Chapter 19
Sam couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t from fear of what they might be going into. He was terrified he was going to let these kids down. Or worse, get them killed. He hadn’t been able to help his unit in Afghanistan. For a moment his lieutenant's blood soaked gaze appeared before him. He shook his head, shoving the image into the back of his mind.
Scared or not, he couldn’t let Subie be abused and not try to help.
Sam patted his hip, verifying the pistol was still there. He knew it was, but couldn’t stop himself from checking. He hadn’t grabbed one for anyone else when they stopped at his place. The last thing he needed was to have one of these kids shooting him by accident. He’d seen fully trained soldiers become trigger happy when nervous. Or worse. In Brock's case it would definitely be worse. Tamara and Alex were doing their best to calm Brock down, but the man was a mess.
“Turn here,” Sam told Adrian. He was driving better than Brock had. Thankfully traffic was light this late in the evening. “This is the place.”
Silence fell in the car as Adrian parked outside a beat up old house. What had once been a white picket fence surrounded the weed-choked yard. A walkway went up to the front porch. The off-white paint on the house was pealing and the windows were dark.
No one moved as silent seconds turned into tense minutes.
Sam gripped the pistol, nearly pulling it from the holster as something vibrated in the back seat.
“Oh, God. I can’t look at it,” Brock whined. “Alex, what does it say?”
Sam loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. He berated himself for being a bit too trigger happy himself. He was supposed to be the calm one here. He was the oldest adult and had the most experience with bad situations. He needed to set the example.
“I-it just says to come in,” Alex stuttered. “There’s no picture this time.”
“She’s dead!” Brock cried. “That’s why they didn’t send a picture. They fucking killed her!”
“Brock, calm down!” Adrian yelled back.
“Let me out!” Brock ignored his friend. “I’m going to kill them. Damn it, Alex, let go of me. Those fuckers are going to pay!”
Sam turned in his seat. Brock had been sitting in the middle, and both women were working hard to keep the strong man in the car.
“Let go!” Brock screamed again, turning his head just enough for Sam’s hand to fly out and slap him. The distraught man’s head snapped back from the blow.
“You’re brain went AWOL son, get it together,” Sam said into the resounding silence. He was shocked to hear how calm his own voice was. “We’re all going in. Together.” Brock turned murderous eyes on Sam. He kept his face blank, and after a moment despair sank back into Brock’s blue eyes. “Acting crazy or going in there half-cocked will only get you killed, her killed, or probably both.” Sam took a deep breath. “Someone needs to stay with the car, ready to drive if things go south.” He looked at Tamara. Sam didn’t know if she knew how to drive, but he didn’t want her going into that house.
“I’ll stay,” Alex offered. Her voice quavered as she spoke.
Sam was about to argue until he saw the look in Tamara’s eyes. He’d been a fool to think he could get her to stay behind.
“Fine,” Sam nodded. They got out of the car, and huddled around the driver’s side. Sam couldn’t help picturing a bunch of scared animals huddling together for false safety. “Keep the car running,” He told Alex as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Start honking if you see something suspicious. If something happens, stay as long as you can, but don’t put yourself into danger if you can avoid it.”
“I won’t abandon you,” Alex declared. Despite her obvious fear Sam could hear the determination in her tone.
Sam grunted before turning around and standing up straight. Three sets of eyes looked to him for guidance. For a moment he froze, uncertain what to do. He wasn’t qualified to lead. He couldn’t—No! Subie needed him to be a man.
“I’ll go up first. Stay close behind me. If anything happens, drop to the floor. You’ll be harder to hit if they have guns.”
“The longer we’re out here, the longer she’s being tortured,” Brock argued.
Sam half wished that Brock had chosen to remain behind. The jock was too emotional to be rational. Sam hoped he didn’t turn into too much of a liability.
“Stay behind me,” Sam repeated.
The hinges of the gate squealed in protest as Sam opened it and walked through. His nerves were already on edge. Everything about this place screamed for him to turn around and run.
The front door was in worse shape than the rest of the house. Wood splintered and twisted away from the obstacle. Sam could see that the windows were broken. The house had been abandoned.
Sam lifted his hand to knock, but hesitated. They already knew they were there. That last text messaged confirmed that they were being watched. Should he just barge in, pistol ready?
Sam decided to err on the side of caution. Besides, he’d likely get a fistful if slivers if he knocked. He didn’t realize how sweaty his palms were, until he gripped his gun. His hands weren't shaking anymore, at least, but a slippery grip wasn't much better.
“Stay close,” Sam whispered. He was starting to sound like a broken record. Heh, these kids probably don’t even know what a record is! He thought.
Before anyone could reply, Sam gripped the knob and opened the door. It was unlocked.
He dropped to one knee and scanned the room, his gaze tracking along with the barrel of his 9mm. The faint light that stabbed through the broken window cut through the darkness like a knife. A razor edge of light revealed peeling linoleum. In the darkness shadows gave credence to small piles of trash and dirt that had piled up over the years. The room was barren of any furniture or areas for people to hide. Once he was certain it was empty, he stood up and signaled for the rest to follow him.
“Subie! I’m coming for you, baby!” Brock yelled and shoved Sam out of the way.
Sam hit the floor as his left leg twisted out from underneath him. “Brock, wait!” he gasped, but it was too late. The man charged in and disappeared around the corner. The floor smelled of ammonia, probably where a stray cat or dog had gone to the bathroom. Apparently the house wasn’t completely abandoned.
“Are you all right?” Tamara asked as she helped him to his feet.
“Damn kid’s going to get himself killed,” Sam swore. “Come on, let’s go.”
Despite Brock’s brash behavior, they took it slow. Each room was empty save for the accumulations of years of neglect. Sam heard the crunch as his artificial leg come down on the bones of a long dead animal.
He worried that they were walking into a trap. If this were Afghanistan, he would have ordered everyone out, and requested EOD come through with one of their robots. This wasn’t Afghanistan, and he didn’t know anybody with a robot available. The cops? Not a chance. Whoever had Subie had already promised what would happen if the cops were involved.
Brock’s voice cried out. Before Sam knew what was happening he was hauled along with Adrian and Tamara as they rushed to a set of stairs leading down. Flickering light reflected from around a corner down there.
“Let me go first,” he told the other two, grabbing their arms to stop them from rushing into uncertainty. He didn’t understand what was going on. Where were the bad guys? What happened to Brock?
Sam hated stairs. It took careful precision to make sure his left heel didn’t strike the edge of a step and send him tumbling down. To make matters worse, he needed to keep one hand holding the pistol up while he watched below. When he stepped onto the level floor, he could hear someone sobbing around the corner. He expected to find the worst and didn’t want to look.
Sam glanced back up the stairs and saw Tamara and Adrian staring at him wide eyed. His heart tried to beat a way out of his chest. His head had begun to hurt as he went down the stairs, and now his vision was becoming blurry.
&
nbsp; Keep it together, he told himself. They’re counting on you.
Sam closed his eyes and took two steadying breaths. He dropped back down to his good knee and peeked around the corner.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He used the handrail for the stairs to pull himself back up. He rushed into the room, holstering his gun as he moved to Brock’s and Subie’s side. The lovers were holding onto each other. Subie still had bruises, cuts, and other marks adorning her nude body, but she was alive.
Sam looked around and saw five candles surrounding them. A circled star was chalked around where Brock held Subie with the candles at the points of the star. Based on the direction Subie was facing, the star was upside-down. Another Satanic site? Was everything tied together?
Sam considered their rash of bad luck lately: Brock’s car getting beat up, the dolphins attacked at the aquarium, the site at the beach, and Subie’s kidnapping. Sam couldn’t figure out a common thread between them. It couldn’t be him. Sam didn’t meet Brock, Subie, and Alex until after the car had been totaled. It couldn’t be Tamara. She’d never even seen the dolphins until after the attack. The same went for the rest of Tamara’s friends.
“Sam?” Tamara asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Is everything. . . ?”
“She’s alive,” Sam told her. “She’s going to need medical attention.” Sam dropped next to the couple. “Brock, I need to take a look at her. I need to know how bad she is.”
Subie clutched her boyfriend tighter, refusing to let go and crying even louder. Sam sighed, seeing the futility of his request.
Thanks to her nudity Sam was able to look at her back and arms. In the dim light that filtered down the stairs he could see her cuts were all shallow, nothing more than deep scratches. Some of her bruises were going to make moving painful, but none of them looked like they were hiding broken bones.
“What is all this?” Adrian asked.
Sam turned to look at him, but his eyes were drawn to Tamara. Even in the pale light of the candles, Sam could see something was wrong. Her face had gone deathly white, and she was shaking hard. Sam couldn’t tell if she was looking at Subie or the upside-down pentagram. Her mouth hung open and he knew she was about to lose it.
“Tamara?” Sam asked as he got to his feet. He reached out for her. Before his fingers could touch her shoulder, she collapsed. She huddled into a ball, sucking in air at a rapid pace. A second later she screamed as though she were being tortured beyond human endurance.
In the background he could hear the sound of a car horn honking.
Devil's Island Page 25
