Harper swam underwater to the edge of the pool where she turned and put her back against the wall, allowing the top of her head to break the surface. She surveyed the area. There was no one in sight.
Where is Zuzana? Where is Erik? The others?
She dropped and swam underwater to the other side, kicking her legs fluidly. The bodies above her cast dark shadows on the bottom of the pool. Her fingertips met the smooth tiles of the opposite wall, and she raised her head until her eyes were just above water level. Listening carefully, she scanned her surroundings, the forest, and saw no one.
So she turned and pulled herself out of the pool, running until she reached the safety of the first row of pines. The sun was almost to its pinnacle, casting short, tight shadows over the ground. Harper pressed herself against the rough bark of a tree, trying to shrink into the darkness, and listened again.
Water dripped down her legs and pooled in her shoes. She was soaking and could see wet footprints leading from the pool to where she was hiding. If someone sees them, they’ll find me straight away. She traversed the forest until she was well away from the footprints.
From her new vantage point, she could see the pool area clearly. There was no one around. She was alone. A wave of despair crashed over her and for a moment she felt herself on the edge of panic. You’ll never make it. Stupid girl. You may as well give up now. But she somehow quelled the voices and headed deeper into the forest to look for the others.
She had walked several hundred feet, scrambling over unexpected rises and down steep gullies, when she heard a bark from somewhere nearby. It was Erik! It had to be. She stopped and whistled low, hoping the dog would hear her. She paused, but there was no return bark.
Feeling disoriented, she looked back the way she came, sighting the restaurant between the trees. She needed to turn left and start toward the highway or she might get lost. If she could get close enough, she might be able to see the others, or Natália and her brother. Knowing where her enemy was would reduce the chances of another ambush.
A sudden urgency to get to the road struck Harper. If Joe and Sara had come back when Natália was there with the gun… She had heard gunshots. The thought was too horrible to continue. She needed her people to be okay.
She was about half way back to the road when she realized why Zuzana had been so reluctant to go this way. She reached a deep gully filled with fallen logs and a thick layer of rotting leaf litter. Pine trees grew along the ridge of the gully in a thick wall of green. There was no way around it. Harper slid down the side of the gully and reached the bottom. She clambered over the debris and looked up. The wall of dirt was twice as tall as she was. Taking a deep breath, she dug the toe of her sodden hiking boot into the dirt and started to climb.
She made it half way before losing her grip and sliding to the bottom. Landing hard, her resolve start to wane. She heard her mother’s voice.
What are you going to do? Sit here and just give up? Sounds like something you’d do.
She felt tears in her eyes and scrubbed them with her hands. She placed her toe into the wall of dirt once more and began to climb. When she reached the top, she was exhausted. She lay for a moment under the pine trees, gathering her strength, before pushing herself to her feet.
She reached the main highway and remained in the deep shade, searching up and down the road for any sign of the others. She could see their car, the driver and passenger side doors open, and noticed her bag was gone. She pictured the object they had pulled from the cave. Her phone was in there, as was Wolf’s phone. That last picture of them together… she closed her eyes, the pain all-consuming.
After a moment, she resurfaced, centering herself back in reality. Beyond the car was the thicket of trees where Natália’s brother had hidden. And there, several hundred feet away, was Joe’s scooter. The sight made Harper’s head hurt, as though a vice was suddenly clamping over her head.
She was about to double back to the pool and start searching the forest when she heard something. It was a shout, and it sounded like Sara. Harper’s heart was pounding in her ears, her stomach clenching tightly. She scanned the road, searching for any sign of her.
Then a loud scream cut through the air. Harper’s blood to froze.
She ran onto the road without thinking, and crossed the first two lanes, leaping over the low metal guardrail, before crossing the final two lanes. There was a grassy embankment and she scrambled up it, stopping at the top to press herself against the ground and survey her surrounds.
There was a thin strip of forest, and beyond that a wide field. To the left of the field was a red brick farmhouse and a large corrugated iron shed. Harper heard the sound of an engine and flattened herself against the ground. A white pick-up truck appeared at the top of the long dirt driveway and drove onto the highway, disappearing into the distance.
Harper was on her feet in an instant, and sprinted several hundred feet, taking shelter behind a thicket of pines. She had to get closer to the house. She waited a beat, saw no other movement, and took off running again. Finally, she reached the shed and stopped, her chest heaving and her heart racing like a runaway train.
She crept forward until she was next to the red brick house and then ducked low until she reached a window. She slid to the ground and listened to the voices inside. There was shouting—a man, and then another man replied. But the voices were too muffled to make out. She continued around the house until she reached a door.
Harper didn’t hesitate and walked up the stairs, pulling open the screen door which screeched softly. She slipped inside, keeping her hand against the door to stop it banging. The house was dark. Her eyes adjusted fast and she saw she was in a laundry room. A long bench ran the length of the room. Neat stacks of folded towels sat next to each other on a shelf, and an old top loader washing machine was beside her. The laundry door was ajar and the voices were louder now.
“Where have you taken her?” It was Joe! Her heart seized.
“You will shut your mouth, American!”
“If anything happens to her, I will kill you.” They must be talking about Sara! Harper broke out in a cold sweat. She looked around for a weapon. There was an iron on the long bench and she picked it up. It was inelegant and heavy, and she wasn’t sure how quickly she could use it to strike anyone or swing it on the cord. There was a pile of coat hangers, including some older-style wire ones. She picked one up and unfurled it, straightening it. It might work but she needed something else.
She looked around the small room, feeling desperate. There was an old shoe box filled with tins of shoe polish, a shoe horn and some scrubbing brushes on the ground—all useless. She bent down and looked under the bench, finding a box of washing powder and a few bottles of cleaning products. She picked up a spray bottle and turned it over in her hands. The label was in Slovak. She sprayed a little on the bench and sniffed it. It had a distinct chemical smell, so she grabbed it in one hand and the wire coat hanger in the other.
She moved to the door and opened it, glancing down the long carpeted hallway. She could hear someone pacing around at the end of the hall. Water splashed around noisily in a sink somewhere, and there was the sound of a cupboard door opening.
Harper crept into the hallway and moved lightly toward the noise. The end of the hallway opened up into a living room and she could see the end of a kitchen bench on one side of the hall. She neared the end of the hall and pressed against the wall, scanning her field of vision.
In the far corner of the room was Joe! He was tied to a wooden chair, his hands bound behind his back. His handsome face was twisted with anger and worry. She tried to get his attention, but he didn’t turn her way.
Harper could hear the man more clearly now. He was whistling to himself and plates clinked together. She tightened her grip on the spray bottle and steeled herself.
She took one deep breath and launched herself into the kitchen. In a split second she took in the man. He was tall and broad and she recognized him
as Natália’s other brother. He had emptied a packet of cookies onto a plate and had one to his mouth. He spun to face her and made a strangled noise of surprise, but it was too late.
Harper had already lunged toward him. She depressed the trigger button on the spray bottle and aimed for the man’s face. An arc of chemical droplets sprayed over his face. He dropped the cookie and pressed his hands to his face, scrubbing at his eyes and yelling loudly.
Harper dropped the spray bottle and took the end of the wire coat hanger in one hand, jabbing the end of it deep into the man’s neck. He reached out blindly and tore the coat hanger from his throat. Blood spurted out, but it was a fine spray. She hadn’t hit an artery.
She ducked as he swung his arms around, searching for her. She slid along the floor toward the back of the kitchen, aiming for a wooden block of knives on the bench behind the man. She stood and grabbed a plastic handle, sliding the knife from its hole. The man was coming for her but she had the blade out, ready for him.
He grabbed hold of her by her shoulders, his eyes still closed, and she became aware of someone calling her name. But she blocked the noise and held the knife steady. As the man crushed her in his strong embrace, the blade plunged into his stomach with sickening ease. He screamed before dropping his hands to his abdomen. His hands wrapped around the knife protruding from his body. Wet, bright blood was flowing freely now.
Harper noticed the double cross on his wrist. Lukas had told her it was the Slovak Nation Brotherhood symbol. She stepped back and edged around the man, who had slumped against the bench. The skin around his eyes was bright red from chemical irritation, his eyes still closed tight. She cleared him and ran to Joe. She reached him just as his words crystalized.
“Behind you! Watch out behind you!”
Harper spun around to see a second man standing in the living room by the hallway. He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt and stained jeans and had a wicked sneer on his face. He held his hands out like an experienced fighter. She could see a tiny double cross tattooed on his wrist. Then, he came for her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harper had no time to think, no time to move, as the man charged at her, shoulder first. It was like being hit by a car, and she flew backwards from the impact and landed on a small side-table next to the sofa. The table broke under her weight, the legs snapping like matchsticks underneath her. She heard the sound of glass breaking, felt blood on her hand. Joe was shouting her name.
She could see the man coming for her again. “You fucking bitch,” he shouted, standing over her. “You stabbed Jozef. What the fuck!” He swung his arm back and his fist connected with her face. Pain radiated from where he’d struck her. Harper shook her head to clear it. She’d been here before, she’d felt angry blows raining down on her.
She slid backwards, taking hold of one of the splintered legs of the table. She felt the wall behind her and she pushed herself to her feet, holding the table leg splintered side out. She locked her knees and stared at the man.
He clenched both hands into a fist and side stepped, not taking his eyes off her. “What are you going to do?” he asked her. “Are you going to club me to death?”
“Leave her alone!” yelled Joe. Harper waved the table leg side to side. Come at me. I’m ready. She gritted her teeth and prepared herself for the man to charge again. But he approached slowly, his eyes on her face, his hands outstretched as though to embrace her.
“Get away from me!” yelled Harper. “Don’t come near me.”
“I am coming for you,” the man said, a dangerous smile on his face. He darted forward and went for the table leg. Harper pulled back wildly, bringing the table leg out of reach, and he stumbled toward her. She brought the leg back down hard and it smashed into his face. There was a sickening thud and a deep gash opened on his cheek.
The man cursed loudly in Slovak. He was close now and she didn’t have time to get the table leg back up. He charged, pushing his whole body up against her, pinning her against the wall. He reached down and wrapped his wrist around her arm which held the table leg, immobilizing her. Harper could see the gaping wound that ran down the side of the man’s face, his crooked, chipped front tooth, the crazed look in his eye.
“Let me go,” she breathed out. “Where is Sara? Where are our friends?”
“Sara is the pretty blonde girl? She has been taken by Natália for interrogation. They will be coming back for this one soon.” He indicated with his head toward Joe. “And also for you.”
“Let me go,” said Harper again, her teeth gritted. “People will come looking for us. You won’t get away with this.”
The man laughed, a light spray of spittle covering Harper’s face. “There is no one left to help you. We are collecting an army of survivors. We will find out who did this to our country, and we will get vengeance.”
“We had nothing to do with this,” yelled Joe. Harper looked over the man’s shoulder and saw Joe still tied to the chair. He strained against his bindings but couldn’t get free.
Harper struggled under the weight of the man as he grinned maniacally. “You are a fighter. I like that.” He used his spare arm to wipe the blood from his face and left a thick streak of red. Then, he ripped the table leg from Harper’s grip and tossed it in the corner of the room. She let herself deflate underneath him. “That is better. Good girl.” He took Harper’s other hand and pinned her arms above her head, then stepped back.
“Please let us go,” she said.
“I am going to tie you up until Natália gets back. She is the boss.” His laugh was sinister. Harper offered no resistance as he grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her away from the wall. She could feel his grip loosen as they approached the dining table. He reached out for a chair, and at that moment she ducked and twisted away from him.
“You fucking bitch!” he roared, spinning to face her. She looked around for a weapon. Anything! On the table behind him was a candleholder, but she would never get there in time. He lunged for her and she darted left, narrowly escaping his fingers. She ran along the length of the sofa and reached a bookshelf. She pulled a hardcover book off the shelf and flung it at the man. It hit him and bounced away ineffectively. She sprinted toward the kitchen and had made it half way there when she felt his hands on her back.
Screaming, she turned and kicked, thrashing her arms and legs. But she couldn’t escape him. He picked her up and carried her around the sofa as she bit and screamed and writhed in his arms. He reached the dining table and threw her hard on the floor. “Stay still,” he yelled. “You move again and I kill you.”
Harper froze. From where she lay she could see Joe in the middle of the room, still tied to the wooden chair. He craned his neck to look at her. They locked eyes and she could see the agony of being unable to help on his face. “I’m okay,” she mouthed, although it felt like every bone in her body had been broken. She tracked the man. He’d placed a wooden chair in the center of the room next to Joe and was staring at her.
“Do not move. I am getting rope. If you move, I will kill you. Trust me on this.” He started toward the kitchen, glancing back at Harper every couple of steps. Harper lay still, not moving her eyes off the man. He reached the kitchen and swore loudly. He bent down and disappeared behind the bench, momentarily distracted by his comrade who was slumped on the floor, bleeding from the knife wound inflicted by Harper.
This was her last chance! Harper rolled onto her stomach and pushed into a crouch. She scanned the room and spotted Sara’s bag against the wall. Her heart was thundering in her ears, but she didn’t hesitate. She was on her feet and sprinting for the bag. She heard the man shout behind her but was singularly focused on the small backpack.
She reached it and fumbled with the zip. There was a shout of warning behind her. She managed to get the bag open and reached in just as the man grabbed her roughly around the neck. She felt the gun and wrapped her hand around it. On automatic, she flicked the safety switch off and held the gun tight. All sh
e could think about was the tightening of his arm around her airways. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t weigh up her options, all she could do was press the muzzle into his body and pull the trigger.
Boom!
The fierce grip on her neck loosened. There was a sickening gurgle and a thump as the man fell back heavily onto the ground. Harper spun around, the gun trained on the man. “Don’t fucking move,” she breathed out. But there was no need. The man twitched and slid further to the ground, his hands slipping from his chest. Blood flowed freely from the gaping gunshot wound. His chest rose and fell once more and then froze for all eternity. Harper stood over him for a long moment, a hardness edging its way through her body. She felt like she was turning to stone.
Then, a voice. She looked around, momentarily disoriented. “Harper!” She snapped around and there was Joe. He stared at her, his eyes wide. “Harper, come and untie me, quickly.” She moved over to him, glancing over her shoulder at the man. “He’s not going anywhere,” said Joe. “But we need to get out of here.”
“I need to get a knife to cut the rope. Hold on.” She ran to the kitchen and paused. The man she’d stabbed was curled on his side. One glazed eye looked at her. Harper leaned forward and slid a drawer open, feeling inside for something sharp. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the dying man on the ground.
Jozef. His name is Jozef.
She found something sharp and closed her hand around it gingerly, extracting it from the drawer. It was a steak knife. “I’ve got something,” she said to Joe. She swallowed hard, staring at the man before backing away.
Harper switched on the safety and placed the gun on the ground. She made quick work of the ropes around Joe’s wrists and the thick rope fell to the ground. Joe rubbed his wrists and then shook his hands trying to get the blood to flow freely. Then he reached up and took her hand in his.
Death City: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (Dark Resistance Book 1) Page 17