The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell

by Heather Balog

  He must have run off. I should go back inside and have Walter call Jason. I’m sure he could not have slept through the sound of a gun going off.

  The front door slams, startling me, and I think it is because of the wind. I take a step towards the door to open it and that’s when I see it. The wide droplets of blood on the porch and the rain splashing them, causing them to spread over the wood. They snake down the steps and my eyes follow the trail of blood until I can make out a still figure lying face down in front of the bushes. I am certain that it is Jason.

  I swear it feels like my heart is in my throat as I take a step closer to the door, rain beating mercilessly at my back. I am now outside, exposed to the killer. The fact that I have a gun in my hand does not cheer me in the least. I obviously have shot at the son of bitch and I can only imagine that he is a bit pissed off. I am thinking that now on top of killing Jason, he is looking to finish me off as well.

  I grab the doorknob and turn, only to discover that it will not give. Crap! I’m locked out!

  I barely have any time to process that thought when I feel an arm grab me around my waist and a hand cover my mouth. And that’s when I faint.

  ~

  “Amy!” I can hear Jason’s voice, but I feel like I’m in a tunnel or underwater or something bizarre like that. My head is pounding and my body is cold and wet…I must be underwater.

  And then I recall what happened. I am locked outside in the pouring rain. With a killer.

  I am suddenly aware that I am in grave danger and I try to leap to my feet, blinking my eyes open, but it is dark and damp and it is all confusing. Why does my head hurt so damn much?

  “No, Amy, don’t!” I hear Jason call out to me again, but I don’t know where his voice is coming from. It sounds faraway, like it’s coming from the sky. Is he dead? Is he calling to me from heaven, trying to warn me about the killer?

  I feel a tight grip around my body and someone sitting me up against a wall. A wet wall, with a waterfall running down the side.

  “Amy, come on, wake up,” Jason’s voice is pleading with me again. How is he talking if he’s dead?

  My eyes are adjusting to the darkness and murky conditions. I can see a dark figure standing over me. I know I should be frightened, so my heart is speeding up. I can also feel my body trembling; it feels like it did when I was giving birth, I can’t stop the shaking.

  The dark figure leans towards me and I shrink against the wall until I see his face. Jason. I sigh with relief. And then I remember the person at the door. The one who was trying to bang the door down to get in! I start to panic again.

  “There was someone at the door! Trying to get in! They were hitting the door with the chair, over and over again! We have to get inside because they could be out here!” I struggle to my feet and Jason puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “No, relax, Amy. That was me at the door. I tried to break it down once I realized the deadbolt was across the door. I was afraid you were in danger.”

  I’m thrilled there is no gun toting killer running around until I realize, if Jason was the one at the door, he’s the person I must have shot. My eyes inspect his body, looking for where I must have shot him, but I see no bullet holes or blood on him.

  “Did I hit you?” I ask with concern, shouting over the wind.

  Jason shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. You shot the ceiling. I just ducked out of the way.”

  I nod and then I remember the gun shots before Jason tried to get into the house. And the blood all over the porch. If it wasn’t his blood, whose was it?

  “Jason! There was blood on the porch! And I heard gun shots before you tried to get into the house! And then I thought you were lying out in front of the bushes!”

  Even in the darkness, I can see Jason’s expression is grim. “It wasn’t my blood. It was Harding’s blood.”

  I feel my stomach lurch. “Agent Harding?” Oh my God! The killer shot Harding! I scramble to my feet, Jason not able to subdue me this time. “Is he okay? We’ve got to help him, Jason! And…oh my God, we’ve got to get help!”

  Jason shakes his head. “It’s too late. I checked him already. Shot clean through the head. He died instantly. Or at least quickly enough. It’s too late for him.”

  A sob sticks in my throat, sadness for a man I really didn’t even know who met his untimely demise at this desolate cabin, trying to protect me and my daughter.

  “There’s a crazed gun toting lunatic running around on this mountain top! What if he shoots you next?” I’m practically screaming now, as my head swivels from side to side, nervously scanning my surrounding, half expecting the killer to leap out of the bushes.

  Jason clamps his hand over my mouth. “Shhh! Amy, be quiet! He’ll hear you!”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” I say while nodding my head. “He’s out here somewhere, right?” I mumble through his hand. “He killed Harding and he’s trying to kill you.”

  Jason pulls me closer to him and whispers in my ear. “Amy, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s no madman out here shooting at me. I’m the one who killed Harding.”

  I think I must have passed out again, because the next thing I remember, Jason and I are walking towards the porch. Well, Jason is walking. I’m kind of being dragged by Jason. Whom I now realize is the killer.

  If I was scared before, huddling in the house with the kids, trying to keep the killer from knocking the door down, I am now officially going to pee my pants kind of scared.

  Why ever would you be pee your pants scared, Amy? Well, Jason has a tight grip around my waist, a gun in his hand and my legs feel like a Slinky. I have no idea where I dropped Walter’s gun and now we are creeping towards the house where the agent who is protecting Allie and Sean (hopefully between the thunder and the gunshots, he is actually awake) is now defenseless from Jason because I took his gun.

  Good job idiot, I admonish myself, feeling like this would be an I Love Lucy episode if it wasn’t going to end in massive bloodshed. Tears spring to my eyes as I think about my daughter; the only thing keeping her safe from Jason the lunatic is a splintered wooden door that he can obviously easily kick open.

  Probably even with his arm around me he can manage to get into the cabin. He’s like Evil Superman with his rippling biceps and chest muscles. I can’t believe I found him attractive at some point in time. I should have trusted my gut and steered clear of him. I can’t believe I let him kiss me! Ugh, I can’t believe I liked it!

  All these thoughts are swimming through my head as I try to resist him by digging my heels into the ground. It’s to no avail as the earth is so moist that the only thing that’s touching my feet is mud and I’m slipping all over the place. I’m probably making it even easier for him to drag me, I realize so instead I let my body go limp to make myself dead weight.

  “Amy, what the hell!” Jason yelps. “Are you hurt?”

  I ignore him, satisfied that I am hindering him. Hopefully Walter can get the kids to safety. I wish I could somehow warn him, call him, send a smoke signal, anything. But I guess all I can do is try to buy time. Maybe I’ll annoy Jason so much that he’ll just kill me and leave them alone.

  “Amy, seriously, if you’re not hurt, can you walk please? Now is not the time to do this!” Jason is pleading with me and I am pleased that I am managing to outwit my undercover agent/ killer neighbor.

  “Nope,” I reply with an air of superiority. “You may have me and you will probably kill me, but I’m not letting you get to those kids without a fight. You’re going to have to kill me first.” I am quivering as I speak. I never thought I would die a hero, but here was my chance. My last chance to do something good. Maybe my mother would actually be proud of me for once. Or, more likely, she would say something along the lines of “Oh, Amy had to go and get herself killed wearing that hideous outfit. How embarrassing!”

  “What in God’s name are you talking about?” Jason asks, loosening his grip on me considerably. For a moment, I think maybe I can make a run f
or it. Until I realize, there was no running. Where would I go? I couldn’t outrun Jason and I would end up deep in the woods, lost at night and in the rain.

  “Amy, what are you talking about?” Jason asks again, this time gripping my shoulders and practically shaking me.

  I stick my chin out. “That’s right. I’m not going to let you hurt the kids. How can you do that to Sean? I thought you loved him like he was your own son? And Walter? You lived with him and he took care of your mother…” My lip starts quivering and I feel a different moistness on my face. This time, it’s warm, salty tears, not freezing raindrops.

  “Why would you think I would hurt anybody?” Jason asks indignantly.

  “What? You admitted to killing Agent Harding!” My finger shook as I pointed towards the dark lump lying near the bushes, not thirty feet from where we stood. “You killed him!”

  Jason’s mouth drops open and then he snaps it shut. “Oh, God. Amy. I didn’t kill him because I wanted to! I killed him because I had to! I thought you understood that!” His hands slide off of my shoulders and he cradles his head in his hands, shaking it.

  “Why would you have to kill him?” I shout, not believing him.

  “Because he was going to kill me! When we were looking for the guy in the woods, Harding took a shot at me. I ran as fast as I could to get back to the cabin and he chased me. He caught me here and I had to shoot him!”

  I am staring at him in disbelief. “Why would he try to kill you?” None of this makes sense.

  Jason hung his head. “We had a feeling someone was tipping off our guy about our plans. He was always one step ahead of us, like he had inside info. We had a feeling it was an agent. When Harding pulled his gun on me in the woods, I was certain it was him.”

  My brain is trying to process this information and something does not add up. Suddenly, lightening brightens the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. And then, right behind the cabin, we see a tree split in half and come crashing to the ground, narrowly missing the building by mere feet. The kids!

  Jason’s eyes widen as I gasp for air. “Come on! We have to get them out of here!” he shouts to me over the torrential rain. He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the house before I can protest. “Do you still have the gun?”

  I shake my head. I have no idea where I dropped the gun. “Maybe it’s on the front porch! I had it until I passed out!” The wind whips my hair around my face, the rain plastering it to my cheeks. I stick my tongue out, pulling the wet hair off of it.

  Jason nods. “Okay, we’re definitely going to need it!” The air swirls around us, the tree rustling ominously like a tornado is approaching.

  “But why?” I ask as I trudge after Jason. “If Harding is dead, then we don’t have to worry about it. We just have to get them out of here so that tree doesn’t fall on them!” Duh. Sometimes I think that I should be the agent.

  Jason shakes his head as he cranes his neck around. “No, it’s still not safe, Amy. Remember the guy on his cell phone in the woods?”

  I nod. Of course I remember. That’s what set off the whole chase through the woods in the first place… And that’s when it hits me. The reason that it wasn’t adding up. Harding was in the bathroom. I gasp as I cover my mouth with my hand.

  “The guy on the phone wasn’t Harding,” Jason explains, even though I now know that. “It was Walter.”

  ~NINETEEN~

  We inch towards the house, me gripping Jason’s waist, holding on for dear life, and Jason trying to maneuver through the mud with me attached to him like a hemorrhoid. We approach the darkened porch and I see the gleam of the pistol in a puddle. (Was it a pistol? Semi-automatic? I have no clue about guns.)

  “Thank God,” Jason exhales as he reaches for it. He grabs my hand and places the gun in my palm. “Can you try to aim a little better this time?”

  “Hey! I’ve never fired a gun before. I think I did pretty well,” I retort indignantly, annoyed that he would bring up my lack of sharpshooter skills right now.

  “Sure, tell that to the ceiling with a hole in it,” Jason replies and then says, “You know what, I changed my mind. Give that back to me.” He holds his hand out and I gratefully return the gun to him.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I explain. “Walter doesn’t even have a gun. That is his gun. I grabbed it off the table when I heard you trying to get in the door. Uh, you know, when I thought you were a bad guy.”

  “Uh, huh,” Jason murmurs as he sticks his key in the keyhole and attempts to open the door. The door doesn’t budge. “Fuck. He’s got something wedged up against the handle,” he mutters with extreme frustration.

  “Well can’t you use the chairs and break the door down again?”

  Jason shakes his head and points to the corner of the porch where a pile of wood is laying. “Nope. Those are the chairs.”

  Oops. Guess he broke them last time.

  “Sorry. But in all fairness, if you had just said, this is Jason, I would have let you in,” I point out.

  “But then you wouldn’t have Walter’s gun,” he retorts.

  “Oh.” Touché.

  As I am pondering this, Jason cocks his head towards the side of the house. “Come on. We’ll climb in through the bathroom window. I noticed that was open when Harding and I went off into the woods chasing after the fictitious guy on the phone.” Even in the dark I can see the smirk on his face.

  Immediately, I recall Harding stepping out of the bathroom, folding the newspaper under his arm. He probably opened the window after…uh, using the facilities. It seemed like days had passed since then, even though it had been less than three hours ago. My stomach begins to growl, as if it is reminding me that the dinner hour had passed and it is protesting my neglect.

  “Hey, listen, there was a guy on the phone. I didn’t know it was Walter,” I explain with a slight whine in my voice.

  “Shhh!” Jason warns as we approach the side of the house. “We have no idea where Walter is.”

  “He was asleep on the couch before all this went down,” I tell him. “Snoring away, without a care in the world.”

  I can see Jason purse his lips. “I doubt he was sleeping. He was probably biding his time, waiting to ambush you when Harding got back from killing me and dumping my body in the woods.”

  I can’t believe what I am hearing. Dear sweet Walter? The gentle old man from across the street? It seems impossible. I am not sure if I should believe Jason. After all, it’s his word against…I glance around nervously. Well, nobody’s. There is nobody around to dispute what he is telling me. The only people who could dispute it are Harding and Walter. One is dead and the other is inside the house. What if he’s lying to me and it’s him who wants to ambush Walter, not the other way around? He seems to be good at lying. He had me convinced he was just a normal, run of the mill neighbor. Well, I was suspicious…

  These thoughts are turning in my head as I trail behind Jason. He is pushing his way through the heavy foliage, branches snapping below his feet as he makes his way towards the open bathroom window.

  “What makes you think it was Walter and not Jimmy Donoghue? Don’t you suspect Donoghue?” I whisper.

  Jason turns and stares at me incredulously. “How did you know that?”

  My face flushes, even though I know he can’t see it in the near dark conditions. “I overheard you…” I manage to mumble.

  Jason sighs. “You’re going to get yourself killed eavesdropping one day, Amy Maxwell. But Jimmy Donoghue is actually in police custody right now.” He holds up his phone and shows me an incoming text. “So there’s no way it was him.”

  “Oh,” I reply, certainly subdued. There goes that theory.

  Shaking his head, Jason glances around, looking for something to boost himself up with. The window is a good six feet off the ground. I can tell that he’s strong, but I don’t know if he can pull himself up at that angle, with the window sill being wet from the rain.

  “I’ll boost you up,” he
says to me, indicating the window.

  “What?” No way!” I yelp, backing away. I trip over a bush and go sprawling right on my ass.

  “Why not?” Jason asks, reaching his hand out to me. “I want you to go in first and there’s a step stool in the bathroom that you can send out to me.”

  I shake my head defiantly.

  Jason sighs loudly as he grows irate. “Well the only other option is you push me in the window and honestly, I don’t think that’s a viable one. I’m twice your size and quite frankly, I don’t think you have the upper body strength for it.”

  I’m not even listening to him. I’m busy thinking. What if he’s pushing me in the window and he shots me in the back? It seems like a cowardly thing to do, but so does killing a fellow DEA agent.

  I want to believe that Jason’s telling me the truth; but at the same time, I don’t want to be that gullible fool. This whole thing is just so bizarre, I don’t even know what is real and what’s imagined. Without warning, I start to cry.

  Jason, who was scowling fiercely at me, softens his face and it is then that I know he isn’t lying. “Oh, no, Amy! Don’t cry! Oh, shit, come on…don’t cry.” He holds his arms out to me and I fall into them, completely trusting. I don’t care if it’s naïve, I don’t care if it’s foolish. I believe Jason is telling me the truth, no matter how wacky the story is. And now, I believe, no, I know my child is in danger, trapped in the house with a murder.

  I abruptly pull away from Jason. “Come on, I’m ready….what the hell are you waiting for?” I awkwardly brush aside my tears and offer him a lopsided smile. “Let’s go save the kids.”

  He gazes at me skeptically. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

  I bob my head rapidly. “Yup, never better! Now let’s go get that son of a bitch!”

  Jason smiles warmly. “You know what Amy Maxwell? For a non agent, you’re a pretty awesome woman.”

  I resist the urge to burst into tears again at his complement and just turn my attention towards the window.

  “Step into my palm,” Jason instructs me. I step up as I push my palms on the side of the house for support. And proceed to get a giant splinter. Biting my lip so I don’t cry (and thus ruin Jason’s opinion that I’m awesome), I continue to propel my body upwards with Jason’s assistance. I grab ahold of the window sill and shove it open all the way. Jason is now heaving my butt through the windows with both hands. I try to focus on the matter at hand and not the fact that despite the life and death situation that we are in, his touch causes a tingling in my groin.