Five Fights

by Belle Brooks

  “They were that close?”

  Winston nods. “Morgan didn’t cause Falcon’s death. Falcon did. He took his life. If anything, Morgan probably gave us more time with him than we would have had otherwise. He was much happier and stable when she was around.” He pauses, then takes a long inhale. “I’m not gonna lie, even with her around, there still was this lonely, confused, and tortured boy inside him.”

  I drop the butt of my smoke to the wooden slats of the veranda and stomp until the cherry no longer burns.

  “So are you taking me to the station, or are you going to let me see where this fire might be?”

  “We’ll take care of the fire. You need to give us a statement.”

  “Fine.” Winston spits on his fingers and extinguishes his smoke between them. “Let me get my wallet and shit.”

  “Sure.”

  We conduct a one-hour search, and the house turns up nothing. My stomach drops. This isn’t our guy. He doesn’t even have a bloody television.

  I feel like I’m back at square one. I’ve no idea who has Morgan, but I do know she’s out here somewhere.

  The sun is peeking out from behind the mountains and a blanket of light fans across the once-dark landscape. Daybreak is only moments away.

  “Pull out,” I call to the blue team. “We’re going inland to search. Morgan’s out here.” At least we’ll have light.

  As quickly as I instruct them on our next move, we’re heading for the cars. Here’s hoping we’re not too late.

  “Astin, we have a big problem.” My partner cups my arm and yanks me, causing me to stumble over my feet.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I'm shocked. Roland has never handled me in such a way.

  “Listen,” he barks through his teeth. “Shit has gone down. Reid is MIA in his father-in-law’s four-wheel-drive. He has a passenger on board—his brother. John—you know the neighbour? He’s just been placed under arrest and has been hauled down to the station. Shirley, his wife, is assisting with the investigation, and she’s also down at the station. Lynette is holding the fort. Reid and Morgan’s parents are caring for the children back at the Banks home, and we have four uniformed officers on-site with them. Max has a unit with him, and they’re coming in our direction.”

  “When?” My body stiffens. My heart beats hard in my chest.

  “This all went down about an hour ago. Look.” He holds out his mobile phone. I start reading the messages.

  “That’s the address Reid’s going to?” I snap as I point to the screen.

  “Yes. The neighbours own that fucking cabin. Astin, this property didn’t show up in our title search.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “Shirley has advised that John has been communicating with the abductor. She overheard him having a phone conversation about it.”

  “Who is the abductor?”

  “Shirley didn’t know, and John hasn’t said. They’re grilling him down at the station, but he’s giving nothing up.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “So now we have two fucking civilians about to enter the field. Are they armed?”

  Roland shakes his head. “We don’t think so.”

  “Do they have a fucking death wish?”

  I grasp my portable radio. “All teams, all teams, we have located the property where Morgan could be. We have two civilians, Reid and Cruise Banks en route to the cabin at sixty-seven Lane Road, Corbet’s Landing. Team red, you’re the closest. Get your arses there and make sure those two don’t get themselves killed. This is a state of emergency. Everybody, move out.”

  Urgency overcomes us, and as I climb into the car, I already know that this won’t end well, and someone’s going to get killed. The question is, how many body bags are we going to need by the time it’s all said and done? I can only hope we’re in line for a miracle.

  What the hell is Reid thinking? And how did he give Max the slip?

  “Roland, get Max on the phone, now.”

  The sirens blare. Red and blue light the sky. We have three lives to protect.

  This just made my job so much harder than it already was. Why didn’t Reid trust that I’d bring her home?

  Morgan

  I’m frantic when a chill pricks my skin. I search with desperation. Where’s my family? Don’t go. Don’t leave me.

  My body feels as if it’s floating. I lift.

  “Help. Help me.” There’s no sound.

  The distinct smell of petrol fills my nose. My eyes open only a crack and I see a flash of what looks to be a hand. Whose hand is that?

  My bottom impacts with a hard surface.

  Thump thump, ba boom, ba bump, lub-dub.

  There is a heart beating calmly against my ear.

  VooRRRR, vooRRR, vooRRR.

  An engine revving has my head rolling.

  The revving stops, replaced by an idle.

  “How the fuck are you still alive? Now, this just pisses me off.” There’s so much anger, so much hatred in his tone.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a sense of doom rushes through my veins.

  “Are you ready for the end?”

  The wolf has found me. I’m the thirteenth victim in his fucked-up game, and I couldn’t escape him. I tried so hard to get help, but I didn’t do enough. I’m at the mercy of the wolf, and I’ve no energy left to fight.

  I was his prey. He’d hunted me relentlessly, and now I’ll be disposed of with all those other women who couldn’t get away.

  Reid

  We’ve been driving for more than an hour. The adrenaline that was pumping through my body when I sped away from the house has settled somewhat. I no longer feel like I can lift trucks off toddlers, but I still feel like I can take down an armed murderer with only my bare hands.

  Cruise hasn’t spoken a word since we left the house, and neither have I, but each time I glimpse to the side of his head, I witness his jaw clench and see the strain popping the vein at his temple. There is no doubt that tension pulses rapidly through his blood.

  One hundred and fifty-five—that’s how fast the speedo tells me I’m travelling. I press my foot down slightly and watch the orange arrow shift to one hundred and seventy. We’re on a straight road, and there’s no traffic. However, that will change as soon as the sky grows even brighter. The thick black night we’d departed in has all but gone. Morning is now upon us, and that means traffic will soon be here, too.

  “We don’t have a weapon. We aren’t even wearing shoes,” Cruise says matter-of-factly, entirely out of the blue.

  “We have a knife.” I shrug.

  He huffs.

  “It’s a weapon.”

  “A knife won’t do shit. Why the fuck didn’t we get shoes?”

  I shrug again.

  “Do you even have a plan?”

  “To get Morgan.”

  Cruise drops his head and cradles it in his palms. “I’m calling the cops. We need their help.”

  “Sure, go ahead. Did you bring your phone?” I’m smug. I hear it in my tone.

  He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine there’s anger swirling in them. “No.”

  “Detective West has mine. Trust me, brother, we’ve got this. At least it’s no longer dark.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly. Reid, what if John hurt the kids?”

  “Max would’ve heard us take off the moment we pulled this beast away from the footpath. I held that horn down the entire stretch of street, there’s no way he didn’t hear that. Shit, you know Mum would have if he didn’t. She’s the lightest sleeper we know.” I nod, confirming my own thoughts. “Max would’ve seen the note. He’ll get help. I trust him.”

  “And what if none of that has happened?”

  “Shirley wouldn’t let John hurt the kids. She loves them.”

  “John apparently loved your family, too.”

  My heart instantly aches. How could John betray us? Betray Morgan? He was a father and grandfather figure to our family. A pillar of strength. We’d built a foundatio
n for our families on pure honesty and good morals. He was like blood. I thought our bond was unbreakable.

  My hands grip the steering wheel as I think about John taking the call Shirley described. Did he set out to befriend us knowing that it would lead to this? Would he actually go as far as hurting our children?

  “This is bullshit,” I growl. “Shirley wouldn’t let him hurt the kids. No. She wouldn’t.” Who am I trying to convince? Cruise or myself? My stomach drops with sudden and intense worry.

  “How do you know Shirley isn’t in on this as well? Right now, we could be driving straight into a trap, this could be a bloody set-up.”

  “Morgan is all that matters,” I bark, hearing insanity entwined in my words.

  Maybe I’m not doing the right thing. No—my instinct tells me this is what I have to do. Morgan doesn’t have any time left. Max will have the kids. The coppers will already know we’re on our way out to the cabin, and they will be in pursuit too.

  But what if none of that’s happened? What if Max or mum didn’t wake and the kids are in danger? What if he hasn’t told the cops the new location where they need to search for Morgan? Are we racing straight into a trap? Did I even think this through?

  My mind jumbles with so many thoughts that I snarl out my frustration, and rip my hands from the steering wheel only to bang them back down again. “You said you’d help me, and if you’re not going to, then you can get the fuck out of the car.” I lift my foot from the accelerator and we instantly slow.

  “I’ll help you.” Cruise sounds defeated in his response. “But Reid, brother, I want to protect you, too.”

  “I don’t need protecting. Morgan does.”

  My foot hits the gas again.

  Minutes pass. We’re flying as we were before, and I still can’t get my mind to settle. I’m trapped, walking a tightrope between right and wrong. Have I made a calculated decision, or have I let emotion cloud my ability to do so?

  Wind suddenly blows my hair and causes me to blink excessively. “What are you doing?” I eye Cruise, wondering why in the world he’s lowered the window.

  “I needed fresh air.”

  “The air-conditioning is on.”

  “I need fresh air.” He turns his head away from me.

  A red car is coming, followed by a black one. I shift my eyes to the rear-vision mirror only to see a white utility off in the distance. We’re no longer alone on these streets, and soon we’re going to be surrounded by traffic.

  I press my foot harder against the accelerator and hope I can get to the cabin before the traffic boxes me in.

  I need to get to Morgan before the police do, because I don’t plan on leaving there without Morgan in my arms, safe and warm, or without the fucker who took her dead.

  Morgan

  I’m running so fast I feel as though I’m travelling at the speed of light, my legs don’t tangle, or trip me over. How I’m able to run this fast and stay upright, after fighting for my freedom —prying myself from the strong hold of the wolf and throwing my body off the speeding quad bike—I can’t fathom, yet I am.

  I’m not where I once was. There’s no destruction or burnt land around me. Instead, I’m in thick, green overgrown plants with another chance at liberty. I’m running for my life, for my family’s future. I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

  I’ve escaped him again, but I know he won’t give up, even though I no longer hear an engine running like I could only moments ago.

  Ahead, there’s a beam of light that reminds me of sun rays bouncing off metal. I turn away from it, worried it’s radiating from the quad bike, and that the wolf is sitting there waiting for me to run straight into his arms.

  You can do this, Morgan. I tell myself as each foot pounds hard against the damp earth. My body feels ghostly as it ducks, weaves, and moves through trees that stand tall and protective. The farther I travel, the lighter my frame becomes.

  Maybe I’m dead?

  Did I die when I hurled myself from the wolf’s hold and bounced along the ground? Or did that not happen? Is it possible I never regained consciousness in the first place to escape him?

  These thoughts plague me, yet they don’t deter me. I continue to run.

  A breeze whips at my face, causing me to squeeze my eyes closed to the point where I can’t see. I zag to my left, then circle until the breeze stings at my back instead. The beam of light I previously saw returns and I turn away from it once more.

  I don’t know which way to run.

  I whimper.

  Tears rush down my cheeks when a sharp pain sends hot spears down my spine. It squeezes my lungs like a vice, and I struggle to catch my breath. I drop onto my hands and knees and I scream, but there’s no sound. I pant. I’m alive. And this agony now ripping through me is all the proof I need of my existence. Please let me breathe. My stomach sucks in under my ribcage. Each gasp I take rattles. I can barely stand the pain. I’m going to pass out again.

  I can’t. Fight, Morgan. I open my mouth wide and tilt my chin back, so my airway expands. I pant, I pant rapidly, willing oxygen to find me as I seek it. It doesn’t. Silent tears drip from my chin as I fight to survive …

  And then, as quickly as the pain knocked the air from my lungs, it’s gone.

  I take one big breath, then another, then I splutter and cough until I don’t, and I’ve caught my breath.

  Slowly, I roll my shoulders back. I’m taking all my weight on my knees. They burn, they burn fiercely, so I drop back down and crawl until I manage to stumble to my feet. I amble forward, then shuffle … I achieve a jog … and I run. I don’t dare look back. I don’t dare slow down. I move as fast as my legs can take me.

  Bang!

  A gunshot rings out.

  He will find me.

  I can’t fight him.

  I’m running out of time.

  “Let me go home. I’ve answered the puzzle, Falcon. It’s you!” I cry with despair, my abductor hot on my heels, his presence easy to sense even though I can’t hear his footsteps or feel him breathing down my neck.

  “Morgan, oh Morgan. Where are you?” His eerie tone could freeze the healthiest of beating hearts, and upon hearing him, I scream, yet I don’t stop moving.

  I don’t want to die.

  Swerving to my right, then to my left gives me the sense I’m running in circles. I jump at the sight of a shadow, then dig my feet into the ground. I halt, turn and run back the way I came. Keep it together, Morgan. Do or die. Loud and forceful breaths part my lips.

  “You know I love a good cat-and-mouse chase, Red.” The anger he once harboured is gone. He’s calm, much too calm, considering I’d smashed the back of my skull into his face so he’d release the strong grip he held me in, and I could throw myself off his damn quad bike.

  A silhouette appears in the distance. I turn and run back the way I’d come.

  “Oh, this is going to be so much fun for me, Red. Did you think you could hide and get away with it? Did you think you could win?”

  I stifle my need to scream.

  “What did you think of the fire show? I can’t believe you survived that fucker.” His awful and sadistic laugh booms, and I cringe before changing my direction to the opposite way from which his voice travels.

  He’s close, too close, and his heckling only motivates me to move faster.

  “I spy, with my little eye, a little mouse that’s about to die.” He taunts.

  I jerk my head until I peer over my shoulder. I can’t see him, and as leaves whip my legs and arms, I turn my eyes forward and try to go faster. Hot spikes prick my neck and travel down my spine. I hiss through my teeth and throw my head back to fight the pain. A million ants march inside me, pinching my internal organs. I groan and stumble over my feet, but I don’t fall. I keep going.

  Thump, thump, thump. A pounding throb bashes inside my skull and leaves behind a hellish ache. My feet tangle when I bring my hand to my brow, but I don’t let it knock me down. I keep running, until the bushland echoes
with my deafening scream. My eyes are wide. My feet are cemented to the spot. My heart pounds to a techno beat.

  He wears a black ski mask, long black pants, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A rifle is hanging from his hand, and a large hunting knife is slipped through his belt, secured in a leather holster. I can’t freeze now.

  He smiles, steps forward, then lunges his arms in my direction.

  “No! No!” I yell. “Noooooo!” I shriek as I shift to my right and bolt between a row of thick tree trunks that catch the corner of my eye.

  A small hill fills my vision. A familiar sound has my neck extended and my head bouncing from side to side. The noise grows closer and louder. I’ve been dreaming of running engines or a loud honking horn. I can hear both.

  The highway.

  I can’t see any road, but I desperately try to imagine what it will look like as I track with a faster pace toward the noise that is plainly traffic.

  “Morgan, oh Morgan. Can you feel the rush? Isn’t this wonderful?” he heckles from behind me.

  Hoooonk. Hoooonk.

  Do I hear cars? Or is my mind playing tricks on me? Is this a part of the game? My body shakes with periodic tremors.

  Don’t stop. Run. Don’t look back. It's the only option I have. If what I hear isn’t real, then I will die today. If it is, I might have a chance to survive.

  “This is the best part, Red. Hunting you, and I’m sad this will be our last time. Aren’t you?”

  I whip my head over my shoulder to gauge how close the wolf is. I screech as my legs jumble and I crash down. The sound of scattering birds from high above has me scurrying on my hands and knees, crawling like a dog, trying to find my feet.

  I’m so tired. I don't want to run. I don’t get a choice.

  Death is lurking behind me. Freedom could be in front of me. I roar as I pull myself up until I’m standing.