Kneeling a few feet away from Anna, he placed the cloth on the ground and began to part the flaps. “I knew you’d be a challenge, Anna, the first day you arrived. I prayed that you would be to every god I knew. Most adults are so boring and predictable. They give up too easily, but you…” He looked at her like they were long-time lovers. “You were perfect.”
Anna attempted to kick in his teeth. The bindings on her ankles held as she squirmed.
The cloth opened its four corners, creating a diamond on the concrete floor. In the center rested a knife. Its hilt was that of a filed-down elk’s antler, and the dark waves decorating the steel was evidence to how many times the blade was folded at the forge. Anna’s heart slammed into her chest at the sight of it. The deadly edge could cut butter at a glance. She breathed rapidly, bracing herself for what was to come.
“You’re a prodigy, Anna,” Cain said and held the blade up to the light. “The world will be a worse place without you.”
Anna shouted muffled words through the rope that forced an agonizing grimace on her red cheeks.
“Oh, Anna, it’ll be okay,” Cain said as if speaking to a foolish child. He rose, loomed over her, and smirked. “That’s what your father said after you watched those naughty, naughty videos. Did it help? There’s no reason you should die a liar.”
He put the cold edge of the blade against her cheek. She leaned as far away as she could to escape the point. The knife cut downward. Anna expected blood and pain. Instead, the rope fell to the floor, sliced in two, and Anna could breathe properly again. Face on fire, red and raw, she glared at the man, imagining him as the worm that he was.
“Go to hell,” Anna growled.
Cain smiled, revealing his slightly crooked teeth. “You really are your father’s daughter.”
And he plunged the knife into her belly.
Anna lurched over, screaming through her teeth as a lightning bolt of pain exploded up her torso. The chair rattled as she tried to shake the agony that temporarily blinded her.
With a swift motion, Cain extracted the blade, leaving behind a trail of crimson droplets on the cold concrete. Anna reared back her head, screaming at the act. Her head slopped down and she saw the open wound through her silky shirt.
Keisha whimpered behind her.
Cain walked around Anna and faced the little girl strapped to the other chair. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you? Every time, you cry and cry, but you have nothing to cry about. God blessed you with a gift and, now that I’ve humbled you, you act like the world's coming to an end. It’s not, sweetie, and once you understand that your existence is meaningless and that the world will move on without you, you can live freely without guilt or expectation. These early years are very important to the development of your mind.” He flicked her in the forehead. “If you’re not willing to listen to the truth, you are better off dead. Don’t you agree, Anna?”
Anna’s fingernails drilled into the ball of the chair’s arm. She took a deep breath and watched her belly leak blood onto the floor. “Wesley, Cain, whatever you call yourself--”
“Names are powerful, Anna, but inconsequential to our lives.” Cain lectured. “Keisha’s means great joy, or cassia tree in Hebrew, but she’s neither happy nor a tree. Anna means grace or favor, yet you're tied to a chair bleeding all over yourself. There’s not much grace in that, is there?”
“Let her go.” Anna’s face contorted as the cold wind punched her wound.
Cain strutted back around to Anna and squatted before her, gently twirling the knife’s point on her thigh.
“She’s mine.” His serpentine eyes were cold. “You stripped everything else from me.”
“Don’t make excuses,” Anna growled. “You would’ve killed her anyway.”
Cain stared Anna in the eyes, trying to get a read on her. “I suppose you're right. I can only stomach so much. Her gifts will be better utilized for her Maker anyway.”
Anna shook her head and smirked. “It makes you feel powerful to hurt talented little girls, doesn’t it? I heard about your sister and how she was strangled to death. Your doing? I thought so. You’re nothing but a jealous little man, Wesley. Weak and cowardly, you squirm into people’s lives like a little envious worm. You’re sad your daddy loved your sister more than you? Grow up.”
He stopped twirling the knife and pressed it against her flesh. Anna was prepared for another jab, but her words felt worth it.
“You think that by taunting me you’re gonna die with more dignity?” Cain scoffed. “Reality check, Anna. It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting or screaming, dead is dead. Do what feels right, I guess, but I thought you’d be interested to know more about the one who takes your life. I know I would.”
“The night’s still young,” Anna said, tasting copper and feeling lightheaded. “I’ll tell you all about me.”
Cain chuckled. “Edger didn’t believe me when I said you were a fighter. He was so confident in his bet that he invited me over just to prove me wrong. You relived that memory to find me. It wasn’t worth it.”
High beams sliced through the downpour and the glass windows. The smile on Cain’s face fled.
“Expecting visitors?” Anna asked.
Cain glared at her as he stood. He stowed the knife in his pocket. “We’ll finish when I get back. Start thinking about which one of you wants to die first.”
He twisted and jogged down the long room, leaving Anna’s line of sight. She closed her eyes, feeling the wound’s torment. If she’d been a doctor, maybe she’d know how lethal it was. Alas, all she knew was that the cut in her belly was inches deep and staining her shirt with a wine-red bloom.
“Are you going to make it?” Keisha sniffled behind her.
“I don’t know,” Anna admitted and immediately felt guilty for not giving the child hope. “We need to find a way out of here before he comes back. This might be our only chance.”
“But how?” Keisha asked.
Anna thought for a moment. Every second she didn’t talk, the hurt worsened and caused her body to tremble. “Your binds, Keisha. Do they feel loose?”
She heard the chair creak and rattle behind her as the Rines girl squirmed. “A little.”
“Good.” Anna stifled a scream as wind punched her knife wound. “Is it your arms or your legs?”
“My hand.”
“I need you to try to slide it out from under the rope, can you do that?”
“I’ll try.” Keisha’s chair rattled more. “It hurts,” she whimpered.
“Keep trying,” Anna watched the far end of the room, expecting Cain to return any moment. “You can’t give up. No matter how much pain you're feeling.”
The girl cried as she pulled back her arms against the rope. “I can’t.”
“There’s no can’t, Keisha. You must. Our lives depend it.”
“It’s too much!” the little girl wailed.
“Think of your parents,” Anna shouted over the child’s cry. “You do this if you want to see them again.”
The wail crescendoed until the chair jolted a final time. Keisha panted. Rain lapped against the winds and pinged on the roof.
“Keisha?” Anna asked. Her heart pounding.
“...I did it.” Keisha replied, catching her breath. “My hand’s free.”
Anna sighed with relief. She felt her torso numbing. “Untie yourself. Quickly. And then help me.”
The little girl obeyed and slipped free of her binds. She jogged around the chairs. Anna noticed her banana yellow pajamas, the same outfit Lily Kendale wore when Anna found her. Keisha’s once glossy and silky hair shot out every which way like a bush of black wires, her lips were chapped, and her teeth was yellow from lack of brushing. She had her mother’s alluring eyes darkened by sleepless circles and her father’s cheekbones sunken with stress. Her bandage covered her stubs on her fingers. Her right hand--missing its two back fingers--was bruised and bleeding from sliding it out of the rope. Anna’s lip quivered.
&
nbsp; She’s right here. I can reach out and touch her. The concept felt weird and foreign as if seeing the girl alive was never an actual possibility. The dock line around Anna’s wrist gave way for her hand to escape. After twirling it a few times, Anna started on her ankles while Keisha worked on her other hand. Within moments, she sat free from her bondage. When she went to stand, a flash of pain sent her back into the small chair. Keisha stared at Anna’s wound with wide, fear-filled eyes.
“Help me up,” Anna requested quietly.
The child wrapped her arm around Anna and assisted her in standing. Anna winced at the action but knew the journey out would be much more painful. Gritting her teeth, Anna braced herself for her first step.
At the far end of the warehouse, a door slid open and rain spattered on the concrete floor. Anna felt Keisha hug her tighter. I’ll face him standing up. Anna thought defiantly.
Drenched head-to-toe, Agent Justin Rennard entered and slowly lowered his pistol at the sight of them. “Anna?”
His black FBI jacket glistened from the rain and his Celtic rune necklace could be seen hanging over the zipper. Glumness sank his joyous face as he noticed Anna’s stomach. “What--”
“Where’s Cain?” Anna wasted no time.
“You’re the first person I’ve seen,” Rennard admitted as he hastily approached. “Backup’s on the way. I followed your text to the address, Anna. The neighbors heard gunshots but didn’t see which way the car went--”
“He’s here, Rennard,” Anna cut him off. “We can’t let him get away. Not again.”
The lights cut out with a whoosh. Suddenly, they were flooded in darkness.
“He’s coming,” Keisha whispered.
Anna looked around. Her eyes weren’t adjusting.
“Get to the car!” Rennard shouted from an unknown location.
Anna followed the sound of rain until she reached the wall. A muddy puddle pooled around her shoe from the foot gap at its bottom. A door opened somewhere in the lumber storehouse and shut quickly.
“Rennard?” Anna called out.
No reply.
“What are we going to do?” Keisha whispered and shivered.
Anna waited for her eyes to adjust. It took too long.
“Can you get under there?” She pointed at the gap.
“Maybe,” the child said with uncertainty.
“Do it,” Anna commanded. “And find a place to hide until the cops come.”
“But what about you?”
Anna huffed in frustration. Her palm pressed against the hole in her torso. “I’ll find another way out.”
Gunfire echoed through the building.
Keisha peered into the darkness with terror.
“There’s no more time to waste,” Anna growled. A surge of pain shot through her being. “You got to get under there.”
The child opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. She lowered herself to the puddle and pulled the upper part of her body through the gap. Her little legs squirmed on Anna’s side, prompting Anna to kneel and push the child’s feet the rest of the way. Bombarded by torrents of rain on the outside of the building, the little girl gave Anna a final look of longing before running into the storm.
Using a horizontal slat on the side of the tall shelving, Anna pulled herself up. Her knees baulked and a groan escaped her lips. She turned her gaze to the gap below the wall, wondering. You’re not that skinny, Anna. She put the idea to rest.
On the other side of the building, another gunshot rang out.
Anna’s hands groped at the shelf, feeling multiple horizontal planks running across the back end of the shelf. Against any doctor’s recommendation, she used them as ladder rungs. Biting into her lip to prevent screaming, she climbed one by one. Her belly flopped across the top shelf, leaving a red smear at the corner. She rested there for a moment, blinking back tears. Carefully, she stood and clenched her wound. Her palm was sticky against the pierced flesh and the dark room bent around her. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened it again, her world twisted, but just not as bad. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the black room but could only make out broad shapes.
Wood groaned underfoot as she jogged across the top shelf and slid behind tall stacks of long wooden sheeting. By the way the wood shifted underfoot, it became clear that the shelves were not nailed down. Another pistol round went off in the far corner opposite of Anna. She caught a brief look at the silhouette crouched behind a pile of wood. The identity of the shooter remained unknown so Anna hunched low, hoping not to be mistaken as the target.
A second shooter fired at the first gunman from between two shelves, one of which Anna hunched on and the other next to it. Stealthily, Anna neared the shelf’s end and peered down at the man before her. He leaned out from behind the second shelf, gun raised and pointed at the far corner of the room. Anna rested her hand against the four-foot high stack of wood beside her to steady herself.
“Rennard?” she whispered.
The man swiftly turned his head up to her. Lightning from a nearby window reflected on his square glasses.
With no hesitation, Anna jumped at him. He had time to squeeze off one round before her body plummeted into his and they were both floored. Cain gasped, the wind knocked out of him as Anna’s finger twined into his hair. With a cry, she yanked, tearing the glued wig from his scalp. Cain screamed, the skin peeling from his bald head. He smashed his fist against the wounded side of Anna’s head. Pain crippled her skull and forced her to close her eyes as she tossed the removed mop of hair aside. Getting ahold of the pistol, Cain shoved it against Anna’s chin, knocking her teeth together. Anna could smell the familiar smoke on his barrel. With cold eyes, Cain pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
Anna didn’t waste time counting her blessings. She hammered her fist into Cain’s glasses, punching a cracked lens into his eye. Bifocal frames twisted and hanging lopsided on his face, he groaned and shoved Anna off of him, but not before her other hand found his jacket pocket.
Anna’s shoulder punted against the cold concrete as Cain scrambled to his feet. He shoved his hand into his front pocket. Panic struck his one good eye when he saw the antler-hilted blade clenched in Anna’s hand. Her forearms trembled as she pushed against the concrete to stand. Cain’s shoe kicked into her side. She rolled over, holding her belly and gasping for air.
“Stand down!” Rennard stood five yards away, aiming his gun at Cain.
Cain twisted around quick, flinging his depleted firearm at Rennard. The agent ducked the black pistol. As Rennard recovered from the dodge, Cain withdrew the extendable baton from his jeans and flung that as well. It smacked Rennard across the nose with wet crack! The FBI agent fell to his bottom.
While Cain was distracted, Anna used her everything to push to her feet, groaning through her locked jaw. Hearing her, Cain turned to Anna as she slashed the blade at him. He raised his arm to guard against the swipe aimed at his throat, and his back three fingers shot into the air like confetti.
“Oh,” he said, examining at his mutilated hand. With lopsided glasses, he focused his worried gaze on Anna as she lanced the blade into the wine stain on his shirt. The hilt met resistance just under his ribs.
Cain’s spine slammed into the shelf. The top wobbled. Police lights flashed through the windows while sirens sounded over the pattering rain, but he only heard them for a second before three hundred pounds of dry timber rained down upon him.
Leaving the knife in her adversary’s belly, Anna strode back in time to escape the deadly clamor. Only for a moment--as Anna looked upon the two limp legs stretched out from the crushing pile of wooden rubble--her pain subsided.
“Is he…” Rennard asked from behind her, one hand clenching his gushing nose and the other steadying his pistol.
“Yeah,” Anna replied softly, looking upon the wreckage and the lifeless man below. “He’s gone.”
The rest of the night blurred into a symphony of blue and red fla
shing lights, radio chatter, and congratulatory statements. Watching Sheriff Greenbell place his warm coat over Keisha’s little shivering figure put a smile on Anna’s face. The smart wheels on the gurney spun in every which way as the poncho-wearing EMTs carted Anna to the ambulance. Rennard matched speed beside her. A purple swollen nose was the apex of the dashing agent’s face and blood stained the neck of his shirt.
“Rest up, Anna. You’ve earned it.”
Eyes closed, Anna smiled at him as the EMTs lifted her into the back of the ambulance.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” one said.
“Get her donor type. Quickly,” the other replied.
Two more EMTs carried out a second gurney from the lumber storehouse. It held the covered body of Wesley Jenkins, AKA Cain. Under the blanket, his arms were crossed over his chest.
The antler-hilted blade was stored inside a plastic evidence baggie. The autopsy would reveal its terrifying point in Cain’s chest cavity to be the true killer, Anna knew. Whether the media used this information to paint her as a hero or villain, it mattered not. The job was done. Her promises were fulfilled.
Torrents of rain splashed upon the officers and forensic photographers as they flooded the scene. The ambulance doors shut and Anna could finally rest.
10
Diminuendo
When Trisha Rines got the phone call, she covered her mouth and her legs gave way. Avery caught his wife and pulled her close to his chest, allowing Trisha to bury her face in his shoulder. Hair uncombed and neglecting their daily shower, the Rines left their beautiful brick and white wood two-story home without turning off the lights or locking the back door. The BMW sped out of their driveway and headed down the winding back roads.
Trisha blinked and they’d arrived at the hospital. A few stars dotted the indigo sky as the golden-orange sun peeked over the horizon. On a mission, they rushed through the hospital's automatics doors, not waiting for them to fully open. The woman at the receptionist desk was expecting them, recognizing their faces from the news. She guided them through the white halls that smelled sterile and made Trisha’s heart beat uncontrollably. Lightheaded, she digested a concoction of fear, anxiety, and hopeful anticipation not like how she felt when she discovered her daughter's talent, which turned the Rines family from small-town minorities into inspirational role models across national borders.
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