by Max Walker
“They have money?”
“A ton of it. The dad’s an investor, and the mom’s a top Realtor.”
The money hadn’t found its way down to William. He took a turn, moving away from the beach. He drove past the highway entrance, which I thought he’d take to get home. Instead, he kept driving, going in the opposite direction.
“Anything else?”
The streets were emptying of people as we got farther from the beach. The partygoers were replaced by dodgy-looking guys still wearing shades even though the streetlamp they were standing under wasn’t working. The neighborhood continued to get more and more questionable, and it happened quickly.
“I’m looking… oh! No, wait. False alarm.”
William made another turn. We were deep into Downtown Miami now, still moving away from the beach.
“I don’t know, Beck. This guy’s squeaky clean. All he’s got is a six-year-old speeding ticket and a couple of—”
“How old?”
“Six years. He got it on… he was ticketed on the seventeenth of July at 12:46 a.m.”
My pulse exploded. “Anya, where’d he get this ticket?”
Anya clicked a few more keys on the other side of the phone. By now, the streets were nearly empty. Large warehouses and auto shops bordered the dark street we drove down. There were two cars between me and William.
“He got the ticket on Fourth and Bird.”
“Fucking hell.”
“What?”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned paper pale. “That’s two streets down from where Oliver and Derrick were attacked. That was the same time. Ten minutes after the attack. Jesus Christ.”
Will. He was the second masked assailant. He must have connected with Juan through Mario, and then those two fucking monsters went out to ruin a life.
But why? Why had he done it?
And tonight? Fuck, I wish I could turn back time only so I could strangle the fucker in my doorway. He hurt Oliver, my Oliver, and he had come to my front door looking like a distressed sewer rat, thinking it would make him seem more innocent in the long run. He must have thought it would keep the target off him, keep him living in the shadows.
But no. Not tonight, not this time. He managed to keep his hands clean for six years. He stayed in Oliver’s orbit, watching him for all those years, and it was all going to come to an end tonight.
Both of the cars in front of me decided to switch lanes at the same time. Like a fucked-up choreographed dance, the two buffers between Will and I moved to the side. I drove directly underneath a flashing streetlight, and I looked straight ahead, connecting directly with Will’s eyes in the mirror.
All hell broke loose.
He slammed on the gas, his Toyota burning rubber as the wheels desperately tried to grab traction.
“Shit. Call you back!” I hung up with Anya and gave chase, driving through the cloud of dark smoke Will left behind him as he tore down the other quiet street, the sound of both our engines battling echoed off the tall warehouse walls.
Wind hammered against the windshield. I didn’t have a professional race car, but my BMW wasn’t a pony either. I began catching up to Will. His car struggled as he pushed it to its limits, rocketing past a red light.
What in the fucking world was he thinking? The stakes must have been astronomically high for him to be trying to get away from me like this.
The road, a pothole-covered mess, wasn’t kind to my wheels. It felt like I was in a washing machine as I raced down the street, my car’s accelerometer reading eighty-five.
This was dangerous. This was stupid.
But this was Oliver who needed my help. I’d dive into an active volcano if I was told it would be the only way to save him.
Will started slowing before taking a sudden turn, his wheels screeching in protest. I followed, my car almost tilted on its side. I kept control and brought the floating wheels back onto the ground, my car giving a sharp jolt.
And then another jolt.
Another.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
The red light on my dashboard flashed, telling me my run-flat had been engaged. The potholes must have shredded a hole into my wheel.
Fuck!
William wasn’t that far ahead of me. Even with my run-flat, I still had a shot of outpacing him. I pressed down on the gas, both hands on the steering wheel as the streets started to open up. I could see the Miami bay to my left as we pulled out of the industrial zone. Here, the street was no longer empty.
Honks filled the air. William dodged and swerved through cars, threading the needle extremely close as he drove between two huge shipping trucks.
I almost lost him. If he kept going straight, I would have lost him.
He didn’t, though; he took a sharp right. I swerved and lurched onto the road he cut onto, almost getting sideswiped by another car, their bright white headlights filling my vision and painting the inside of my car.
The road we turned onto was empty. Straight ahead was a narrow bridge, yellow lights warning of a coming ship.
Yellow lights that went completely ignored. The bridge began to lift, William not altering his course. He drove straight ahead, accelerating. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Did he really think he was going to make that jump? Was he going to stop at the last second?
I started to slow, my jaw gaping.
William sped up as the bridge split apart. The bay’s water glittered underneath, dark and rippled by the oncoming boat.
“No, he can’t.”
He didn’t stop. He drove onto the slanted bridge, turning it into a ramp. The red Toyota became airborne, lifting up toward the sky before dipping back down, landing on the other side of the bridge with a loud bang.
The bridge, completely parallel now, stood as a wall, no longer a ramp.
I was stuck on the other side of it, completely shocked and at a loss for what to do next.
OLIVER
My mouth was as dry as a terribly bland live-action remake of Aladdin. My eyes blinked open, but my bedroom was so dark. I could barely see anything.
And why was I bumping around so much? Oh my Carrie Bradgawd, was this an earthquake? Should I be getting up and hiding under a doorway or something?
I slammed hard against something, my shoulder taking most of the impact.
It was as if the jolt rebooted my memory.
Kidnapped. Hostage. Knocked out.
Holy shit. I wasn’t waking up from a nap, and I wasn’t in my room. This was a trunk, and whoever the hell had control of the wheel was driving like an absolute maniac.
“Help!”
I tried to shout, but it was useless. No one would hear me past the sock stuffed in my mouth.
The car took a sharp turn, and I crumpled back against the corner of the trunk. My hands and feet were tied.
Fear. It filled me like a toxic plume of gas, taking up every ounce of space it could.
Something poked me in my thigh. I realized I could feel the shape of my phone against me. I gave out a relieved sound, muffled by the sock as well as the loud and unnerving sound of a car breaking apart all around me. Everything rattled and clattered and screeched, and there was an overpowering smell of smoke and exhaust fumes in the air.
But if I could reach my phone, if I could somehow call for help, then maybe, maybe I could get out of this.
My stomach lurched then. It was that same feeling of swinging high at the playground. We were in the air, suspended for a brief time in a weightless existence.
And then we hit the ground. I slammed upward, my head hitting the trunk.
Lights out.
34 Beckham Noble
This was worst case personified. I sat in my car, staring at the bridge as though I was staring down the grim reaper. He swung his scythe, the very air splitting open and in half, exactly how my life would do if anything were to happen to Oliver.
“Fuck!” I pounded a fist against the wheel. The boat slowly crossed in front of
me, the long yacht bobbing up and down. I couldn’t tell which way William had gone on the other side of the bridge. He could have gone south toward Eighth Street, or he could have swung back around and gone north, back toward the beach, or he could have kept going, driving into the rich Coral Gables neighborhood.
I threw my car into reverse and spun it around. Frustration and anger poisoned my thoughts. I could barely see straight, much less think straight.
Where could William be going? And was he going toward Oliver? Was Oliver already in the car?
That thought made me want to vomit. To think that Oliver was being thrown around like a rag doll while that maniac ripped his way down the Miami streets… fuck.
I drove down the road, pulling back onto the busier street.
I couldn’t allow this to get the best of me. I had to stay sharp; it would be the only way I’d find Oliver in time.
The highway entrance was to my left. I cut across three lanes of traffic and jumped on. I pressed down on the gas and took off, driving toward William’s apartment using the address Anya had found. He mentioned having to stop there for something, and I wondered if he was telling the truth. If he was going to do something tonight, then he might need to get home to gather all his valuables if he wanted to go on the run.
The speed limit signs blurred past. My run-flat was struggling, but I had no choice except to push it to the limit. I’d fix whatever damage was done to my car later. All that mattered now was getting to Oliver.
And first, that meant finding William.
The highway stretched ahead of me, the lights of my car shining bright, illuminating the exit signs. I had at least another ten minutes to go before I had to get off. I pushed down on the gas even harder.
That’s when my phone started to ring.
“Shit, shit.” I kept one hand on the wheel and slowed down, only by a little.
My heart almost collapsed when I read the name on the screen. “Oliver!”
“Beckham, Beck, can you hear me?” His voice filled my car. Oliver’s voice. He was alive.
“Yes, where are you? I’m coming for you, okay?”
“I don’t know, Beck.” His voice came as a raspy whisper, his throat constricted with fear. “Everything around me’s green. I was blindfolded and—oh, no, no.”
“Olly! What’s around you? What’s going on?”
Something blared over the phone.
A horn.
“Will…” The phone rustled as it was snatched from Oliver’s hand. I heard a shout and then a sharp sting of static before the call dropped.
Oliver was alive.
And I knew exactly where he was.
Will used to bring me to this secluded spot at the Port of Authority.
Right behind cargo bay seven…
I slowed, exiting off the highway at the first chance I could. There, I took the streets down, cutting through late-night traffic that grew heavier the closer I got to the beach.
But I wasn’t going to the beach. I turned left, my tire surely about to give out any second. I hoped and prayed it would last, just until I got to Oliver. It wouldn’t be much longer. I could see the Port of Miami up ahead, one of the cruise ships having just pulled in to drop off its sleepy passengers. It must have gotten delayed for some reason, coming in late at night, using its horn as it docked.
A horn that blared out a loud and unmistakable sound.
I knew he’d be at the port. As I pulled up to the security gate, I got a flashback to Oliver talking to me about meditation, and how Will showed him the secluded spot at the Port by cargo bay seven.
This had to be it. Oliver had to be here.
But first, I had to get through the guard.
“Hello, sir. Reason for your visit tonight?”
“I’m pursuing a kidnapping suspect.” I wasn’t going to hold any punches. I showed the guard my ID as he leaned out of his booth, scanning my ID, concern in his brown eyes.
“A kidnapping suspect? Here?”
“Yes, he’s a young man driving a beat-up red Toyota. I have reason to believe he’s here and he’s holding a hostage.”
The man, probably no older than Oliver, looked nervous about allowing me past the gates and into the port. “You’re not an official police officer, though…”
“Listen, mate, I need to get through. This is life or death. Call the cops and speak to whoever ‘official’ you bloody hell want to, but you have to let me in.”
“I need to speak to my manager abou—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I couldn’t waste any more time speaking to managers or security guards. Let the guy call the police, I’d deal with that later.
I stepped down on the gas and my car’s wheels spun in place before I rocketed forward, breaking through the flimsy wired gate. The guard shouted loud behind me, but I kept driving, my eyes peeled for cargo bay seven.
Three.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. There were stacks and stacks of large cargo containers. There were red ones and blue ones. Black ones and white ones, checkered ones and yellow ones. All of them stacked on top of the other, like totems designed for a modern god.
With all those colors, there was only one green one. It was at the bottom of the farthest stack, next to a docked cargo ship.
I ran. Gravel kicked up behind me. I couldn’t tell if the sirens I heard in the distance were moving closer or getting farther away.
I turned, almost falling over with the momentum. “Oliver!” I reached the front of the cargo container. To my right, I could see a path that must have led to the meditation spot Oliver had told me about. The path was hidden by overgrown bushes and led away from the cargo containers.
“Oliver!” I pounded hard on the metallic wall. “Oliver!”
No one replied. No one answered.
Please be alive. Please be alive.
A crowbar rested a few feet away from me. I rushed to grab it. The cold steel pressed against my palms as I gripped it and steadied my stance. There was a lock placed on the bottom of the door. I swung the crowbar down with every ounce of force I could muster, envisioning Will’s head as the lock.
It cracked open. I kicked it away and bent to grab the handle. I pushed upward and the door followed.
“Oliver.”
My heart plummeted. I ran to Oliver’s crumpled-up shape. He was curled up in the center of the container. The heat and humidity inside the container was intense. All around us were stacks and stacks of unlabeled containers.
“Olly, Olly, I’m here, you’re okay.”
He wasn’t waking up. I grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. My heart started to beat again once I verified Oliver’s was beating, too. He was tied by some cheap rope. I tore it in half, shredding the bonds and dropping them to the floor.
“Come on, baby. You’re okay. Come on.”
“He’s so cute when he’s sleeping, isn’t he?”
The voice flooded my vision with red. I turned my head, a shape being silhouetted at the entrance of the cargo container. Red-and-white lights were shining bright behind him, adding a dream-like effect to the man who’d brought all my worst nightmares to life.
“Will.”
“I didn’t think you’d figure me out. I guess going to your house was my fatal mistake, huh?”
He stepped into the container, his face no longer shrouded in shadow. A twisting smirk crossed the monster’s face. He had a bloody lip and crusted blood on his nose.
Good job, Oliver. Now I’ll finish what you started.
I stood, hating that I had to let go of Oliver but not wanting to be caught at a disadvantage if Will did anything.
“Why? Oliver was your best friend.” I asked the question point-blank. “How can you do this?”
“Exactly because he’s my best friend. I did this all because of him. Because I loved him more than I’ve loved anyone, anything, in my entire pathetic existence on this piec
e-of-shit earth.”
Oliver coughed at my feet. I dropped back down onto my knees again, grabbing his hand as he stretched it out for me, but I kept my eyes on Will.
“You did this because you love him? You killed Derrick because you loved him?”
Will waved his hands in the air. “Hold up, I didn’t kill anyone. That was a mistake. It was a shitty mistake, and it fucked everything up.”
My eyebrows drew together. “How was stabbing an innocent boy a mistake?”
“I didn’t stab him! I didn’t. It was Juan. We weren’t supposed to hurt them, just scare them. I wanted Oliver to be scared. I wanted him to break up with Derrick and forget about ever dating anyone again. I wanted to stay as his number one.”
“You… you killed me.” It was Oliver. He held himself up on two shaking hands, looking directly at Will. “You killed me when you killed Derrick.”
“I didn’t fucking kill him, okay!”
That’s when things became exponentially worse. William reached into the pocket of his dark black pants and pulled out a gun.
I instinctively stood and stepped in front of Oliver, who was beginning to silently cry.
“Put that down, Will. No one else has to die tonight.”
“No, see, you’re wrong.” William looked as frantic as he did when he’d knocked on my door. “We aren’t getting out of this alive. We can’t. You fucked up my plan.”
“And what the bloody hell was your plan? To abduct your best friend and keep him locked up in here like a pet?”
Will huffed. “No. No, there’d be no keeping.” He held the gun aimed at my chest with one hand, digging into his pocket with the other. He took out a piece of paper and tossed it to me. “That’s Oliver’s suicide note. I felt like it’d be the only way I could put an end to this all. No one would have Oliver, and I wouldn’t have to be in love over someone I could never have.”
“Why, Will?” Oliver’s voice cracked. He was standing. He stepped to my side. I put a hand out, trying to move him behind me, trying to shield him from the gun, but Oliver didn’t budge.