by Rae Richen
He could at least slow them and maybe keep Rosaria inside the basement and garage until Reese arrived.
He pushed himself into a corner of the garage area, waiting. He had nothing to fight off the two men, but he had surprise, and maybe a girl that bit and fought.
Minutes later, he heard the boots of one man and the slap of bare feet.
Out of the basement area, shuffled Trace, sweat running off his face, his curly hair sticking out in all directions. His hands were tied, and he bent over like a very sick man. The shorter man pushed Trace up the driveway with the end of a pipe.
Glyn thought to grab that pipe and swing it, but at that moment, the second man came out carrying a girl over his shoulders.
She clearly was out cold. Her short red hair bobbed as the man moved. Her face and her arms swung back and forth with each step the man took.
The short man pushed the button to open the garage.
“What the hell?”
“Open the damned door,” the taller guy said.
“Won’t go.”
“Use the button.”
“I’m using the fucking button.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Glyn pushed himself deeper in the shadows as the two men punched the button over and over again.
Trace glanced toward the blanket over the laser but said nothing.
“Don’t tell me we’re gonna be stuck in here,” short man said.
“Worked a minute ago. What could go wrong?”
“Battery?” short man asked.
They both looked up at the ceiling where the garage door opener hooked up.
“Get your clicker out and flick it,” tall man said.
Short man fished in his pocket and said, “I left it in the truck.
By now, Trace was looking all around him, searching, Glyn thought, for the source of the blanket, the reprieve from being shoved into the truck and taken out of Portland.
Glyn listened for sirens, hoping Reese knew not to use them, but wanting to hear some help coming.
“What’d you do that for?” the tall man said, bending over and yanking the blanket off of the laser. “Don’t you know nothing?”
“Do what?” the short man huffed.
“Punch the door open.”
“I did.”
The tall man bellowed his disgust, punched the door button and then had to rebalance the girl on his shoulder. Her red hair shone in the garage lights.
The door rose. There were no police cars blocking the way.
“Get ‘em in the truck,” Tall man hollered.
The short man forced Trace up the step into the back of the truck.
The bigger man dumped the girl on the floor of the truck, letting her head hit the rhino-lining. He hissed, “You’re driving the first two hours. I’m going back after the biter. Start the motor.”
Now, Glyn thought, I can take the one and wait for the other to come back weighed down with another girl.
The bigger man shuffled slowly back into the basement. By the time he had disappeared, the shorter man had jumped into the cab.
Glyn heard the cab doors click locked.
Too late for an attack on him, but I can take the other one when he returns.
Glyn cast about for some weapon. but saw only stacks of papers and black bags of garbage. He lifted the bags. Nothing heavy in them. Might stuff one in the guy’s face, but that will only startle him.
He’ll drop the girl and come at me. Not good for her or me.
“Glyn,” Trace hissed. “Get us out of here.”
“I’m gonna attack that guy when he gets back.”
“He’s got a gun.”
“Quiet. I hear him.”
“Phone?”
“Yep,” Glyn said.
“Hang onto it. They took ours.”
Glyn backed into the corner again, the black garbage bag in his grip. He checked that his phone was in his pocket, and waited.
Out into the lights of the little sheds, the tall man came with another body slung over his left shoulder. His right hand held a gun, aimed at the side of his victim.
“Best not try anything,” the tall man said. “Can’t go far and then I shoot you, Bitch.”
The girl raised her head and stared back into the shadows, seemed to see Glyn. Her eyes widened. She raised her tied hands to warn him to stop.
He stopped, horrified.
Arwain! Tied and gagged.
The man threw her onto the truck bed, climbed in and yanked her by the hair farther back into the darkness. He climbed back down and strode to the truck cab, banged on it and yelled, “Use the fuckin’ closer on the garage.”
Glyn knew he had only a moment. He took the garbage bag with him, climbed up into the back of the truck and stuffed himself among the blankets and behind the garbage bag.
Trace sank to the floor between Glyn and the open truck door. When the tall man came back, the garage door started rolling shut. The man slammed the truck doors closed. He turned the safety handle to hold them in and left the four of them in the dark.
As the tall man climbed into the cab up front, Glyn studied their situation. Curtains over the window between the truck bed and the cab, a definite plus.
He peeked behind the curtain and found the window closed. Another point in their favor.
But the window could be opened from the inside, he knew, so not much of a safety for them in the truck bed. He fished in his shirt pocket and found a pen. Not much help, but he laid it in the sill of the cab window to make it harder to slide the window open. Thus, they couldn’t quickly open it and the curtain would stay closed meanwhile.
They’d eventually break the pen, but it would take a couple of shoves. Time enough to hide again.
Maybe.
The truck started. Glyn felt a scrape. The truck lifted and then fell as it drove into what must have been Grandma Willie’s walker. The two guys in front got out. The four in the back held still.
“Get behind the garbage bag,” Trace whispered.
So, Glyn hid again.
They heard the tall guy yelling at the shorter one. “What’d you leave all this metal here for, idiot? First the blanket, now this trash pile.”
“Nothing to do with me,” the other guy said. “Check the tire. Might a’ cut it.”
“Tire’s fine. Get rolling.”
They heard the two of them climb back into the cab and slam the doors. In seconds, the engine roared and the truck leapt forward.
All four of them rolled into the back door at the motion. Glyn pulled them back into a safer space.
Trace rolled over and whispered. “I’ve got a knife can you untie us?”
“How’d you get a knife?”
“Stole it. Their kitchen.”
Glyn glanced at the window. “Got anything I can jamb this window with?”
“No. Come on.”
Glyn knelt next to Trace and glanced at Arwain. He took the knife and cut the rag from her mouth first. The knife wasn’t very sharp, and it took some time to cut it.
As he sawed at the knot, he saw tears in her eyes.
He whispered. “I called the cops before he brought you all out. Reese and Seneca are on their way.”
**
Henry, Mr. Aguirre and Violeta stood between small sheds and saw Willie racing back toward them and toward the street.
The truck motor turned on and the lights caught her silhouette just as Violeta stepped out and pulled Willie into the space between sheds.
They heard metal crunch under the truck tires as Willie nearly fell on top of Violeta, gasping, “Glyn is back there. Henry can’t come in the drive ...”
“Henry Crick is here,” Violeta said.
Papá Aguirre pushed both of them further back into the shadows and stood between them and the driveway. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Willie glanced around. “Don’t dial Glyn’s phone. They’ll hear it.”
“I’m dialing the police. What did you see?”
“Glyn texted they talked about a girl biting one of the drivers. I think they have put the girls in the basement of that building.”
Papá Aguirre told Officer Seneca what Glyn had heard, and then he said to Willie and Henry. “Glyn already called them. They are on their way here. Stay put or you’ll be in between police and the drivers.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
His phone rattled, but didn’t ring.
Trace whispered behind him. “Turn the sound off on that phone.”
Glyn laid down the knife and fumbled out his phone to silence it. He saw that Reese had tried to text him.
Where are you?”
Glyn answered, “In white truck. In the truck bed. Hiltown Move and Storage. Heading south on 2nd Ave.”
He finished getting the rag off of Arwain and then started on her hands.
“How about me,” Trace hissed.
Glyn nodded toward the blond. “Gotta have her help with the other girl while I get you. No telling how long we have.”
He yanked at the ropes on Arwain’s hands. “Who is she?” he whispered.
“My roommate, Claudia.”
“Drugged?”
“More than me, I think.”
He loosened the rope enough to get the dull knife under the first twist of the knot. “Keep your face back,” he said.
As soon as the rope gave way, the knife just about left his grip.
Arwain’s body jerked back. She stared up at him, both of them aware that he could have cut her.
“Here,” he said, “use this on your legs and then get her.”
She started sawing on her ankle bonds as he moved to Trace’s hands.
“How the hell you find us?” Trace said.
“Long story. Later.”
He got Trace’s ropes a strand or three at a time. They loosened, but wouldn’t slip the knot. Agonizing moments later, Arwain handed him the knife and then she worked on the looser ropes that bound Claudia. All the while, she whispered to Claudia, trying to awaken her.
Glyn sawed away at Trace’s wrist ropes. After a frustrating long time, Trace said, “Hold the knife steady and let me do the moving.”
Trace moved his wrists back and forth across blade. It moved too much, so Glyn held it, blade point down and tight to the floor and one hand on the handle end. It stopped flexing. Now Trace could get some power behind the blade. They could see progress.
When the strands finally gave, Glyn handed the knife to Trace and pulled out his phone.
He texted Reese. “All untied.”
“Why you inside?” Reese texted.
“With Trace, Arwain, Claudia. All okay but Claudia drugged.”
Reese texted back. “Following you. Willie and Henry follow us with Violeta and her dad. Describe driver.”
“Two men.” He gave a brief description. “Short guy drives. Heading south. Said to Chico, California.”
“Roadblock at empty field ahead. Hang onto something. May roll.”
Glyn whispered to Trace and Arwain. “Police roadblock. We gotta grab side truck rails and hang on.”
Arwain grabbed for the blanket pile and pulled the garbage bag toward the truck wall. “Help me hold Claudia,” she said.
Trace whispered, “He’ll swerve right off the road. Right side will be down first when it rolls.”
Glyn didn’t question him. Trace knew stuff.
They pulled blankets and soft garbage to act as a bumper between Claudia and the right side of the truck. All three of them grabbed the cargo hooks.
“Coats between face and truck,” Glyn said, whipping off his own coat. Arwain pulled off Claudia’s coat and made as thick a pillow for her as she could.
“Trace, your arm heals faster than face,” Arwain said, so Trace pulled Claudia’s limp arm up to shelter her face and then did the same for himself.
“Hope this shell doesn’t collapse on us,” Trace said.
“Hook up so we don’t fly into each other,” Arwain whispered.
Glyn figured she was right. So, he hooked one leg around Trace’s waist and let Trace latch his legs around Claudia, while Arwain grabbed his own waist with her legs.
Up front, the driver shouted. “Fucking damn.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The truck jerked right, skidded and swerved. Glyn feared he wouldn’t be able to hang on. The pressure on his fingers yanked right, then up and down as the truck rolled, but he hung on with his legs to Trace and felt Arwain’s legs tighten around his waist.
“Protect your head,” he yelled, plowing his head into his coat as the shell of the truck screeched and caved toward them.
The truck came to rest on the side where they were. Silence surrounded them.
“Arwain?” Glyn shouted.
“Here. Trace is ...”
“She fell away from me at the last moment,” Trace yelled. “Got my legs around her, but she turned and then fell away.”
A sudden explosion ripped through the quiet.
“Get us out,” Glyn yelled. Arwain and Trace joined him, screaming and banging on the truck sides.
Someone sent a shot through the cab toward the back where they lay.
“No guns!” Someone shouted. “Kids in back!”
Then the sound of metal prying metal. Light flooded in and hands pulled on legs.
“Seneca, get Claudia out. Drugged,” Arwain shouted.
“She’s out,” Officer Seneca said, “Trace, too. Can you crawl toward me?”
Glyn pulled on his sister’s leg. “Quick before it blows.”
She crawled, too, pulling at him as she went. He found his right leg unable to move and didn’t know why.
“Seneca, Glyn’s bleeding,” she cried. “Help me get him out.”
Officer Seneca had climbed in and pulled Glyn into his arms, shouting, “I’ve got him. Roll out, Arwain.”
Glyn couldn’t feel anything in his right leg, but the tug on his left was excruciating. In a moment, he was out into the light of a gray day and being carried well away from the truck.
“Run,” Seneca shouted. “It’s gonna blow.”
In moments, the whole truck exploded. Metal flew past them. Officer Seneca jerked, tumbled to the ground, pulling Glyn and Arwain with him.
“Officer down,” Arwain yelled. “Damned metal.” She crawled around her brother to get to Seneca.
“Hold still, Seneca,” she said. “Metal in your back. Don’t move.”
Glyn turned over. Seneca’s face looked white, but the officer gazed up at Arwain, and said, “Stop Glyn’s bleeding.”
Arwain turned to take care of Glyn, just as he blanked out.
**
Grandma Willie climbed out of Henry’s car at the scene of the roll-over. Reese held her back while medics helped Glyn, who was unconscious, and Officer Seneca whose pain probably made him wish he were out.
Claudia already had been carried to an ambulance that headed back into Portland. She had not regained consciousness.
On the ground far from the burning truck, and between Glyn and Officer Seneca, Arwain sat, interfering with everything the two medics tried to do.
Finally, the third medic said, “Miss, show me your medical degree or stop talking.”
“But...,” she stuttered.
“Stop, so they can save both of them.”
She stopped.
After a moment, Glyn’s medic said to her, “You did a good job on the tourniquet. Saved his life.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Four hours after Claudia and Arwain should have called him, Javier watched the bus come into the Tigard transit center, watched passengers disembark and walk around the block and across the street to wait for the bus to Newberg. At this time of night, most of the passengers were broods of boys, coming back to Newberg from a night on the town, fairly noisy and unruly. Two girls were with them.
Javier watched the bus driver watch the crowd and talk into his cell phone. Two big middle-aged men came out of a nearby building a
nd headed for the crowd, but the bus driver shook his head and waved the guys away from the mob. Javier took a movie as the two nodded at the bus driver and retreated into the building. He took a close-up of each man and the driver, through the bus window.
Javier already had written the bus number in his notebook. Now he wrote a description of the bus driver and the two men, the building where they retreated and the exact time.
Then he took a photo of the boys and the two girls.
He waited. Nothing else happened before the bus pulled away, except that a van from Hiltown Moving and Storage pulled into the driveway, hesitated and then pulled back out. So, he took a photo of it as well.
After ten quiet minutes, the bus to Newberg pulled in and the whole crowd climbed aboard.
Javier called someone at his university and at George Fox University. They set in motion a police watch on this transfer point.
* *
Willie sat in Reese’s car, exhausted and fretful. She saw a stretcher being loaded on the ambulance and tried to open the car door. It wouldn’t budge.
“Child locks,” Captain Reese said. “You need to quit and stay here. The medics are taking care of the kids.”
Captain Reese felt rather than saw that Willie took her hand off the car door handle and leaned back for a moment. Then, she was on the alert again.
“Captain Reese,” Willie said, “The van driver knows where he was going with our kids, and that’s where we’ll find Rosaria and Liza.”
“He’s in the second ambulance and not talking. The explosion sent him out into the field with a lot of damage to his body and a major whack on the head.”
Willie said, “That driver may only have been in it for the first leg of the drive.”
Reese asked, “And where was that?”
“Glyn heard him mention Chico. Well, you know that sleepy town was not the final destination, but it puts us on the way to the Central Valley.” Willie said.
