Escape, the Complete Trilogy

by David Antocci

  He seemed in a trance as Abby threw a right cross to his jaw, snapping his head to the side with a knock-out punch as though she were a prizefighter. As his knees buckled, she grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the railing of the boat, breaking his nose. He collapsed face down on the deck in a heap.

  Abby stood, staring down at the man, rain pouring down all around her, soaked to the bone and breathing heavily. She waited for him to move.

  Nothing.

  Only remembering the three FBI agents closing in on her broke her from her daze.

  She grabbed the emergency boating kit and quickly found what she had hoped for. Making her way back to the front, she unhooked the bungee cord and steadied the boat. Looking ahead with her monocular she saw nothing but open water. To her right was the same, and to her left, twinkling lights that indicated the coastline. She estimated it was three or four miles away.

  Looking behind her, she saw Vines at the helm, watching her through his night- vision binoculars and waving his arms, all the while shouting, “Stop the boat! Stop the boat!” The two younger agents on the bow held onto the rail, clearly ready to hop on her boat when they got close enough, likely within the next few minutes.

  As the boats raced at full throttle into the blackness, she estimated they were only fifty feet away now. Much closer and neither would need their night vision anymore.

  She examined the deck, Bryce hadn’t moved, but the pool of blood from his broken nose had grown substantially larger.

  She looked behind her with the night vision one last time to be sure Vines’ eyes were still trained on her, and they were.

  In one swift motion, she lowered the throttle, slowing her boat as she twisted her body around and shot the flare gun directly back at the fishing boat. The flash of light blinded Vines who was still looking through the night vision. He instinctively jerked the wheel hard to the right to avoid it, sending one of the junior agents into the water and the other toppling onto the deck.

  Abby heard Vines scream and knew from experience that the sudden hot light had momentarily blinded him. She cut the wheel hard to the left and pegged the throttle forward, putting as much distance between herself and the agents as she possibly could in the little time she had. As she sped away, she looked back through her monocular to see Vines rocking back and forth, holding his eyes, and one of the junior agents throwing a life jacket out to the man in the water. The flare had landed on the far side of the boat and given it an eerie backlit glow.

  She knew they would regroup quickly, so she turned her attention forward, concentrating on the shortest angle to the shoreline. She didn’t want to reach the shoreline—just get within swimming distance. Abby glanced over her shoulder occasionally though all she could see with the naked eye was the glow of the flare, and that was beginning to fade, too.

  26

  ONCE ABBY SAW the flare go out, she cut the engine and listened. The rain had become a light drizzle and she couldn’t hear anything, but some light drops around her. Raising the monocular, she looked back toward where the FBI boat should be, but she couldn’t make out anything. It was too far away. She hoped that was mutual, but wasn’t about to waste any time finding out.

  A quick check of the clock showed that about four minutes had passed. Looking around and doing some quick calculations, she figured the FBI boat was about four miles behind her with no way of knowing where she was. The shoreline looked to be a mile off the left side of the boat.

  That should be far enough, and close enough.

  She gave Bryce a gentle nudge with her foot.

  Nothing.

  She pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a pulse.

  Good. A quick death is too good for this piece of shit.

  It made her feel evil and vile, but she wanted him to die in pain. Abby wanted him to feel the pain and terror that he had inflicted on her.

  She unrolled and laid out a black plastic body bag next to him, a bag that had been intended for her. She rolled him on top of it and pulled the edges up around him.

  As he lay there, she couldn’t help but think that he almost looked peaceful.

  Warm tears flowed from her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she began to sob. She paced the deck, trying to get control of herself.

  “Get it together, Abby,” she muttered to herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned back to the task at hand.

  Holding the two flaps together, she pulled up the heavy zipper from his feet until it reached the midway point of his chest, where she finally stopped to look at him.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks again.

  With bile in her stomach and adrenaline coursing through her veins, she slapped him so hard across the face that she drew blood.

  “Fuck you, Bryce!” she screamed, staring down at his still body.

  Suddenly, she wretched the contents of her stomach over the side of the boat.

  “Let’s get this over with,” she said to him, wiping her chin.

  She finished zipping the bag, rolled him to the bench seat at the back of the boat, where adrenaline and leverage helped her to push, pull, and maneuver him onto the seat, then onto the platform behind it.

  Setting four of the cinderblocks on top of him, she quickly ran chains through them and around the body, pulling the chains taught and securing the whole package tightly with two padlocks.

  Taking a moment to be still, she inspected her work, watching the two cinderblocks on his chest rise and fall slightly with his breath.

  She could hear Ava’s voice in her head, the last thing she said before Abby left her behind.

  Abby spoke the words aloud to make them real: “Make sure he’s dead this time.”

  The bag suddenly jerked as though he were awake, but not fast enough. Abby tore her knife from its sheath and plunged it into Bryce’s stomach. A scream emitted from his lips below the fabric of the bag. She ripped the knife from the fresh wound and stabbed him again, drawing another scream.

  As she felt the knife pierce him, she knew acid from his stomach would quickly spill into the wound, causing massive pain in addition to blood loss. One way or another, he would be dead within minutes, but not before experiencing the worst pain possible.

  She wiped the knife clean on the bag before returning it to its sheath.

  He groaned and whimpered as the bag moved slowly like a fat earthworm struggling under its own weight. He instinctively tried to get into the fetal position, but the cinderblocks at last kept him still.

  * * *

  He woke disoriented.

  Where the hell am I?

  Everything around him was pitch black, and he felt confined. He strained his eyes but saw nothing.

  His head was throbbing, and it hurt to keep his eyes open, even though there was no light.

  He tried to call out, but as soon as he moved his mouth, a searing pain shot through his jaw.

  He tried to reach up through the darkness to feel it with his hand, but he couldn't move his hand either.

  He tried to sit up, but without his arms it was a losing battle. It was as though a massive weight was crushing his chest, holding him down.

  Bryce closed his eyes again. The throbbing in his skull only worsened with each movement. Even the thought of moving caused him pain. As he lay there, confused, he took stock of his facilities.

  There has to be an option. How did I get here? Then he heard a familiar female voice speak, and it all came rushing back.

  The voice said, “Make sure he’s dead this time.”

  Bryce jerked forward upon hearing Abby’s voice, trying to sit up, but he suddenly screamed as he felt the sharp tip of her knife slice into his gut and tear into his stomach. He screamed again as she repeated the action.

  He writhed, trying to get into the fetal position as a searing pain spread through his abdominal cavity, but he couldn’t move. His heart pounded at the walls of his chest as his breaths came in short gasps. Blackness enveloped h
im as consciousness escaped him.

  * * *

  Abby watched the movement stop, though the cinderblocks continued to rise and fall at a rapid rate on his chest. She smiled. He passed out from the shock.

  With one foot on the deck and the other on the seat, Abby placed her hands on the side of the bag as the man inside shook with a tremor. She thought about all the pain Bryce had caused not only to her, but also to so many others. All the men he killed, the lives he ruined, the families he had devastated. She remembered her promise to Rosso just before he died: she would make Bryce pay for killing his son.

  She hoped the pain he was in now was just a short taste of what was to come.

  Abby leaned next to his head and whispered, “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”

  She heaved, pushing him over the edge of the platform and watched as he splashed into the water below, floating for just a moment before the blackness swallowed him up and he was gone from sight.

  * * *

  He battled to stay awake, but it seemed to be a losing fight.

  As Bryce fought between consciousness and reality, he felt for a moment as though he were falling. The weight on his chest lifted for a brief instant. He was aware of the searing pain in his gut but couldn’t recall how that had come to be or how long it had gone on.

  Am I dying?

  Suddenly he stopped falling, but only for a moment. The weight was heavier now, and he fell again, but more slowly. The weight was not only on his chest—but it was all around him, nearly crushing him. It was as though he were being enveloped in a cool embrace. It was almost a struggle to draw a breath, and when he finally managed to, he choked on... water?

  A sudden rush of adrenaline brought a fleeting moment of clarity and realization. His eyes flashed open, suddenly aware of all around him. The next breath brought another mouthful of water, and he coughed and choked as he gasped for air while it burned his throat.

  As the weight of the cinderblocks dragged him further into the crushing darkness below, he struggled against his own chains and thrashed with all his might, but there was no escape for him.

  Not tonight.

  Not ever.

  With his final breath, Bryce let out a primal scream that no one would ever hear. He tried to hold his breath as panic embraced him as fully as the depths of the water around him. He could not hold it forever, though. His lungs forced open his airways to suck in precious oxygen though there was none left. As the water coursed through his throat and filled his lungs, it burned like acid as he crashed to the bottom of the lake with an inaudible thud.

  Then, all was still.

  27

  ABBY LOOKED UP, the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air in the distance waking her from her celebration. She saw nothing in the black sky, with or without her monocular, but she could hear it out there somewhere.

  Looking across the water, she couldn’t see Vines’ boat either, but she knew it was looking for her. She’d be damned if she was going to be punished for doing what the law couldn’t do: put Bryce away for good.

  Moments later, the faint glow of searchlights in the distance dispelled any thoughts she had that they weren’t out there for her. Though miles away, she could make out the flashing strobe lights of police boats cutting through the water.

  She had to act fast. Still a mile out, she had hoped to pilot herself a bit closer to shore, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Knowing they were searching for her both from the air and water, and that one, if not both, were bound to have heat imaging, she wanted to be as far from the boat as possible when they found it.

  Abby did a quick check, convincing herself that she was up for a little swim.

  She quickly wrestled the overhead canopy into place so that no one could see into the boat, then turned the key until the engine rumbled to life. Abby pointed the boat toward open water and secured the steering wheel in place one last time with the bungee cord.

  Taking a deep breath, she pegged the throttle all the way forward and sent the boat surging ahead into the wide-open sea. After a moment, assured that this would work, Abby ran to the back of the boat and leaped off into the chilly water.

  The sound of the runaway boat became a distant noise as quickly as the pain shot through her body when her leg wound hit the water. She hadn’t counted on that, and as she started to kick, the mile or so distance to shore suddenly seemed insurmountable.

  A few minutes later, she couldn’t hear the boat at all. She turned and treaded water for a few moments to get her bearings, and saw that the police boats and helicopter appeared to be moving toward the boat, not her. By the time they figured out she wasn’t on it, she planned to be long gone.

  As she treaded water, she began to cry. All of the hurt, all of the pain, all of the terror that she had endured over the past decade were behind her now.

  He can’t hurt us anymore.

  They were tears of joy.

  Nothing was reversed, but the future was infinitely more promising. She and Ava could live normal lives.

  Struck by a sudden thought, she fished her disposable phone out of her back pocket and opened it in front of her face to find the screen black and unresponsive.

  Damn it.

  Abby would have to wait until she got to shore to call Donny and let him know everything was OK. She no longer had his burner number, but she remembered the name of the hotel, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

  Forty minutes later, what had been a searing pain in her leg when she first hit the water had eased to a dull stabbing, if there was such a thing. Her body shivered as she pushed onward. She had been swimming toward what appeared to be the closest point, a lonely light mounted on the end of a dock though she began to doubt she would ever make it there.

  Her arms and legs burned from the exertion and were doing their best to lock up. It was only through sheer will that she had managed to keep moving at all. She knew if she didn’t reach the shore soon, hypothermia would set in and she would drown. Abby estimated she only had a few hundred yards left, maybe the length of two or three football fields, but the distance felt like a marathon.

  I just have to rest a moment.

  Abby rolled onto her back and did her best to wrap her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. As she lay shivering in the water, she closed her eyes and thought of what it would be like to see Eric again.

  * * *

  As only a child can, Ava had passed out hours ago and managed to get a fair night’s sleep.

  Donny, on the other hand, was unable to do the same, not that he even tried.

  Sitting up in the chair next to the door, he caught himself dozing off a couple of times, but otherwise spent the hours holding vigil for Abby and cursing his role as the babysitter.

  I should be there with her. I should be helping her.

  He looked through the window, then down at his phone. Finding nothing satisfactory with either view, he repeated the process no less than a hundred times over the past few hours.

  The sky had begun to lighten, encroaching upon Abby’s deadline.

  Come on, Abby, come on...

  To distract himself, he finally put on some coffee in the hotel supplied pot and flipped on the TV, quietly so as not to disturb the little angel who was still fast asleep in the bed just a few feet to his right. He surfed for a few minutes, finding his way to the morning news as the smell of coffee began to fill the room.

  The young, pretty news anchor had a remarkably serious face as she spoke into the camera. He turned it up a bit so he could hear.

  “Tragedy on the lake last night...”

  Donny’s jaw dropped as the picture on the television changed to the front of Bryce’s house, barely visible in the twilight, countless police cruisers around it.

  The voiceover continued. “Authorities claim this was a domestic dispute that began in the middle of the night between a man and a woman believed to be his ex-wife though at this time their relationship is still unclear. The fight to
ok a dangerous turn when neighbors heard shots fired around 2:00 a.m. and quickly called police. Authorities were unable to get to the scene before the dispute took to the water. The details are still coming in, but a little more than an hour later...”

  As the picture on the television changed, Donny couldn’t figure out what he was looking at right away, but the story quickly made it clear.

  “... the boat that the man and woman had been on crashed into the small cargo ship you see here.”

  Choppy video showed two police boats and a helicopter following a smaller boat at high speed until suddenly the three pursuit vessels peeled off moments before the boat slammed into the side of the cargo ship and burst into flames.

  “Authorities have said an official statement will come later this morning, but an investigator speaking off the record has said at this time that both parties are presumed dead. The speedboat was nothing more than a floating field of debris after the collision, and there have been no survivors found thus far.”

  Donny shut off the television as his heart sank to his toes. He felt as though he were going to be sick.

  He looked at the little girl beginning to stir in bed. A little girl he was now somehow responsible for.

  His mind began to race, thinking about keeping Ava safe. The heads of the family had been cut down, but the soldiers remained. They knew who Abby was, and he knew they had pieced together that he had helped her. They were surely out for blood.

  But they’re hundreds of miles away and don’t know how to find us, right?

  Yet Donny had no way to know if Bryce had told anyone they were here. For all he knew, half the family was on its way to this location right now, locked and loaded. He had to get out to protect Ava.

  He also felt it was safe to assume they knew about Abby’s sister, though he wasn’t entirely sure if anyone in the family had helped Bryce abduct the little girl. Still, better to be safe and tell her to get the hell out.

  Ava opened her eyes and read the concern on his face. “What’s the matter?”