The Road To Deliverance

by James, Harper

  The guy standing over Cole glanced at her as his partner shoved her forward, did a double take. A sleazy smirk curled his lips.

  ‘No need to get undressed.’

  She didn’t need to look down to know her blouse was flapping open. The cold rain on her skin left her in no doubt about how much was on show. The wind whipped the sodden fabric, plastering it to her body, ripping it away again.

  The guy behind her snickered.

  ‘Why not? She’s not going to need clothes where she’s going.’

  A hand clamped on her collar, pulled.

  ‘Get off me!’

  She whirled around. Slapped him open-handed across his stupidly grinning face. A teeth-loosening blow. Harder than she’d ever hit anything before, the full weight of her uncoiling body behind it, arm snaking through the air, the whipcrack impact resonating back up her arm into her shoulder as it connected.

  She’d never heard such a beautiful noise, never felt anything as good as his head snapping sideways, skin and flesh distorting under her palm. Her whole body screamed, do it again.

  He stared at her open mouthed. A vivid red weal covered his whole cheek. Her palm stung like crazy. What did she care? It was worth it, even if it ached for a week. Stupid. She didn’t have a week. She drew her arm back. Make the most of the time they had.

  He shook himself out of the shock. Grabbed her upper arm with his left hand, held it quivering against his strength. Grip like a vise, fingernails digging hard into soft flesh.

  ‘Bitch.’

  He twisted his whole body. Drew his right arm back ready to punch her into the next ZIP code. Heavy rings on his thick fingers gleamed dully in the rain as his huge fist clenched. He dug his fingers harder into her arm. She gasped at the pain. Pulled away as if she was trying to pull a trapped arm out of closing elevator doors.

  ‘Leave her alone, Adamson,’ his partner barked. ‘We haven’t got time.’

  The look on his face said he’d find a way to make time.

  ‘I said leave her.’

  His fist hung in the air as if time had come to a standstill. Then his body relaxed. He dropped his hand, pushed her. She pulled her blouse back in place, did her best to cover herself. Gave him a tight little smile.

  ‘End of free show, perv.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’re gonna get what you deserve soon enough.’

  By sheer force of will she made her boneless legs move without faltering, walked around the car, stood next to Cole.

  They forced them to kneel side by side on the cold, wet ground. Hands on their heads, grit and gravel digging painfully into their knees. It was as if she’d wandered onto the set of a bad movie just as they were looking for another extra.

  The one called Adamson got Cole’s backpack and Sarah’s bag from the car. He threw the backpack to the other guy, dug around in Sarah’s bag.

  ‘You won’t find any soiled underwear if that’s what you’re after,’ she called.

  He ignored her. Pulled her wallet out, put it in his pocket. Came out with something else.

  ‘What’s this?’

  Sarah knew what he’d found before she looked, knew it was the Zippo lighter her father had given her. The lighter she carried everywhere, even though she didn’t smoke. She pictured his face as his words came back to her, the words he’d spoken when he insisted she have it.

  You ever think you got problems, just take a read of that.

  She wished she could call him up now, ask him if her current situation qualified as a bona fide problem. He’d allow her that one. Even if it was nothing to what he’d endured in Vietnam. He’d lived with the prospect of his own and his friends’ violent death every single day—terrible, lonely deaths far from home. It was arrogant of her to even make the comparison.

  The thought of her father made her smile softly, despite the circumstances of how she was reminded of him. Filled her with a dangerous courage too.

  ‘It’s a lighter, you dumb prick.’

  The words surprised her as much as they surprised Cole next to her. He stifled a laugh. If she was hoping for a reaction from Adamson, she was disappointed. He was too absorbed with the lighter, holding it in the beam of the car’s lights.

  ‘Got something written on it,’ he said, more to himself than her. ‘We the unwilling—’

  She knew the words engraved on it by heart, didn’t need a low-life piece of shit to read them to her.

  We the unwilling

  Led by the unqualified

  To kill the unfortunate

  Die for the ungrateful

  ‘Stop wasting time, Adamson,’ his partner barked.

  Adamson scowled at him, dropped the lighter into his coat pocket, stuffed her bag in after it. His partner unzipped the backpack, pulled a packet of clear, chunky crystals out. He shielded it from the rain with his jacket, slit it open with a knife, did a quick tongue test. He took a small piece of rock, rolled it with his fingers, then placed it on the tip of his tongue. Immediately it started to melt, his face twisting with the bitter taste in his mouth. Not conclusive but good enough when you know what you’re doing, what the good stuff tastes like. He nodded.

  Then a squall whipped up out of nowhere, a sudden gust of driving rain. The packet blew out of his fingers, fell in the mud. It split on impact, crystals scattering over the ground, dispersing in the wind, a free high for the critters that watched them from the safety of the undergrowth.

  ‘Shit. We’re really in it now.’

  Adamson gawked at him.

  ‘You’re in it, you mean, dumbass. I didn’t drop it.’

  They started to argue. Cole looked across at her as the bickering became more heated.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes, cold rain on her face. She shook her head. Words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Short and sweet, eh?’

  ‘Not so sure about the sweet.’

  His face fell a little. He shrugged it off, can’t win ‘em all.

  ‘What was that with the lighter?’

  ‘It was my dad’s Zippo. From Vietnam. It was meant to protect—’

  The arguing behind them stopped abruptly.

  ‘Shut up you two.’

  They shut up. One of the men stepped closer.

  ‘Okay, let’s get this over with. We haven’t got all night.’

  She stared at the ground. How did it ever come to this? Shot like a dog at the side of the road. And all because she fell asleep on the back seat of her car. She vowed never to drink too much again. Ha, ha. Like that was going to be an option.

  She swallowed, blinked rapidly. Saw Evan’s face in her mind, a hot pricking at the back of her eyes. Something died inside her as she imagined what he must be going through. And what was to come. She pictured his face as he opened the door to a sad-eyed police officer, heard them ask did he want to sit down. Then the awful realization that there’s only one reason someone asks if you want to sit down in your own damn home. She heard his voice, loud and insistent, what do you mean shot dead at the side of the road?

  More than all of that, a suffocating wave of shame overwhelmed her, made her cheeks burn. It made her want to stand up, scream at them, just do it, as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she thought about him.

  Beside her Cole tensed. What was he about to do? What chance did he have against two men with guns pointed at their heads?

  No chance.

  It was too little, too late.

  The guy took another step forward, the stench of death rolling off him like a cold sea mist, the Grim Reaper come early.

  ‘Do the bitch first.’

  Chapter 36

  COLE’S PHONE DIED on the other end of the line. Jay hit redial. Nothing. He stuffed what was left of his phone in his pocket.

  Was he too late?

  And what the hell was Cole doing with the girl from the bar? Sarah. Not that it mattered, the end result was the same. Everything had just gotten twice as bad. Her words ca
me back to him:

  I wish something exciting would happen to me.

  And his response:

  Be careful what you wish for.

  He allowed himself a small smile. First time out and she’d overshot the mark by a mile. Welcome to exciting. Now try going back. Trouble was, there was nothing he could do to help her.

  Except there was.

  He bent down, took hold of the bloodied front of Lucas’s shirt. Manhandled him into a sitting position against the wall.

  ‘Get your phone out.’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Gabriel, find your razor.’

  Gabriel’s face lit up like he was a gladiator, one foot on the chest of his vanquished opponent, as the jeering crowd delivered its judgement—pollice verso, thumbs down. He saw it lying on the floor a few feet away, jumped on it like it was a hundred-dollar bill blowing along a busy sidewalk.

  Jay pushed his face into Lucas’s. Dropped his voice to a whisper.

  ‘When he comes back, I’m going to remind him about all those things you said. What was it again? Did him right in that sweet puckered spot Gabriel loves so bad. Man, you shoulda heard that little faggot squeal.’ He poked his tongue suggestively into the side of his cheek like Lucas had. ‘Remember what happened when you did that?’

  The up yours bravado slipped off Lucas’s face as Jay pulled him away from the wall, wrapped his arm around his neck, pulled him around so that he was facing his brother. Gabriel took an eager step forward. Lucas bucked and jerked, legs and heels slapping uselessly on the rough concrete floor as he tried to pry Jay’s arms away from his throat.

  ‘Okay.’

  He’d have screamed it if Jay hadn’t been strangling him.

  ‘I said okay. I’ll do it. Just get him away from me.’

  Jay kept the choke hold on him as he fished in his pocket, pulled out his phone.

  ‘Call them. Tell them you’ve changed your mind. Tell them if they harm Cole or the woman he’s with, you’ll . . . you think of something.’

  Lucas made the call, his eyes locked on the blade in Gabriel’s restless hand. Lucky for him, they picked up. Jay tightened his grip around his throat. Gabriel licked his lips, prayed for his chance. Jay swallowed thickly, his stomach lurching, when Lucas told them what he’d do if they hurt Cole or Sarah.

  Listening with one ear, he pulled his own phone out again. He’d try Cole one more time. Maybe he’d gone out of signal and now he was back in.

  It couldn’t hurt.

  Or so he thought.

  Cole’s phone rang and rang. Nobody answered. He let it ring out. It had been worth a try. He slipped the phone in his pocket, unaware of the irreversible harm he’d done.

  They found some rope and bound Lucas’s wrists. Jay was sitting on his legs so Gabriel could tie his ankles when Gabriel paused.

  Jay knew what was coming.

  ‘Time to return the favor.’ Gabriel nodded towards the door of the cold store.

  The frantic twisting of Lucas’s legs under Jay’s butt, the repeated No! coming from his mouth told him Lucas knew exactly what he meant too.

  Jay hesitated.

  Gabriel held up his bandaged left hand.

  ‘How’s your stomach?’

  ‘Hurts like a bitch.’

  ‘Think it taught you a lesson? A long-overdue one, perhaps?’

  Jay couldn’t deny that.

  ‘There’s someone else needs to learn a lesson. A hard one.’

  Lucas’s head snapped from side to side like he was front row at Wimbledon as they discussed him.

  ‘Now you put it like that—’

  ‘No!’ Lucas yelled, louder still.

  ‘I couldn’t help you if all you wanted was revenge. Despite everything he’s done. But seeing as we’re talking about educating him . . .’

  Gabriel smiled and Jay shivered as if he was back in the cold store, refrigeration on full blast.

  ‘It’s for his own good,’ Gabriel agreed.

  ‘Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind,’ Jay added, throwing a nice cliché into the pot.

  Lucas didn’t see it that way.

  He screamed and roared, a desperate mix of abuse and pleading. Spanish and English words jumbled together, the two languages bridged by the common thread of fear behind them. They pulled his arms over his head, dragged him into the cold store, ass scraping along the floor, heels beating impotently.

  It seemed only fitting that they hang him from the same hook Jay had spent the last two days suspended from.

  Then Jay left them there to sort out their family differences. And perhaps get a few things straight on every man’s right to live his life as he saw fit.

  He tried to close his ears and his mind as he walked away, feeling a little green around the gills, as he heard a familiar sound. A rhythmic slapping that made him think of an old-fashioned barber’s shop. Gabriel expertly honing his razor to a perfect edge on a leather strop.

  Mounting the stairs, he shuddered as Gabriel explained in hushed tones—as if it were a secret that shouldn’t be shared with a straight man—how gay men knew better than anyone the most sensitive places in another man’s body. The places that experienced the most intense pleasure. And pain, of course.

  Nor did the lesson end there.

  A quick English grammar refresher followed. Gabriel explained in a careful, deliberate voice, as if talking to a slow-witted student he was fond of and wanted to see do well, how the word gay had only three letters. Hence, three cuts with the razor. Quick and almost painless.

  Jay would’ve sworn he heard Lucas choke as Gabriel said almost.

  Gabriel continued, pointing out how, unhappily for Lucas, the word maricón had more than double that at seven letters—and he was debating whether to add an extra cut for the accent over the letter o—the word faggot had a generous six, queer five . . . the list of pejorative terms went on and on. It’s surprising how many you can come up with when you’re sufficiently motivated.

  And Gabriel was very motivated indeed.

  Jay reflected that all of these were words that Lucas was unlikely to forget how to spell ever again. He reckoned he might struggle to utter any of them without a twinge from places in the private parts of his body that Jay didn’t even want to think about.

  Chapter 37

  THE RING OF A cell phone shattered the tension. Adamson had it in his hand, busy framing the shot of Cole and Sarah on their knees, when it rang. He answered it.

  Cole was tensed so tight next to Sarah he was vibrating in the wind.

  ‘What’s taking you so long, dickhead? Can’t find the trigger?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  ‘Or are you too busy jerking off at the sight of her wet titties? Thinking about your momma. How she used to play with your little pee-pee?’

  ‘I said shut up.’

  He jammed the barrel of his gun hard into the back of Cole’s neck.

  Cole smiled. It was one she hadn’t seen before. She hoped she never had cause to see it again.

  Then everything happened all at once.

  Cole’s phone rang from inside the car. The guy with his gun in Cole’s neck looked up sharply. It was all Cole needed. He whirled around faster than Sarah’s eyes could follow, unleashing the pent-up fury inside him. Coming up off his knees. Arm locked, muscles taut. Chopping sideways. Aiming for the guy’s kidney. Missing it in the rain and the mud and the dark, catching him on the hip instead. Knocked him off balance. The guy grunting in surprise, firing as he stumbled. His partner screamed.

  Stop!

  Cole gasped, clasped his side. He hung there, halfway to his feet, as they all stared at him, the phone’s insistent ring the only sound in the emptiness left after the gunshot. He dropped back to his knees, landed heavily. Swayed, toppled slowly into the mud, a red stain blossoming out beneath his ribs, blood seeping through his splayed fingers. Sarah threw herself over him, the warmth of his blood mixing with the cold rain soaking through her clothes.

&nbs
p; ‘Stop!’

  The one who’d fired stepped away from them, gun hanging limply in his hand. Looked at his partner.

  ‘What is it?’

  His partner laughed. A shit happens but what do I care? sound, harsh and callous.

  ‘Too late, is what it is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Change of plan. They said don’t hurt them.’

  The shooter shook his head, snickered to himself.

  ‘Nice timing.’

  ‘Tell that to the guy over there.’

  They looked across at them, at Sarah shielding Cole with her body.

  ‘Aw. Ain’t that sweet?’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind being shot myself if that’s what it gets you.’

  They both laughed, the sound of it making her skin crawl.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  They walked back to their car taking Cole’s backpack with them. Arguing about which one of them was in more trouble—the one who spilled the drugs or the one who shot Cole—and how they were going to explain it all to their boss. He wasn’t going to be happy. They got in without looking back. Then they were gone as if they’d simply stopped at the side of the road a minute because one of them needed to pee.

  SARAH KNELT IN THE filthy mud with Cole’s head in her lap. Stinging cold rain bounced off her skin. Sharp pieces of grit dug into the flesh of her knees. She couldn’t feel a thing. She pushed his straggling hair out of his eyes, smoothed it down with her fingers. Tried to keep her eyes from slipping down his body.

  ‘I want you to do something for me.’

  She swallowed a lump the size of her fist, the size of his fist. Nodded dumbly, words beyond her, the unfamiliar seriousness scaring her as much as the implication.

  Because I won’t be around to do it for myself.

  He touched her cheek, saw in her grave and beautiful eyes the terrible burden of the hanging judge.

  ‘Hey, not so serious.’

  She forced a smile out, Lord knows how.

  ‘I want you to give Jay a message.’

  ‘No. I’ll get your phone.’

  She lifted his head to slip out from under him. He took hold of her wrist, stopped her.

  ‘It’ll be dead by now. If it wasn’t, he’d still be trying to get through.’