “Did you tell me to calm down?”

  “Yeah, I did.” She smiled at their inside joke while slowly maneuvering the knife back and forth. It was sharp and after a few see-saw motions, it cut through the tape’s adhesive like butter.

  “Don’t you know you never tell a guy to—”

  A low, animalistic moan reverberated off the bathroom walls. McCord! She jumped, and the knife sliced upward.

  CHAPTER 16: Karma

  The blade of the knife zipped through the duct tape and thudded to a stop against Will’s cast. Miki froze even though she was practically dripping with sweat. She could have cut him. Oh, God. She could have stabbed Will with his own knife!

  Behind her, she could hear Will’s heavy breathing and the soles of his shoes scrambling on the concrete floor. He took the open blade from her grip and touched her wrist.

  “They’ve got the zip tie on tight. Let me get this out of the way.” He pushed her woven bracelet up her arm and tucked it under the cuff of her jacket. “Don’t flinch, okay? I’m going to slide the blade underneath the plastic band, like this…” The cold steel pressed against her skin, and Miki clenched her teeth, waiting for the pinch of pain or the warmth of drawn blood. She closed her eyes. Please-please-please don’t cut me, Will. What if I faint?

  “I’m, uh…” Miki bit the inside of her lip. “I’m not good with the sight of my own blood. I thought I’d put it out there since you think I should be a nurse, which is never gonna happen, by the way.”

  “I’m sorry I have to—”

  The zip tie jerked hard and bit into her wrist.

  “Half way, Miki. One more slice, and it’s done.”

  Her arms went numb at the pressure, and she could barely feel the flat of the knife or Will’s fingers touching her skin. “You’re strong, Miki. It’s what I like most about you. You can do this.” The zip tie jerked again, and her shoulders fell forward with release.

  A hot wave of adrenaline, fear, and anxiety surged through Miki’s body all at once. The weight of her leather jacket felt smothering, so she jerked her arms out of the long sleeves and let it fall to the ground behind her. Sweet relief. The air was dank and cooled the skin on her arms and the sweat on her back.

  Until the blood started circulating again. The skin where the zip tie had been tingled painfully while glowing an angry red. Her paracord bracelet rubbed against the raw skin, so she unclipped it to massage her wrist gently while Will hovered. She knew she needed to get up, to move. McCord could whip the bathroom door open at any moment, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t let a fiery case of rot gut get in the way of his trigger finger.

  Will knelt in front of her and held his palm out. “You okay?”

  She nodded, grabbed his hand to pull herself to standing and crammed the bracelet into her front pocket. He surprised her by wrapping his arms around her. His cast rested hard at her waist, and his free hand pressed at her nape. He squished her cheek against his chest and held on tight.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Are you hug-bombing me?” she asked breathlessly into his green sweatshirt. He didn’t answer, which was totally fine. She felt safe and needed in his arms.

  “I hate goodbyes,” he whispered fiercely, not letting go.

  “It’ll all work out. Don’t worry.” Miki rubbed circles over his back and murmured, “I’m here for you.”

  He dropped his arms and dipped his chin to look down at her. “Not for long, though,” he said. “Only one of us can get out, and it’s all you. Here, keep the knife folded, and when you’re up there, whack the window with this steel point. It breaks glass. Okay?” She took the folded knife out of his hand.

  He gave her a quick nod and slid the fingers of his good hand along her jaw, tilting Miki’s universe. He seemed far away and kind of lost, like the gears were churning and grinding away at some thought. Maybe he was worried about being left behind or about her getting caught. His thumb went under her chin, and slowly, he dropped his lips onto hers. The kiss started as tender and tentative, then quickly became urgent.

  Her heart and head were off balance as conflicting emotions bounced from one side to the other—He’s kissing me. What about the law of least effort? Who cares! Savor the moment. But we’re in a cell, idiot! We have to hurry. What if Greer comes back? Will’s lips are touching mine. Please-please-please don’t stop…

  He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “Ready, Zombie Lips?” he asked with a shaky breath.

  Great. Why’d he have to act all cute and sweet and turn things mushy right when she was preparing to leave him, to escape? The tearing sound was her heart being pulled apart. She wanted to stay with him, but she needed to go in order to save him—in order to save herself.

  Without waiting for an answer, he took her cool hand and led her to the wall under the basement window. “You’re gonna hop on my back and work your way up to my shoulders. Use the wall for support—”

  The toilet flushed, and Miki gasped as Will clutched her shirt and dragged her down until her butt hit the concrete. He slid her leather jacket across the floor and crammed it between them. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered in a low voice. Her chest heaved out of control, and she bit her lip hard to keep from whimpering as the bathroom door opened a crack and light glowed from behind it.

  “Pitty?” McCord said weakly. “Pitty, I think I’m dying. My stomach—I don’t know if I have the flu or what, but could you—Oh, God.” The door clicked shut and an agonizing groan was drowned out by a muffled splashing sound.

  “Sick,” Will said under his brea
th.

  All went quiet again after the blur of excitement, except for the bathroom fan, which continued to hum in the background. Miki strained her vision on Pitty, a gigantic spud sprawled on the couch. There was no peep, no snore, not even a twitch. Her shoulders fell with relief, and she sagged against Will.

  “You know, I saved Mom’s pie. Now, after all this time, it’s been eaten by a P-Skull who looks like an elf. No, a hobgoblin.” Will dropped his chin. “I can’t believe it’s gone.”

  “Will…” Miki gently placed her palm on his forearm and squeezed, drawing his attention. “It all worked out, though. Didn’t it? I mean he ate it, and now look, he’s paying the price. Karma’s a bitch, right? Serving up just desserts, one slice at a time. Maybe this is Cindy’s way of looking out for you. Her way of giving you a second chance.”

  He stilled for a moment. “Maybe.”

  “Come on, Will.” Miki stood. “Get up, and let’s do this. The sooner I’m out, the sooner I’m back with help. I don’t want to leave you alone with Greer.”

  “I don’t want you to either, so when you’re right, you’re right.” He stood with his knees bent and curtly told her to climb on. Miki pounced on his back, and after a quick jostle into position, she pulled her feet up, careful not to grind them into his spine. He hissed and grunted as she floundered clumsily. What would his skin look like now, after she’d stepped all over his healing wounds with the soles of her boots? He panted while walking his palm and cast up the wall, leveraging her up to the window.

  While teetering on Will’s shoulders, her heart raced, and her mind spun. She was up in the nose-bleed section, clutching at the window frame as goosebumps rippled down her forearms. Will was six-foot something, so looking down was probably not the best idea, but she did it anyway. Wow. Big mistake. There was nothing to catch her fall except a slab of cold concrete.

  Miki lifted her eyes to her target while running through the Goldilocks scenarios. A hit too soft might not break it. A hit too hard might send her hand through the glass. Visions of blood splattered against the gray floor made her a little woozy. She shook off the thought—it’s now or never—and reared the knife back. With a strong grip and some added control, she hit it just right, and the glass splintered. She opened the blade, used the tip to pry the shards out of the frame, then tossed them outward, off to the side.

  “Hurry.” Will grunted.

  “There’s too many little pieces. I can’t crawl out without my jacket for protection.”

  He looked off to the side where the black bundle sat beyond his reach and swore forcibly under his breath. “Come on down. We’ll try it again.”

  * * *

  Sweat dribbled along Will’s back, his front, his brow, his neck, his butt-crack. Jesus. With his hoodie on, he was a hot, steamy mess. But if he’d taken it off, he’d only have a thin t-shirt between Miki’s hard boots and the crunchy cornflakes on his back. Sick. Maybe it wasn’t sweat dripping off his shoulder blades. Maybe it was blood from torn off scabs.

  Miki kicked him in the side of the head as she flailed to get half-in half-out of the window. He stepped back, grinding small bits of glass under his feet, and watched her rock on her belly over the leather jacket. The only thing left to see were her denim legs sticking out of the frame, which turned into the top of her boots, the tread, the heels.…

  She was gone.

  Free as a bird.

  He almost cried out, but the word “wait” was trapped behind his teeth. What if this was the last time he saw her? Greer could come back…cut off his head, spit in the hole, and the last thing Will would remember was her biker boot clocking his melon.

  It was their last touch.

  Suddenly, there was her face and blue hair, blocking the sunlight. “I’m coming back for you,” she said, lobbing the folded knife through the frame. It skittered across the floor.

  “No.” Will ran and scooped it up. “Keep it!” He turned, holding it toward the window; it was empty. This time, she really was gone. “Miki?” Will said softly and let his arm drop. If she was still there…

  Nothing.

  There was only the whirring fan and the put-put-puttering of Pitty’s lips as he started to snore softly.

  Stay safe, Miki.

  How long would it take her to get down the mountain? Would she meet any of the Hides of Hell boys on her way? Did the guys even know they were kidnapped? What if she ran into the Pulver Skulls? What would they do to her?

  Will bit at the skin on his chapped lips. He wouldn’t be able to get to her; he wouldn’t know if she made it or if they killed her.

  A scorching ball of pain the size of the sun rose out of Will’s chest, and his windpipe burned with loss. No more Miki. Tears leaked out of his eyes. Snot dripped from his nose. Shortly after came the sweat and the slobber. Everything hurt, inside and out.

  He closed his lids, slid down the gritty wall, and choked while trying to hold it all in.

  After a long, catatonic state of nothingness, a buzzing sound brought him back into consciousness. Buzz-buzz-buzz. Silence. On again, off again. He slapped at his hip, expecting to feel a vibrating phone in a denim pocket but found neither. Instead, he was flat on his back in his Ghetto Gramps ready to make angels on the dirty floor. The sun sat low in the sky and reflected off the busted glass still stuck in the window frame. How long had he been out? Twenty minutes? An hour? His adrenaline had worn off, and everything throbbed—his broken pinkie toe, his cracked arm, and his bruised guts—thanks to the gymnastics he did while helping Miki escape. If only he could reach his pain meds.

  Buzz-buzz-buzz.

  It was Pitty’s phone on vibrate. It wasn’t set to ring—karma again?—otherwise, it might have alerted McCord or perhaps if there were someone upstairs in the shop…

  Was Greer calling?

  Will sat up and slipped his hand into his hoodie pocket. He had his knife. If there were guns involved, he was dead meat. If not, he might have a microscopic chance of busting out of here. In one hand, he had a sharp blade, and in the other, he had a green cast, a club. He’d beg to use the bathroom, and when Greer opened the chain-link door, Will would turn on his inner ape and get primal.

  Creak.

  The hair on the back of his neck flared. What was that? Creak…creak. Someone was in the stairwell, methodically making their way down. Will curled his fingers into a tight fist until the edge of the knife’s handle bit into his palm.

  It’s go time.

  Get ready.

  The wooden stairs creaked and groaned as weight shifted on each step. Will’s hoodie filled with furnace heat, and he inhaled three quick breaths to chill himself out. He leaned his shoulder into the wire fence and held his hands behind his back.

  Someone fumbled with the door knob, then the door pushed open. A waft of greasy pizza with green peppers flooded the room, and Will’s stomach churned with hunger and acid. First, there was a white cardboard pizza box. Then, there was a forearm…blond hair…a face. It was the kid from the hotel lobby, the kid who was friends with the elf and some chick called Pinecone. What was his name again?

  Grins. No…Grinly?

  He pushed into the room, all white tee and clean denim like he hadn’t been soiled by the Pulver Skulls yet. He placed the box on the coffee table between the card game, the beer glasses, and Will’s emptied backpack before surveying the room slowly. His piercing blue eyes landed on Will. They studied each other for a moment before the kid turned away, not seeming to care another human being was in a pen, contained like an animal.

  “Pitty,” the blond kid said in a low voice and waited while perusing the items sitting on the coffee table. What was he looking for? He seemed tense and focused, coiled like a spring ready for action. Was he supposed to be down here? Every movement he made seemed slow and calculating, like he was up to no good.

  Miles. No…Smiles?

  What was he looking for?

  Another low moan escaped the bathroom, and the kid froze, cocking his ear to list
en. He quietly stepped around the table corner to knock on the bathroom door.

  “Yo,” he murmured into the painted wood. “You in there, McCord?”

  “Hey, man. I’m sicker than a dog…” His muffled voice sounded shaky and frail. “Can you help me, bro?”

  “Sure,” the kid said but walked away to pick through Will’s things. He unrolled the rain jacket and shook it out and then seemed to find something of interest. He picked up the brick of ashes.

  Will’s brows jerked up, and he clutched the fence, forgetting, then not caring, how his hands were supposed to be tied behind his back. “Dude, those aren’t drugs. Those are ashes. They’re cremated remains!”

  The kid gave him an impassive look as he tucked the bundle under his arm. He stepped toward the door to the staircase.

  “Don’t go!” Will banged his cast against the fence. “Smiles. No…Smiley! Wait!”

  The kid didn’t look back or even pause. He strode across the room to the exit and closed the door behind him. The wood stairs creaked with his departure. He left the same way he’d come, quickly and quietly.

  “No!” The word ripped out Will’s throat, leaving his insides tattered and raw. “No.” He shrank to the floor. No.

  CHAPTER 17: Bits and Pieces

  Miki almost couldn’t tear herself away from the broken window. She lingered outside against the concrete wall with her leather jacket clutched to her chest. She needed to catch her breath, get her bearings, and accept the fact that she was free and Will was not. She had to leave him behind, and sort of like plucking her eyebrows or ripping off a Band Aid, the separation had to be quick because without a doubt, there would be extreme pain.

  She had tossed the knife back into the cell, so Will would be armed and maybe a little less vulnerable. Take it, he’d yelled up to her, but she’d stepped out of sight, so he’d think she’d left. Of course, that would require a modicum of intelligence. For some reason, being a glutton for punishment called to her, and she hesitated long enough to hear him tentatively ask, Miki?