Run, Girl, Run: A Thriller

by Alex C. Franklin

  Something else he was sure of was that that fateful ride had cut a dividing “before“ and “after“ line in his life. A gauntlet had been thrown down. The resentment against Peabody that had been seething in his breast for years had now erupted into what felt like open warfare. When he returned, he would have to face up to his new reality.

  And what he was also certain of was that Stella Jacob would not be part of it.

  For now, though, he was eager to throw himself into this infectious revelry with someone he knew and felt safe with. He would enjoy himself as much as he could; enjoy the sweetness she would offer, for what would be the very last time.

  “Thirsty?” The captain shouted in Dromel’s ear and brought his hand up to his mouth as if holding an imaginary drink.

  Dromel nodded. Now that he’d made the call and he knew Stella was on her way, he felt more at ease, more connected to this strange ritual in full play around him. He watched as the captain slipped away through the crowd in search of libations.

  Dromel wandered off to what looked like a quieter corner, to ease the throbbing in his head. The nook offered little relief. When he turned around to return to his original spot, he found two strangers in his way.

  They were tall, beefy, and definitely not locals. He stepped aside to get around the one with long, straggly hair. But the man would not let him pass.

  He felt the man’s left hand grip his arm. Suddenly he felt himself being thrust toward the men by the shifting of the crowd. He crashed against the long-haired man’s right arm, which was covered with a cloth, under which he could feel something hard press against his ribs.

  Panic surged through him. His body went cold, from the sole of his feet right up his spine as he caught the menacing look in the man’s eyes.

  The other man squeezed his right shoulder and leaned into his ear.

  “Those tapes….”

  Suddenly, they released their grips and turned. They walked off and disappeared into the crowd.

  Before he could steady himself, he felt a slap on his back. He turned around. The captain was right behind him, holding two bottles of beer aloft in one hand.

  “Local stuff,” the old Brit said. “Very good.”

  In a daze, Dromel grabbed the drink and gulped. He was shaking.

  “Those your friends?” the captain asked.

  Dromel shook his head. He was too stunned to even utter a word.

  He could hardly process what had just happened. Surely he hadn’t heard right. Those strangers could not possibly have known anything about his conversation with Peabody.

  Surely it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He’d been thinking too much about those damned tapes that he was now hearing things.

  Those men must have bumped into him by purely accident. It was a wild, crowded bar, after all.

  Dromel sucked on the beer bottle and scanned the dark room. There was no sight of the men.

  The captain’s group had dispersed and now the old Brit had his hands full with two local girls. Literally. His arms draped around the shoulders of one and the waist of the other as they bounced hips and swayed to the music.

  With a racing heart, Dromel swiveled his head, scanning the room for the strangers and eyeing the door to catch a glimpse of Stella.

  He was desperate to tell the captain that he wanted to go back to the boat immediately and head back to Grenada. And he would, as soon as he saw Stella.

  He would tell her something came up and he had to rush back Canada. It was totally the truth, but he could give her no details. He could picture her protesting. Things would probably deteriorate into an argument. He dreaded it, but welcomed it, too.

  It would mark the beginning of the end. A messy, but necessary end.

  He looked around for the captain and suddenly realized he was no longer there. Deep in the crowd, Dromel thought he could make out a figure that he thought was the captain. He started out toward the guy but, as he looked toward the door, he saw a silhouette he recognized.

  His heart leaped.

  Stella had arrived.

  Despite the let down he was about to deliver, he was relieved and excited to see her.

  He jostled his way through the crowd and headed for the door. Their eyes met across the room and they began moving toward each other.

  Suddenly, Dromel found his way blocked.

  His eyes drifted up from the men’s chest to their faces. It was the two strangers from before.

  He stepped back.

  They drew nearer.

  His heart banged against his ribs and he felt a cold tremor run down his spine.

  Just past the shoulder of the man with long hair, he saw Stella approaching. She was smiling broadly, looking directly at him as she squeezed her way through the gyrating bodies.

  Dromel saw the man with the long hair thrust his arm toward him, the arm still draped with a shirt.

  He heard Stella call out. “Ben.”

  The men lurched forward. Dromel panicked and swung at the man’s covered arm. The other stranger struck him on the shoulder. He lost his balance and felt himself tumbling toward the long-haired attacker.

  His reflexes kicked in and he grabbed the man’s covered arm. He felt the hard object again. The three men jostled as Dromel tried to wrestle away the object.

  Stella was right upon them.

  “Ben, what’s going?”

  Bang!

  The sound was deafening. The entire bar erupted in screams. The music stopped. People began stampeding for the exit, and in the confusion, Dromel fell into Stella’s arms.

  “I’m hit.”

  “Oh my God!” Stella screamed.

  “Get me out of here.”

  Chapter 78

  I tightened my grip on his arm. There was no power in his legs and I knew I would have to do the running for both of us.

  Going with the crowd in either direction down the street would not do. We would quickly get trampled in the stampede. I drew in a deep breath and rounded the side of the bar, carrying Dromel’s weight. We jostled through a narrow alley, which ended at a concrete canal. I stepped down into the drain and let Dromel fall onto me. The deadweight of his body almost dragged both of us down.

  “I’ve got you,” I whispered.

  I righted myself and we continued up the canal, away from the bar and the screams of the panicked crowd.

  Struggling on, not knowing where we were heading, I heard Dromel’s gasps and groans, and felt the side of my blouse that was pressed against his side become sticky and wet. Suddenly, I felt his weight pulling me down as he stumbled and tumbled to the mossy, concrete bed of the canal.

  “Can’t go any farther.” He slid back, and propped himself up against the stone wall.

  “Ben, this is crazy. What’s going on?”

  Now that we weren’t running anymore, the shock of our predicament slammed in on me.

  In the dim light of a quarter moon, I looked down at my blouse. A large, dark blotch stuck to my flesh. An overpowering sense of fear, the fresh scent of blood, and the stench of the mossy channel made me want to wretch.

  “You’re bleeding. We need to get to the hospital,” I said.

  “No.”

  “Oh God, we need an ambulance.”

  I started to climb out of the canal to go find help.

  “No, no,” Dromel said.

  “Why not? Why did we run?”

  “Listen, Stella.” Dromel waved me down, sighing weakly with the effort. “You’ve got to listen to me. Don’t worry. The police will get to th
e bar. They’ll find me soon enough. I’m sure they’ll follow the trail of blood.”

  “But will it be soon enough, Ben? Oh, God, look at the state you’re in!”

  With his eyes closed, he breathed with difficulty.

  I sobbed out of fear and frustration. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me to get help?”

  “Stella! Listen! Will you just listen?”

  The ferocity of his tone startled me.

  He doubled over and groaned, as if the last words had drained the life out of him. I knelt by his side.

  “I’m useless, Ben. I don’t know first aid. I don’t know what to do to help you.”

  “I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about this. They’ll find me. But we can’t let them find you with me.”

  I rocked back onto my bottom and stared at him.

  “I’ve something to confess.” Wincing, he leaned to his side and clutched his ribs where the blood on his shirt was freshest. “I didn’t recuse myself from the Syron Lake matter.”

  I shook my head, and tried to make sense of his words.

  “Yes, I lied to you about that, okay? I’m sorry. The hearing is the highest point in my career so far, and I couldn’t back out of it. But I also wanted badly to be with you. So I thought I could have both.”

  “What are you saying? I can’t believe this.”

  “Scold me later, okay? But you can’t be found with me.”

  A dog barked, and in the distance, sirens blared. I had the odd sensation of floating above my body, watching myself live through a nightmare too horrible to even imagine.

  “Listen, Stella. There’s something important I need for you to do.” Dromel’s weak voice was down to a whisper. “I think I know why I was shot. It has to do with Syron Lake.”

  “What?” My brain was pulsating, and his words kept pushing any sense of reality further and further out of my grasp.

  I’d assumed that he’d been the victim of some kind of random Carnival violence, or of a robbery gone horribly wrong. It was too shocking and bizarre to think, now, that it was all linked to the hearing that had brought us together.

  “The men who shot me…they were after the tapes. Stella, you’ve got to protect those tapes.”

  “What are you talking about, Ben?”

  I looked helplessly at the widening red patch on his shirt. He was losing a lot of blood and was becoming delirious, I thought.

  “They’ll most likely go looking for the tapes.”

  “What tapes?”

  “One is at my place. In Hull. You’ve got to get it before they get to it. It’s hidden under the fridge. There’s a false tile; you pry it up and there’s a box. It has a pen that’s really a mini tape recorder. On it, there’s a conversation between me and someone who was trying to influence my decision on Syron Lake.”

  I stared at him.

  “The other tape, I don’t have. It’s a video. You’ve got to find the kid who has it. He’s in Florida but I don’t know his new address. It should be in a letter from him in the box under the fridge. It was in the mail Friday, but I didn’t have a chance to open it.”

  Trembling with fear, confusion and anger, I shook my head. “Why should I do anything for you? You lied to me. I trusted you that you’d do the right thing to make our relationship legitimate. But you lied to me, Ben.”

  I stood up as I heard the sirens come closer.

  “I said I’m sorry about that, Stella. But I can’t undo that, now, okay? Right now, you’ve got to listen to me and do as I say. Please.”

  He groaned and I knelt by his side again. I was almost blinded by the tears that filled my eyes.

  “The man who’s on the tape in Hull is the prime minister, Stella. The prime minister of Canada. Who would take my word against the prime minister that he was trying to influence my decision? Nobody. But if the tape is safe, they can’t deny what he did.”

  “Peabody?”

  “And the tape the kid has, it’s of his uncle confessing to busting the dam. The uncle’s now dead, so it’s the only proof left that he did it.”

  “Oh my God.” I slapped the side of my jaw in disbelief. My heart was pounding. My head spun. I could hardly take all of this in.

  “Yes. It was done deliberately by the company. You get that video and the company is done, finished. But you’ve got to get to the kid before they do. His life may be in danger. If they did this to me, they could go after him, if they get his address from my place.”

  Dromel doubled over and moaned. My body went weak at the sound of his cry. I bent over him and draped myself over his shoulders.

  “Ben, Ben. I hate seeing you in pain like this. Oh God, I wish I could help you.”

  Tires screeched and the blaring sirens stopped traveling.

  “Sounds like the police are here.” Dromel leaned back against the wall of the canal. “The only way you can help me now, Stella, is to get those tapes before anybody else does. Without that evidence, I may as well be dead.”

  “I can’t leave you here like this. What if they don’t find you? I have to at least to see that you’ve got help.”

  “They’ll find me. Please, Stella. If they see you, you’ll have to be questioned and that’ll mean we’ll lose any hope of getting to the tapes first. Go, go now, please.”

  He raised his hand and pushed me weakly.

  The sound of voices and commotion broke the silence of the early morning. Dogs began a chorus of barking.

  I held Dromel’s hand in mine. I bent over him and lightly pressed my lips against his.

  The voices grew louder.

  I kept my face close to his. “I lo–”

  He raised his hand to silence me. The smell of blood on his fingers filled my nostrils and, involuntarily, my head jerked back. I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Please go, now,” he whispered.

  I stood up. Without looking back, I crossed the canal and got to the rock wall opposite Dromel. I mounted it and ran down a dark, narrow lane, my cheeks streaming with tears.

  PART III

  Chapter 79

  I ran up the hill, through the narrow lanes and passageways between ramshackle houses. I ran for fifteen or twenty minutes, going wherever the openings took me.

  Once or twice, I thought I’d looped back to where I’d been before, but I wasn’t sure. In the darkness and in my state of panic and confusion, one rundown hovel looked like any other.

  Dogs barked and rushed at me, but no one poured out of the houses I passed. Once or twice, lights suddenly flicked on at the sound of my footsteps under a window. But most people must have been out somewhere having a good time at the Carnival celebrations.

  I ran until my lungs gave out and I dropped to my knees gasping for air. Hugging myself, I rocked back and forth, hoping to shake myself out of the nightmare I was experiencing.

  It could not be true that I’d just left Dromel, faint and bleeding, in a foul and wretched canal. And what he’d said to me about how this all came about couldn’t be real.

  He’d been shot? The prime minister of Canada was somehow involved? The men who shot him were after some tapes…. And he wanted me — no, not just wanted, he’d begged me — to find the tape hidden in his house, and to possibly save the life of some kid who had the other?

  “No, no, no.” I buried my face in my hands.

  The dampness of the red stain on my blouse and the sickening, fresh smell that filled my nostrils reminded me that it was all too true.

  My panicked, aimless flight had cost too much time already. I needed to pull myself together and get moving with
this.

  I was high on a hill. Down below, the lights of houses and buildings abruptly gave way to a massive, dark expanse which I knew to be Queen’s Park, the sprawling savanna at the northern edge of the island’s capital.

  Now that I had my bearings, I knew I needed to go down the hill and around to the right in order to get to the Hilton Hotel, where I’d been when Dromel had called.

  Halfway there, I came across a yard with a line on which clothes billowed in the breeze. The holes in the decorative bricks of the wall gave a clear view of the yard. There was no visible sign of a dog. I clambered over the wall and dropped down into the yard.

  The choice on the line was not appealing. A boy’s school shorts that was much too small for me; a pleated school skirt; school shirts with monograms on the pockets; and a negligee so large that three people my size could fit into it and there’d still be room left. I plucked the school skirt and a shirt that I imagined could probably fit.

  I unzipped the fanny pack in which I kept all the cash I’d traveled with and clipped three US twenty-dollar bills onto the negligee with a clothes pin. That ought to make up for the stolen uniform.

  Once back over the wall, I ran down the street, rousing more dogs as I hurtled toward the main road that encircled the savanna.

  Almost to the bottom of the hill, opposite houses in total darkness, I came across a standpipe. I shed my bloodied clothes, and washed my face and body. The water was cool, refreshing, even; but my stomach felt hollow at the thought that it was Dromel’s blood that I washed away.

  When I had patted myself dry with the parts of my own clothes that were not bloodstained, I forced myself into the school uniform. The zipper of the skirt could not go all the way to the top, and I lost the last two buttons on the shirt. But it would have to do.

  I was sure I looked silly, a grown woman in this get-up. But, on this day, out of all days in the year, it would hardly cause an eyelid to flutter. I could easily be mistaken for someone in a J’ouvert costume. The whole point of the first hours of Trinidad’s Carnival was to dress up in a ridiculous manner, in something old and ugly which you didn’t mind being smeared with mud, which was likely to happen if you came across revelers carrying pails of the stuff in the streets.