Boomer

by K. L. Savage

  “No, please. No, doctors. Can’t go to the hospital.” She wheezes. “Scarlett. Need to get the girls. Save them.”

  “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Homer says, scurrying those damn feet along the ground, but he’s hurrying; I’ll give him that.

  She’s speaking in broken sentences, but the name Scarlett resounds in me. I’m not sure what it is, but it feels familiar, even if I’ve never heard the name before. It’s just because there are other women. That’s it. Other people need to be saved.

  “Ruthless Kings.”

  It’s the last thing she says before passing out limp in my arms. I grit my teeth. Those fuckers are in for a rude awakening if they think for one fucking minute they can get away with this bullshit.

  I’m going to blow them to pieces. One by fucking one.

  And I’m going to enjoy every damn bloody, brutal, grotesque bit of it.

  6

  Scarlett

  I’m not sure how many days it’s been since Abigale left. The days are blending to one now. A never-ending hourglass with that sand that doesn’t seem to ever stop. I’ve cried so much and so hard; I have no more tears left. Wolf only comes down to give us water and food, and then he leaves again. He doesn’t stay like he used to.

  He misses Abigale.

  One of the other girls has a cough now, and it’s only a matter of time before we all get sick. I’m going to die down here in this damn hole, and no one will ever know what happened to me. Abigale was our last chance of being rescued, and since nothing has happened, I’m going to assume the worst, just like Wolf is.

  At least, that’s why I think he hasn’t stayed down here with us. Since we’re still here, Abigale must have died.

  I hit my head against the stone and whimper when the collar around my neck rubs against my raw skin.

  Boots sound up above, and I freeze. They’re slower than usual, and two deep voices, one belonging to Wolf, start to speak. I can’t tell what they’re saying because the voices are so drawn out and muted by the walls and floor between me and them.

  The door to the basement groans, and fear bubbles in my chest just like every other time the damn thing opens.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  The sound of boots march to my impending death.

  The light above flickers on for the first time since I’ve been here, and all the girls whimper in fear. I lift my cuffed hands to my face to block out the light, turning my back to try to get away from the harshness of it.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. I can be an idiot,” an unfamiliar voice speaks up, and whoever it is, they make that silly little emotion Abigale warned about flutter in my chest.

  No! I can’t. I can’t like how one of them sounds. I can’t. I refuse.

  He turns off the light, and the familiar glow of the lamp Wolf carries replaces it.

  What’s going on?

  A hand touches my shoulder, the first touch I’ve had since I’ve been down here, and I scream, doing my best to get away. The chains tug against my body, effectively stopping me. “Please, please, don’t,” I cry to him, the first wet tears I’ve had since Abigale left. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything!” The sobs wrench from my chest like someone reached in themselves and ripped them out. “Please,” I say pathetically, scooting back as far as I can without meeting the man’s eyes.

  The small, gentle touch of his hand on my shoulder makes my body flood with warmth, and that scares me. Is he a good man? Am I so depraved for contact that any touch will do now?

  “He’s here to help,” Wolf says. “It’s okay. He’s okay,” he reassures me, but the terror in my stomach still twists and turns, carving my insides with a dull knife. Wolf comes closer, and the faint light enables me to see his face. The rest of the girls are crying, afraid this is the time our life ends, but when Wolf slides the lamp over to the other man, something in the back of my mind tells me it’s all going to be okay.

  Whoever this man is, he’s beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, I have to wonder if I’m dreaming or dead because that’s the only way someone like him exists. His hair is a bit shaggy and brown, he has tattoos up and down his arms, and his brown eyes flicker with a hint of gold. Maybe it’s a trick of the light. Whatever it is, if this is death, I’m glad I get to see something so magnificent one last time.

  “Are you here to take me upstairs?” I whisper, my voice wavering. My bravery and courage went out the door a while ago. I’m not afraid to admit that.

  He bends down, coming closer to me, and I lean back, unsure of what he’s doing. “No, sugar. I’m going to get you out of here. You and your friends. Your friend Abigale is safe; she told me to tell you that.”

  “Abigale is safe?” the relief coursing through me can’t be contained. I cry again. “She’s safe? Oh, god. It worked, Wolf? It worked?” I cry, my entire body shaking. “Thank you.”

  “We don’t have much time to talk. My friend is waiting in a van outside for all of you. We need to get you out, okay?” He cups my face and exhales a breath that’s shaken and unsteady, like he’s about to break. “What’s your name?”

  “Scarlett,” I say as Wolf hands him the key to the locks trapping me here.

  “I’ll get the rest of the girls free. We need to hurry. We don’t have much time. My sister can come with you. I can stay with you. I’ll have a bounty on my head.”

  “You’ll be safe. I swear it,” the man says. “We need to hurry.” He looks around the basement and growls. “I can’t believe they’ve done this. I won’t stand for it.” The man, who has yet to tell me his name, slides the key into the lock around my neck. When the metal gives, I reach up angrily and throw it as far as I can, gasping for air. “Hey, hey, Scarlett, sugar, look at me.” The man cups my face again and gives me a kind smile, but something in his eyes, something a bit dark, lurks in their depths. “My name is Boomer. You’re going to be just fine. Okay? I’m going to get you out of here.”

  I nod and hold out my hands as he unlocks the shackles too. “Okay,” I utter, a bit high-pitched and whiney, but I can’t help it; I can’t stop the damn tears. I’m relieved. The bracelets fall free, and next are my ankles. Once I’m free, I throw myself around Boomer’s neck and hold on tight. I never want to let go.

  I’m safe.

  He’s safe.

  “I got you, sugar. You aren’t ever going to live in fear again. I got you.” He kisses my temple and lifts me into his arms. I haven’t realized how cold I am until I’m against his warm chest. I lay my head against the strong beat of his heart, and the shirt he wears soaks in the wetness on my cheek.

  “You’re real,” I whisper against him as he carries me up the steps.

  “I’m real. Your nightmare is over. You hear me?” he says. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see this place.”

  I listen to him without hesitation. I don’t want to see this place ever again. I have enough nightmares to last me a lifetime. When we get done climbing the staircase, I know we’re in the main part of the house, or wherever I’m at. I try to snuggle against my savior, trying to bury my face into his chest. I wish I could crawl inside of it and wear his body like a shield, but I can’t.

  His hand cups the back of my head, and he shushes me gently. “It’s alright. We’re almost out of here, sugar. You never have to see this place again. It’s about to get really bright, okay? Keep those pretty blue eyes shut for me.”

  I tighten my arms around his neck and press my face against his throat, inhaling the scent on his skin. He smells like sweat, like he’s been outside all day, and a bar of soap. No cologne, no aftershave, or whatever men use, just simple musk, and I love it.

  His throat moves up and down from my gesture. I guess I’m being pretty obvious here, but I don’t care. He has no idea what he’s done for me, for my soul, by releasing me from this hellhole. He’s breathed life back into me when I thought it had been taken away forever.

  And I can’t help but be a little bit in love with hi
m—a man I don’t even know. I know I shouldn’t feel anything toward men right now, but as I’m cradled in his arms, how can I be afraid of him when he saved me from a life of torture and abuse?

  The van door opens, and an old man wearing big glasses comes to view. He looks kind, like a grandpa, and his eyes soften and water when they see me. “Oh goodness me, you poor thing,” he says, staring at me with pity and sadness. I guess I can see why. I’m nearly naked, in a dirty bra and underwear I’ve been wearing for days now … weeks, maybe? I’m not sure.

  I turn my face into Boomer’s chest. He tries to put me down in the seat, but I cling to him and shake my head. “Please, don’t let me go. Don’t let me go,” I repeat as I dig my nails into his neck until I know I break skin.

  Wolf places the other girls in the van, and the old man covers them with a blanket. He has an extra one in his hand as he waits for Boomer to set me down.

  Boomer reaches up and wraps the blanket around me, all while keeping me in his arms. “I’m never going to let you go, sugar. You never have to ask me twice,” he says, opening the passenger-side door. He pulls out something round and green, and my eyes widen when I finally realize what it is.

  It’s a grenade.

  “Homer, start the van because we’ll have all of about five seconds to get the fuck out of here. Wolf, get settled. I’m not kidding,” Boomer warns, half of his body in the van while the other half hangs out. “I need you to hold on tight, okay? I won’t be able to make it back inside the vehicle before this goes off, and we’re going to be moving. You’re going to get scared, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”

  I shouldn’t believe him. I only know his name, and his name doesn’t sound real.

  “I believe you,” I answer stupidly, and a wicked shine takes over the chocolate abyss of his eyes.

  “That’s my girl,” he says. Hearing him call me his girl makes me blush. He bites the clip and yanks it away from the bomb, spits it out, and throws it into the front door. “Go, go, go!” he says, his arms wrapping around me tight as Homer speeds out of the driveway. We don’t get far before the ground shakes and the windows rattle. “Wooo!” Boomer howls in the air before dipping his head under the frame of the window to sit in the seat. He slams the door then reaches behind him to buckle us in.

  “Shit, kid, I knew you were fucked somehow. You’re just fucked in the head, ain’t ya?” the old man says to Boomer.

  “Shut up and drive, Homer.” Boomer chuckles, and the shake of his chest makes me almost smile, but the realization of what took place hasn’t sunk in yet.

  “You are. You’re a goddamn mental case. Do I need to worry about you blowing my motel up? You’re going to have to blow me up with it.”

  “Homer, shut up or I will blow it up.” I can hear the tease in Boomer’s voice, and Homer mumbles something under his breath that I can’t understand, but Boomer does, and he laughs again.

  Even his laugh is warm and takes the cold away from my body.

  I really hope being in his arms is a dream because waking up would be the worst nightmare.

  7

  Boomer

  The woman in my arms is the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t know how I know that, but when I saw her, something clicked inside. This roaring need to keep her safe and get her out of that fucking place took over. She looked so small, chained up like a damn animal, in a dirty bra and panties. I know for certain I’m going to kill every last one of these motherfuckers when I can.

  They’re going to be pissed that I rescued their hostages, and they’re going to want retaliation.

  We come to a secluded area, thick with trees and brush. Homer’s Bronco is hidden in here somewhere. We’re going to ditch the van I rented under a fake name and burn the bitch. My cock hasn’t been so hard in ages. While the beautiful girl in my arms has a little something to do with it, the grenade, explosion, and the fire I’m about to set? Fuck.

  If I was alone, I’d jerk off and watch the flames dance in the sky, moving fluidly like a seductive lover.

  Hey, I never said I wasn’t fucked in the head.

  “Okay, everyone. We’re switching cars; come on. Hurry, hurry. We don’t have much time before they blaze this city with their fury.” I usher the girls out, and Wolf helps them into the Bronco. Homer hurries the best he can, and I try to put Scarlett down, but she holds onto me like a spider monkey. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love it, but I don’t want her to get hurt.

  Scarlett. What a hot name. I never met anyone with that name before, and I want to say it over and over and over again. I’m not sure what the future holds for us, with what she’s been through, but I’ll be patient, and I hope she can be patient with me because I’m all kinds of damaged and torn.

  I hope, in time, she doesn’t give up on me because I swear, in the end, I’m worth it. I don’t know how I am. I can give a list of reasons why I’m not good enough for her, that I’m too fucked for her, especially with everything she’s been through, but there’s one thing I know that’s worthy of something—my heart. My head might be my enemy right now, but my heart means well.

  I mean well. That has to be enough, right?

  “I have to set this thing on fire, sugar. I’ll be right back. Wolf will take you with the other girls. You’ll be alright.” I call her sugar because she looks all sweet and delicious, something that can be bad but good for me all at the same time. I know once I taste her, whenever that may be, I’ll be addicted.

  She shakes her head again, the headful of long black hair shines blue in the light, and I run my fingers over her face, noticing a bruise on her cheek. Rage burns deep inside as I realize they hurt her. Our eyes meet, for the first time in broad daylight, and the color of her irises rob my breath. They’re the color of blue fire, the hottest flame, and that’s when I always know the fire is at its best.

  Oh, this woman is made for me.

  “You’re going to be okay, Scarlett. I promise. I don’t want to burn you,” I say, ironic that I want to burn everything around her to keep her safe.

  “You won’t,” she whispers. “I’m not ready for you to let me go, unless you want to.”

  Hell no, I don’t want to.

  “You’re about to get a peek that maybe I’m not all there in the head, sugar.”

  “I figured that out when you tossed a grenade and smiled about it.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, just don’t ever chain me.”

  I offer her the lighter fluid in my hand, so she can have the honors. “Never. I promise.” This connection between us is as quick as lighting a match, and it’s obvious she feels it too. She doesn’t know this, but she will in time, but the only chains between us link us together. I’ve felt this way since the moment I laid eyes on her.

  I probably need to cool it down. She’s in shock and probably has no idea what’s happening right now, and she won’t remember anything once the adrenaline crashes. I push that thought away because it hurts more than it should, considering I’ve known this chick all of two minutes. “You do the honors. You deserve it.”

  She takes the bottle and opens it with her mouth, making me hold back a groan when a bit of lighter fluid squirts in her mouth, and she spits it out like a fucking professional. Does the taste not bother her? One hand stays around my neck, and she squirts the fluid all over the van. I walk around slowly, letting her take her time. I can’t stop watching her.

  She’s enjoying it.

  I see the madness taking over her eyes, the anger, the revenge, and everything around me fades. The wind stops blowing, the birds stop chirping, and all I can focus on is the slight insane glee on her face. She squeezes until the bottle is empty, and then she throws it in the van. “What now?” she asks, her voice hoarse from the iron collar that was around her neck.

  I take out my matchbook. “It’s time to put it behind you, sugar.” It’s difficult, but I manage to get
a match out and hand it to her, holding the black strip close so she can light it. “Go ahead.”

  Scarlett swipes it, igniting it in one motion, and the scratch against the red matchhead is music to my ears. She stares at the dancing flame and then tosses it. In slow motion, the match flips, and I take a few steps back to get away from the blistering heat we’re about to feel.

  It lands on the white frame of the van, and blue flames, like her eyes, spread out quickly, engulfing the van before orange and yellow reach for the sky.

  “We need to go.”

  “Can we wait? I want to watch it burn,” she says darkly, staring at the black smoke cascading up toward the clouds.

  “I’ll let you burn whatever you want later, sugar. We have to go. I need to get you ladies to safety.”

  She yawns, and it’s followed by a groan. “I don’t feel good, Boomer.”

  “I know you don’t, sugar. I hope it’s the last time you ever feel like this,” I say earnestly, knowing the stress, malnourishment, shock, and adrenaline are all overwhelming her. It’s only a matter of time before she crashes.

  “Don’t let me go,” she urges, wrapping those small arms around my neck again.

  I never want to let her go, but I can’t tell her that. She’ll run away, and I don’t own her, no matter how much I want to. She has a family, people who miss her, I assume, and when she leaves, because she will, I’ll miss her.

  I’m already dreading the day. No one else will feel as perfect in my arms as Scarlett does. The only person who needs to worry about someone letting go is me.

  Fuck, here I go. I’m being obsessive, which isn’t new since I’m an obsessive person. I’m really nervous that Scarlett is going to be a compulsion. Compulsions are so dangerous, but I’d feel so much relief if I got to have her.