Compound Fracture

by Franklin Horton

  Robert cautiously flipped to his stomach and tried to raise his head enough to see what was going on. Men were combing the woods alongside the grassy field. They had to be looking for him. Other men were tending to the wounded from the camp. Wailing prisoners were corralled off to one side under the eye of a man with a light and a gun. Stark vehicle lights now illuminated the scene. If they’d shown up earlier, there would have been no way they could have missed him.

  But they hadn’t. It was almost as if they were waiting on him. Like he’d walked into a trap. There was only one person he knew of who could have told them anything. Robert wanted to get his hands on him. He’d kill him this time.

  Men cleared the interior of the shower house, checking the showers and toilet stalls but no one thought to check the roof. Robert lay still, ready to bolt and run if someone got smart, but no one did. They didn’t show any signs of clearing out anytime soon. Robert laid back down and tried to relax, to wait it out. It would be over soon. The men would pull out and he could clear out of here.

  Where would he go next? What did this mean for his big plan of forcing the congressman to pull off the compound and come to rescue the families? Robert had no idea.

  28

  Chained to a tree in the darkness, Jeff could see very little of what was taking place around him. To his front, Sonyea was silhouetted against the distant firelight, laying with a monocular braced against her pack, intently focused on what was taking place around the fire. Robert’s AR pistol lay close at hand, ready for her to lay down cover fire if he needed it. Jeff was determined she wouldn’t have that opportunity.

  His hands were cuffed in front of him. A padlock secured his cuffs to a length of chain. A second padlock secured the chain around the tree at Jeff’s back. He had just enough slack to sit with his back against the tree and his hands in his lap. It was probably enough to do what he needed to do but he wouldn’t know until he got started. Without producing a rattle that might give him away, he shifted his body enough to reach the watch pocket on his jeans.

  He crept his thumb and finger toward the pocket, easing them in, and fishing for the warm steel of the handcuff key Carlos had given him. He retracted it most of the way, then paused to make sure he had a good grip on it. Millimeter by millimeter he extracted the key. When it was safely in his hand, he stopped and let his breathing return to normal. He watched Sonyea and saw nothing to indicate that she was suspicious.

  He cupped the key in his hand and slipped it into the first keyhole, hoping his hand might soften the mechanical noise. He turned the key slowly, circling it until he felt resistance. A little further and there was a faint click. He used his other hand to gently extract the free half of the cuff from the lock. When his hand was free, he allowed the empty cuff to settle between his thighs where it wouldn’t rattle against the chain.

  Then, much as he did the first, he released the second cuff. He eased the key back into his pocket, just in case he might need it again, and allowed his breathing to return to normal. He found he’d been holding it the entire time and was lightheaded from the oxygen deprivation. As he allowed his breathing to relax, he groped around in the dark for a weapon he might be able to use. There probably wasn’t a lot of weight difference between him and the woman. She may also have some type of martial arts training. His only combat experience was in video games.

  His hand closed around a damp, rotting stick about as big around as a shovel handle. He wondered how long it was, or if it was connected to another bigger branch, but he didn’t dare pull on it yet. If his actions rustled leaves or made any noise at all she’d be on him. She might shoot or stab him. After all, she had real weapons and all he had was a rotting stick of questionable integrity. Even a rock would have made him feel more comfortable, but there were none at hand.

  “Oh God,” Sonyea said in a low voice.

  “What is it?” Jeff asked, afraid not to answer.

  BOOM!

  It was a gun blast from somewhere down below them. Sonyea hastily shoved the monocular in a pocket and was transitioning to Robert’s AR pistol when Jeff saw his opportunity. With Sonyea distracted, this was the time to take action. It might be his only chance.

  He sprang forward, the branch in his hand. It was shorter than he’d hoped but it was what he had. Sonyea was less than five feet away and Jeff closed most of that distance before she detected anything. She swung her head back to look at him, ready to issue a sharp rebuke, and could tell something was wrong. She tried to swing the AR around but couldn’t do it in time.

  Jeff had the stick raised high over his head and brought it down on her with all his might. It caught her high, between the shoulder and neck. While the heavy plate carrier absorbed some of the blow, the stick landed squarely on her collarbone. She was paralyzed for a second, trying to balance the pain with the need to both breathe and defend herself.

  Before she could do either, he dropped onto her. Her back plate dissipated the blow but the pressure on her still-healing wounds was painful. Too stunned to fight back, she lay there on her stomach, trying to pull herself together, trying to mount a defense. Then he started beating her with the stick. Kneeling so high on her body left only her head as a target. Jeff hit her with several blows until the stick crumbled into pulp. When he was done, she was no longer moving.

  Jeff rolled to the side, winded and shaking from the adrenaline dump. Then he realized he had to bind Sonyea before she recovered and began yelling or fighting back. He went to retrieve the handcuffs but found that the padlocks prevented him from getting them loose from the chain. He didn’t have a key for those padlocks.

  “Damnit!” he hissed, slinging the chain away.

  He went back to Sonyea and searched her for anything he might use to secure her. He found a flashlight in a pouch on her plate carrier and clicked it on. Using the light, he rifled through her pockets, coming up with two heavy zip ties. He tightened one around a wrist, slipped the other through it, then tightened it around the other wrist.

  With her hands secured, he rolled her over and searched her for weapons, removing several knives and a handgun, as well as Robert’s AR pistol. He tucked the handgun in his belt and shoved the knives in his pocket. The AR pistol had a stretchy sling and he draped that over his neck. He got the radio out of her pocket and turned it on. It was alive with chatter now. The radio silence had been part of the plan, part of the trap, and it seemed to have worked perfectly from what he could tell. Now, with the trap sprung, everyone was talking.

  Jeff raised the radio to his mouth and hit the transmit button. His part of the plan, as determined in those scant minutes he had on the radio before Robert caught him, had been accomplished. He’d led them into a trap. Now he needed to radio the security detail that he’d subdued the woman and would be bringing her down.

  He released the talk button on the radio and sat back down. Was he doing the right thing? Not for Sonyea and Robert, of course. He didn’t care if he was doing the right thing by them or not, but he did wonder if he was doing the right thing for himself. His dad had never respected him. He’d given him a crappy job with no responsibility because he thought that was all he was capable of. The security detail for the families had reflected that same attitude in talking to him on the radio when he was supposed to be taking a bathroom break. They gave him orders and talked to him like an idiot. Why did every male in his life treat him that way?

  Thinking back over the past few days, he’d liked the idea of being a hero. He’d liked the idea of being the one that made a personal sacrifice that would save all of the families. If he handed Sonyea over, he wouldn’t be the hero. According to the rushed plan, the security detail with the families would use Sonyea and Robert as leverage to force Arthur to leave the compound. But he wouldn’t be the hero. It would be the security detail who’d get all the credit. He’d be in the background, again, with the women and children. He’d be a nobody again with all the perks that brought, which was exactly no perks at all.

 
Why should he give that to them? Why should he give them the glory, the prestige, he was supposed to get? Why should he allow them to turn Sonyea and Robert over to his dad when he could just as easily do that himself? His dad would be so impressed. He could imagine him looking at his command team with a look of pride.

  “Look what my boy did,” he’d say. “Brought them back here all by himself.”

  He wasn’t even sure he would be capable of that, taking both of them back. Robert seemed a little unstable, volatile. Could he take the woman, Sonyea, back by himself? Could he safely deliver her to his dad? That should bring Arthur to his knees. If they threatened to kill this woman right on his doorstep, could Arthur allow that to happen? Probably not.

  Jeff stood and looked down at Sonyea. She was starting to stir, stretching and moaning. He drew back his arm and threw the radio deep into the darkness, just like Robert had started to do when he found Jeff using it. He had to cut that tie. If the security team tried to reach him, he might feel compelled to answer them. He might be unable to maintain his determination to do this on his own. He didn’t want to crumble and give in.

  He wanted to be the hero.

  He bent down and grabbed Sonyea by the straps of her plate carrier, dragging her to her feet. She swayed and staggered.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “It was just a rotten stick. It couldn’t have done any real damage.”

  He clicked the little flashlight back on. Sonyea’s night vision was cockeyed, the headgear knocked askew. Jeff pulled it from her head, the abrupt gesture pulling out hair and causing Sonyea to cry out.

  “Toughen up, buttercup. I don’t see any blood.”

  Sonyea squinted against the light in her face, trying to focus. “I’ll show you buttercup when I get out of this. I promise you that. I’ll make you pray for death.”

  Jeff shrugged, adjusting the headgear on Sonyea’s night vision and slipping it on his own head. He turned the flashlight off and switched on the night vision. “Wow! This stuff is amazing. Now I know what all the fuss is about.”

  “Don’t break—”

  “Don’t talk,” Jeff ordered, latching onto Sonyea and tugging her back up the trail.

  Her disorientation from the blows to her head was compounded by moving in the dark and being unable to see where she was going. She started to say something again and Jeff clouted her on the head with his fist. When she cried out, he apologized.

  “Sorry, I forgot about the beating with the stick,” he said. “If you’ll shut up, I won’t have to hit you again.”

  He got ahead of her, holding a bound wrist and practically dragging her.

  “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t see.”

  “I couldn’t see either, and no one cared,” he spat back.

  Angered by the recollection of his treatment, he surged ahead, yanking Sonyea along. She tripped and went down.

  “On your feet!” he growled, pulling her up and shoving her ahead of him. In the green glow of the night vision he could see her swaying, trying to get her bearings. He gave her no time to formulate a plan, grabbing her again and charging up the hill.

  “Where are we going?”

  “None of your business.”

  Sonyea gulped in a deep breath and he knew what she was going to do. She was going to scream. He charged her, wrapping an arm around her, and flattening his other hand over her mouth.

  “Shhhhh!” he hissed. “I will tape your mouth shut if you keep this up.”

  Without warning, she kneed him in the groin so hard he was certain she’d popped his testicles like crushing a fistful of grapes. He cried out but didn’t release her. She struggled, trying to get away. When he felt her slipping from his fingers he knew he had to do something. He grabbed the rifle and swung it like a bat.

  The act was as much a product of his rage as anything else. She’d hurt him and he wanted her to pay for it. Had it not been for the fact he needed her, he could see himself killing her just to appease the injured parts of himself, continuing to beat her with the rifle until life left her entirely.

  The blow staggered Sonyea and she started to go down. He let her fall, taking the moment to cradle his delicate injury. He paced back and forth, his body hunched in pain. “You ever do anything like that again and I’ll kill you,” he said, teeth clenched.

  Sonyea was crying now, her zip-tied hands pressed hard against her injured head. When he felt able to walk again, Jeff yanked Sonyea to her feet and the pair limped up the trail. Jeff wasn’t used to hiking and the walk wore on him. Added to that, his testicles were now swollen to the size of eggs and hurt with each step.

  He was carrying Sonyea’s pack, gun, and dragging her along, all of which required a monumental effort. Yet he was afraid to stop, worried that any rest break might allow someone to catch up with him. He didn’t know if it would be the security force guarding his family or Robert, if he’d been able to escape capture. Either way, he wanted no part of either scenario. He was in charge now. This was his show.

  Jeff was relieved when the grade eased and they broke from the forest. The night was muggy and he was soaked in sweat, his clothes sticking to him, his jeans heavy. When they entered the meadow the sky opened above him and Jeff was enthralled, temporarily forgetting all the pains that assaulted him. With the night vision he could see the most minute stars, including those that didn’t register on the human eye. It stopped him in his tracks.

  “You can let me go,” she said.

  Her voice broke the spell and Jeff yanked her arm. “Shut up.”

  Unable to locate the Razer with only the night vision, Jeff got out a flashlight and started waving it around. “Whoa! What happened?”

  “It blanks out the night vision. You need to turn it off. There’s a dial.”

  She started to point it out to him but he yanked away from her. He flipped it up out of the way instead and played the light around until he caught sign of the Razer.

  “Let’s go.” He tugged her to it, tossing her pack in the back seat. “Get in.”

  “Just leave me here,” she said. “I’ll only slow you down.”

  Jeff snatched the door open and put a hand on Sonyea’s head, shoving her in like a perp on a cop show. “You slow me down and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  She cried out at his rough treatment, her head already bruised and banged up. She lay across the seat, whimpering, while Jeff dug the handcuff key out of his pocket. The second set of cuffs was still fastened to the roll bar. Jeff had the light in his mouth, fumbling with the key, when Sonyea lashed out with her boot, catching him in the groin a second time.

  The blow stunned him and he doubled over, dropping the key. The pain was explosive. Even worse than the last time, which he hadn’t imagined was possible. He didn’t think he’d be able to stay conscious, didn’t think he’d ever draw another breath.

  Sonyea threw her leg over his body and locked her feet together, trapping him between her legs. Had she been higher, she might have been able to get them around his neck and try to choke him but she wasn’t in position for that. They were around his waist with one arm trapped in her grip and one raised above his head.

  She tried for some kind of arm lock but he was too sweaty and she couldn’t get a grip. He was injured but not disabled, still fighting her. As he regained strength, overcoming her groin strike, she became more desperate and began raining down blows with her two bound hands. She dropped an elbow on his head, then another. Jeff yelled at her, trying to fight his way loose.

  Sonyea was yelling now too, cursing Jeff and grunting with exertion. She wanted him dead now. For all she’d wanted Robert to go easy on the kid, she hated him now and did not want to be his prisoner. It wasn’t working. She was not winning this fight. Her blows were not having the desired effect. He was on his knees and the pull of gravity was allowing him to slip from her grasp. Her legs, already tired from the long walk up the mountain, were quivering. She couldn’t keep him in the hold much longer.

 
The flashlight lay on the floor shining upward. In the glare of the stark beam she could see the reflection of the slowly spinning open handcuff. Jeff had managed to open the one side not attached to the roll cage before she kicked him. She grabbed his extended arm, trying with all her might to pull that wrist toward the cuff. More intent on working his body loose from the grip of her legs, he paid little attention to what she was doing with his wrist. He couldn’t see the cuff, couldn’t see her intention. She could do this.

  As she pulled harder, her actions got his attention. He twisted his head and in the beam of the light she saw his forehead beaded with sweat and oil, his angry eyes, and his twisted mouth. He yelled and twisted his other arm free of her failing legs. Then he had her by the wrist and before she even knew what was going on, he’d fastened the cuff around her bound wrist.

  She sagged into the seat, spent and exhausted. She’d given it all she had and it wasn’t good enough. He had her now. She was not escaping. She began to cry.

  Jeff pushed himself up from her, his grimace underlit and terrifying. His chest heaved as he caught his breath. He seemed not to know what to do, then he lashed out with a hard fist and Sonyea’s world went black.

  29

  Robert lay on the dark roof for over an hour, trying to piece together what was happening around him. He heard snatches of conversation, the squawk of radio traffic, and men shouting. Occasionally, he would raise his head like an alligator rising from the murky water of a swamp to try to catch a glimpse of what was taking place. He wondered about Sonyea and Jeff. Why hadn’t she laid down cover fire? Had something happened to her? Had she been captured by the men who sprang this trap on them? He wondered if it even was a trap. Perhaps he’d just wandered into someone else’s mess.

  The only way he was going to get any answers was to get off the roof. When the activity around him began to slow, Robert slid his gear to the edge. He bobbed up again, checking his surroundings. There were men at the campers, but most of the vehicles were turned around and leaving. He assumed they’d only come for him and were forced to leave empty-handed. That small detail gave him a degree of satisfaction.