by Emilia Finn
Thirty Six
Aiden
Incompetency 101
“Line it up!” Connor yells into his headset as my brothers sit around the kitchen table. The whole family is here, sitting around Bobby’s kitchen as we figure out what the fuck we do to fix this.
We left Rhino’s an hour ago with a plan to bring that fucker down. We knew where he would be and who he was looking for. We were going to talk to Tina tonight and work out how to net the piece of shit.
Connor and Bowers split off from us; them going back to work, or their places, or fuck knows where, and the rest of us came home.
We’d only just settled in the living room, waiting for the girls to get home when a series of shit took place. I got a sexy as fuck text from Tina. I called Tina, hoping to pencil in some time in my office. Not five minutes later, Connor came bashing on our gates, demanding to be let in.
He has men everywhere apparently, sitting on every fucking street corner, and they alerted Connor that the girls left Jonah’s and that there’s a strange car approaching them.
“I’ve got my men reporting to each other,” Connor says, talking to us, but listening to his ear piece as voices bark information at him. “No one is moving, they’re just passing observation to the next unit as the girls and the unsub’s pass. Aerial units are on standby, but it’ll be pretty fucking hard to hide them out here in bumfuckville. This isn’t New York.”
“Who’s following them?”
“Four unknown’s.”
“Unknowns?” I demand, standing up in a fury at the same time Jim does.
Jim storms toward Connor, held back only by Jon jumping up to intercept. He points his fist at Connor as he yells, “You know Tina’s whereabouts around the damn clock, you know what toilet paper brand she uses, but you don’t know who’s in the fucking car following her? Following my wife and daughter?”
“I’m sorry, Jim. I don’t know. I’ve got my best E guy working on it. Do you know how hard it is to access emails and phone data for guys like this? They build wall on top of wall on top of wall. You think you’ve climbed one, but then a bigger one sits right behind it.”
“So you’ve got nothing?”
“I’ve got men on the scene who’re trying to get a visual ID.” Connor’s phone beeps again and he presses on his ear. “Connor.”
I look around the room, at a silent Bobby, holding an equally silent, but softly tearing up Kit. At Jon as his face is full of rage, worry for his baby sister and niece while they’re being following by ‘unknowns’. Jim, who’s front and center with me, his face contorted in rage and despair at the same time.
He has as much to lose today as I do. More so, if you count his poppy seed fetus.
“Alright.” Connor beeps his phone off then turns back to our group. “Confirmed, Frankston in the front car, his second, Damon Riley driving. The second car, driven by Cole Bilbray, passenger, Ronin Hickson. All four have sheets longer than my arms. Weapons, drugs, assault, grand theft auto. Three of them, not including Frankston, have spent time behind bars, more than forty years if you add them all up.”
“So what do we do?”
“We watch, wait for them to break the law, then we take them out.”
“Wait for them to break the law?” I jump up, done with this shit. Bobby and Jack jump toward me, taking my shoulders and shoving me back before I do something illegal. Like kill a cop. “Are you fucking stupid? What law do you suggest they break? You’re just gonna wait for them to hurt the girls, then you’ll conveniently waltz in and arrest them?”
“I can’t touch him for driving--”
“That’s my family!” I throw my arm out at him, ready to take him out. He’s incompetent and he’s trading my girls for his own career. “That’s our family,” I scream again, kicking my legs out even as my brothers move me back.
“Connor!” Bowers steps up to us. “He’s made contact.”
I turn to Bowers, ready to kill him too. Bobby swore he was good, that he knew what he was doing, but so far all he’s done was stand by and encourage this circus.
“Call them.” Connor calls out, turning away and dismissing me and the guys. “Get the girls on the line.”
Thirty Seven
Tina
This is worse
I swallow down the lump in my throat as it threatens to choke me. I keep watching the road ahead of me, the bumper of the Subaru only feet ahead of me and my hands shake as I try to regulate my speed. For some inane reason, I’m being careful not to tap his car, like I’d feel bad for marking it. “Hello?”
“Sarah, this is Special Agent Patrick Connor. I’m with the FBI and I need you to listen carefully.”
“Where’s Aiden?”
“I’m here, Peaches. I’m gonna fix this, baby.”
“He’s here. He can hear you, Sarah. I need you to listen to me.”
“Alright. What do we do?”
“Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah, we’re just driving.”
“Why are the babies crying?”
“Because they’re babies!” I scream at him, my tension exploding out of me without restraint. The car behind is getting closer and freaking me out. “One is scared and the other is a fucking baby. She’s probably hungry. Help us out of this!”
“Alright. Keep driving. Follow them.”
“Follow them?” Iz cries out. “Are you insane? They’re probably taking us to the ocean. They probably have cement shoes in the back.”
“Just relax, okay. Play along. I have guys all around you. You just turned onto Mopone Street, right? I’ve got men on you. We just need a few more minutes. We need them to make a move, then we’ve got them. We can’t arrest people for driving.”
“Fuck this!” I hear Aiden call out. “I’m coming to get you, Peaches.”
“Aiden, no!” I call out, scared of him getting involved. I don’t want him here. I don’t want Sean to taint him.
“Bowers, follow them. Get them back here! Sarah, you listening to me?”
“Yes,” I answer him quietly, trying to bolster my strength and keep the whimper out of my voice. I’ve been preparing for this for more than half of my baby’s life. It’s time, and I’m going to win this. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Follow them. You’re turning onto Third now, right?”
“Yeah.” I look around the streets, not seeing anyone around, even though they must be since he knows where we are. My indicators tick off as we straighten, and I keep driving, sitting around forty.
My call waiting lights up, Aiden’s name flashing urgently and I look at Izzy. “What do I do?”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah… I’m here.” I answer Connor, but I turn to Iz and hiss again, “what do I do?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes are swimming, her hands are shaking.
Aiden’s name stops flashing, making my decision for me and I let out a sob. Oh my god, did I make a mistake?
“Hop in the back seat, Iz. Sit with the girls.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m not doing anything. But this is bound to get rough. Just sit back there for a bit. I’m going to get you out of this, I promise. I’m so sorry.” I start sobbing, my tears almost blinding me and I quickly, angrily swipe them away. “I’m sorry, Iz. But I’m going to make this better.”
Iz unclips her belt quickly, slipping into the backseat between the girls, but my attention is drawn back to the dash and Aiden’s name flashing again.
“Answer him,” Iz urges from the back seat.
“Answer who?” Connor shouts down the line. “Don’t you hang up, Sarah. We’re trying to keep you safe.”
“I’m sorry.” I hit the call end, then I accept Aiden’s call. “Aiden!”
“Peaches. We’re on the way, baby. We’re on the way. Stay on the line. Where are you now?”
“Pulling into Guntree,” I answer him, almost dizzy from the zigzagging we’re doing across town.
“Alright we�
��re about two minutes away. Hold on.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Aiden,” I whimper, choking on a sob then pulling it back in again. “Don’t ruin your life over this.”
“My life is already ruined if I don’t have you, Peaches. I’ve got nothing without you and Smalls. I gotcha.”
“Aiden?”
“We’re coming down Mopone now, baby.”
“Aiden?”
“Peaches?” Aiden’s voice cuts deep. He’s pissed. And he’s holding onto his temper and terror by his fingernails.
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, Peaches. But don’t you dare hang up. Stay with me, right till the end.”
“Sissy?” Jon calls tentatively over the line. I didn’t even know he was in Aiden’s car. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah,” she calls out from the back and I watch as the girls cries soften. They’re listening to Aiden and Uncle Jon, and they’re calming, despite the subject matter. “Bean is hungry,” Iz laughs on a sob. “Of course my chunk is hungry right this second.”
“We’ll be there in a sec, then you can add to her thighs. Trust us, Sissy. I’ll never let you hurt.”
“We trust you,” Izzy promises, though it’s on another hiccupped cry.
Connor’s number keeps ringing, demanding I answer but I ignore it. Any time, every time, I’ll always trust Aiden over someone else. No matter who that other person is.
“Where’s Jim?” Iz calls out, looking down at her newly dinging phone. “He’s texting me, but where is he?”
“He’s driving the other car, Sissy. He’s with Bobby and Jack.”
“Listen, if something happens to us--”
“Don’t even start that bullshit, Iz.”
“No, hear me out,” she argues with a watery voice. “If something happens, Jon, just know I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me. If I’m not here to kick your ass and force you into it, please, just don’t live in the shade anymore. Go find your sunshine. You deserve it.”
“Sissy, please--”
“Tell Jim I love him.”
“Sissy--”
“And tell him he’s not allowed to date Belle. He can date anyone, but not her. I’ll haunt his ass so bad.”
“Okay,” Aiden chuckles, though his voice remains tense. “We’re almost there--”
We both scream out suddenly as the car behind us slams into the back of mine. “Oh god!”
“What?” Jon and Aiden call out, but the car behind continues shoving us forward.
“Why’s he shoving us?” Izzy cries out, both her hands now on the girl’s chests as their screams fill the car again.
“The front car has stopped,” I cry out as my front bumper hits his back bumper. After a moment of the sickly sound of metal and plastic rubbing on more metal and plastic, we start moving forward again, a three car accordion, bumper to bumper literally, and I realize they’re leading us toward the train crossing fifty feet ahead of us.
“Oh shit.” I slam on my breaks when I realize where they’re taking us, but despite us coming to an immediate stand still again, the car behind moves us forward a second later, catching us back up to the car in front. “The train tracks!”
“You’re at the crossing, Peaches?”
“Yes! And the boom gates are down.”
“Hold on, baby!”
My hands are shaking violently, my knees feel like they’re jello, my feet literally numb. I wince at the crunching sound, but I slam my car into reverse anyway, my gear box almost dying a painful death, but doing the only thing I can think of to stop our movement toward the tracks. We only have about twenty feet to go. The front of the car ahead of us is almost at the boom gates.
I’m almost positive I saw this in Lethal Weapon one time, and I think he hit reverse instead of just the breaks. I have no fucking clue, but it’s the only plan I have, so I slam my foot to the floor and listen to the squealing of the tires on the road.
The car in front reaches the gates, then the splintering noise of the lowered arms snapping off rings through the air. He drives through them, his front wheels crossing the first line.
“Talk to me, Peaches!”
“We’re on the tracks! He’s on the tracks already.”
“I can see you. Fuck!” Aiden shouts out. “I can see you Peaches. Hold on, baby. I’m coming for you. I’m on your cross street.”
I snap my head to my right, spotting Aiden’s truck as it comes screaming down the street, but then with a sudden turn, he jumps the tracks about two hundred feet away from us, the arms of the boom gates snapping and flying over the top of his truck. The sound rings loudly through my speakers, then I focus as Jim’s Jeep takes up the space Aiden was just in, continuing straight toward us.
My car is sitting squarely across the tracks, the car in front of us still touching the front of mine, holding us still, and the car behind mirroring him. They’re trapping us here, almost like tying a deer to a tree for the hunter to take out. We’re the deer, and the train is the bullet coming for our heads.
I look to my left at the loud, deep horn from the train. It’s a cargo train, not passenger, not that either are good options, but I feel like a cargo train with containers is somehow going to be worse. It’s heavier, and my brain insists it’ll hurt more.
“Unbuckle the girls!” I yell at Iz. “Get them out. Jump out.”
“Don’t you dare unbuckle them!” Jon shouts over the speakers.
“Put your car in drive, Peaches!”
“I can’t.” I cry out, trying to be louder than the train horn, my squealing tires, the babies crying. “Reverse. I have to reverse.”
“Put it in drive, Tina. Now!”
Thirty Eight
Aiden
Synchronized Poetry
“Put it into drive, Peaches. Trust me on this. Get ready.”
I push my truck as fast as it goes, knowing I have about ten more seconds until my whole life ends. I don’t see the girls or their car anymore. But I see Sean’s, and I see the train coming up on his left.
The train’s distress horn sounds, blowing through my eardrums painfully, his wheels locking down, metal on metal as he tries to stop, but he’s too damn heavy. They’re not made for that.
Fifty feet from the end of this street, fifty feet from Sean, I floor it, feeling as though I’m going to literally push my foot through the bottom of my truck.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Don’t fuck this up.”
“I got this. I got it. I got it,” I chant, opposing Jon’s negativity and glaring at the unsuspecting fuckers as they hold my girls trapped, their car an impending tomb. “Hold on.”
The girls all start screaming, their individual sounds coming through my speakers as clear as though we were sitting right next to them, their noise in sync with the wheels on her car, with the unrelenting blare of the train horn and his own wheels screeching along the tracks.
“Get ready, Peaches. Floor it, go forward. Three… two…”
One.
Sean and his piece of shit boyfriend look up, staring into my eyes for a single, long second before my truck slams into the side of their car. The booming sound deafening as I t-bone them, his car folding like plastic in a fire.
Jon and I slam forward at the impact, my head smashing down on the steering wheel, my windshield shattering, showering us with tiny splinters. My car knocks Sean’s with such velocity, not only do I shove him out of the way, but they fly back as though they were just let go from a sling shot, the car rolling, roof to wheels, roof to wheels, roof to wheels. The deep thud every time it rights itself before flipping again almost shakes the foundations of the earth.
Loose dirt and shrubbery flies twenty, thirty, fifty feet in the air, all of this happening in slow motion as Jon and I spin out of control. My feet are both slammed down on my brakes, the wheels locked down, but we’re still in free-fall, and although my arm cracks against the side window,
then my head whips against the wheel again, I find it in my consciousness to be glad that we’re moving, which means we’re not stopped in front of the girls, the way I worried for a moment might happen.
My actions could have stalled us right where Sean left off, sealing the girls to their death, locking them exactly where they were in the way of the oncoming train. Instead, on a rotation of my own truck, I spot the girls, free spinning themselves as the train clips their back fender.
The car behind Tina’s, flung by Jim the same way I did Sean’s, leaves two identical Subaru’s flipping almost as beautifully as a synchronized dance, and Jim’s Jeep, spinning twice before coming to a stop sideways over the now clear track.
Although we didn’t actually plan this shit, there’s some kind of poetic beauty that Jim and I executed this shit exactly the same way.
Finally, what feels like an hour later, my truck comes to a stop, teetering on its left wheels and leaving me moments to worry Jon’s heavy ass is about to land on me, before it rights itself.
The silence of the world is deafening compared to the chaos of a moment ago, my eyes are unfocused as tiny dots float in my vision.
Jon’s hand comes down on my arm, painfully so. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head, scrunching my eyes and trying to rid the dots away. “Fuck!” I spin in my seat, not even sure which way we’re facing. “The girls?”
Thirty Nine
Tina
He’s a he
“Mommy!”
“Holy shit.” Iz sit’s forward, still in the backseat between the girls, thankfully strapped in by the seat belt she thought to put on at the last second. “Are you okay?”
I lift my head away from the steering wheel, my fingers coming away from my brow warm and sticky, more blood. Will my brow always pop open in the same place?