“Keep hitting her and yelling ‘Wake up Teresa’!”
“Wake up Teresa! Wake up Teresa!”
Suddenly Jerome’s view tumbled and spun. When it finally settled he could see that Digby was now on the landing—in the pool of blood. The man with the neck wound was crawling on top of Teresa—reaching for her throat.
“That guy hit me!” Digby said indignantly. “What is he doing to her? Is he supposed to be doing that?”
Blood was coming out of Rock’s neck wound in slow drips. Terri’s eyes came open in time to see him put his hands on her throat. Her scream came out for only an instant before it was cut off.
“Look around you! Look around you!” Jerome said desperately.
Digby looked around. Jerome saw what he wanted. “Stop! Okay, slowly look to your left.”
Digby slowly panned his view to the left until Jerome said “Stop!” again. A gun. There was a gun on the floor. “Go pick up the gun!”
Digby waded through the blood and tried to pick up the gun. He put both paws on the handle and was able to lift it part way, but the muzzle was still resting on the ground.
“Point the gun at the man and shoot him!”
“I can’t do that,” Digby said. “It’s too heavy.”
Digby was looking at Rock and Terri. Terri had reached up with her right hand and was trying to stick her thumb into Rock’s neck wound. He brought his right hand up to grab it away. Blood was now spurting out of his mouth as he was gasping for breath.
“Bring the gun to Teresa! Drag it within reach of her hand!”
Digby dragged the gun through the blood toward the two people in a death lock. Terri’s face was turning from crimson to purple. Her left hand was on Rock’s wrist, trying to get it off her throat. Neither of them paid any attention to Digby.
“Digby,” Jerome said, “get the gun within the girl’s reach. Drag it over. Okay, now yell, ‘Teresa, here’s a gun’!”
“Teresa! Here’s a gun!”
Teresa looked over at Digby at the sound of her name. Rock didn’t look until he heard the word ‘gun’. By that time Teresa had already released her grip on his wrist and was reaching for the gun.
“Drop the gun and bite the man’s hand!” Jerome ordered.
Rock let go of Terri’s hand at his neck, but Terri was already tightening her grip around the gun handle. Digby’s bite was barely felt by Rock, but he was swiping him away as Terri brought the gun up to Rock’s head and fired. Blood splattered out the side of his head onto the wall. His body slumped on top of her. She tried to gasp for breath, pushing his body off her—rolling it with an effort onto the steps.
Chapter 62
Terri rolled herself onto her stomach and gagged, spitting up on the bottom step. After regaining some measure of control over herself she crawled out onto the landing, taking deep breaths as she sat on the floor with her back to the wall. She sat there for several seconds before she heard Digby speak.
“Hi Natalya,” He was on the head of the stairs that went down to the floor below, standing on his hind legs, looking down. He then lifted his forepaws into the air and said, “Hands up don’t shoot!”
Terri looked through the metal handrails and could just see the top of a blond head. She grasped the gun with both hands and pointed it. Digby looked over at Terri. Natalya’s head bobbed higher as she took a step up the stairs and looked where Digby was looking—and saw Terri. Natalya’s gun was pointing at Digby.
Terri fired just as Natalya ducked and ran down the stairs. Terri could hear her heels clicking on the steps. She pushed herself to a standing position and started chasing after her. She felt drained, weak, she was half stumbling down the stairs with Digby running ahead. She heard a door slam on the floor below. The floor with the cells. Terri was still catching her breath when she made it to the door. She leaned against the wall, thinking that Natalya might be just inside ready to ambush her. Digby stood next to her expectantly, like a dog wanting to go outside.
Terri whispered, “I’ll open the door a crack, you look and see if she’s there.”
“I can do that,” Digby said. “Natalya is pretty.”
Terri hesitated before opening the door. “You’re on my side, right?”
Digby turned away from her and said, “Whose side am I on?” After a moment he said, “Are you sure? We don’t even know her.” Another pause. “Well I still think Natalya is pretty, even if you say she’s a homicidal maniac.” He then looked at Terri and said, “We’re on your side.”
“Ohhhkay.” She opened the door a crack and Digby poke he head into the hallway.
“No sign of Natalya. All clear.” Terri poked her own head out and saw the empty hallway. She also saw that some of the cell doors were now open.
“Mr. Hicks,” she exhaled and went to his cell. When she looked inside she covered her mouth and said, “Foda-se caralho!”
She ran to him and saw the bruises and cuts on his face—looking down she saw his shirt was soaked with blood. She pulled up the shirt—so much blood! It took her a few moments to see the source—a bullet hole in his chest. She put her hands over the hole. She could tell he was breathing, but it was weak.
“David Hicks! David Hicks! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?” Tears streamed freely down her face. “Mr. Hicks we have to get out of here! We have to get out, don’t die!” She could feel the hot blood seeping through her fingers. Then she heard his voice, low, a whispered hiss. “Terri, is that you? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes,” she said through sobs. “I’m okay. We have to get out of here. I’ll help but you have to walk.”
“Walk? Walk? Where’s Conrad? Is he okay?”
“Conrad is fine. Conrad is safe. We have to get out of here. Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes,” he said, lifting his head. As he tried to lift his shoulders he let out a groan and dropped his head again.
She heard footsteps in the hall—several people. “Terri! Are you there?”
“What?” She couldn’t believe it. “Conrad! In here!”
She saw Detective Martinez poke her head through the doorway, pointing a submachine gun. She scanned the room, checking all corners, and then pointed the gun down to the floor, running in to them. Conrad hurried after her, followed by Nose who was carrying Digby.
“I found a dragon!” Nose said excitedly before seeing David Hicks lying on the bed. He stopped in his tracks.
Two-Guns knelt down next to Terri.
“He’s been shot,” Terri told her.
Conrad knelt down near his father’s head. He looked at Terri, and at the blood on her. “Are you okay?” he asked her.
“Yeah I’m okay.”
He turned to his father. “Dad? Dad? Can you hear me? I’m so sorry Dad. I’m so sorry.”
David Hicks head turned to the sound of his son’s voice. His eyes opened a crack and his lips moved slowly to a smile. “No worries. You should leave. Get out of here.”
“Yes,” Terri said with urgency. “They’re going to blow up the building! I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but probably soon!”
“We have to get him out of here,” Two-Guns said. “Conrad and Nose, each grab an arm. Terri, keep pressure on his wounds. Conrad, give Terri your shirt so she can hold it to the gunshot wound. We’ll go out back to the jeeps.”
Conrad took off his shirt and gave it to Terri. Nose put down Digby and he and Conrad lifted David Hicks out of the bed. David let out a loud moan as he tried to put weight on his feet. It was awkward as Terri had to walk backwards with Conrad’s shirt rapidly turning red from the blood.
Two-Guns took point, leading them into the hall and then to the stairs. As they descended the stairs Terri was practically holding David Hicks up, putting pressure on his chest. She then saw the second bullet hole in the stomach. “Oh God he was shot twice!” She tried to stretch the shirt to cover both holes.
When they got to the jeeps the Felicity Black guards were still bound on the ground. They laid Dav
id in the back, with Terri crouched on one side, Conrad on the other. Two-Guns got into the driver’s seat with Nose taking shotgun. Digby sat at David Hick’s feet.
Two-Guns started the engine and drove fast down the access road.
“We have to get him to the hospital,” she said. “We can’t leave the way we came in; we’ll never get him up the ladder in time. I have to find another exit. Nose, where should I go?”
“The guards have a headquarters on the north wall of the mountain, down Eighth Avenue. That’s where they drive their jeeps from.”
“We can’t go to their headquarters!” Conrad said. “They tried to kill us!”
“I can’t believe all of Felicity Black is in on this. I don’t think they’ll try to pull anything at their headquarters.”
There was a loud boom behind them—a moment later they felt a shock wave and a sudden press of heat. Terri and Conrad looked back at the hotel, smoke and debris flying from the lower floors.
“Damn,” Conrad said.
David Hicks said something. Conrad lowered his head closer to his father. “What it is Dad?”
David Hicks eyes were suddenly wide open, staring up at his son, his head lifting from the floor of the jeep.
“Dad I need to tell you; I love you Dad. I know what you were trying to do. I appreciate what you were trying to do, what you tried to teach me.”
“The universe,” David Hicks said bitterly. “What is it doing? Why is the universe doing this? What is the universe doing?” He looked down at his feet and saw Digby. Digby lifted one paw and waved. “Is that a dragon?” David Hicks asked as his head fell back down hard.
“Dad? Dad?” Conrad gently shook his shoulder. “Dad? Stay with us Dad. Stay with us!”
David Hicks’ eyes, open only to slits, saw nothing. His mouth, partly open, didn’t breathe.
“Dad! Dad!”
Two-Guns was speeding down the straight city road, buildings flashing rapidly by. Up ahead at the end of the block two black SUVs pulled out of a side street and blocked their path. Two-Guns had to slam on the brakes and skidded to about ten meters away from them. Putting the jeep into reverse she went backwards and executed a quick K turn. Two more black SUVs came out to block their escape—she slammed on the brakes again.
Nose was lifting up his submachine gun but Two-Guns put a hand on the barrel and lowered it.
“It looks like they found us,” she said. “I suggest we hold up our hands.”
Everyone held up their hands except for Terri who continued to apply pressure to David Hicks’ wounds, although she didn’t think it was doing any good. The SUV doors opened and out poured paramilitary soldiers wearing gray and black city camo, carrying assault rifles. At least they were pointing the assault rifles to the ground. Several drones flew out of the roof of an SUV and positioned themselves around the perimeter. Then, Two-Guns noted that most of the soldiers were positioning themselves as if to protect their jeep, using the SUVs as cover as they looked down the road. Other soldiers looked into the doors and windows of the adjacent buildings, making sure they were clear. Once the perimeter was secure a soldier went to the door of one of the SUVs and motioned for someone to come outside.
A man ran out toward them. He was a tall, slim, middle-aged man with close-cropped blond hair. He was wearing a black sports coat over a white turtleneck. Everyone in the jeep recognized him immediately. It was Ragnar Kekkonen.
He ran to the jeep and looked down in the back, at the body of David Hicks.
“Oh no, oh no,” he said, looking at David Hicks face. He turned back to the soldiers and said, “Get the medic here now!” One of the soldiers climbed into jeep, gently pushing Terri away. Taking out a med-kit he cut away David Hicks’ shirt and lifted up Conrad’s bloody shirt to look at the bullet wounds. He clipped a medical monitor to one of David’s fingers. He then looked at Ragnar and shook his head.
Ragnar’s face twisted in rage and sorrow and he slammed a fist on the side of the jeep. He then looked at Conrad and his face softened. Conrad looked back, his pale blue eyes fixed on Ragnar’s pale blue eyes.
“I will take you to safety,” Ragnar said to all of them, while continuing to look at Conrad.
Chapter 63
Someone had released the sex videos of Natalya with her brother Sergei. It had been done anonymously—probably by an ally of Marjaana’s. Natalya was sitting in a lawn chair in the family’s underground private parking garage, she was wearing a tight black sweater dress and flip-flops. Sergei had his own lawn chair facing her, taking a toke from his pot pipe, a lighter having its flame sucked into the weed. He knew better than to offer her some—it made her paranoid, and she hated being paranoid. Her recreational drug of choice was vodka. A mostly empty bottle was cradled in her hands.
Sergei blew out smoke and said, “It can’t be verified one hundred percent. There’ll always be doubt. Sure, some people will believe it’s true. So fucking what? They won’t even try to prosecute. I think it makes us more interesting. People are talking about us. We only have to keep denying it. Deny deny deny.”
Why didn’t you just love me? Natalya thought at him. That’s what brothers are for. So you can have at least one person who loves you without wanting something. Parents want to make you into something you aren’t. Boyfriends want to fuck you. Girlfriends want your popularity. But your brother is supposed to love you without wanting anything. One fucking person in the world who doesn’t want something from you. But you wanted something. You had to take something. No one in the world loves me without wanting to take something from me. Why didn’t you just love me and protect me?
“You’re not tweeting, are you?” Sergei asked. “No drunk tweeting, that gets us into trouble. You are on airplane mode, right?”
She nodded thickly and took another swig from the bottle.
“I mean, I’m fine with this, and they’re calling me a rapist. A statutory rapist! Like rape is really a thing. Can you believe rape is still a thing? Like, two different women can have the same exact experience, and for one it’s the most exciting and sexy thing that’s happened to her in her life, and the other one can call it rape. How can a crime be based on something so . . . so subjective? How can rape even be a crime? Even rape rape. It’s ridiculous!”
Why didn’t you just love me?
She looked at the bottle and shook it to see if there was any clear liquid motion. Just a tiny swish at the bottom. She was going to have to speak. She phrased the words in her mind so she could make sure they came out clearly.
“Wheresh mored vodka?”
Sergei looked at her, puzzled, until he deciphered it. “There’s a refrigerator in the tool room. Although I think you’ve had enough.”
She stood. Then, with her feet close together she carefully placed the empty bottle on the ground. After a second thought she picked up the bottle again and walked unsteadily to the tool room.
There was a long peg board on the wall of the tool room, every variety of tool in its place with a white outline around each to show what went where. She went back to the refrigerator and opened it. Putting in the empty bottle she found a full one and pulled it out. Russian Standard Vodka, real fucking vodka. Not that flavored shit. As she was walking past the peg board again something caught her eye. A big crowbar was hanging there, within its white crime-scene outline. “Well hello there,” she said to it. She liked the look of the crowbar—such a simple, solid, practical thing. Everything else in the world seemed so ephemeral by comparison, so virtual. She reached for it with her free hand and took hold of it. It was heavier than she thought it would be. So solid, so real. When people in the movies used a crowbar as a weapon they always hit with the curved end. That was stupid. She slid the curved end to her hand and gave the crowbar a swing. It was real, perhaps the only real thing in the universe—other than her pain.
She walked out onto the garage floor. Sergei was still talking with his back to her.
“Even though we’re denying it there are actually a
dvantages to people believing it. Some people are really into incest. To some people we have lived the dream. There are people around the world fapping to us right now. Just watching us fuck and fapping away like mad. Remember sis, it’s not incest, it’s wincest!”
She had hoped his head would explode like a watermelon when she struck it with the crowbar. There was a distinct cracking sound and she was pretty sure the skull was dented under all that hair, but there was no watermelon-like explosion. He did look up at her with a surprised expression, and one eye was comically crossed toward his nose. He still held his pipe after the first strike, but dropped it when his hands spasmed after the second. It took a while but after enough strikes with the crowbar she got the watermelon effect she desired—the eyes and the teeth were a problem though.
Natalya walked out onto the sidewalk, the bottle of vodka in one hand, the crowbar in the other. Her arms dangled loosely from the weight of their respective contents. She was only slightly surprised when a windowless black van silently slid up and parked on the curb in front of her. The door opened—it was empty.
This is for me, she thought. Obviously mine me.
Without letting go of the vodka and the crowbar she managed to climb up into the van and sit in a comfy car seat. The door closed and seat belts strapped themselves to her. She took a swig of vodka.
She felt the van move forward. Without any windows for reference to the outside she realized she was getting car sick.
“Parent!” she said, holding back her gagging. “Parent!” But that wasn’t the word she wanted. “Transparent!” she said. Stupid word, too many fucking syllables. The command should just be “clear”. When you said ‘transparent’ to a computer in an enclosed space it was supposed to use its external cameras to give your contacts a view like the walls were transparent, but this stupid fucking van was ignoring her.
She could no longer hold back the gagging and she threw up onto her lap. It was mostly liquid, with some mushy yellow from the bag of potato chips she binge ate for dinner earlier. She stared at the chunky swirls as she felt it seep through her dress to her skin.
Girl in a Fishbowl (Crowbar Book 1) Page 28