Hope

by A. American

While Carlos healed, they’d plan and pack.

  Karen, though, had her mind on Felicia. What would become of her?

  “I’m going to ask Felicia to come with us,” Karen said.

  “That’s fine. I just don’t see her budging,” Neal replied.

  “I’ll convince her. If she doesn’t, she’ll die, you know that.”

  “I think she should come with us, but I don’t see her doing it.”

  Karen stopped him. They were now feet away from her front door. “Don’t be so cavalier about this.”

  “I’m not. I just know she won’t go,” Neal said and pointed at the house. “You see this place? This is her home. Her husband’s ashes sit on the mantel. She raised a child in this old home; she doesn’t know anything else. The only way she’d leave is if we kidnap her.”

  “Then we kidnap her.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “We can’t just leave her.”

  “I’m not saying we leave her, but we need to let her do what she wants to do. We can’t force anybody to do anything.”

  “You’re right, but we have to try.”

  “And try we will.”

  “Good, I just wanted to make sure we were thinking the same.”

  “We are. Now can we go in?”

  They continued down the sidewalk.

  “You know what I’m craving right now? Those jarred peaches, did you see those?” Neal asked, referencing a crate of homemade canned peaches that were found in the back of the Suburban.

  “I saw them, and I packed a jar for Felicia.”

  “That will be a nice surprise,” Neal said just as he knocked.

  The door swung open immediately.

  “Well, hello, hello,” Felicia said, opening the screen door that separated them. “Come in, please come in.”

  Neal was always impressed when he saw Felicia. She was so small and frail, but there was a spirit to her that made her seem powerful. She stood just over five feet and must have weighed a little more than a hundred pounds, but it never stopped her.

  As Neal hauled the boxes in, Felicia cleared the chairs in her dining nook so everyone could sit down. “Sorry, I’ve been going through photos. I was never one to scrapbook, but now seemed like a good time.”

  Hearing her say this broke Karen’s heart. She knew Felicia was alone. The one child she had lived in Florida and had become estranged over the years. For all intents and purposes, Karen, Neal and Beth were her family.

  Beth went directly to the makeshift playroom Felicia had created for her months ago. There she played with toys like Lincoln Logs, Hot Wheels and even a Howdy Doody doll. Neal joked that all the toys were older than him.

  Excited to show Felicia the peaches, Karen pulled them from the box Neal was carrying. “Look what we have for you, Felicia.”

  Felicia came in from the kitchen, squinting, and asked, “What, dear?”

  “Peaches, canned peaches.”

  “Oh my, I haven’t had peaches in ages. Let’s open them up,” Felicia said, excited about all the goodies but especially the peaches.

  Karen and Felicia disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Neal to unload everything. One by one he brought the boxes and cases of water inside.

  “Daddy, something smells bad,” Beth said as she pointed down the hallway.

  “Where?”

  Beth just pointed.

  Neal put the box down and headed down the hallway. Within a few steps a strong fecal odor hit him. He remembered where the powder room was and opened it to discover the toilet had overflowed. He saw that she had removed the cover he had placed on it. Disgusted, he closed the door and walked into the kitchen. There he found the women enjoying the jar of peaches.

  “Oh my God, they’re so good,” Felicia cooed.

  Karen took a large piece between her fingers and dropped it into her mouth. When she saw Neal, she excitedly grabbed another piece and said, “Sweetie, have one. They’re great.”

  He was tempted but wasn’t in the mood after having been in the bathroom. “Sorry, not right now,” he said, then turned his attention to Felicia. “Did you remove the toilet cover in the bathroom?”

  “Yes, I thought by now it would be okay to use it; plus I just got tired of going outside in that dirty latrine you dug,” Felicia said with a tinge of guilt.

  “You have a mess now in the bathroom,” Neal admonished.

  She sheepishly looked at him and said, “Sorry, I thought it would be fine.”

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “Ease up, Neal,” Karen snapped.

  “Fine, I’ll ease up, but I’m not cleaning it up,” Neal said and walked out of the room.

  Beth ran by him and into the kitchen. “Yummy, peaches.”

  Neal was irritated, but he knew that emotion didn’t originate with Felicia but was an accumulation of everything. He stepped outside and sat on the steps.

  Beth came outside with a small bowl of peaches and sat next to him. “You want some?”

  “Nah.”

  “They’re yummy. Try one, please,” she insisted.

  “Sorry, honey, I’m not hungry.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Beth, are you happy?” he asked. It was a question out of left field, but he wanted to know how she felt. He wasn’t sure if she’d answer honestly, but for some reason he needed to know.

  “Yes,” she said, her mouth full of peaches.

  “Are you scared?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Ever?”

  “Sometimes, but mostly I feel fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Oops,” she said, looking at the empty bowl.

  “You ate them all. I thought you were saving me one,” he teased.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m just messing around,” he replied and dipped his finger in the juice and licked it. “Tastes good.”

  Several loud cracks of gunfire sounded in the distance.

  He craned his head to listen and get the exact location.

  Silence.

  Nervous, he stood up.

  “Daddy…”

  “Go inside,” he ordered.

  “Why?”

  A volley of gunfire cracked and popped in the direction of his house.

  “Go, now!” he barked.

  Beth dropped the bowl and ran inside. “Mommy, Mommy!”

  Neal grabbed his rifle next to the front door and took off for his house.

  Random gunshots continued then stopped as suddenly as they had started.

  Neal sprinted the first two blocks. When he made the left turn onto his street, he could see the Lincoln and another SUV parked in the cul-de-sac with several men lying on the ground around the vehicles. Knowing what had happened, he increased his pace.

  The scream of a woman followed by several shots came from Carlos’ house.

  Neal didn’t need to see who screamed; he knew who it was.

  Two men exited the front door. The second man was laughing while the first looked angry.

  Close to the SUV, Neal took cover behind it just in time to avoid being seen. Sweat streamed down his face and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He had stayed in relatively decent shape, but that sprint had taken a lot out of him.

  “Fuck,” the first man cursed.

  “At least we got our truck back,” the second man said, patting the other on the back.

  “Stay put while I look around,” the first man said.

  “I’ll be right here, enjoying this whiskey,” the other man said, sitting down on the steps. He lifted a bottle of Jim Beam and took a sip.

  Neal peered around the side of the SUV to get his bearings. He saw the man sitting but had lost sight of the first man. “Where did you go?”

  The first man exited not a second later and said, “You gotta see the stash this motherfucker had.”

  “I wish you hadn’t killed that tight piece of ass. I could’ve gone for getting my dick wet today,” the second disgustingly joked then took a swig
of whiskey.

  “That bitch bit me; she had it coming. And that little fucking kid, did you see his head explode?”

  Neal heard the entire conversation, and it left his blood boiling. He had enough; he couldn’t stand and listen to these animals anymore. With his thumb he flipped off the selector switch on the M4 and pivoted away from the SUV. He was exposed, but he also had a clear shot. It wasn’t the most tactical thing to do, but right now he was running on anger.

  By the time the men saw him, Neal had fired several shots.

  Those shots hit the man on the stairs squarely in the chest. He reeled back from the impact then slumped over.

  The first man reached for a holstered pistol, but Neal had sighted him in and squeezed off two more rounds. Like the other shots, these hit true too.

  The man recoiled, hit the side of the house, and slid down. He was dead before his body settled onto the steps.

  Neal advanced with the rifle still against his shoulder just in case anyone else came out. He stepped up to the second man and kicked his body off the steps. He leaped over the first man and entered the house. The house was dark, so it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, the true carnage was evident.

  The first body he came upon was an attacker.

  He stepped into the living room and found Ricky and Natalie lying facedown in a pool of blood, with gunshots to their heads.

  Neal had seen bodies and death, but this was different. These were people he knew and cared about. He took a deep breath and pressed forward. In the hallway he found another attacker. In the first bedroom he discovered Natalie’s father; he was sprawled on the bed with several bullet holes in his chest. Neal’s heart rate was off the chart and his breathing was becoming rapid. He went a few more steps down the hall but stopped short of walking into the master bedroom. He paused and took several slow and deliberate breaths. The last thing he wanted was to hyperventilate. “You got this,” he reassured himself. Feeling better, he took the last remaining steps and turned into the master bedroom.

  Carlos was sitting up in the bed. Two holes in his chest and one in his forehead told the story of his fate.

  Neal’s guts tightened. Nausea raced from the pit of his stomach and into his throat. He blinked and rubbed the stinging sweat from his eyes.

  A note was stuck to Carlos’ chest.

  Neal walked over to his dead friend and removed the paper. He unfolded it to discover the registration for the Lincoln. In red ink Carlos’ address was circled.

  They had discovered the car and added two and two together. It was easy for them; Carlos didn’t think to remove any trace of the car’s owner. Somehow in his hubris he had missed that little detail. It was a fatal mistake, and Carlos would never get a do-over.

  Neal touched his friend’s hand and said, “Oh, Carlos, I’m so sorry. I’ll miss you, my friend.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.”

  – Albert Einstein

  Guatay, CA

  Charlotte rolled over and covered her ears with the down pillow to block out Drew’s snoring. To her utter disgust, Drew had decided to sleep in the same room. He was honest with her and said it was for their safety. It was the first time she believed his intention. She knew the other men were savages and couldn’t be trusted, especially after what Drew had done to one of them.

  The early morning light crept into the room, and for Charlotte came the promise of gathering more information to aide in her and Hope’s escape. Unable to tolerate Drew’s snoring, she snuck out. The musty hallway of the barn was wide, with five other doors that led to similar rooms. Were there others being held? She hadn’t heard anyone, but who knew. She stealthily slipped out the back door. The outdoor air was unexpectedly crisp and cool. The back of the barn faced a tall eight-foot retaining wall with the hillside sloping away from it and out of sight. What was on the other side? Trash cans, tools, wheelbarrows and just junk sat alongside the back. A small plastic armless chair was next to the door, surrounded by dozens of cigarette butts.

  She walked to one corner and looked to her right. There, a small alley separated the main barn and one of the side buildings. Behind the other building she saw similar stuff. Beyond that the ground sloped towards the chain-link fence.

  A man armed with a rifle walked parallel to the fence line.

  She hadn’t seen anyone the day before guarding the fence, but it made perfect sense.

  She turned around and looked back. The retaining wall stretched just a few feet past the smaller building on the other side of the main barn then turned left at a forty-five-degree angle. The slope of the hill above her was steep and heavily treed. Going that way to escape seemed difficult at best and impossible at worst. Being twelve, she might make it, but for Hope it would be too much.

  Going anywhere near the main gate seemed foolish, as it also took them past the main house and garage, where she noticed most of the men gathered. She faced back down the hill towards the chain-link fence and said, “That looks like it’s the way. Now how can I know for sure?”

  “You smoke?” a raspy voice asked.

  She jumped and twisted around, fear racing up her spine. Just a few feet from her was an older man; she hadn’t seen him before. He stood with his arm outstretched towards her with a pack of cigarettes.

  “You smoke?” he asked again.

  “No.”

  “You kids don’t really smoke, do you? All that antismoking stuff,” he quipped as he lit the cigarette.

  She watched him take a long drag and exhale.

  “I bet if I offered you pot, you’d smoke that?” he jested.

  “I don’t smoke anything.”

  “I thought most of you kids were dopers. You won’t smoke a simple Camel Light, but you’ll light up a big doobie and get stoned out of your minds.”

  “I don’t do drugs,” Charlotte declared.

  “Ha.” He chuckled. “So tell me, what’s your story? I saw you in the yard yesterday. I’m assuming you’re one of those girls who were captured.”

  “Who are you?” Charlotte asked. She refused to give up information freely.

  “Bob.”

  Charlotte checked him out carefully from his tired boots where the leather had worn off the toe, exposing the steel underneath, to his tattered and stained jeans and finally his thinning V-neck T-shirt. On his head he wore a trucker’s hat with the bill curled perfectly. He didn’t fit the look of the others; he was more country compared to the Latin city bad-boy look the others had.

  “Damn, it’s chilly out here,” Bob complained, rubbing his exposed arms.

  “You look different than the others,” she said, telling him exactly what she was thinking.

  “Those guys, oh hell, I’m not one of those guys. I just work for ’em,” Bob said. He attempted to blow a ring but failed.

  “What do you do for them?”

  “Cook.”

  “You’re a cook?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a cook, like it was my career. Good God, before all this shit, I owned retail centers all over.”

  “So why do you cook for them now?”

  “Ha, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Bob laughed.

  “I’m curious. What else do I have to do?”

  Bob shrugged and said, “I guess that’s true. It’s just that I’ve never seen a youngster like you, so full of conversation. All the kids I knew before had their heads in their phones, but someone must have taught you the lost art of talking. Anyway, what’s your story? Why are you here?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Charlotte said.

  “Then I guess that ends our conversation,” Bob said, crushing his cigarette against the side of the building. He flicked it over the wall, turned and entered the smaller building.

  Bob made sixteen, she thought. Curiosity got the best of her; she wanted to know where Bob went, so she opened the same
door and poked her head inside the smaller building. A dank odor struck her first. Unable to quell the desire to know what was in there, she stepped into the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a large table. On it she found two backpacks with the contents emptied out. She leaned over and began to examine what was there. Clothes, shoes, rope, first aid kit, lighter, compass, water bottle and a folding knife. She picked up the knife and opened it up. The stainless steel blade glinted slightly when the light from a far window hit it just right. A knife could come in handy, she thought; then in the corner of her eye she saw a wallet.

  The first thing she saw was a driver’s license for Timothy Brandt. He was twenty-five and from La Mesa, CA. She put it down when she saw another wallet. She picked it up too, opened it and found it belonged to Daniel Brandt; he was twenty-eight. Brothers, no doubt, she thought. An uneasy feeling came over her; she put the wallet down and stepped away from the table. All the items belonged to those two men, and more than likely they were being held captive or were dead, and if it was the former, it was at the hands of Tony and his men.

  A rumbling sound startled her. She turned to see where the sound was coming from. Slowly she walked to the far corner and saw three large refrigerators and two chest freezers. She raised her eyebrows, astonished they were working. She opened the door of the refrigerator closest to her.

  Cool air washed over her first; then the light from inside lit the room around her. Inside, perishable foods were stacked on the lower shelves. Tupperware containers filled with prepared food sat on the upper shelves, with labels marking days of the week.

  Out of nowhere someone grabbed her from behind. She flinched and turned to see Drew.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she replied, stepping away from him only to bump into the table.

  “Not a good idea for you to be snooping around,” Drew advised.

  “Are we free, or are we still prisoners?” she asked.

  “You’re free, but not so free you can go wherever you want,” Drew said, taking her arm.

  She shrugged off his grip and said, “I’ll go back, but never touch me again.”

  He snatched her arm but this time harder. “Listen here, I don’t know what I have to say or do, but I’m a friend. I saved your miserable life from God knows what living hell you and your precious sister would have gone through. How about some appreciation?”