He picked up his knife and gun and walked over to the bed. He dropped the gun by her side and watched it bounce once then sink into the down comforter. He opened his knife and carefully cut the woman’s shirt most of the way up the middle, being careful not to cut her. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not yet. He laughed to himself. Cutting her shirt off with his knife was cool. He’d always wanted to do that. It looked so cool in movies. But it was too slow, and he had no patience. He folded the blade back into the handle and dropped it on the floor. He tore her shirt the rest of the way with his hands. The sound of the ripping fabric started to arouse him.
Trey stood staring at the safe. The only thing he could think of was to try finding a drill. But if he found one, he didn’t know where exactly he should make a hole. He had no understanding of the mechanics of safes, but in movies, they always drilled holes, so if he did that, at least he could tell Carl he was working on it.
After finding a drill in the garage and trying it on the front and sides of the safe with nothing to show for it but a broken drill bit, Trey was ready to give up. He sat on the bed that was made up for guests and tried to think.
A few minutes later, still with no ideas, he began to hear the woman’s muffled cries coming from the other room. Carl must’ve gagged her with something. It sounded like she was crying into a pillow. It also sounded like he was hurting her. Trey couldn’t stand hearing it.
This is fucked up, he thought. He could hear the headboard hitting against the wall with a rhythmic thumping. Carl was raping the lady. Perfect. This was not what he had in mind when he thought about there being no law enforcement. Yeah, they were outlaws, and they stole from people who had more than enough, but no one in the club ever raped anyone.
It occurred to Trey that maybe he wouldn’t lose the respect of his peers if he intervened on the woman’s behalf. It was a bold thought, but what if the guys actually agreed with Trey and praised him for saving her? Hell, all of them had girlfriends, so they should be able to relate to how they’d feel if something like this happened to them. Or their sisters, or mothers.
Yeah. He was certain they’d approve of him stopping Carl. Maybe they’d even kick Carl out of his own club – because he’d lost his fucking mind. Skully would probably take over. He was more of a leader anyway, and a lot smarter than Carl was.
The thumping noise was louder now and the woman’s muffled screams were keeping time with the thumps. That was it. Trey made up his mind. He was putting a stop to this shit. Right fucking now.
He got up and quickly lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. He clenched his teeth and focused his anger and outrage and summoned up his courage and resolve. He walked out of the room, went several steps over to the other room where the door was shut. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to twist it.
He pounded on the door.
“That’s enough, Carl! Let her go!”
Carl was thrusting into the woman from behind. He had secured her hands behind her back with his belt, and since she couldn’t support herself, she was face down in the pillow. Carl was holding her up with his big hands on her hips. He tried to think of something to say in response to Trey’s annoying interruption, but he couldn’t think of anything. He was already having trouble maintaining his erection and was concentrating hard on fucking. He couldn’t just switch mental gears and come up with a good reply that would put Trey in his place.
“Just fuck off now!” he yelled over his shoulder toward the door.
“Stop it, Carl, or I’m busting in and stopping you. We ain’t like this. The Unforgiven don’t rape no women. I think everyone will back me on this.”
Carl’s brain lit up with anger at Trey’s defiance and mention of the club backing him. It was none of their business what he did. He chose not to respond this time and felt his anger translate itself into increased blood flow where he needed it most. Finally, he was getting hard. He started ramming himself into the woman harder than before.
“Count of three, Carl!”
Carl looked at the bed to see where his gun had gone. The blanket was all bunched up and probably covering the gun somewhere. Goddamn Trey. Carl didn’t mind having it out with him, but couldn’t he wait to settle this after he was finished?
“One!”
Carl felt his body preparing to climax. This was the worst time to have to stop and find the damned gun. Trey was going to be very sorry he had fucked with him like this. He slapped the woman’s ass and said, “I’ll finish with you in a second.”
Trey was about to yell out, “Two!” when he realized this wasn’t going to be easy and he’d have a badly needed advantage if Carl didn’t know right when to expect him. Why count and give him advance notice? Trey stepped back as far as he could and then charged the door with his shoulder out front.
Carl was moving the blanket around and trying to find his gun before Trey could reach “three.” He flapped the blanket and the Glock flew off the bed and landed on the floor. He turned to retrieve it and heard the wood crack and splinter as Trey busted into the room and kept on coming until he slammed Carl in the back, sending him flying forward where his head slammed into the corner of the nightstand beside the bed. Carl went down and moaned, slowly bringing one hand up to his bleeding head.
Trey rushed over to Carl before he could start to recover and kicked him once in the face with his heavy, steel-toed boot. Trey was scared at what he had just done, but what choice did he have? Even if the rest of the guys didn’t back him, he had to do it anyway. He wasn’t a fucking monster.
He went to the woman and fumbled with the belt, trying to unbuckle it with his trembling hands. He constantly looked from the belt to Carl to see if he was going to get up. With the belt undone, he picked up the gun and tucked it into his waistband.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry about this. I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. I hope you believe me.” He looked at her swollen eyes with the flesh around them turning purple, and the blood around her mouth that had dripped down to her chin. “Oh God, this is bad. I’m so sorry!”
The woman had immediately rolled over onto her back when she felt the belt fall away from her hands and rapidly scooted backwards away from Trey until she reached the headboard. She had pulled the blanket along with her and held it up over her body as she went, staring wild-eyed at Trey. He felt like he was in a horror movie and didn’t know if he was the good guy or a bad guy. He had helped make this possible.
“You’re safe now. I swear to God I’m not going to hurt you. But we need to get out of here. He’ll kill us both if he gets a chance.” He needed her to believe him, but she just stared at him like he was talking a foreign language. She pulled her knees up to her chest with the blanket bunched up in front of her and she shook like she was having a mild seizure. Trey couldn’t tell if she understood him or if she was even hearing his voice. It was the most awful thing he’d ever seen.
It was clear to him that she wasn’t going to be any help getting them out of there. He looked at Carl and although he still appeared to be in no danger of waking up any time soon, Trey didn’t want to take any chances so he kicked his head again, then turned and ran to the kitchen where he remembered seeing the woman’s purse.
Trey unsnapped the purse and was relieved to see that her keys were inside. He also saw her Driver’s License in a small I.D./credit card holder and read her name. Monica Lourenz. He dropped the I.D. back into the purse and took it with him as he ran back to her room. Carl was still down and out. He went to her closet and grabbed a travel-case and laid it on the end of the bed.
“You’re going to be okay, Monica. I’m gonna grab some of your things and take you away from here. I wish you’d help me though. It’d be good if you could put some clothes on.”
Monica’s breath began to hitch and she moaned like a wounded animal at the sound of Trey’s voice. He grabbed clothes at random from her bureau and threw them into the case. When he figured he had enough he ran out to her minivan with the case in one hand and h
er keys in the other. He threw the case in the back and started the engine, then ran back inside.
He looked at Carl as soon as he entered the room. Still safe. “Monica, my name is Trey. I need you to trust I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to take you someplace safe, okay?”
She looked up at him with what could have been a look of terror laced with hope that he was telling the truth. Trey’s heart was ripping him up inside and he hated himself for having had any part in this. His one hope was that she was actually listening to him now and believing him.
“If you don’t get dressed really fast, I’m gonna have to carry you out to your truck like you are. We really need to go. I’ll turn around if you’ll get up and put some clothes on.”
She made no move to do anything or go anywhere. Trey approached her slowly with his hands extended out to his sides, palms up. “I’m going to carry you out. Okay, Monica? Don’t be scared. You’re safe now.”
Monica continued to stare at Trey as he approached her. She kept looking at him with that look of hope and fear, but she didn’t try to get away as he reached for her. She just looked at him and her teeth began chattering as if she were freezing. Trey reached behind her with one hand and under her with the other, scooping her up off the bed. He struggled to get the blanket wrapped around her while holding her up with his knee.
He carried her to the door and adjusted her weight so he could turn the doorknob, then carried her out to her vehicle, leaving the door open behind him. Dammit, he thought. I should have left the car door open, but I wanted it to be warm inside. He managed to open the passenger door with the hand he had around her back.
He placed her on the passenger seat and fastened her seat-belt. The blanket fell away from her and she pulled it back up. Trey ran around to the other side, got in and slowly backed out of the driveway, fearing that any second Carl would come running out and either shoot them, or maybe grab the vehicle and stop it as he broke the windows and pulled them out through the broken glass like some kind of insane killer from a horror movie where the bad guy keeps coming back and never dies.
“I’m taking you somewhere safe till we can find your husband. My family has a cabin nearby.”
“Thank you,” Monica whispered and began to cry.
Sixteen
Tori stopped the story when she heard Elizabeth’s breathing become shallow and even. She looked down at her little girl and made a silent promise to find them someplace warm tomorrow. Or she’d find a way to insulate the broken window. There had to be something. It was ridiculous that they were freezing to death inside of a house.
She turned onto her side and laid as close to Liz as she could and put her arm around her, willing her body heat to transfer into her daughter. Her teeth started to chatter and she was thankful that Liz was asleep and therefore a little warmer than she was and unaware of how cold it was in the room.
Tori thought about how much different her life was just one day ago. She almost laughed thinking of the fact that she no longer had a job. The reason she was jobless wasn’t funny, but the way her whole life changed in an instant, how her whole world had changed today, it made her concerns of yesterday utterly ridiculous.
A few hours before she had left Kelly’s house to head back to Denver, Kelly tried as she always did to talk Tori into moving to Kansas. They were sisters, she said. They needed to be closer and see each other more often, and she wanted to be a bigger part of Elizabeth’s life.
Tori agreed with Kelly’s points, but she really liked Denver and she didn’t like Salinas. She couldn’t imagine living there. Her sister would be the only good thing in her life if she moved there. And she’d have to start over from scratch looking for a job and then an apartment. Just that alone was a depressing thought. She liked her current job. Well, the job she had until yesterday, she reminded herself.
Tori had worked as a CNA at a retirement center in Westminster and had just gotten approval for partial company financing to go to school to become an R.N. The future was just starting to look brighter for her. She wouldn’t be forever worrying about how she was going to provide for Elizabeth.
Yesterday she was stressed about the time she would have to spend away from Liz while going to classes, which they would both hate, but she finally convinced herself it would be worth it. She had agonized for months over whether she should go to school or not. While she was grappling with the ironic merits of not being there for her daughter in order to be a better mother, her sister was relentlessly urging her to move to Salinas.
Liz rolled over in her sleep and faced Tori. She tucked the blankets under Liz’s far side and adjusted the trim so it was just below Liz’s chin. She softly stroked her daughter’s hair as she gazed at her sleeping little angel face.
As frustrating as it was having to constantly convince Kelly that she and Liz were happy in Denver and wanted to stay in Denver – she now had to give her sister credit for her and Liz being alive. If they hadn’t gone to Kelly’s for a visit, they’d be dead now – like everyone else.
Tori hoped it was only Denver that got destroyed. It was bad enough that she most likely lost her parents today; she didn’t want to think about the possibility that Kelly might be dead too. She had no idea where her brother was. He might be nothing but ash billowing around on the streets downtown, or he could be somewhere up here on the mountain with the biker gang he’d been hanging out with lately.
Tori rubbed her feet together, hoping that if she made enough friction, she might be able to at least feel them again. Her eyes flew open. Her feet were numb! She reached under the blanket and felt Elizabeth’s feet. They were icy cold.
“Oh God. I have to pull my head out of my ass.”
She had thought she could just address the problem of the window in the morning. Right. She wanted to be a nurse, and here she was sitting around waiting for herself and her daughter to succumb to frostbite. She berated herself silently for being so stupid and putting both of them in such grave danger.
She got out from under the blankets and sat up, determined to do something about the window right now. This wasn’t something that could be put off. They were literally freezing in here. They could die of frostbite. Jesus. What was she thinking?
She doubled her half of the blankets over Liz, effectively putting her under six layers of bedding. Her hands hurt from the cold. She started to rub them together to warm them up, and that made them hurt more. She stopped and told herself to think. What did she know about frostbite? She needed to warm them with heat. She put her hands under her armpits and held them there. Then she tapped her right foot on the ground. She still had sensation in her heel. Good. She’d be able to walk to the kitchen without damaging the flesh on the bottom of her feet.
She fought against the pain in her hands as she put her shoes on, and then walked on her heels through the cabin and into the kitchen. The area near the broken window was no longer the coldest spot in the house. It was that cold everywhere now.
In the kitchen, she turned on the sink and was relieved that the pipes hadn’t frozen. Of course her father would’ve had them insulated. He thought of everything. It was sometimes annoying… well, often annoying, but now she was glad he was so thorough and meticulous about everything. She filled a big pot with water and tried to turn on a burner. Nothing happened. It had an electronic ignition. She opened the cabinet above the range and found an igniter. She lit all four of the gas burners and set the pot on the burner nearest her.
She held her hands high above the flames to the left of the pot of water. She resisted the urge to hold her hands closer where she would feel the heat more intensely. She knew that the warmth would feel so good that she’d end up burning her hands. As she waited for the water to warm up, she lifted her feet, one after another, walking in place on her heels trying to get her blood circulating and spreading what little warmth she had inside of her around her body.
She looked around the kitchen and then walked into the living room and took the three cu
shions off of the couch and brought them back to the kitchen, placing them on the floor between the stove and the table, end to end. Then she went and got Liz and carried her into the kitchen and laid her down on the cushions.
“Shhhh. Go back to sleep, baby,” she whispered as Liz stirred while being laid down on the makeshift bed.
Tori looked at the water and saw small bubbles forming on the bottom of the pot. She lifted it carefully and put it on the floor, then sat down on one of the dining room chairs and removed her shoes and socks. She tested the water with a finger. It was hot, but not too much. She slowly lowered one foot into the pot and waited for the water to warm her freezing foot. As the blood warmed and her circulation resumed, she grimaced at the pain and resisted the instinct to remove her foot. The pain was a good thing. Her foot was coming back to life.
After she could fully feel her feet and the pain subsided, she dried her feet with a dish towel and put her socks and shoes back on. Then she had an idea she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of sooner. She went to the bedroom and stripped the sheet off the mattress. She lifted the mattress off the box-spring and hefted it up on its side and dragged it to the living room. Then she pushed the couch from the adjacent wall, first from one corner, then the other, until she had it in front of the mattress. She shoved the couch forward, pinning the mattress in place.
She smiled at her handiwork and waited a minute to catch her breath. She smiled as she felt the heat from the fireplace already start to reach her arms.
Seventeen
When Carl woke up, his head was killing him. It took a few seconds for him to figure out where he was and then to remember what the hell had happened. That fucking Trey! He was going to die. Carl sat up and his head throbbed far worse than it had that morning from the hangover. The pain was all over the place and it was sharp and throbbing.
In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel Page 7