Lightning Strikes

by Theresa Parker

  We continued trying to free ourselves from the ropes that tied us hand and foot. By my estimation, we’d been in this little cave for a couple of hours. The shard in my shoe was becoming painful. The more I moved my feet, the farther it got shoved down into my boot, until it caught the meaty edge of my foot and pinched it. Kelli was now resorting to cursing our captors. I didn’t even know she knew some of those words she was saying. I’d have to remember to ask her later where she picked up on those colorful phrases.

  As I was working the knot at my hands again with my teeth, I heard a shuffling noise just outside the entrance. I stopped moving and listened. There! I heard it again. I shushed Kelli.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  I shook my head, straining to hear the noise again. “There’s something just outside,” I whispered.

  “Oh God, I hope it’s not an animal or something,” she said with a worried look.

  I arched an eyebrow and looked at her. My look told her that furry woodland creatures were the least of our problems. I didn’t blame her for thinking that. I’ve often noticed that when you’re in a really bad situation, your mind often presents you with the most random, stupid thoughts.

  I heard the shuffling noise again, and a small, dark head peered around the corner. The look of surprise on our faces couldn’t have made for a better Kodak moment. A kid scurried in and darted over to us. He pulled out a serrated steak knife from the waistband of his loose pants. If I wasn’t tied up, I would have hugged him. He was the one I’d been keeping an eye on.

  “I knew you would come,” I told him.

  He looked shocked when I said this but dropped down in front of me and started sawing through the ropes binding my wrists.

  “What’s your name, kid?” I asked him.

  “Ricky,” he said quietly. “My name is Ricky Taylor. Can you help me get out of here?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, smiling, “and we’ll send back help for the others. My name is Rommy and this is Kelli.”

  He gave us a shy smile before cutting the last of my ropes. Then he moved to Kelli and did the same. I pulled up my pant leg and removed the shard, sticking it into my right jacket pocket.

  “We’ll have to hurry,” he said as we all stood up. “They’ll be looking for me.”

  I gave his shoulder a little squeeze as I walked past him. “Okay, follow me,” I told them.

  Looking out to the right, I made sure the way was clear. Turning left, we raced down the tunnel. I counted off caverns to my left, three, four—I heard a bellow behind us. Crap, out of time! I found the cavern we needed and ran to the boxes that were blocking the hole. I shoved them aside.

  “Go, go!” I hissed at the kid and Kelli, as I shoved other boxes toward the entrance—anything to slow the guy down.

  Kelli yelled to me and I dove for the short tunnel, crawling through as fast as I could. As soon as my head was clear, I shouted directions to them on how to get to the ledge. They were halfway up before I got there to start my climb. They paused at the top, waiting for me. I could hear Terrance shoving boxes and screaming. As I reached the ledge, I saw Kelli’s foot disappear through the hole at the top. Terrance was almost through the narrow tunnel. I dropped down to the small hole at the top of the ledge. Kelli and Ricky were standing in ankle-deep water, near the opening of the next cavern and the exit from the mines. Kelli ran back to help me, splashing water up her legs. She grabbed my hand at the same moment Terrance grabbed my ankles. I screamed and tried to kick him, but he had a firm grip on me. Kelli didn’t—our hands were too sweaty to maintain our hold on each other. The last thing I screamed at her was to get Cavanaugh, before Terrance pulled me back through the hole.

  Terrance pulled me off the ledge, and my feet hit the dirt floor. He grabbed my arms with brutal force, shaking me until my teeth rattled. He slapped me hard in the face, the same spot where he hit me earlier, and as before, pain exploded in my cheek and eye. This time, I fell to the floor. Terrance was screaming at me, telling me that he wouldn’t let me ruin his perfect plans. My head was ringing from the blow he’d delivered. I tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed the back of my hair and hauled me to my feet.

  I was not without some defensive skills. Johnson taught me a few moves that he said should allow me to get free of my attacker’s hold. The problem was, I had never used them in a real-life situation before. If I was just scared, I probably wouldn’t have tried any of the moves, but because it felt like he was pulling every hair out of the back of my head, the pain overrode being scared. My brain shouted he’s hurting you, and my only thought was to hurt him back. I shoved the heel of my palm up into his nose. He jerked his head back, his eyes tearing.

  “Bitch,” he screamed at me.

  I darted around him, but he reached out and snagged the front of my shirt, whipping me around and slamming my back against the cave wall. I heard the material of my T-shirt rip and felt cold air on my neck and upper chest. He slapped me again, and I tripped and fell to the ground on my hands and knees. I quickly took off crawling, only to have him catch my ankle and jerk my leg out from under me. I landed on my stomach with a woof. He wrenched my left arm back and flipped me over. Falling on top of me, he put his hands around my neck and squeezed. I can’t even describe the panic I felt when my airway constricted and I couldn’t breathe. I clawed at his arms, back, and neck—anywhere that I could reach—and kicked out with my legs.

  Spots danced before my eyes as he knocked my right hand away and started to squeeze my neck again.

  In that one instant he let go, I gasped for breath, my hand flopping next to my body. It wasn’t enough. When he squeezed again, the spots got worse and my vision narrowed and became fuzzy around the edges. When my hand flopped again, I felt the solid shard in my pocket.

  Making a last, desperate attempt to save my life, I fumbled into my pocket and pulled out the shard. Gripping it as tightly as I could in my sweating palm, I shoved it into the side of Terrance’s neck as hard as I could.

  The pointed end slid in easier than I expected. He reared back, clawing at his neck, but it was too late for me—the gurgling noise that came from his mouth was the last thing I remembered, as blood spilled out over his bottom lip and chin.

  Chapter 14

  I felt soft touches on my face and someone calling my name, telling me to come back. Come back? Where did I go? I tried to swallow, and the searing pain in my throat made me open my eyes. A light coming from somewhere off to my left had me squinting. A dark shape loomed over me, and then all at once, everything came rushing back into my mind—our escape and my struggle with Terrance. I panicked and struck at the shape with my fists, digging my heels into the dirt floor, trying to propel myself away from danger. Someone shouted my name and grabbed my wrists. I tried to scream, but it now felt as though my throat had been torn out.

  “Rommy, stop it, it’s me!” the voice said.

  I’d know that bark anywhere. It was Cavanaugh. He was here, and I wasn’t dead. Silently the tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even try. He pulled me into his lap and rocked me, hugging me tight. He was mumbling softly into my hair. Words of reassurance, I thought. I didn’t know. I couldn’t make them out, but his soft voice did make me feel better, and his arms around me made me feel safer than I’d ever felt before.

  He eased back and brushed the hair off my face.

  “Shit, Tink, I thought you left me,” he said softly, touching his forehead to mine.

  I tried to tell him that I wouldn’t leave, but my voice didn’t seem to work right. I felt like I’d swallowed hot coals. I reached up to my neck to feel for the damage, but Cavanaugh stopped me. I could hear a shuffle to his side and Kelli gasping when she saw me.

  “Damn it, Kelli,” he said to her. “You’re supposed to wait with Johnson.”

  “He said I could come in,” she told him.

  He turned his attention back to me. “Don’t try to talk, and don’t touch your neck,” he admonish
ed. “You’re pretty bruised. It will hurt if you touch it.”

  I didn’t think it could possibly hurt any worse than it did now, but I forced my hand back onto his chest. The steady beat of his heart lulled me. I just wanted to sleep and forget.

  “No you don’t, Tink,” he told me. “Open those beautiful eyes. We need to get you out of here.”

  I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to stay like this in his arms, feeling safe. I heard other people moving around me.

  “Lay her on here,” I heard a man’s voice say.

  Cavanaugh moved me over and laid me down. I didn’t want to let go, and my arms tightened around his neck.

  “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’m right here. I won’t go anywhere, but you have to let the EMTs do their thing.”

  I slowly let my arms slide from around his neck, but true to his word, he kept a hold of my hand. The EMTs shined their lights on me, checking me from head to toe.

  “There’s a lot of blood,” someone said.

  I tried to tell them it wasn’t mine, but Cavanaugh beat me to it.

  “It’s not hers,” I heard him say. “It’s her attacker’s.”

  Well that didn’t make me feel better. In fact, all of a sudden I could smell the blood. It made me sick to my stomach. I started to pull at my T-shirt, moaning.

  “Get her shirt off of her,” Kelli said loudly.

  “We’ll take it off when we get to our vehicle,” a woman’s voice said.

  I couldn’t wait that long to get away from the stench. I started to gag, hurting my throat.

  “Shit!” Cavanaugh swore. “Cut the goddamn shirt and jacket off her now. Can’t you see the smell is making her sick!”

  Just to give his statement a little urgency, I gagged again. Immediately, I felt my jacket then my shirt being cut away. I smelled the strong scent of rubbing alcohol as someone wiped the blood off my arms and chest. I felt the soft touch of fingers at the top of my breast, and I heard Cavanaugh swear.

  “If that son of a bitch wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.”

  As they strapped me down, Cavanaugh made Kelli go back through the little tunnel to the next cavern, and then they slid me through. It took a lot for me not to panic at the enclosed feeling of the little tunnel. It was much different going through it face up, where all I could see was the low dirt ceiling.

  “Watch what you’re doing,” I could hear Johnson barking. “Take it easy with her. You’re moving her around too much.”

  Apparently, Cavanaugh thought so too, as he added his strength to lifting me onto a gurney. Johnson continued to issue orders as Cavanaugh took my hand. The gurney began to move. The ride was bumpy, and a couple of times it made me grimace.

  “Slow down,” Johnson yelled. He said this right after he ordered them to speed up. I couldn’t help it, I grinned and chuckled.

  “Damn it, Rommy,” he barked at me. “This is not funny.”

  No, it really wasn’t, but my relief was so great that it was either laugh or cry, and there was no crying allowed in front of Johnson.

  We made it to the ambulance without incident—Cavanaugh and Johnson made sure of that. When Kelli saw me in the bright sunlight, she screeched and started crying at the extent of my injuries. She didn’t know the rule about not crying in front of Johnson.

  “Christ,” he swore. “I’ll see you at the hospital, Rommy.”

  Kelli and Cavanaugh watched as they loaded me into the vehicle, and then they both followed me in. Cavanaugh leaned over and touched his forehead to mine.

  “I can’t go with you,” he said in a whisper. “I have to stay here.”

  I understood, but I didn’t want to let go of his hand.

  “Kelli’s here, and I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can,” he said.

  He gave Kelli’s shoulder a squeeze and hopped out of the back of the ambulance. The doors closed, and I felt the vehicle move. The female EMT, whose name was Monica, inserted an IV drip into my hand. She said I was dehydrated and they needed to replenish my fluids. I hated IVs, but there was no way in hell I could drink anything. Kelli scooted closer and took my hand.

  “What…” I started to say, but Kelli stopped me. She was still crying.

  “What happened?” She finished for me. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t talk.”

  She told me how she and Ricky made it out of the mines, and about their race down the path through the trees and meadow and back to her car. As she raced to the entrance of the park she’d called Cavanaugh, only to find he wasn’t at the station. Dispatch patched her through to him. He was at the park. They had found the tattoo. Once they got his name, they knew everything about Terrance. He had a record—a minor one, but still a record, and when the computer spit out his picture, Cavanaugh gathered his troops and headed for the park. When Kelli met him at the visitor center, he piled her and Ricky into his truck and, with a line of patrol and detective cars, they sped back to the mine. Kelli said that Ricky was instrumental in providing the police with the layout of the place.

  “Johnson wouldn’t let us back in at first, but Cavanaugh said he would watch out for us. Ricky led him straight to you,” she said.

  She told me there were five adults: Terrance, two men, and two women. The children were all fine, and they had to call for extra vehicles to transport them to the hospital. Johnson wanted every one of them given a clean bill of health because of the drugs they’d been given.

  “They made Ricky go with the others,” Kelli told me. “He didn’t want to. He insisted on staying to make sure you got out. That kid is my hero.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “Cavanaugh got him to go with the promise of bringing him to you at the hospital for a visit.”

  I smiled when she said this. I wanted to see him and thank him again. I wanted him to know that he saved us all. I was going to talk to Johnson about giving him a medal.

  Kelli sighed and squeezed my hand. “They should give that kid a medal,” she said.

  Once again, great minds think alike.

  “Terrance?” I rasped.

  She squeezed my hand and brought it up to her cheek. “He’s dead. The shard hit his carotid artery. The EMTs said he bled to death in minutes.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I was glad I didn’t die, but at the same time, I didn’t know how I felt about taking a life. I knew I should feel upset, but I didn’t.

  At the hospital, I was off-loaded and stuck in a cubicle in the emergency room. I see this place way too much, I thought to myself. I settled back to wait, because that’s what you do at hospitals. You wait for the nurse, you wait for the doctor, you wait for the tests and x-rays, and you can’t wait to go home. Kelli told me that she’d called my parents to meet us here. She said she’d waited until they were taking me out of the cavern. I figured it would be a while before they got here; the park wasn’t very far, and they had to find someone to sit with Nana. Of course, I’d forgotten how my parents move heaven and earth to get to my side whenever I’m at the hospital. No sooner had I settled back to wait when my mom whisked the curtain back. Dad and Cassie were right behind her as she rushed to my side.

  “Oh, baby,” Mom cried when she saw me. She fussed with my blanket and asked if I had seen the doctor yet. She didn’t even wait for me to shake my head before she stormed out of the cubicle to search the doctor out. Dad took her place. He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead. I smiled at him.

  “That’s my girl,” he said.

  Cassie plunked a duffel bag at the foot of my bed.

  “I brought you some clothes,” she said as Mom pretty much dragged a young doctor in by the scruff of his neck.

  Cassie took Kelli to the bathrooms so she could clean up. I suggested Kelli go home, but she wanted to stay to make certain I was all right. Mom stayed in the cubicle while the doctor gave me a once-over. A nurse from the front desk dragged Dad off to do the paperwork. I wished that nurse luck, because Mom always di
d the paperwork; Dad didn’t have a clue. I could guarantee the majority of his answers would be “I’m not sure, you’ll have to ask my wife.” And what do you know, the nurse came stomping back in with a clipboard while my dad followed sheepishly behind.

  The doctor insisted on running tests to make sure there was no permanent damage to my throat. I had several scrapes and bruises, including my eye and cheek, and a lump at my hairline. The doctor also suggested a rape kit. I shot that down right away. Mom looked horrified. I grabbed the clipboard out of the nurse’s hand as she tried to hand it to my mom, flipped over the top form and wrote, “The psycho pig didn’t touch me like that!” on the back. The doctor looked like he was going to be insistent, when Kelli and Cassie walked back in. Kelli explained to the doctor that the fingerprint bruises on the top of my breast were from when Terrance searched us in the meadow. She told him that only the neck of my shirt had ripped, but the EMTs cut off the rest because I was gagging at the smell of the blood. She informed him that other than the ripped collar of my shirt, I had on all my other clothing.

  They put me into a private room, as my mom insisted, and then wheeled me out to do tests while my family waited. After they poked, prodded, pictured, and pinched me, they wheeled me back to my room to wait for the doctor—again. Because the doctor advised me not to talk, the nurses were kind enough to give me a pen and pad of paper. I reassured my parents that I was okay, told Cassie thanks for the clothes, and asked Kelli what hospital the children were taken to.

  “They’re here somewhere,” she told me. Then she told my family about Ricky Taylor, the boy who saved us. My throat and mouth were very dry, so Cassie and Kelli went for something to drink. They took forever to return, only to bring me ice chips.

  “Attila the Nurse said you can only have this,” Cassie told me, handing me the cup of ice and a plastic spoon.