by K T Bowes
“Pete, wake up.” She pushed his shoulder and he slid sideways, his body limp. “Pete!” Hana’s voice rose and she hushed herself in case the men upstairs returned. The blood ran slower from his gash as the platelets did their work, but the skin around the wound bulged. Without the cooperation of an extra hand, the bandage proved futile. It slipped off Pete’s head before Hana managed a complete revolution. After the third failure, she leaned her head against the cold wall in defeat.
“Plan B,” she muttered to bolster herself. Taking a deep breath, she wedged Pete alongside the wall, holding him upright with her knee against his cheek. Uncurling her painful right arm, she leaned on the end of the bandage and wound it around his head. It worked, even though the action jarred the broken bone and forced out countless gasps of agony. Sweat dripped from her hairline as she tucked the tattered end beneath the strip above his eye. It held.
Light faded from the garage and the crashing continued overhead. Hana felt her way around the walls to the small side window and peered outside. “We need to get away,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t know what they have planned for us and I’m keen not to find out.” If she pressed her face to the glass, she could see the road out front. The angle defied any attempts to contact the outside world. The neighbour’s roof glinted under the streetlights, the solid fence between the houses obscured by ivy.
Hana opened the window and pushed, groaning as the security clasp prevented it opening wider than a few centimetres. “This used to unhook,” she hissed, fiddling with the metal. Rust flaked onto the windowsill but it refused to disengage. It remained fast and the window proved useless as an exit.
Hana scrunched her cheek against the cold glass and craned her neck to the left. She saw the tail end of the hosepipe snaking across the path and sighed. “I’m so thirsty.”
The growing darkness attacked all sense of hope and Hana gravitated towards the light switch next to the internal door. Beneath it sat the button to raise the garage door. The urge to push it and run formed a knot in her stomach. She couldn’t leave Pete. They’d hit him twice and wouldn’t hesitate to repeat it. Her voice broke. “This is my fault. I won’t leave you, Pete, I promise.”
Exhaustion settled over her soul and she rested her good hand against the wall. Despite her desperation, Hana resisted turning on the light. The yellow haze would flare over the side garden and attract attention from upstairs. Another crash overhead helped to motivate her.
“Pete, I need you to wake up,” she urged, squatting next to him. When no answer came, she linked her fingers around his bloodied collar and dragged him towards the garage door. He left a streaky trail behind him and Hana’s body strained against his dead weight. Blood obliterated the school logo on the back of his polyester tracksuit.
She paused for a break and squatted to dig in his pockets. “Where are the car keys?” she whined, panic making a resurgence. “Think, think,” she told herself. “They pulled him from the car outside so maybe they’re still in the ignition.” The alternative wasn’t worth consideration because it meant they confiscated them and locked up the car.
Hana made her plan. She needed to press the button, drag Pete outside and get to the car before the men intercepted them. They would hear the motor running and know within seconds. Logic told her she couldn’t manage to outrun them, determination ensured she would.
She took a few moments to ready herself. Hana prayed for divine help then pushed Pete as near to the door as she dared. She adjusted his position twice, not wanting it to hit him on the way up. For the first time in their relationship, she ached for his irritating chatter to replace the unconscious silence.
Supporting her broken arm, Hana walked towards the switch. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing as soon as she pressed it, she unleashed a storm of painful activity. “Come on, Hana. You can do this, girl,” she told herself. She breathed out through pursed lips and pressed the button. Nothing happened. Memory told her that wasn’t alarming. Sometimes it took a second to kick in. It didn’t. She pressed it again harder. Still nothing.
“No!” Frustration consumed her and she stamped in anger. The jolt disturbed the broken bone and she panted until the pain subsided. She pushed the button again and the door remained closed. Moving her fingers upwards, she flicked the light switch, seeing not even a spark. Her heart sank as she realised they’d killed the power from the fuse box in the laundry upstairs.
Pete moaned from in front of the garage door and shifted. His trainers made a gritty noise against the concrete floor. A draught moved his wispy hair and regret sliced through Hana’s chest. She’d worsened his position without meaning to. Walking back, she knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder and attempting to rouse him. “Pete, please help me. I need you to wake up.”
He replied gibberish, shifting around on his back and smearing blood through the inadequate bandage. “Hurts,” he groaned and Hana swallowed.
“I know, sweetie,” she whispered. Her chest hitched with defeat. “What would Logan do?” she asked and nobody answered. The thought depressed her further. Darkness engulfed the space as night laid hold and she knew he wouldn’t miss her until after his departmental meeting. He knew nothing about the kitten and even less about her fool’s errand.
Her only hope lay with Henrietta contacting Logan when Pete didn’t meet her at the airport. She felt in Pete’s pockets again, a fruitless exercise. He put his phone on charge when they got into the car.
She stood and peered through the darkness, trying to locate the emergency pull cord for the garage door. Her eyes strained to find the string with the red plastic toggle at the end. It wasn’t where she remembered. She moved around beneath the motor, squinting into the darkness and losing hope. Then she saw it, flipped over the metal runner and far too high to reach. Their captors thought of everything. “I’m not quitting,” Hana hissed. “Logan never gives up.”
With nothing to stand on, she tried jumping to touch the toggle which lay just out of reach. The pain in her arm caused a feeling of faintness. Remembering the pliers with which she destroyed her dress, Hana snatched them up from the floor by the wall. It took precious moments to regain sight of the toggle in the darkness. A thud disturbed the peace as a drawer tumbled to the floor overhead and Hana steeled herself to rescue the situation.
Holding the very tip of the plier handles in her left hand, Hana dragged them along the metal runner until they contacted the toggle with a clunk. Keeping her arm above her head induced nausea and turned her good hand to jelly. Hana lost her temper. “I keep praying for help and getting nothing!” she raged. “Where are you when I need you?”
Ripping another length of cloth from her ruined dress with the pliers, Hana used it to tie her arm into a sling. It helped with the grinding of the bone and she regrouped and attempted to plan. “God please help me!” she begged. “I can’t do this alone.” She jumped, using the pliers to shove the toggle off the rail and groaned with satisfaction at the quiet thunk. It fell, bringing the string with it. Hana dropped the pliers with a clang and reached up for the string. It felt shorter than she remembered. She clasped the toggle and the knot at the end but her heart sank as she tugged and felt resistance. It had come down on the wrong side and wouldn’t pull.
Hana stood on the tips of her toes and grasped the toggle. With a grunt, she threw it up and over, praying it didn’t catch on the runner and stay there. It didn’t. She allowed herself a breath of relief and seized the longer cord, tugging on it with everything she had.
A click betrayed the lock disconnecting. Hana saw streetlights glowing in the small gap between the bottom of the door and the concrete. “Hold on Pete,” she huffed, grasping the metal strut and hauling the door upwards.
Hana managed to achieve a gap of a few metres, but no more. It proved enough. Crawling, she seized Pete’s collar and hauled him outside. He resisted on the rough surface, reaching out to slap her as his hip grazed against the floor. His nails scratched the
back of her hand and Hana let go with a hiss. “Pete, stop!” she begged, smacking him around the face. The passenger handle gave under her fingers and she yanked the door open. “Get in!” she urged, her voice rising. The chill night air revived Pete enough for him to drag himself upright using the remnants of Hana’s skirt but he resisted her efforts to push him into the passenger seat.
A face appeared at an upstairs window and Hana screamed. It disappeared and she held her breath, knowing the man headed downstairs to the garage. With a gargantuan shove, she pushed Pete into the car head first and didn’t stop to close the door after him.
Pain shot through her right arm as she ran around the car and hauled open the driver’s door. Agony induced lights burst behind her vision and she flung herself into the seat despite them. The keys jangled against her right knee, still in the ignition. Her useless right arm burned in agony as she tried to grip them.
Panicking, Hana reached her left arm around the steering column and stretched, feeling the end of the keyring against her fingers. A little further and she managed to grip the key and turn it in the ignition. To her amazement and relief, the car fired to life first time. Using only one hand, Hana rammed the gear lever into first and jammed her foot on the clutch pedal.
The running lights flashed on as the engine started and Hana’s eyes widened at the sight of the internal access door flying open into the garage. Three men rushed into the empty space and Hana gulped as the blonde man’s eyes narrowed. “When did he get here?” she gasped, shoving at Pete. “Close the door, Pete! Close the door!”
Peter North balanced on the passenger seat, tipping forward. He’d blacked out again and Hana’s breath hitched in her chest. She lifted the clutch and gunned the accelerator.
Two things happened.
The vehicle revved like a racing car but went nowhere. Screaming, Hana grappled for the handbrake and released it, feeling the car lurch. Then Pete plunged face first into the foot well.
Calamity followed as the car powered forward instead of backwards. Hana yelped and gripped the steering wheel as it bounced into the garage and not towards the road as she expected. The three men dived for cover and Hana glanced down, seeing the stick in first gear and not reverse. She looked up at the last minute as a man’s body flipped over the bonnet and hit the windscreen.
Hana screamed and jammed on the brakes as Pete’s door closed. The blonde man dived sideways and the car shuddered as Hana forgot to depress the clutch. Her left foot stood on the pedal in time to stop the car dying and she looked at the gear lever. Shaking fingers grappled with reverse and Hana lifted the clutch and gunned the gas, shooting backwards down the sloped driveway and onto the road. The man on the bonnet rolled off sideways somewhere on the journey and hit the concrete floor. Two men got to their feet in the garage, but he stayed crumpled in a heap.
A car shot around the corner and almost ploughed into them as Hana backed into a streetlight at speed. A horn honked, fuelling her need to escape. She found first gear again and made the change, relying on her left hand to do all the work. The steering wheel spun and she mounted the curb and careened along the street like a drunk. “Please call the cops,” she begged aloud. “Please call the bloody cops.”
Pete grunted in the foot well as Hana pulled onto Discovery Drive, inserting herself into traffic with a series of violent kangaroo hops. Another angry honk of a car horn reminded her to search for the headlights and she found them on the same side as her bad arm. A few dangerous swerves allowed her to lean across with her left hand and switch them from running lights to full, but she struggled to get the car any higher than second gear.
Flagstaff police station sat in darkness as Hana pulled into the car park. Unable to negotiate a parking space, she drove straight at the main doors. The front bumper rested against the glass and hopelessness flowed over her. The closed sign mocked her efforts.
With a sob of desperation, Hana pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. The old car’s horn sounded impressive, booming into the evening like an ocean liner coming into port. Her left hand snaked across to assess the damage to her right elbow. Her fingers contacted skin that felt like it belonged to someone else. Until she moved her body. Then it became hers again in an overwhelming rush of agony.
Hana turned her face sideways and the horn offered a final toot as she closed her eyes. The unmarked police car slid into the car park behind her, quiet and unobtrusive in its response to a flurry of motorists’ complaints. The officers slipped from their vehicle without sound and squared their shoulders to face a drunk. Or worse. They took a passenger each with a nod of acknowledgement and approached the battered car. The officer on the driver’s side jabbed a finger towards the dent in the rear of Pete’s car and the other man put a hand over his nightstick. Sirens split the air as colleagues rushed to their aid, bringing with them an aura of excitement.
Hana gasped as the door next to her clicked open. Cold night air rushed it to claim her breath. “No!” she wailed and scooted further away in her seat. The centre console bruised her hip as she reached across to grab Pete’s upturned pants with her good hand. “Please wake up, Pete!” she sobbed and saw him bang his head on the underside of the dashboard. A dark space opened up next to him and a pale face stared into the vehicle.
“Miss,” the cop said. “Please get out of the car.”
Hana’s bottom lip turned down like a child’s and her chest hitched. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
“Come out slowly,” said the officer on her side. Hana blinked at the growing number of flashing lights around her, unable to discern the approaching shapes from each other.
“I can’t,” she repeated, crippled by the waves of pain radiating up her right arm and into her neck. Another screech of tyres sealed off the entrance to the car park. More strobing lights.
“Get out of the vehicle, ma’am.” Hana slipped the underskirt-bandage over her head and felt the bone grind. Her stomach heaved and she supported her elbow and turned sideways in the seat. She bum shuffled along the cushion and the soles of her boots touched the gritty car park floor. “Out you come,” the police officer said and reached for her forearm.
Hana remembered nothing after that. As the man wrenched her forward, she passed out from the sheer torment and her face smacked into the horn. The cop stepped back in dismay as her body slumped sideways, her arm hanging at a hideous angle to the rest of her body. The car horn echoed off the bricks and glass of the watch house as he lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence.
One officer pushed through the crowd and ran towards the sound, his mouth opening in a shout of utter horror.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Hana woke from unconsciousness without grace, gasping as though slapped by an unseen hand. The painless sleep ended like a douse of icy water.
“No!” she shouted as the hypodermic needle pierced her vein.
“Steady, steady.” Logan’s voice called to her from another world and the pressure of his fingers on her left hand seemed unreal.
“Hurting me,” she wailed and a gentle hand brushed the hair from her face.
“It’s pain meds,” he whispered, his warm breath drifting across her cheek. “You had surgery, Hana.”
Horror seeped into her confusing world and she tried to run her hand over her stomach. Pain shot through her right shoulder and her fingers didn’t respond. “Baby,” she groaned and Logan stroked her forehead.
“Not the baby, Hana. Your arm. It broke and the surgeons fixed it.”
She turned her head in the general direction of her unresponsive fingers and saw a contraption suspended from a hoist. Her arm lay in a splint inside it, at the same height as her face. The volley of swearwords issuing from her lips forced Logan to turn away and cover his smirk with his hand. “Say what you really think, babe. Don’t hold back aye?”
“It hurts,” Hana snarled, slurring her words.
“I know.” Logan’s expre
ssion sobered. “I know it does.”
Hana’s brain did a mental body check and she wished it hadn’t bothered. Her whole body sent distress signals. She forced her eyes to focus on Logan, at first just one at a time. He looked terrible. Dark circles ringed his grey eyes and his hair stuck up like he’d shoved his finger in a power socket. Hana’s eventful evening drifted back by degrees. “Oh, damn. The kitten,” she exhaled.
Logan’s left eyebrow quirked upwards, often a sign of passion. With anger falling into that list, it offered Hana no comfort. “Yeah, let’s talk about the kitten,” he said, leaning forward.
Hana groaned. “Let’s not.” Her eyes closed and then fluttered open. “Did it escape? I hope it didn’t.”
“No.” Logan’s voice lowered to a growl. “You and my child almost didn’t either!”
Hana cringed with regret and the hunching of her shoulders caused more pain. She flapped her good hand at the retreating nurse. “Please may I have more drugs?” she begged. “Heaps and heaps.”
“Sorry.” The nurse gave Logan a rueful smile and pushed her trolley through the door. “Looks like you must face the music,” she called over her shoulder.
“I don’t like music.” Hana pouted and Logan shook his head.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said with a sigh of defeat.
“What’s that noise?” she demanded, the robotic beat gnawing at the edges of her brain. “What is it?”
Logan’s face lost its grey, haunted look. “It’s our baby,” he replied, his tone tender. “The surgeons monitored it during the operation.”
Hana sniffed and then her chest gave an involuntary shudder. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes and bounced against the starched pillows. “I don’t deserve to have it,” she sobbed. “I’m a bad mother and a terrible person.” Memories of the man smashing against her windscreen flooded back and her eyes widened in terror. “I killed him!” Her voice rose to match the tumult inside and hysteria made an appearance.