Sanctuary's Aggression Box Set

by Maira Dawn

  Dear Dylan and Wade,

  This is not a goodbye note, it is a thank you note. I lay here tonight, my mind restless with what might happen tomorrow, and I realized I never thanked you for everything you've done.

  Without you, I probably wouldn't have Jesse right now. I like to think I would, but odds are that things would not have ended as well as they did. I may not have ever left that house. For all I know, I may still be on the side of the road.

  And then without a word or a question, you took us to your home and opened it up to us. You didn't need to do that; you'd already done so much. But you did. You've taught us skills that can help keep us alive. We have a long way to go, but you gave us the confidence we can learn them.

  I am eternally grateful for everything. In the short time we have known each other, you've come to mean so much to me.

  My note is turning into a letter so I will end it now. My plan is to drive to my dad's house, stay a day or two to help him pack, and Charlotte if she wishes to come, then drive back here. If you somehow don’t catch up and want to check on us, I listed my dad’s landline number below. If we run into difficulties, this may take longer, but I hope not.

  So I hope to see you soon. And I hope some of those cookies I made tonight are left. Yes, Wade, I'm talking to you.

  Until I see you again, your friend, Skye.

  When Dylan finished reading the letter, he looked up at his brother. Neither one of them ever received a note like this before, a note thanking them for some kindness they'd done.

  Skye’s words reached that dark place inside of Dylan and shone a bit of light on it. And though neither Wade nor Dylan would ever discuss it aloud, the message was in the look they shared. Both of them felt lighter as a large chunk of the wall that sat between them and the outside world, that wall that Skye patiently chipped at, fell down.

  Dylan read the note again and again.

  Restless with what might happen tomorrow. If we run into difficulties. She's scared. She seemed so confident he thought her foolish. But she wasn't, she was scared.

  Dylan closed the note, tapped it on his leg a few times and looked up at Wade.

  Wade gave Dylan a sharp eye and a nod. “I already got us packed. I was just waitin for you to show up."

  With care, Dylan refold the note. Wade took it from him and slide the paper between a couple of books in the bookcase as his brother walked out to his waiting pickup.

  Dylan gave the old red truck a mental and physical inspection. Although he loved his vehicle with a love usually reserved for a person, he was aware it had its limits. All Dylan’s hours of care had shown him its flaws, and he didn't want to have a breakdown on the way. What they needed was at a neighbor’s house.

  "Come on. We're headed to Taylor's first."

  A Ford man all the way, Dylan had spotted Taylor's brand new 150 Raptor the minute his neighbor had brought the vehicle home. A moment of sadness passed over Dylan for the loss of his friend, but Taylor wouldn’t have begrudged him this.

  "Reckon wherever Taylor is, he ain't comin back," Dylan said once they had transferred their stuff and started down the road. Wade grunted his agreement.

  Speed limits were meant to be broken, in Dylan's mind anyway, and now no one complained about it. They flew through the first hour, both of them confident they gained on Skye.

  After some miles, Dylan's thoughts drifted back to Skye’s letter. She had ended it with 'your friend.' She knew how much that would mean to him and Wade, more than most people he reckoned. So, she offered friendship. If he couldn't have anything else, he would take it. I can do that. That's good enough.

  The men passed the vehicles Skye and Jesse had pushed out of the road. Wade shook his head as he drummed his fingers on the armrest. "It's just gonna get worse. I had her go around the city but there's still more cars than I thought."

  "More cars mean more people, more Sick. It ain't good." Dylan's stomach clenched as it became clear how much danger Skye and Jesse could be in. “I was a jackass staying away from the cabin so long. This is my fault.”

  “Ain’t nobody’s fault. I wasn’t home much before you anyways.”

  Dylan pressed his lips together a few times and picked up the pace. He drove as fast as he could when the way was clear, but even with an open path through the pushed cars, the congestion slowed him down from time to time. Both men leaned forward in their seats, scanning the road for the light blue Jeep as they circled each curve.

  Each new turn offered hope but yanked it away with only long stretches of empty road. Dylan gritted his teeth and lost all restraint, flooring the truck at every open span of highway as his imagination ran wild with all the things that could be happening to Skye and Jesse.

  23

  Strength

  Jesse saw the third man as he was sliding into his seat. His eyes stretched wide as he watched the man shove the door against Skye, and his stomach clutched when she screamed. Where another child of his age might have froze in place, Jesse reacted in the only manner he knew. He fought back.

  Jesse left the uncertain safety of the car and ran around the back. He eyed the attacker as he stood behind him. The man was big, his head towered way above the automobile, and Jesse. His red t-shirt stretched tight over his powerful muscles.

  Jesse took a small step forward. His face whitened, and his hands turned clammy. He knew what fists half that size felt like against his face.

  One punch is all it would take from a man that big, and I’ll be down. I hafta do it though. I gotta.

  Jesse made his way to the back of the big man and whaled on him until his fists hurt. The man did not even acknowledge him.

  An idea flashed through Jesse’s mind, and he put his hand to his belt. But before he got any further, the two other men caught him. One of them wrapped their hand tight around Jesse's thin arm until it hurt. The man shook Jesse until his head bounced and swirled as he dragged the boy away from the car.

  When the blood rushed back through Skye’s body, her agony increased. She moaned as she moved first one, then the other of her limbs. Her back cracked several times as she slowly pushed herself off the ground. She prayed that was not a bad thing.

  As soon as she was upright, the big man jerked her around in front of him, so her back was to him. He wrapped his arms around her. One hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her soft side. The other arm crossed her upper body holding her arms down.

  If she hadn’t been helpless before, without a doubt, she was now.

  The big man held her tight to his sweating body. The constriction, on top of her dizziness and fear, caused her breathing to quicken. Instinct kicking in, Skye raised her hands to his hairy arms, her knuckles white as she clenched and pushed them away from her.

  Big Man's shoulders curved around hers, and though he didn’t touch her intimately, it felt intrusive. He brought his head down and smelled the side of her neck. Nausea welled up in her.

  She pulled her head away from him as far as she was able, but he didn’t let up until his face almost lay against her. “No!” she screamed.

  There was a deep chuckle so close her ear vibrated from it. “Yes,” he whispered.

  Skye’s mind spun. She seemed unable to keep up with what was happening. Time moved both fast and slow. It wasn’t until she looked at Jesse that her mind stopped tumbling, and she focused.

  With her arms pinned down, Skye’s options were limited. Every twist and turn she made earned her less room as Big Man crushed her tighter. Already there was room for only one tiny breath at a time. Physically, she could do nothing.

  In the background, the first man talked without stopping, saying things Skye prayed wouldn't happen and didn't want to hear. Big Man was slowly maneuvering her to the front hood of the car. She shook to the point of convulsing.

  Skye tried to stop their progress. She grabbed at him. Her feet stomped his with no effect. She couldn't reach high enough to bash him in the knee or anywhere else. When she swung her head back, sh
e only hit his chest.

  Her mouth dried with fear, and her heart thundered as Skye realized it was too late for her. It came down to saving Jesse.

  "Let the boy go. Please, just let him go." Skye's voice quivered and broke.

  The man who held Jesse's arm scoffed at her. "Where is he going to go?"

  "Let him take the car." Skye kept her voice as even as possible, trusting her training, as if this was a reasonable situation with a sensible request.

  "You gonna let your scrawny kid just drive away all by himself?" He cackled at her.

  “Yes, let him go, please.”

  Big Man stopped when she pleaded, and Talking Man seemed to think for a minute. He made a big show of it, rubbing his chin, and scratching his head before replying, "No, I think we will keep him. He might learn a thing or two from us."

  Skye became frantic and redoubled her efforts to loosen the man's arms in the hope it would be possible slip down out of them. She clawed at him and bit his salty skin until he moved his arm.

  She twisted and pushed. Her feet touched the ground now. Like a shot, she lowered her hand to cause him enough pain he’d drop her.

  Skye’s head jerked back from the blow he gave her, and she tasted blood. A second, then third and she was limp in his arms.

  Stunned and groaning, she tasted blood. Jesse screamed, and she stirred.

  Tears streamed as she tried to find him. I can’t give up. Her blurry vision couldn’t find the boy, her only reason for trying.

  When Big Man put his head to Skye’s, she had no fight left.

  Jesse screamed again. Skye only made out one word. Dylan.

  She remembered those protective arms around her, arms in which she found protection and comfort. Skye closed her eyes. Dylan.

  Thoughts of him drifted through her mind. Dylan cooking, coming back from the hunt, teaching her how to fight. He wouldn’t be happy about this.

  The bigger they are, the harder they'll fall. Dylan's lessons, his voice, came to her mind. It's an old saying cause it's true. You’re smaller than most men. Remember it and use it.

  With a pitiable effort, Skye pounded on the thick forearm holding her up. This was one very big man.

  Skye’s bracelets moved against her wrist. The messages on them whispering encouragement to her. Be strong. Don’t give up. You can do this.

  She could. She would.

  Skye stopped fighting and started thinking. The men took it as a sign she had resigned herself to her fate. They laughed at her.

  She waited for the moment she needed. Anything that would turn this to her favor.

  Use what's around ya.

  Skye scanned the area. When she saw Jesse, she became more determined than ever to get away.

  Jesse was still a prisoner of one of the other men. He stood tall and rigid, not giving one ounce of himself more than he had to. He'd watched her struggle with everything she had. The pain expression on his face told Skye her small whimpers and cries had reached him, and her hurt had become his.

  The boy fought for his freedom only to be beaten until he stopped. Now he waited for his moment. If he got a chance, Skye hoped Jesse knew what to do.

  Jesse watched her, looking for some sign from her showing she hadn't given in, that this wasn't over. Skye raised her head to look at him. A flicker of hope lit Jesse’s face.

  The woman and boy locked eyes, letting each other see that their fight continued. It would continue until they were standing, and the others were not.

  “We know stuff,” Jesse mouthed to Skye, “They ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

  Jesse smirked, the open rebellion burned in his gaze, and Skye returned it. He gave her a slight, determined nod. He was ready.

  Skye's heart warmed at Jesse's beautiful defiance. She would give this everything she had. For Dylan and Jesse, for her dad, for herself.

  Big Man turned to the front of the car clutching Skye in front of him, his arms crushing her. Then she saw it. It had been there before her the whole time. What they thought would be her undoing would be her salvation.

  Her shoulders squared as she remembered Dylan's instruction. Sometimes you only get one shot.

  She kept her eyes downcast, as if hopeless, as she waited for the right time.

  A woman's strength is in her haunches.

  Skye could hear her own erratic breathing. Though it tested her, she was patient. Thinking of Dylan’s voice soothed her.

  Wait for your moment.

  Skye resigned herself to being tossed like a rag doll until she could make her move. She waited, waited, waited. Then she was there. Big Man had maneuvered her to the perfect spot.

  Skye swiftly raised both her feet, planted them on the hood of the car and pushed with all her might.

  She heaved backward, tightening every bruised muscle as she did so. Her thighs and calves strained as her legs bent against the vehicle. Her stomach clenched. A groan started low in her throat, becoming louder.

  For a moment nothing happened. A brief hesitation, as if they were stuck in some sort of suspended animation. Skye's heart stopped. Had she failed?

  Then something changed. The difference was slight, but noticeable the minute it happened. Big Man didn't stumble. He didn't stagger or shuffle.

  He fell like a toppling tree, went backward, taking Skye with him.

  Slow at first, he gathered speed. Skye listened for the sound she hoped was coming. The sharp crack of a skull on the car behind him then the dull thud as it hit the pavement.

  Skye ignored her pain and swirling head as she jumped up as his arms released her. His massive body had protected her from the fall.

  Big Man was still, so still. Blood seeped from the back of his head into the rough asphalt. Skye winced and looked away.

  Everything was silent. The two other men stared at Big Man lying on the road. They seemed dumbfounded by the turn of events, and Skye took advantage of it. She raced to the closest man and did something she would never have thought herself capable of, or would have wanted to do, until now.

  Skye picked up the knife from the ground and locked her hand on the hilt. With the other, she grasped the back of his belt, wrapping her hand tightly around it. She gripped it so tight her fingers hurt, but she wasn’t letting him go.

  The Talking Man. He was talking again now, though the subject had changed. He had talked enough.

  Skye put the knife to his back at his kidney. She pressed it a little so he would know she had a weapon. “Shut up!” she said, “I’m sick of hearing your mouth.”

  Skye glared at the third man, the one holding Jesse. "Let the boy go."

  24

  Wait for It

  When Jesse saw the big man start to go down, he told himself he had to be ready, really ready. He bent his knees slightly, bouncing a bit.

  Skye has one knocked out and the other with a knife at his back. This one is mine to deal with.

  Jesse was small, but Dylan showed him how to protect himself. Skye ordered the man holding him to let Jesse go, and he laughed at her. Not just a small snicker but a big belly laugh, making fun of her. That made Jesse angry. A hard glint came to the boy's eye, and he set his jaw.

  Dylan said be patient, wait for it.

  When the right moment arrived, Jesse was ready. The man’s grip loosened from the boy’s arm and aimed for the back of his neck. In those few seconds, Jesse sank to his knees, jarring against the pavement, and out of the man’s grasp. Sky cried out to him.

  Jesse tightly wrapped one arm around the man’s left knee. He grabbed the unwashed denim of the man's jeans in one hand and didn’t let go for nothing.

  He knew he should feel bad about what he was going to do, but he didn’t. Jesse ignored his queasy belly as he got down to business.

  Jesse clutched the smooth hilt of his knife, pulling it from his belt. He brought his arm back and plunged it into the man's leg above the back of the knee.

  The man let out a high-pitched scream and backhanded Jesse so hard his head
exploded with little dancing lights.

  Jesse had been hit hard many times before, and blearily danced out of the way as the man dropped to the ground, hands around his bleeding leg. His shrieks ringing in the boy’s ears.

  Jesse glanced at Skye. Her blanched face turned another shade whiter at witnessing Jesse's encounter. He twisted his lip and looked at the ground.

  Skye hadn’t known he was able to do that. Dylan had shown him but told Jesse to keep it to himself because Skye wouldn’t like it. He peeked back up at her, then grimaced and shrugged one shoulder.

  Skye huffed out a breath, and mumbled, “Clearly, someone has shown you moves on the sly.” But she couldn't object to that now, it had just saved their lives. “I don’t know whether to be proud or mortified my son can hamstring a man.”

  She shook her head. "Go to the car, please, Jesse." Once he was safely headed that direction, she turned her attention to Talking Man.

  "I don't want to hurt you. Your muscle is passed out or crippled. Are we done here?" Her edged voice seemed to cut through his shock at the quick turn of events.

  "Yes, we are done here," he sniveled.

  "Walk the way you came and don't come back."

  With care, she let him go. She took a few steps backward as she watched him shuffle off between the cars as she instructed.

  Jesse smiled. He was proud of how tough Skye sounded. He kept an eye on the man, but Jesse’s tension eased when he saw the man would not turn and fight.

  She backed away along the side of her car, gripping her knife and grabbing the map off the hood as she went. At one point, Skye stepped quickly to avoid the attacker as he rolled around on the road holding his leg.

  Once Skye entered the Jeep, Jesse felt stress rolling off her in waves. She bit her lip as she jumped onto the seat and locked the doors.

  The clock blinked to life when Skye fired up the Jeep's engine. Jesse’s mouth dropped. Not even ten minutes had gone by. So much had happened so fast.