Dead or Alive

by Trevion Burns

  Regrettably, they reached the top of the stairwell in under a minute, and were met with a bright red door. The sign on the door was perfectly clear.

  RESTRICTED AREA

  ALARM WILL SOUND

  VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED

  It was a sign that did not apply to her captor. Sounding an alarm was surely the least of Remington Archibald’s worries.

  Keeping a firm hold on her shoulder and the gun to her back, Remy shook her.

  “Door.” he ordered. He could faintly hear the sound of many feet climbing the stairs below them.

  Violet could hear it, too. She gingerly placed one hand on the door handle, pressing her other hand against the cold steel. “This is a ten story building. We’re on the roof. There’s no way you’re going to get out of this, Archibald.”

  The footsteps grew louder, more pronounced, with each passing second. Remy wasn’t blind to the fact that she was stalling. He pushed the gun harder into her back and leaned in, pressing his lips against her ear.

  Violet’s body rolled with chills when his gravely voice rang softly in her ear.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Violet, but I will.”

  The way her name sounded coming from him sent an arctic freeze across her spine. Before she could stop herself, she was pushing open the door to the rooftop. They stepped out into the brutal humid sunlight, and Violet’s heart completely deflated at the sight that awaited her.

  She knew, right at that moment, that all hope was lost.

  Directly in the middle of the rooftop, a mere ten feet away, was an empty police helicopter.

  2

  Violet couldn’t believe her eyes. What was sure to be her key to freedom from this madman--getting trapped on a rooftop until help arrived--turned out to be anything but. From her limited research into his case, she knew Archibald was a former captain of the A380, a monster of a plane that held nearly 800 passengers. Surely he could get this baby bird off the ground with ease, and even more surely, he would take her right with him.

  “Walk.”

  He was jamming that damn gun into her side again. Violet huffed while allowing him to push her towards the empty aircraft, praying desperately that the police would bust through the doors of the roof at any second.

  “There aren’t even any cops up here. Why can’t you just let me go and fly out of here on your own?”

  “Shut. Up.”

  Violet jammed her lips together. Apparently Archibald wasn’t much of a talker. Even so, gun or not, if he told her to shut up again he was going to receive a quick knee to the groin.

  “Don’t tell me to shut up.”

  Remy leaned closer to her so his lips were next to her ear once more.

  That deep voice warmed her skin.

  “I said shut the hell up,” he whispered. “Door.”

  With a sigh, Violet reached for the chopper’s door handle, then hesitated.

  "You know what?" she asked, turning to him and catching his eye.

  It was his eyes. Something about those soft blue pools had Violet convinced this man wasn’t a monster. "I don't believe you would shoot me."

  Remy immediately raised the gun from her waist to her head. For the first time, she realized his hands were shaking.

  "I really don't think you would..."

  He raised the gun, but he didn’t fire. "Stop,” he demanded. "Don't make me do this, Violet."

  That was the moment. The second he said her name without a hint of anger in his voice, or his eyes--that's when she knew he'd never shoot her. Not even if he wanted to. He couldn't.

  She pushed past him, managing to slither out of his reach as he went to grab her, before racing towards the door of the roof as quickly as her legs would allow.

  "Stop!” he screamed, holding up his gun to her retreating figure. Her curls flew in the air behind her as she ran, and it took everything in him to cock his gun, arming it for the first time that day. “Violet stop, stop or I’ll shoot!”

  She hadn’t gotten far, and in her haste she tripped on her heels and fell hard to the ground. Recovering quickly, she stood on wobbling legs and continued running. She didn’t even think to kick off the sky high heels that were slowing her down. She was so desperate to escape him she couldn't think one logical thought.

  An overwhelming guilt hit Remy and he contemplated just letting her go. She didn't have any part of this, anyhow, and he could fly that chopper out on his own. His mind raced.

  No. He couldn’t let her go, yet. Nothing would stop the authorities from shooting that plane right out of the sky if he was the only person in it. He still needed her, even if only for a little while longer.

  He itched to chase her, but he couldn’t move too far from the helicopter. The cops would be there any second, and he’d have to make a quick getaway, preferably with her next to him. Desperate, Remy did the only thing he could think to do.

  With every sprint Violet took, her nylons tore a little more. She continued to trip and stumble her way towards the door of the roof as fast as she could go. It was like a dream where her legs were made of lead, and salvation was always just out of reach. When the door came within reaching distance, her heart soared. He was going to let her go.

  When a shot rang out, she was sure she'd imagined it. She hadn't.

  The bullet exploded into the wall not even a foot away from her, sending shards of brick and mortar shattering to the ground like glass. She froze in mid run, eyes wide.

  The bastard had shot at her.

  She turned, slowly, on her heel, until she was facing the helicopter, and the man she'd just bolted from. The dirt and ash from the wall clung to her sweat soaked face as she took in his determined eyes.

  Remy took one haggard breath, unable to believe his bad luck. Of course he’d snatched the one woman crazy enough to run from a gun-toting convicted murderer. He’d known her for less than three minutes, and she was already the most hard-headed woman he'd ever met.

  "The next one won’t miss,” he warned. "Walk to me now." He commanded, taking the gun off of her only long enough to motion for her to come closer. His voice rose exponentially when she didn’t instantly move. “Walk to me now!”

  Defeated, Violet began making her way back toward the helicopter, arms still raised. Her skirt was sitting at insane angles on her body, and both arms of her blazer had fallen off her shoulders. Her hair was caked with dirt and sweat, and was beginning to take on its natural curl from all the abuse she'd put it through. For that alone, she could have killed this man.

  Once she was within reaching distance, Remy grabbed for her with that long, long arm, tugging her back to him. He took the back of her neck and led her toward the plane with the gun at her back.

  “Ouch.” Violet cringed. She attempted to look back at him, but the gun pressed against her spine, and the shot he’d just fired, made her afraid to make any more sudden movements. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Do you have a death wish?” he growled, reaching past her. "I'm going to open the door. If you try to run I will shoot you. Don’t make me hurt you." He threw open the chopper door. “Get in. Now.” He couldn’t believe it when she hesitated. He wasn’t sure which of them was more insane. Him, the gun-toting maniac who’d just been convicted of first degree murder, or her, the bold and brazen hostage who had bigger balls than any man he knew.

  Violet stumbled into the chopper, struggling to pull down her short skirt as she did.

  But not fast enough for Remy to miss a flash of her hot pink thong. He, once again, had to remind himself of the situation at hand.

  As he climbed in behind her, another shot rang out, and Violet screamed, sure that Remy had decided to kill her right there in that helicopter, sure that he'd shot her. Remington Archibald had just shot her, and she was dead.

  When the pain never came, and she realized she was still breathing, Violet's eyes fluttered open to find Remy's teeth clenched tight, eyes watering, clutching his leg. Outside the chopper window, dozens of cops who�
��d been forced to stand down in the courtroom were now closing in on them swiftly.

  He'd been shot! The orange prison uniform he wore was quickly staining with blood at his thigh, but he managed to drag his leg into the chopper, and out of the line of fire. He screamed the whole way, slamming the door shut.

  She was about to run. She almost did, but the moment she made the move for the handle of her door, Remy managed to fight past the pain and raise the gun.

  "Don't!" he wailed through clenched teeth before triggering the locks.

  No one could get in now. It was a police helicopter so surely it was bulletproof. Even if the cops outside had a clear shot at Remy, they would never penetrate the glass.

  It was official, wherever it was Remington Archibald planned on going, he was taking her there with him. With one hand, he pulled open the dashboard of the aircraft, exposing a plethora of colorful wires.

  He fiddled with those wires for what seemed to be mere seconds, faster than she could manage to think a single thought, and before she knew it the plane was roaring to life.

  Remy took the reins with ease, and as the legs of the helicopter left the ground, and they began to steadily ascend into the afternoon air, he reached over and tugged her arm. “Get in the back.”

  But the force of his pull was too strong, and she tumbled across his lap. With effort, Violet lifted her head from where it was smashed into his crotch, and looked up to him, legs bent, ass in the air. Their eyes met, and she saw something. A look. A look she'd become very familiar with in the few years since she'd blossomed into an acceptable woman. Desire. It wasn't until she saw that desire in his eyes that she realized she’d fallen face first into his lap. Her mouth was pressing against him. For a fraction of a second, he appeared to be in a different place entirely.

  Remy lost all sense of reality. God, it had been so long, and she was nothing short of amazing, feisty as hell, chest heaving, tiny sweat droplets hanging onto the tip of her little nose and her eyes--so much fire in those big brown eyes. He couldn't tear his eyes away from this woman.

  This, he thought, this is what I'm fighting for.

  When Violet suddenly slammed her fist directly into the quickly growing bloodstain on Remy’s leg, he threw his head back and howled in pain, dropping the gun between his thighs.

  The chopper began a rapid descent as Remy released the controls, and clutched his leg, which had gone white hot with pain.

  Swallowing back a terrified scream as the chopper dropped from the sky rapidly, Violet immediately clawed for the weapon. When she had it in her hands, she was momentarily startled by its weight.

  Remy quickly took her wrist in one hand, flinching against the pain in his leg, and grabbed the top of the gun with the other, turning it away from him and towards the windshield. He attempted to pull it away from her, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before the plan crashed and they were both dead. He had to get this bird under control, and this maddening woman was not going to make it easy.

  Violet cried out and pulled back, refusing to relinquish the gun.

  "You’re going to get us both killed, damn it, I'm not going to hurt you,” he screamed right in her face, his eyes taking on a tidal wave of fury that sent a chill down her spine. It made her clutch what bit of the gun she had even tighter. With her free hand she clawed, slapped and punched at him with all her might. He blocked every blow with relative ease.

  In the end, Remy was the bigger one, the stronger one, and it was a losing battle. Quickly, he was back in control of the gun and had it trained at her head once more, immediately taking the controls of the helicopter, getting it level with the ease of an expert. Just like that, it was steady, and they were once again ascending rapidly into the clear sky.

  Violet collapsed against the door behind her. Soon, the officers scattered on the rooftop below looked like tiny ants from her window.

  “Fuck.” She swallowed past her exhaustion. “Please just let me go.”

  Remy was exhausted, too, and the bullet in his leg was doing nothing to help that. He was now supremely aware that any sort of physical contact with this woman was a terrible mistake. A mistake he would never make again.

  “You’ve been shot. Your leg is gushing blood. You're only going to get so far--"

  "Shut up."

  She jammed her lips together. The truth was, Violet didn’t know how to shut up, and that was apparently true even when she had a gun to her head. She forced herself to look away from him, realizing there was no longer any point in fighting. They were high in the sky now, and there was no longer any hope for escape.

  As Violet got lost in the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the helicopter’s propellers, she prayed that this would all end quickly.

  ***

  Remy kept the gun trained at Violet as they coasted through the darkening sky. He motioned to her with the gun. "Put on the seatbelt."

  "What?"

  "The seatbelt. Apparently you're a flight risk, so I'm asking you to put on your seatbelt." He didn't have the energy to physically make her do this, but he hoped that didn't show.

  She scoffed to show her disapproval, and then did what she was told.

  He waited until the complicated belt was fastened properly, before allowing the gun to fall. Holding it up had suddenly become what felt like an impossible task. He groaned as he readjusted his leg. For several seconds, he sat in silence, staring straight ahead. "Damn it, woman."

  Violet’s eyes took in the forest of trees flying rapidly by outside of the window, hundreds of miles below. They were clearly flying over an area of land where no other civilians would be.

  “I can’t risk letting you go right now. I need you, all right? The police won’t shoot me down because they know you’re in here with me. I promise I'll let you go as soon as we’re on the ground. I promise you." He looked right into her eyes as he made his vow.

  Her eyes flew to him in surprise when he began explaining himself with no prompting from her. "Oh you promise, huh?" She raised her eyebrows, her sweet brown eyes taking on a raw cynicism. "That's really a weight off of my shoulders, since you've proven yourself so trustworthy thus far. Why the fuck should I trust you?"

  He threw her a look, trying to breathe past his swirling head. He really, really wished she just wouldn't talk. He squinted his eyes at her, wondering if there was anything in that chopper he could gag her with. "You've got one hell of a mouth on you, you know that? It’s not ladylike."

  "Oh that's rich. That is rich coming from you. Remington Archibald is giving me shit over my bad fucking mouth? Fuck you."

  He covered his forehead with his free hand. "Can you please just... not talk?"

  "Why the hell shouldn't I?”

  "Because I have the gun and you don't!"

  Violet jolted. His eyes were like blue fire. She willed herself to bite her tongue, but couldn’t. “You know that this is kidnapping, right? You just made the stupidest decision of your life. Even if you are innocent like you say it won’t even matter, anymore. You’re going back to jail no matter what.”

  "Is this normal? Or am I just doing something terribly wrong here? I'm pretty sure the person with the gun is the one who's supposed to be running off at the mouth, and the person who the gun is pointed at--that's you, by the way--should be quiet, scared, maybe even crying, but you can't seem to shut that gigantic mouth of yours for anything. Is it too much for me to expect you to do what I say? I mean, really, am I this terrible of a kidnapper that you're not even remotely afraid? Is the joke on me? Throw me a lifeline here, because I'm lost." He took a heaving breath after his rant, eyes wide.

  "Kay. Are you done?"

  He gave her one last long, infuriated look, before turning away from her and staring out the window. His energy was spent, his head was spinning, and he recognized the feeling of being near unconsciousness. He felt faint, kind of like the way he felt after being jumped back in prison. He threw Violet a look, thinking that being behind bars seemed almost desirable in comparison to
being stuck in an aircraft with this woman.

  She was looking right back at him, right in his eyes. She wasn't afraid, not in the least. Violet was a reporter, and it was her job to have good instincts. The fact that she wasn't terribly frightened by Archibald, even if he did have a gun in his hand, spoke volumes to her. She didn't know him well at all, no, but she knew her body. She knew her instincts.

  Her silence made him nervous. "What?" he demanded, unable to handle the power of her unwavering gaze.

  "I'm just..." She wondered if she should tell him how she was finding herself curious about him. Wondering whether or not he really did commit this crime. As far as she was concerned, he actually was a pretty awful kidnapper. She'd read every casebook in existence about abductions, kidnappings and robberies. The criminal was never as uncertain as Remy clearly was. No, the criminal was almost always anxious, irrational, brash, violent. Remy had yet to strike her, and she'd certainly given him every reason to. She was convinced he never would.

  "I was just thinking about my sisters. I have two older sisters. One of them is a crime scene investigator and the other is a detective. They are ferociously protective of me. I just thought you should know that because, if my sisters find you--and they will find you..." She shook her head. "They'll kill you. They'll kill you like a dog in the street, and I assure you, Archibald, the police will never find your body because they are the police."

  Remy was bored by her outburst, and it showed in his eyes. He actually smiled at her, but she recognized it as the way one would smile at a small child. He didn't seem eager to deliver a proper response.

  She cringed at him. "I hate the way you’re looking at me right now."

  Remy leaned into her. "For seven months I’ve lived in a prison with one of the highest death rates in the country. I’ve been beaten until I passed out, harassed at every turn, bled until I was sure I didn't have another drop to bleed. My cellmate's name was Rudy, he was six foot seven, three hundred pounds. Every time a piece of my hair fell in my eyes Rudy broke a new finger." Remy threw up his left hand, where four out of five fingers were bruised, twisted, or abnormally bent. "Seven. Months. I think--I think... I can handle your two big sisters."