Roman dodged behind the Jeep. “Roman, come back and get in.” Brina climbed in, feeling around for a key. “It’s gotta be here somewhere. Please don’t let him have it.” She ran a hand under the seat and then switched to the passenger side. “Roman, where are you?” She pulled her hand out from under the seat, twisting around to look for him. Her hands were covered in oil, dirt and bloody scratches, though she hadn’t felt a single cut.
The cold air dulled the pain in her leg but also numbed her reflexes. She tried to remember if there’d been any coats or blankets in the garage. Roman was even more susceptible to the cold than she was. His thin flesh had little ability to hold in heat.
“Roman?” she cried again. She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen him since they had come inside. There was a flicker of movement in the side mirror on the right. “Roman?” She opened the door and stepped out. Roman lay on the cold dirt floor, half under the Jeep. She pulled at his legs and he emerged, blue and shivering.
“Roman. Oh, no.” She pulled him up and covered his pale hands in her own, knowing she had almost no heat to give.
“Don’t give up. We’re not meant to die here.” Roman’s clenched fist jerked in her hand and she looked down. Wrapped in his tiny fingers was a metal key box.
“Oh my God, it’s the key.”
He dropped it in her hand, “I’m ready to go.”
She ushered him into the Jeep and turned the key. The engine turned over with a screech, and she ground the gears. As a second thought, she jumped out, leaving Roman in the passenger seat, and pulled up on the garage door. The truck was just off center enough that she thought she might squeeze through. The door on Russ’s side still stood open, and she faltered, wondering if he were still alive. It was such a small chance. The blood that had poured out of him onto the snow, seeping like an oil spill through the virgin white layers, was the most she’d ever seen come out of anyone.
Where was Mathew, she wondered, looking at the house. Was he sneaking up on them in the dark again or still prone on the floor in Edward’s bedroom?
She hesitated as she thought through how much time they really had. Finally, she stumbled for the truck.
Russ had fallen over onto the seat. When she touched him, he moved, warmed by the truck’s cab and protected from the wind. “My God.” Brina rolled him over. His face was bloodied and cut, his eyes swollen almost shut. Mathew had nearly killed him barehanded, the rage inside him growing to a peak that would eventually topple. Brina had thought he’d reached that point, but he was still coming, or so Roman said.
Deciding to take no chances, she grabbed Russ’s waistband in one hand and his shirt in the other, pulling with every ounce of strength left. The result was the two of them on the ground and the wind knocked out of her lungs.
“Hurry!” Roman called. The fear in his voice was enough to make her move. Gravel under the ice added more scratches to her face as she struggled to get up and pull Russ towards the Jeep.
She fought panic. It was harder than pulling Russ to the Jeep that was now running and spitting out carbon monoxide fumes in their faces, even harder than fighting off Mathew. She jumped every terrifying wave that threatened to wash over her and take her down. Fear had paralyzed her after the wreck; Michael and Josh might have been saved, but she hadn’t had the strength to save them.
Sobs shook them both as she dragged Russ’s inanimate weight toward the Jeep.
Roman crawled out and grabbed Russ’s arm. “He’s alive. We need to go; he’s coming for me.” His face held a serious expression that she recognized from his predecessor. How many did it take to get Roman right? The thought wound illogically through her brain, and she felt the detachment of her body giving up while her thoughts fumbled to keep her going.
Brina touched her cheek to the ground and held onto Russ’s hand. “Roman, we can’t help you. I can’t . . .” The pain in her knee and leg superseded her ability to keep moving. Russ wavered between unconsciousness and moaning.
Fingers touched her hands, and she felt herself moving again. Without her will, her legs stumbled one in front of another until she felt the cold metal of the Jeep door and heard the engine still running.
“Go!” Roman’s voice called, waking her from the cold euphoria and exhaustion that kept her mind drifting.
She turned her head and momentarily saw Roman as the man he would become. He helped Russ stagger into the Jeep and then climbed over his body to squeeze the door shut. Roman’s face turned to her and yelled, “Brina, wake up! Don’t let him get us.”
Eyes out of focus, she pulled the gear into low drive and pressed the gas. Across the darkness, hot exhaust clouded the garage and obscured her vision. The Jeep shook.
“Oh no,” she heard Roman say. He dove into the floorboards and pulled Russ over the top of his head. All Brina could see of him was his eyes wide with fear. She looked up and knew why.
Chapter 41
The Jeep door opened, and hands reached for her. Her gaze traveled up the length of Mathew’s arms before finally resting on his face. Shock, fear, and revulsion enfolded her in a nauseous clasp. Slow motion took over, and she felt herself leave her seat, legs swinging uselessly from her hips and ears roaring. Mathew’s mouth moved, forming vulgar threats.
Brina landed with a jolt against the garage wall, her teeth rattling as her head hit the cold stone.
She looked up: Mathew stood half in and half out of the Jeep, trying to reach Roman.
Roman dodged his hand and pushed at Russ to keep a barrier between himself and Mathew. “Go away! I don’t want you here!” Roman pressed his legs under the seat and ducked another attack from Mathew.
“Get out here. I’m tired of your whining. I said you’re coming and I mean it.”
Brina pushed up and looked around for help. None was coming, and none would come if Mathew managed to get Roman. Roman had said he could only hurt Mathew for short periods of time, and she had seen it was true. She’d also seen that he had been drained from the attempt. There was no way he could try it again.
She was going to have to figure this one out; Roman was depending on her. Brina looked up and down the garage walls. The only things remotely in her reach were the snow shovels leaning against the stone wall three feet way. She grabbed at the closest one, the attempt sending them all down into a heap.
Mathew was too absorbed in Roman to notice. She crawled to the pile, sliding her fingers around the biggest one of the lot. Stabbing the chipped blade into the dirt, she pulled herself up. Hair stuck to her face and crisscrossed her vision, capturing Mathew’s profile in a translucent frame.
The hit, square to his back, was enough to get his attention. As quickly as she could, she shuffled to the truck, got in and locked the doors.
Mathew’s head rose from behind the Jeep door. She saw him in the truck’s side mirror, looking at her with lethal calm. He slammed the door and walked slowly, methodically, and deliberately her way. Brina held in her panic; the frenzy that it would create would be useful in a fight, but now she needed to think. Roman needed time to run, to hide, to do something to get away.
Mathew didn’t bother trying to open the doors. He paced and stared at her through the windshield. He paced to the rear and side and watched her looking back at him. She was a fish in a tank, and he was the mesmerized kid waiting for her to die so he could flush her down the sewer.
He backed off, disappearing into the garage. Brina looked in the mirrors and out the back window for Roman or Russ. The Jeep door was now open, but they weren’t there. At least, she couldn’t see them. Mathew’s figure moved in the shadows. After a moment, she saw him coming back toward her.
He walked up to her window and planted a kiss on the glass. His absurd frosted lip print obscured his face as he stepped back.
She saw the hammer for the briefest of moments before it crashed down on the window. Mathew slammed it over and over again into the windshield, the lights, the windows, and mirrors—whatever he found would break with
the least resistance. A mosaic of lines and fractures filled in the back window and sides, cutting off her views around the truck. She hoped Roman and Russ were somewhere safe.
Mathew, confident in his ability to hunt and destroy, didn’t even bother to look in on them. Brina guessed his assumption was where could they go? There were too few hiding possibilities between the house and garage.
She screamed as the window finally gave in with cascading beads of glass across the seat and her lap. Now she could hear him. She could hear the low-toned rant that he had been muttering ever since he came for her.
“He belongs to me. Do you understand what it means to have a family and watch them tortured to death? That’s what they were doing to me. I had to watch them die. And when there were none left, they put their needles in me and watched me die—only I figured out how to survive, and now so will Roman. I’m the only one who knows what he’s thinking. I know what he needs.”
Mathew arched the hammer through the air and smashed out the remaining window glass. Now there was just the door between them, and that meant nothing in Brina’s mind. He was going to kill her. As soon as he reached his boiling point, he would reach in and kill her. She slid backward across the seat, and opened the other door. Mathew would be quick, and that terrified her.
She glanced to her right; Russ and Roman were nowhere she could see, and she had no idea which way to run. She hustled, limping out into the yard, and made a beeline for the trees. If she stayed in the yard, all he had to do was follow her trail in the snow. She hoped the woods would help hide her path. Mathew plowed after her, closing the gap in long strides that sent snow clouding out behind him.
Scrubby bushes tangled with dead leaves wound like a fence under the trees. Brina sidled through them, with dried out branches grabbing at her sweater and jeans and slowing her down. The slope was quickly dropping, snow camouflaging the fact there was little underneath to stop a tumble into nothingness.
She laid a hand on a rough pine and felt it bend with her as she slid lower. Above, Mathew cursed and crashed through the trees. She wished she still had the gun; the last she’d seen of it was with Roman in the truck. She couldn’t remember if it had been there when Mathew chased her out. It might have been on the floor. If it had been on the seat, she would have noticed. She crouched, her feet digging against a tree root to keep from falling.
“Are you cold?” he shouted. His voice was a few feet to her left. “You didn’t put your coat on!”
She heard the smile in his voice and shivered. He could keep her out here the rest of the night, and she would be dead without him ever laying a finger on her. She saw her breath steam in the air against a backdrop of evergreens. If she moved, he would see her, and if she stayed, she was dead anyway.
Brina eased her head over the bush and looked out. Mathew was wandering farther off. Attempting stealth, she let go of the sapling, allowing it to gently stand up. Her hand fell to the ground for balance, no longer able to feel cold through her numbed flesh, just a stinging pain as frostbite set in. The temperature was probably in the single digits, she thought. That meant Russ was even more vulnerable to shock, and she had no idea what it would do to Roman. He was so strong in some respects and so fragile in others.
Brina waited for Mathew to move farther down. Falling clumps of ice from the pine boughs above sent him deeper into the brush, thinking he had her cornered. He kicked at the bushes, which sent night creatures and snow flying down the mountainside in a mini avalanche.
“You haven’t even tried to get to know me. I would have kept you around—for Roman at least—and we could’ve been friends.” He stopped, his head turning toward each slight sound. Brina stopped and watched him until he moved again, then shuffled closer to the faint light spilling out of the garage. His rant continued, moving off into the trees.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt Roman—he’s me,” Mathew cried. “He’s really me. That’s why we’re linked. I’ll always know him like the inside of my head. I get to raise myself, who wouldn’t want that? I get to be my own parent.” His voice escalated with each statement.
Brina circled to the rear door and opened it just enough to get inside. Hopefully, Mathew hadn’t seen the light cracking through. The Jeep was still running, and gasoline fumes filed the enclosed space in hot clouds.
“Roman?” she whispered. The ticking of the engine echoed over her voice. She looked to the rear of the garage and finally saw him crouched with Russ behind the cot. He had pulled a blanket over them both, and only his eyes and head bobbed above the scratchy wool. She wouldn’t have known Russ was there except for his foot sticking out. She glanced over her shoulder. Mathew’s ranting had ceased. Was he once again headed back for them?
“We’ve got to hurry.” She wondered if she should try to drive out. The snow was still covering the roads, up to eighteen inches in some areas. Russ hadn’t had any luck earlier, and she could easily see them stranded in a snowdrift with Mathew waiting out their slow, cold deaths.
There was nowhere else to go, other than the house. There were places to hole up and hide, but there was no out. No phones, no help coming, and soon there would be no Russ if she didn’t get him to a hospital. She pulled the blanket back and reached a hand to his forehead.
He surprised her, turning by himself and opening his eyes. “Wouldn’t you know, cold is good for bleeders.” He smiled with a grimace. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Ahh, I think you have the greatest need right now. Can you stand at all?”
He shook his head. Brina looked at him, judging his weight. There was no way she could move him, and she knew it. It was different outside, where all she had to do was slide him over the snow.
Roman touched her hand. “I have an idea.” Together, they maneuvered Russ under the cot, covering him up with the blanket. Brina pulled another blanket over the edge, which formed a tent between the cot and the floor, shielding Russ from view. Roman had pilfered a jacket from Mathew’s pile of clothes, his arms falling short of filling the sleeves he pushed up over his wrists. He reached his hand into the pocket and tossed her a pair of gloves. “Come on, he’s not far.”
“Where are you going?”
Roman put his finger to his lips. With a nod, he pointed to Mathew, who plodded across the yard. Roman put his head close to hers and whispered, “He’s going inside; he wants something from the lab.”
“How can you tell?” Brina wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulder, staring out at the dark shadow that opened the back door. Mathew went inside; she longed to do the same thing and get warm.
Roman took her hand and guided her out. “He wants to be sure there won’t be any more of me.” He turned to her with a look that made her stop and listen. “He doesn’t really know why he wants me to begin with. It’s just a thought in his head that keeps going.”
Brina listened to words and ideas flowing from the same mouth that was mute a few days before. The transformation no longer shocked her, but it was frightening at times—like now. He didn’t sound like a child, and his face held the expression of a life-weary adult.
“Roman, do you know everything that Mathew knows?”
“Sorta. It’s too hard to explain.”
They wound their way to the back of the house, but Roman bypassed the door. Brina looked up. Roman’s bedroom window was open, again. The iron trellis led a jungle of ivy up the side of the house. She had a feeling she knew how Mathew managed to get in and out of the house so easily.
“Climb,” he said. “If we use the door, he’ll know we’re coming.”
Roman placed a hand on the ironwork and began his ascent, sending showers of ice pellets down onto Brina’s head. As the adult, she knew she should have gone first to make sure it was safe, but somehow, she found herself wordlessly following. The trellis held them steady to the second floor.
Brina poked her head through the window and then swung her legs in. Roman was by the door, listening. His room gave her an odd, comf
orting feel, as though she could just bathe him and tuck into bed like normal. She crossed to the bathroom and looked into her room.
Her door to the hall was closed and the room dark. In the shadows, her eyes rested on a picture frame by the bed. She wanted something, too.
Her hands shook as she unfastened the back and slipped the picture out. The three of them—Michael, Josh, and a happier Brina—smiled out from their vacation at Disney World. She gave a mental headshake; she’d been so innocent on that day, never guessing what was to come. Her finger traced Josh’s outline. His ample baby cheeks were blotched red from playing, and his eyes sparkled with joy. And then there was Michael, and a bigger chunk of herself fell away. She stuffed the picture in her pocket, trying not to think about what was lost. Roman had just as much to lose if she didn’t get them out of there. She refused to break down; maybe later it could all come out. She hoped there would be a later.
When Brina crossed back to Roman’s room, he was gone and the door stood ajar. She peeked around its edge and saw his head just as it disappeared down the stairs. Below, light filtered up, illuminating his descent.
Brina glanced at Edward’s open door, the disheveled bed beyond, and the half-empty IV bag dangling from the bedpost. Edward was dead somewhere in the house. Did he see it coming, she thought. All his work succeeding, just so it could get even. If Edward and Mathew Roman’s karma was visited upon them, she wondered how it would turn for her. She followed Roman to the hallway below and crossed the foyer. All things led to the lab. That’s where it started, and she had a feeling that’s where it would end.
She stopped a few steps from the bottom, still in the dim cave-like stairway, watching Roman flit from desk to desk, looking out for any sign of Mathew. She couldn’t see enough to know if he was there. She took another step down and scanned the room. At first she thought it was empty. Then a clink by the refrigerator startled her gaze in that direction. Mathew’s back faced them. She had no doubt he knew Roman was close. Did he know how close? Did it work like that?
Perfect Copy Page 15