by Roger Hayden
Bynes stared back from afar, not sure what to say.
“Well? Do you?” Phillip asked.
“No?” Bynes answered, confused.
“Exactly,” Phillip said. He walked back to his El Camino with the bag over his shoulder and tossed it into the trunk. He then went to Sarah’s door, opened it and carefully guided her out of the car.
“All right, Sarah,” he said and pulled the bag from her head. “Our time here is done. Go back to your family. And remember to tell them about the nice lady who replaced you.”
Sarah nodded in a daze as Phillip nudged her toward her father, her hands still tied at the wrists with duct tape. The moment her father saw her he sprinted over, shouting her name.
Phillip got in his car and started it just in time to see Bynes pick up his daughter and pull her to him, squeezing her and crying with relief. It was as sentimental a scene as Phillip could stomach. He backed out and gunned it forward, past the reunited father and daughter, leaving them in the rear-view mirror with a cloud of dust raining over them.
***
Phillip entered the darkened cellar to find Miriam lying on her side on the mattress, apparently sleeping. It was an unusual sight. He had expected to see her trying to do anything to escape. The sight amused him more than anything. He proudly waltzed in with the duffel bag still over his shoulder and flopped it down in the middle of the floor, waking Miriam. She sat up to see him proudly standing over the bag, dressed in a black jacket, minus the wig and mask. This time his face was fully exposed, his scalp hairless and burnt.
“It worked. I got the money,” he said. “Now we can go.”
Miriam tugged on her chain, with a helpless, vulnerable expression. Lifting her arms she asked, “What about this?”
Phillip smiled, looking at her as though she were a child. “Obviously you won’t have to wear that chain.” He stopped and sighed. “But I’m afraid I don’t trust you completely just yet. He pulled out two pairs of handcuffs and tossed them on the mattress. “There. One’s for your wrists. The other’s for your ankles. Matching!” He laughed. “Put those on and I’ll take the chain off.”
Miriam looked at the clamp around her wrist, where heavy bruises and cuts were visible. “How will I walk?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Very carefully,” he responded. “Now hurry up. We haven’t got all night. Johnny Law will be searching the area soon enough.”
The thought of it brought a moment’s relief to Miriam. But she also knew the chances of finding her in time were slim at best. Phillip approached with the familiar fiendish look flashing in his eyes. He was waiting for her to put the cuffs on and wasn’t going to leave until she did it.
“How about we take a moment to celebrate?” she asked, taking him by surprise.
He narrowed his eyes, not completely buying it. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been in this room long enough to figure out that it used to be some kind of wine cellar. Do you have any wine? Some way we can commemorate our new beginning?”
Phillip stopped and thought to himself, looking around. It was clear that he was unprepared for such a request.
“You talk about trust,” Miriam continued. “How can we both work on that trust without a cheer and a glass of wine?”
“Not much of a drinker,” Phillip replied, putting the plan to rest.
“You have your demands of me. All I ask is this,” she said.
Angered, he stepped close to her, inches from her worn shoes. She could smell his poisonous aura.
“I completely fulfilled your demands of me. The way I see it, we’re dead fucking even.” He stopped and then pointed at the cuffs. “Now put those on before I do it for you.”
She reached forward and touched his pant leg near his ankle with a gentle caress. “Don’t you care about me? Don’t you want us to be together? This would mark our first great step.”
He looked down into her eyes and could only read sincerity. Her pleading was nothing short of convincing. He turned away, annoyed, but compliant. “Damn it, Miriam. No.” Despite what he said, he began walking toward the door, muttering he believed there to be a bottle of wine in the kitchen, overlooked and left there by the previous owner. “But if it ain’t there,” he said, turning at the door, “you drop this nonsense and get ready to go.” He slammed the door without another word.
Knowing her time was short, Miriam jumped from the bed and dug the bent and dulled knife behind the plate once again, nearly getting it loose. The long screws were exposed almost to the very ends. Her heart leaped. With one final jerk, she pulled on the chain and the plate came free, so suddenly that the momentum sent her backwards, almost falling, as it came free from the wall and fell onto the mattress in a cloud of dust. Elated, Miriam fell to the bed and grabbed the end of the chain. Now, for the first time in a long while, she had a weapon. But the timing had to be right. She quickly picked up the plate, pushed it back into the wall, and waited.
The door unlocked. Phillip entered, holding two plastic cups, one of which she was sure was laced with a sedative. She knew how his mind worked. He was every bit as paranoid as she was. His face looked brighter, almost happy.
“You find something good?” she asked, sitting on the bed as before.
“Sure did,” he replied, handing her the cup. She smelled it, rising from the bed as he held out his cup for a cheers.
“Why don’t you go ahead?” he asked. “I was never good at toasts.”
She thought to herself and raised the glass. “To new beginnings,” she said.
They clinked cups, and she brought it to her mouth, pausing. He took the first sip, and she knew that the moment had finally arrived. The wine hit his face in a violent splash as she tossed it at him, cup and all. Phillip recoiled and dropped his cup to the floor. His face was a combination of anger and shock, complete disbelief at what had just happened.
But it didn’t take him long to come to his senses, and he reached inside his jacket for his pistol. Miriam grabbed the chain with her free hand and yanked it as hard as she could, ripping the plate out of the wall.
Phillip stood there dumbfounded for a second, pistol in hand, then raised his arm to fire. She swung the chain in a half circle, smacking his face with a loud crack and sending him to the ground. As he fell, she screamed out in impassioned rage and swung the chain at him over and over again like a whip as he covered his head and tried to crawl away.
“You son of a bitch!” she shouted.
The chain struck him, blow after blow, all over his body as she swung it with all her might. He fumbled with his pistol and tried to stand, but as he did, she reeled the chain back and swung it full force across his skull, knocking the pistol out of his hand and sending it flying across the floor.
“I’m sending you to hell where you belong!” she screamed out in a rage.
She thrashed the chain across his burnt body until she couldn’t swing it any more. As he lay there on the ground, beaten to a pulp, she stopped and yanked the chain back over to herself. His hand suddenly shot up and grabbed the links, pulling her toward him.
Miriam panicked and slipped as he pulled with both hands with thunderous force. She flew to the ground and landed on his chest as one of his gloved fists pummeled her in the face. She squirmed and moved away the best she could as white spots fluttered in front of her eyes. She felt dizzy and lightheaded when another blow came, followed by a white flash.
“You first!” he said, spitting blood between his gritted teeth.
She ended up flat on her back, and just as Phillip tried to get up, she grabbed the chain with her free hand, laid it across his neck, and pulled with both arms, squeezing and squeezing as he thrashed in desperate panic. The chain locked around his windpipe, pulled tighter and tighter as he struggled and wheezed.
She wrapped both of her thin, muscular legs around his waist and held him there until she could feel the life leaving his body. For a moment, she just went still and all was silent. Phillip’s
arms went limp. His burnt face was a discolored blue and covered in blood.
She released the chain and crawled out from under him, rising to her feet and hyperventilating as she struggled to breathe. One look at his still body and wide-open eyes, and she knew that he was finally dead. She took the gun lying next to his body and fired one shot into his head, just to make sure.
The silencer on the pistol muffled the shot, but its powerful kick split his head open and released a geyser of blood and brain. Without a second look, she turned and walked out of the room, dragging the chain behind her. She was free. The darkened staircase, which had seemed a million miles away from her mattress, was finally at her feet. She turned to look at the room one last time. Phillip’s still body lay there, a pool of blood under his head. It was over. Her legs wobbled up the creaky wooden stairs. She looked up to see a door at the top, approached it and turned its squeaky handle.
She pushed it open and saw a room, a kitchen, with hardwood floors, dusty and vacant. A table sat near the empty counters with three chairs. She limped past the kitchen and entered a living room without a single piece of furniture in it. Beyond the windows was the night sky, filled with tiny specks of light. She approached the front door, dragging her chain along, and opened it while completely bypassing the two bedrooms without a glance inside.
The fresh, desert air hit her face and she felt a rush of relief, gratitude and something close to happiness. She stepped out onto the porch and walked down the steps, which led to a sandy patch of yard. She looked around; a pale moon hid behind the clouds and darkness surrounded her as far as the eye could see. An El Camino was parked not fifty feet ahead of her. She was free. And all she had to do was find her way home.
Dear Reader,
Hi! I hope you enjoyed my latest series. Quality story telling is very important to me. It’s my living, and I can’t thank you enough for your support and for taking the time to read this boxset. But the learning never stops, and your feedback is vital to improving each new series I explore.
I would love if you could take a second to leave a review here: Leave a Review Here!
If you would be so kind, please leave a review showering the book with endless praise. Of course, I’m joking, but it would be great to hear from you. If there are any issues you had with the story or any pesky errors or concerns, feel free to email me and let me know. I’d love to hear your feedback, regardless. Your support allows me to do what I do, and I’m in your debt. In a way, I work for you, the reader. So let me know if I’m doing the job. Thanks again and, please, feel free to contact me or leave a review for the book at your earliest convenience.
With Gratitude,
Roger Hayden
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
The Abducted: Omnibus
Prequel- The Abducted: The Beginning
The Abducted: A Race Against Time- Book 1
Discovery
Crime Scene
A New Friend
Interrogation
Released
Deadly Exchange
Teamwork
Remembrance
Showdown
The Abducted: Vengeance
Escape
Breathe
Painful Reunion
Six Months Later
The Informant
Search for Sarah
Duplex
Captured
Holding Cell
Purgatory
Last Stand