The End of Tomorrow

by Tara Brown

  “The smoke detectors? We better hurry.”

  They hurried me outside and placed me into the backseat of a dark car.

  “She’s older than I thought she’d be,” Jackass Number One commented as he closed the door.

  “She’s Australian. There’s lots of sun there,” Jackass Number Two pointed out as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  It was a real kick in the crotch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Only you, Isla

  The car ride had been silent for a while when Jackass Number One glanced back, checking on me as he commented, “She’s a bit sexy hot for a scientist.”

  “Not our kind of hot,” the other asshole commented. He was driving and clearly in charge of the dipshit duo.

  “You wanna get a kebab on the way after we drop her off?”

  The driver groaned. “No. I just watched some real crime show about that girl who disappeared back home in Blackpool.”

  I knew it!

  He shook his head as he drove under a streetlight that lit the car up. “That young girl, they say was part of that grooming shit they got going on up there where them foreigners are convincing the street kids to trade sex for food and shelter. Some pervy old sixty-year-old pricks are getting off on fifteen-year-old girls. All white girls with Middle Easterners.”

  “What’s that got to do with getting takeaway?”

  The driver turned his face, looking quite serious. “They killed one of them girls and stuck her in the kebabs. Ground her up. Right in the fuckin’ takeaway. Mum’s out there looking for her kid and getting a takeaway and it’s filled with ground—”

  “Right, I get it. I don't fuckin’ need the whole story. Jesus. That's fucking sick. This is what’s wrong with this goddamned country. I’m fuckin’ moving, I tell ya. I’m going to the Middle East where they cut your balls off for fucking kids.”

  Bad guys with morals always made me shake my head, but this time my insides boiled as I contemplated the validity of the story. I would be checking it out—if I lived.

  The car slowed and the dipshits went silent.

  I cracked an eyelid and tried to show Jack where I was. I knew he was tracking me, but I worried. He had been so quiet in my ear, not even breathing.

  We drove under something, like an overpass or a bridge. It was dark and the dipshits seemed oddly tense. The car parked, making everything inside me tighten. I had to force my muscles to relax as a shadow cast over the vehicle. A man I couldn't make out stood over my window, staring down on me.

  The doors opened and I exhaled as I let them drag me from the car. I was flung over a shoulder and thumped into a building.

  The man walked with arrogance I expected, but he didn't smell like Servario. I started to get worried he wasn't going to be part of the show, but his voice filled the hallway, “Take her to the office. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  The beast carrying me didn't make a sound. He just turned in the hall and stalked toward the office, whatever that was.

  The huge man placed me down gently on a bed and walked out, closing the door behind me. It was completely dark, and I couldn't see a thing except the outline of the door where the light from the hallway came in.

  I listened for footsteps or someone else in the room but nothing stirred. I wasn't certain what to do. “Jack?” I whispered so softly I hardly heard it.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded so the camera in my eye would bob.

  “Good. L and J are safe and sound, and her building has burned to the ground, no casualties. The lab she worked at in Oxford has also been burned. Luce took care of that first. Any time you want to make that exit, let me know what you need. I’ll do what I can. You’re near a farm on the outskirts of London. It’s close to a train crossing and a small river. If you go that way you could catch a train. They run every few minutes into London, starting at five in the morning, and you are only about an hour away from that time.”

  Taking a breath I bobbed the camera again, not excited about the fact that it was one hour until the next train. Slowly I got up, listening for anything, even trying to catch a smell or something that could tell me more about where I was.

  As I got to the door it opened, making me jump back. A large man filled the doorway with his silhouette. “Going somewhere, Doctor?” Servario asked softly.

  He strolled into the room, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't see a thing. He closed the door and sighed. “Tell me where your research is, and I will walk out of this room and nothing will happen to you.”

  I swallowed hard, not sure which way to go with this. Did I tell him it was me and risk us both if there was surveillance in the room? Or did I let him torture me?

  I backed up, not sure how to be me or Janice.

  “Doctor, don't make me do this.” His soft words made my entire body tingle with fear. He rushed me, wrapping his arm around my waist and spinning me. He walked us both forward with his hand wrapping around my throat as the other one tore my shirt open, exposing my breasts. He cupped one and whispered in my ear, “The problem with me, Janice—you don't mind me calling you that, do you? As I was saying, the problem with me is I don't really enjoy regular torture. I find women hard to beat on.” He hurried across the room until my hips and waist slammed into something, winding me as it forced my face down. I recognized the felt of the billiards table the moment my cheek touched it.

  Did he know it was me?

  He held me down with one hand as something sharp dragged down my back. “However, I find women are very easy to fuck, and in my opinion, as humble as it might be, I like fucking far more than torturing.”

  I tried to tell myself there was a chance he was fooled by my disguise, but then he bent forward and licked the back of my neck. “The problem with females in the field, Janice, is they are so easy to abuse for no reason at all.” The way he said field and Janice gave it away.

  He knew it was me.

  The blade in his hand cut my belt and pants, enabling him to slide them down my hips and buttocks. I gasped as he cut my underwear from me, tossing them aside.

  He slammed the knife into the table near my face as he reached around me and cupped my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.

  I didn't dare make a sound though I desperately wanted to. He rolled and tweaked my nipple, making my breath stop short. The moment I closed my eyes, he dragged the hand back, sliding it down my butt cheeks, dangerously close to the no-no spot.

  Just as I held my breath he lowered his finger, sliding it into me and pressing down on my back, shoving me harder into the table as he assaulted me. He sawed a finger in and out, clucking his tongue when he discovered how wet I was. I almost clucked my tongue too. I couldn't believe my traitorous vagina was soaked and ready for Servario. I really was the biggest whore where he was concerned.

  He didn't offer foreplay or take a knee the way he normally would. He pulled his hand from me and jerked his cock free of his trousers, shoving himself inside me—hard.

  I gasped, hating that Jack was obviously aware of what was going on in the earpiece. I kept my eyes shut but there was no way to block out the gasping.

  “I just need to know where it is and I will stop.” He thrust into me again, completely bareback. I almost got angry, realizing I would have to endure the fucking STI testing again.

  He gripped my hips, fucking me with angry thrusts. “Tell me, Janice, tell me what I need to know.”

  I took the beating as he pounded a few more times before squeezing my ass cheeks hard and coming with an aggression I hadn’t felt in a while. He jerked his last few strokes and then sighed into my back. “You are in a lot of trouble, Janice. A lot.”

  I knew he meant me and I knew I was. He pulled himself from me, letting semen run down my thighs. It was disturbing, and yet nothing less than I expected from him.

  “Now it’s time to play.” He slapped me hard on the ass as he walked to the corner of the room, flicking on the lights as he did his pa
nts up.

  We were in a games room with leather couches. It was weird, considering I had assumed it was an actual office.

  When I glanced at him I cringed at the look in his eyes. It was something I hadn’t seen before. He was angry but scared maybe.

  He swallowed and nodded. “Come with me.” He held a hand out for me.

  I glanced down at the shreds of my clothing. “I can’t leave like this.” I maintained my Australian accent, even when he flinched.

  “They know who you are, Isla. Give up the accent.”

  I swallowed hard, not sure what game we were playing.

  “They know everything.” He lifted a finger to the ceiling. The small glass circle was a camera. I knew there would be facial recognition, but how could I be a girl named Isla? My plan had been to escape, not get fucked by Servario and then made into one of his whores. “Just tell me who sent you and where the doctor is.” He swallowed the lump I had seen in his throat.

  I understood then what this all meant. He would have to torture me until I could escape.

  I clenched my jaw and shook my head, showing my defiance. It was all I had. I didn't know who Isla was or who I should have been sent by, but the Burrow and the CI were not options.

  “We know you are part of the mismanaged MI6 fiasco. Just stop. Tell us how it’s possible you and Mary have the doctor.”

  He was trying to tell me that Mary was my out. Didn't they know she was dead?

  If I gave him information on her, he would free me. I shook my head. I didn't want to give it up right away. That might seem too obvious.

  He shrugged. “Your funeral.” He walked forward and grabbed my hand, dragging me to the doorway. I tripped on my pants, but he just dragged me, skidding my half-naked body along the floor. He dragged me to a bathroom where he flung me into the open showers.

  Rage crept across his face as he snarled. “You fucking idiot!”

  “Fuck you, Servario!” I spit my perfectly accented words at him. My English accent was far superior to my Aussie. I scrambled up, dragging my pants off all the way and kicking my shoes off. Barefoot and naked, I squared off against him. “Fuck you!” I pointed.

  He cracked a grin, but it was the sort you didn't want to see, not on his face. He always meant whatever he threatened, and by the look he gave me, I assumed it was going to be a bad scene. “Fuck me?” His accent thickened. “You want to fuck me, Isla?”

  I backed up, lifting my hands into the air defensively. “I do.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Okay.” He pointed. “I warned you not to ever show your face to me again.” He rolled his sleeves up, flashing a wound on his forearm. He pulled off his tie and loosened his shirt. He gave me a grin and walked to me with the tie in his hands. I swung at him, to distract him with a clumsy punch, but he anticipated the other punch coming from my sneaky left hand. He took the right and grabbed my left, hitting me in the ribs once. I took it, wincing. He hit me a second time.

  I went limp, letting him tie my wrists up. Just when he thought he had me, I jumped up and climbed him like a monkey, slipping my arms around his throat and choking him with his own tie.

  He grabbed at me, but I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled back, knocking him off balance. He backed up fast, slamming us both into the wall, but I laughed when I cried out, certain one of my ribs was broken.

  “FUCK YOU!” I coughed and laughed.

  He sputtered, ripping at the tie and my arms. I held tighter, squeezing even beyond what I thought I could. My wrists became cut and burned as my hands lost feeling and the blood swelled in them as it pooled.

  His face turned red and he slammed me into the wall again. He didn't stop there. He rammed me hard once more, making me cry out, but I didn't relent. His legs buckled and his grip loosened as the loss of air weakened him. I squeezed the carotid harder, putting him down. He dropped to the floor and collapsed atop me. I cried out, unraveling us both from the tie. My hands screamed as circulation started back in them. I shoved him onto his back in the large open shower. I wiped my bleeding lip and tried not to curl up and die from the pain of the broken rib.

  Instead of being a giant bitch about the whole scene, I unbuttoned his shirt and dragged it off of his lifeless body. I pulled it on and then crawled around to his feet, pulling his pants down and awkwardly getting into them. His belt didn't tighten enough for me so I used the tie to keep them up.

  He had come into the room with no gun or anything else. Just him and me and the cameras. He didn't even have a phone.

  I sighed and got up, wincing as I walked to the door at the opposite end of the room where we had come in. I cracked it open, seeing the swimming pool I suddenly realized I could smell. A large exit sign with a man running frantically was across the pool. No guards were present, but I could make out the cameras, I knew I would have only seconds.

  Servario coughed behind me. I turned to see his mouth moving and his eyes blinking. It was time to run. I bolted from the door and across the pool deck, blasting through the exit door. The moment I got outside I was grateful for the fresh air even if it was heavy and dank. “Go right around the building and across the field you see when you get there,” Jack spoke in my ear, not mentioning the other disturbing parts of what he had seen and heard.

  I was halfway across the field when I heard them shouting and running after me. My legs pushed as hard as they could, my pain receptors not allowing my brain to register the agony my feet were in.

  “There’s a train in fifteen minutes. It slows there for the crossing, not to a stop but a definite slow.”

  “I can’t—run for—five minutes—Jack, let alone fifteen.” I could barely speak. My rib was killing me and my feet were a ragged mess.

  “Well, you have to, so suck it up.”

  I growled my response as I kept running. My thighs were getting heavy when I heard the train braking for the crossing. Somehow I found a little extra inside me. It was a reserve I had never used before. I pushed and grunted until I was there. The front of the train went past me about fifteen feet in front of my face. I dug in, knowing I could throw up once I was on board, but I had to make the train no matter what.

  I steered myself left along the rocks at the sides of the tracks and leapt with every bit of strength I had in me, grabbing onto the doorway I had aimed for and swinging between the cars.

  Gasping for air, I clung to the train, letting my legs collapse as I dropped myself down into the gap between the doorways, and heaved. The broken rib and cut feet were one part of the mess I was. The other was the sound of Servario screaming my name, thankfully not my real one. I had nearly killed him and that was killing me.

  I heaved my guts onto the rocks below as the train started to pick up speed again, leaving behind the screaming and shouting.

  “Thank fuck, Evie!” Jack sighed.

  I nodded my head, not really needing to say anything else. Thank fuck about summed it up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ambush #757—can I say it’s getting old now?

  Luce helped me from the car and into the cottage. I winced, seeing the doctor tied up and muzzled in a chair. She growled when she saw me.

  “She seems nice,” I muttered as I hobbled to a chair.

  “A real peach.” Luce snorted. “She’s the fucking Queen of England if you ask her.”

  I didn't waste time on her or anything else; I looked straight at Jack. “Who is Isla?”

  “You.” He grinned. “Servario must have known we were late and would be caught so he created an identification for all three of us, just slightly different looking than we are. I mean, very slightly, and he gave us names and aliases. The MI6 system has us as agents who have gone rogue.”

  “That's not good for getting out of the country.”

  He grinned wider. “We aren’t exactly riding economy.” He nodded his head to the right. “We have someone to bring with us. So we need our own plane.”

  “Fitz?”

  “Yeah.” He
nodded.

  “Okay.” I got up and hobbled to the couch, gingerly lying back as Luce lifted one of my feet. “Dude! These are bad. This is like Twelve Years a Slave bad.”

  “I know. It was bad.” And that was an understatement. I turned my head and snarled at the doctor, “I am going to kill you in one hour. In fifty-five minutes when I am not in seizing pain from Luce cleaning my dogs, I am going to take that muzzle off and then I am going to ask you one question. If the answer is silence, rude, or not what I want to hear, you are dead.”

  Luce opened her mouth, but I lifted a finger. “Fix my feet.”

  She backed away slowly as Jack got up and grabbed a case from under the sink. He handed it to her and they exchanged a holy-shit look.

  She sat at the end of the uncomfortable couch as I gripped a pillow and she proceeded to pick splinters and debris from my feet. She then washed them with warm water and of course sanitized them with vodka. With each step my feet got less and less sensitive but the pain somehow got worse and moved up my legs.

  I cried out one last time as she started to wrap them.

  “That was bad. Never make me do that again.”

  “Deal.” I cried and winced as she tied the huge bandages off. Blood seeped through so she dragged two thick socks over the dressings.

  “This is going to have to do.”

  “Okay.” I turned on my side, losing my breath in the agony of my thighs and broken ribs. It took everything I had in me to get up and stagger to the doctor. I sat on the floor in front of her, wincing through the short breaths I was taking. There was no patience left in me. None. I reached up and ripped the duct tape from her lips, waxing her face for her.

  She screamed out but I didn't hear it. I was too full of my own self-pity to hear anyone else’s. I leaned in, possibly looking creepy but not caring, and whispered, “How many people could your research and invention kill?”

  She opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut, perhaps frightened of the madness lurking in my eyes. It took her a second to answer, “Billions.” She had clearly already realized the danger in the invention, and yet had pursued it anyway.