by Elle Casey
“Do you guys know this neighborhood?” Kevin asked, keeping his voice low so the agents wouldn’t hear him over their own conversation about company picnics and softball games.
Candi shook her head no.
“I’ve driven through here on my scooter before, when I was looking for some plant material for a botany project I was working on,” said Jonathan. “The houses in this neighborhood have a lot of interesting things in their yards that houses don’t have over in our area.”
Kevin nodded, stretching his neck out to get a good look at the scenery as they drove by. “It’s dark, but even so, I can tell it’s a nice area. The houses here are pretty decent-sized.”
“The houses on the other side of this neighborhood are really nice. Much bigger than these. I couldn’t get near those, though, because they had walls around them.”
“Why can’t they put us in a house with walls around it?” asked Candi, grouchily. “Seems safer than just being out in the open.”
“I think we’re safer with more escape options,” said Jonathan. “And we need to blend, which we wouldn’t do in a very fancy neighborhood. They’d see us as not belonging right away.”
“Speak for yourself, babe,” said Sarah, waking up and yawning. “I could totally blend in a fancy place.”
Jonathan shook his head. “As a new arrival you’d stick out, and being beautiful you’d stick out, so I’m sorry, but I have to disagree with you.”
Sarah pulled Jonathan’s face over to her, palm to cheek. “You always know exactly what to say to a girl, don’t you?” She kissed him on his lips, making him go warm again.
“No, actually I don’t ever know what to say. I think I just get lucky.”
Sarah laughed, dropping her hand back to her side. “Lucky you, lucky me.”
Jonathan patted her hand that still rested in his lap, happy that she was content. Sometimes she woke up from naps more cranky than when she had laid down. Tonight was a good night, which was strange considering all they’d gone through so far. Maybe Sarah functioned better when under stress. He was going to have to pay more attention to that, maybe even make a chart. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became over the potential project. He hoped they’d have a computer with Excel on it wherever they were going so he could put this all together. Maybe if he could analyze her activities and moods enough, he could calculate when they were going to change, and adjust his reactions and manage them accordingly.
“What are you cooking up there in that bean of yours?” Sarah asked him, suspicion lacing her voice.
“Oh, nothing. Just some math stuff. Statistical information, mostly.”
Sarah patted his hand. “Whatever floats your boat, babe.”
“Dude, you’re the only one I know who does math to calm himself,” said Kevin, chuckling under his breath.
“That’s unfortunate, because it’s quite effective. You should try it sometime. Even just reciting your multiplication tables is relaxing, and it has the side benefit of improving your math skills.”
“Geez, Jonathan, you’re giving me a headache just suggesting that,” said Candi. “I’d rather count sheep.”
“That’s math,” said Jonathan, cheered by the idea of his sister having the same interests as he did. “See? We agree.” He turned to his sister in time to see her roll her eyes, which was something she did at him at least ten times a day. He’d actually counted them over a week’s period of time, and he noticed that as the week got closer and closer to Friday she did it more often. Her biggest eye-rolling day was Friday. He’d concluded that it was the stress of school building up in the week that caused it. There was no other good explanation as far as he’d been able to determine.
Before anyone else could weigh in any more on the concept of doing math to relax, the SUV pulled up into a driveway. The house it belonged to was dark, not even a porch light on.
Jonathan frowned. It seemed to him that if you wanted a house to stay incognito, you’d use timers on the light fixtures to make them go on and off at normal hours. He looked around at the other houses and all of them had at least a porch lamp on.
“This is the place,” said Agent Caffey. “Stay here in the car for a couple minutes while I do a quick sweep.”
He was gone for five minutes and thirty-eight seconds before getting back into the car and driving it forward again. The garage door went up with a touch of a button, and they pulled inside, waiting for the door to go back down before getting out.
The girls slid out on one side and Kevin and Jonathan slid out the other, all of them standing now in a mostly empty garage. Jonathan looked around, taking in the empty shelves, some discarded boxes on the ground that used to hold golf balls, and dust everywhere.
“Follow me,” said Agent Booker, walking up to the door that led from the garage to the interior of the house. Jonathan noticed she rested one of her hands inside her jacket, where her shoulder holster held the gun he knew was there. He swallowed hard, thinking about what that meant. Even here, in a safehouse, things weren’t necessarily secure.
She was inside before he had time to consider it any further, and then he heard her talking to someone. His heart skipped a beat, thinking that a bad guy had been waiting in there and she was maybe negotiating with him; but when no shots came out of her gun and Agent Caffey just followed her in, he breathed easier. Must be colleagues.
Kevin was inside now, and he wasn’t yelling, so finally Jonathan knew it was safe. He watched as his sister and then Sarah entered the house. He brought up the end of the line, turning around once just to make sure no one was there. All he saw were footprints in the dust.
***
Sarah woke up. She had no idea what time it was, but outside it was still pitch dark. The FBI agents had given Sarah’s phone to her parents at the hospital, explaining that the kids’ location could be tracked using the chips inside, so she couldn’t tell what time it was. This stupid room she was sharing with Candi didn’t have an alarm clock or anything.
“Stupid friggin safehouse,” she grumbled, throwing back her covers and padding over to the door. She was wearing the underthings she’d bought for the prom and a government-issue undershirt she’d found in a dresser drawer. Luckily the floors were carpeted, keeping her feet from getting too cold. She would have been pissed to not only have to get up in the middle of the night once again to go to the bathroom, but also to have to find a way to warm her feet up. She hated trying to sleep with cold feet.
She opened the bedroom door, expecting to see a man standing there, but the hallway was empty. There were four agents in the house with them - not the ones from the hospital, but new ones. Their job was to watch over the four witnesses until morning, at which point they would be relieved by even more new ones. Apparently, Agents Caffey and Booker were not house-watchers or babysitters.
Sarah sighed. Jerks were probably downstairs playing cards and drinking beers. She didn’t have a lot of faith in these guys. From the minute that turd, Agent Gutierrez, had told them their last witnesses had been stabbed, she’d questioned both their professionalism and their skills at protection. She closed the door behind her as quietly as possible, making sure it latched. She didn’t want Candi waking up and freaking out about an open door.
She made her way down to the bathroom and went inside, not turning on a light. She hated waking herself up all the way like that. Maybe she’d have a chance at going back to sleep if she stayed partially out of it in the dark. She sat down to do her business, her mind wandering to their days on the island. They’d been safe there for a while - no drug dealers to worry about, no guys with guns or knives out to get them. It had been pretty much perfect until those drug dealers had come along and ruined it all with their stupid pot plants. Assholes. She didn’t bother cleaning up her language since the baby couldn’t hear it inside her head.
She finished and got up to leave the bathroom. She was just about to pull open the bathroom door when she heard whispers. She was going to jus
t step out and join the conversation, when she caught the words “Finish them off …” coming from someone standing just outside the bathroom, maybe just a little down the hall nearer to her room.
Her heart dropped into her stomach, making it burn with anxiety. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! They’re here! The murderers are here! She wrung her hands, trying to decide what to do. She scanned the bathroom for a weapon, quickly squatting down to open the cabinet door. Using the nightlight that was plugged into the wall near the floor, she found a basket inside. The only thing even semi-lethal inside was a metal nail file. She pulled it out and held it in her fist, the point coming out of the bottom. She waited until there was no more sound and crept closer to the door, panicked she wasn’t going to be able to get to whoever it was before they reached Candi or one of the others. The little Sugar Lump was sound asleep, snoring away, oblivious to the danger coming for her.
She opened the door slowly, sticking her head out inch by inch to look down the hallway. She saw a shadowy figure, standing just outside her bedroom, his hand on the door handle, turning it.
Sarah didn’t know what to do. What if it’s an FBI agent just checking on us? If I attack him, he’ll shoot me for sure, or maybe even Candi by mistake. But if it’s a murderer and I just stand here, he’ll get Candi before I can do anything about it! Her mind was spinning with the possible outcomes, but when she saw that he was actually stepping into the room, she made her decision. The FBI agents had no reason to go into the rooms. They were just supposed to stand outside and keep watch. And since this jackwaggon was in here creeping around in the dark, she had to assume the worst.
She raced down the hallway as silently as possible, thankful the carpet was thick. She reached the door, just as he disappeared inside.
She didn’t think twice, she just acted. She pushed open the door, saw the guy’s back in front of her, and jumped on it. She grabbed his head and twisted it, yanking him back with her whole body, making him fall backwards. She stabbed the nail file down towards his neck, not sure if it was going to do any good, but knowing she had to do whatever she could to stop him.
He yelled like a wild man, and then Sarah heard Candi scream.
A light went on, but all Sarah could see were the stars swimming around her brain from having hit the floor so hard and having the heavy weight on top of her push all the air out of her lungs. She clung to his struggling form with all her strength, even wrapping her legs around him.
He was smallish, but wiry. He was getting up, even with Sarah still hanging onto his back. She hadn’t felt the sting of a knife yet or the blazing heat of a bullet in her body, but she was sure it was still a possibility. This guy was doing nothing but fighting and no announcement of being an FBI agent left his lips. Quite the contrary, actually.
“Get off me, you fucking bitch!” he grunted out, swinging elbows out to the side, trying to catch her with one.
“Not on your life, asshole,” she growled, refusing to let go.
Then the lights went out again, and her breath was muffled by a piece of cloth.
“Aaaaaahhhh! I can’t breathe!” Sarah yelled. Then she felt more weight on top of her body.
“Get out, Sarah!” shouted Candi. “I’ve got him! Get out and help me!”
Sarah let go of her prey and squirmed and wiggled and kicked until she was free of his weight. He still struggled, but now he was trying to fight someone else off; he seemed to have temporarily lost interest in getting to Sarah.
She worked her way out from underneath him and the light came back on. Or rather, now she could see again. Candi had thrown her whole quilt over the top of the guy and had him wrapped up, at least temporarily. She was punching anything that moved, trying to slow his escape down.
“Help me!” she yelled, slowly losing the fight. He had an arm out now and had gotten a handful of her hair. She screamed in pain.
Sarah ran over to the other side of the room and grabbed the brass lamp that was sitting on the table next to her bed. She yanked the cord out of the wall and leaped over Candi’s bed, stopping to lift the lamp high over her head before bringing it crashing down onto the lump under the covers.
“Ooooowwww! Jesus fucking Christ … ! You’re gonna pay for that you bitch …!”
Sarah brought the lamp down again, cringing a little at the solid connection and the corresponding clank the lamp made.
He grunted with the last hit, and his movements slowed.
“Do it again!” yelled Candi, some of her dreadlocks still trapped in his fist.
Sarah smashed him three more times in quick succession, finally bringing his struggles to a halt.
The fist holding Candi’s hair slackened, and she pulled away from him, taking the quilt off at the same time.
Both girls stood there, breathing heavily, staring down at the man who had snuck into their room.
“Well, if he wasn’t ugly before, he’s definitely ugly now,” said Sarah, grimacing at the mess she’d made of his face. His nose was smashed to the side, and he had three big lumps - two on the side of his head near his temple. A nail file was sticking out of his collar bone area, and blood was pooling around his neck from the wound.
“Who is he?” asked Candi, gasping and panting, sounding near tears. “Why was he in here? Is he with the FBI?”
Sarah pointed to the knife on the floor nearby, one with a very jagged edge on one side and a heavy, very sharp-looking smooth edge on the other. “I’m pretty sure the FBI uses guns, not knives.”
Candi’s face went from bright red to white in a second, her trembling hand held to her mouth, looking like she was going to barf.
“Don’t do it, Sugar Lump. We aren’t done yet. First of all, we need to tie this piece of garbage up in case he wakes up. Then we have to go make sure Jonathan and Kevin are okay.”
Candi made as if to run to the door. “Oh my god! Jonathan and Kevin!”
“Stop!” whisper-yelled Sarah. “We have to tie him up first! We don’t want him waking up and coming after us again! Now turn on the light and lock the door so we can finish uninterrupted. He has at least one friend out there.”
Candi turn around, stricken.
“I know you’re worried about them!” continued Sarah. “So am I! Come on, hurry up and help me!” Sarah pulled on the cord still attached to the lamp with all her might, but it wouldn’t come loose.
Candi locked the door and then was by her side in an instant with the murderous knife in her hand. She cut through the cord with one clean slice. “Wow. That was too easy. This thing is as sharp as a razor.” She gulped loudly and looked at Sarah, panic in her eyes.
“Keep it together, Candi. No barfing on me or the bad guy. Not yet anyway. Grab his hands and roll him over.”
Candi pulled the guy’s arms above his head and dragged him free of the bed area, flipping him over onto his face and bringing his arms around his back.
Sarah stepped over, straddling him. She wrapped the cord around his wrists really tight … so tight it made his hands go white.
“That’s cutting off his circulation,” said Candi, frowning with concern at his hands.
“Good. Bastien deserves it.”
Candi looked up, confused. “Bastien? Is that his name? How did you know that?”
“No, that’s not his name, you goof. It’s my new word for B-A-S-T-A-R-D. You know I’m not supposed to swear anymore.” She glanced up at Candi to get her reaction.
A small smile lit Candi’s face. “He is a bastien isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Sarah, turning back to the job at hand. “Now bend his ankles up here.”
“What are you going to do with his ankles?”
“I’m hog-tying this bastien so he can just roll around up here and suffer. Maybe his hands and feet will fall off and then we’ll never have to worry about him knifing us while we sleep again.”
“Should I take his boots off?” Candi asked, eyeing the black cowboy boots with distaste.
“Yes. Take ‘em of
f and thump him on the head with them while you’re at it.”
“Are you serious?” asked Candi, the first boot off and in her hand, the long, dirty sock soon following.
“Kind of. Not really. But only if he moves.” She stopped for a minute to consider it and then nodded firmly before going back to her tying. “Yes. If he moves, beat the shizzle out of him.”
Candi nodded, grabbing the other boot and sock off. “Got it. Smash him if he moves. Consider it done.” She held his ankles and calves bent up behind him so Sarah could tie them together and then attach them to his tied hands. They had to cut the cord of the other lamp too to make it work, but when they were finished, he was completely immobilized.
“Geez, do his feet stink or what?” asked Candi.
“Like cat pee. Seriously, I’m ready to vom. As soon as we’re done here, I’m going to barf on his head just for subjecting my unborn child to such an awful stink.”
“Man, did you work on a ranch once?” asked Candi, admiring her roommate’s handiwork as she waited for her to climb over the bed and around him.
“No, but I used to want to be a cowgirl, so I watched rodeos on TV all the time.” Sarah reached Candi’s side. “Come on. Let’s go see the boys.”
“Wait. One more thing.” Candi grabbed the dirty sock they’d taken off one of the guy’s feet and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth, using a bit of extra lamp cord to tie it in place around the back of his head. She looked up at Sarah. “Can’t have him shouting for help, now can we?”