by Alana Terry
“Wait! They’re not safe this late.” Kennedy clawed at his forearms as Vinny pinched Jodie’s cheeks together.
He forced her mouth open. “Take them.”
Kennedy winced as the handcuff cut against her wrist, but she hardly registered the pain. Anger, fright, and horror all mingled together, poisoning her blood, tinting her vision. She tried to knock Vinny’s hand out of the way. Dustin appeared behind the couch and forced Jodie’s mouth open once more.
“She can’t take them.” Kennedy reached with her free hand to scratch at Dustin, but he only strengthened his grip on Jodie’s jaw. Gurgling noise came from the back of Jodie’s throat. Dustin was holding her head so tight the veins in his forearms popped up.
Vinny loomed over them both, towering over Jodie with the pills in his hand. Kennedy tried to kick him away. He clenched his fist, and then pain splintered across Kennedy’s temple. Her head jerked back right before Vinny punched her again in the gut. For a moment, she was paralyzed. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She sensed the commotion around her but couldn’t process any of it.
“Hold her head steady,” Vinny growled.
“I’m trying.”
Kennedy could hear the strain in both men’s voices. Jodie was still struggling, but what chance did a thirteen-year-old girl have against two armed men? A toxic, murderous fury boiled over from somewhere deep within Kennedy’s core, and she kicked Vinny in the shin. He cursed and lunged at her. She let out a roar and kicked him once more, this time in the groin. He dropped the pills and fell on the couch.
Jodie cried out once when he landed with his elbow on her midsection.
The room fell silent except for Jodie’s tiny sobs. With her toe Kennedy nudged one of the pills under the couch and snuck her other foot over two more. She couldn’t find the fourth. The pained grimace on Vinny’s face morphed into mask of rage, and hatred dripped from his entire countenance.
“You little …”
Kennedy tried not to shrink back. God, you have to get us out of here. Her heart was thudding violently, pounding as if its one purpose in life was to beat its way out of her chest.
“Where are the pills?” Vinny spoke each word slowly, allowing his malicious venom to lace every syllable.
Kennedy tried crushing the two pills underfoot with her shoe, but they were too durable.
“She kicked one under the couch,” Dustin declared.
“Stand up.” Vinny’s voice was now eerily controlled.
Kennedy got off the couch but had to lean over Jodie since one of her wrists was still cuffed. Her face was a few inches away from Jodie, who cried softly into her hands. I’m sorry, she wished she could say. I’m so sorry.
“Pick up your foot.”
Kennedy shut her eyes. Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do. Only that didn’t apply here. Vinny knew exactly what he was doing. Was he really that deranged? Did he hold such little regard for Jodie and her safety? For the life she carried? Didn’t he know what those pills would do? How could he work for someone related to Wayne Abernathy, whose name was synonymous with the pro-life movement in Massachusetts? So was Jodie’s father involved, too? A dozen potential scenarios, each more troublesome than the previous, whirled their way around Kennedy’s mind in a convoluted, dizzying blur.
She let out her breath, defeated, and took her foot off the two pills she had tried to hide. I’m sorry, Jodie. I’m so sorry.
Vinny kept his eyes on Kennedy. She could feel the heat from his stare boring into her forehead before he jerked his head at Dustin. “Pick them up.”
Dustin came around to the front of the couch.
“Check and see if you can find the others,” Vinny ordered.
A lone, silent tear slipped down Kennedy’s cheek. She couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone. What was the point of reaching the top of her high-school class if she had to stand by and do nothing while a poor, victimized child was forced to swallow abortion pills that would kill her child and ravage her body? What was the point of studying in college until her eyes burned if she couldn’t help a little girl or the baby she was too young to carry? She forced herself to look at Jodie’s heaving shoulders. What was the point of worshipping a God who wouldn’t lift his finger to rescue these precious souls?
The thought was blasphemous, but for the moment she didn’t care. How could Christians understand the evil that flourishes in this world and still walk around with their happy smiles and talk about God’s blessings? How could Christians confront such brutal, beastly violence and then fold their hands and thank God for his providence? She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and guessed what her dad would say:
And we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God. Well, Kennedy loved God. She had given up her rights to a “normal” American childhood and watched her parents start their Secret Seminary overseas. She had sacrificed time she didn’t have to volunteer at the pregnancy center, and now she might never go back to her dorm. She might never talk to her mom or dad again. Another tear leaked down her face.
She didn’t fight when Dustin bent down inches from her and picked up the pills. She didn’t stomp on his fingers or try to kick his nose when he swept his hand under the couch and found the two others. Up until now, she thought the phrase pick your battles referred to minor compromises to help you get along with your family members or roommates. She hadn’t ever stopped to think that sometimes you have to give up the most worthy of battles, the battles that deserve to be fought, the battles that hold life and dignity and innocence captive.
Dustin stood up. Vinny reached his hand out. “You will take these. Now.” He fixed his gaze on Kennedy. “And you won’t get in the way.”
Kennedy didn’t have the strength to cringe.
Jodie took the pills in her hand. In her eyes, Kennedy saw the same resigned sadness that squeezed and wrung her own soul as if it were a soppy-wet rag. “Can I have some water?” Jodie’s voice was quiet, but it didn’t tremble.
Vinny glared for a second longer and then strode to the tool table and grabbed some sort of thermos. As he stomped to the bathroom, Kennedy stared down at the floor.
“Here,” Vinny grumbled when he returned, splashing water when he thrust the cup in front of Jodie.
She raised her eyebrows once at Kennedy. That single, trusting, hopeful look stabbed Kennedy’s heart like a thousand guilt-laced arrows. She blinked back her tears and gave the child a nod. Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do …
Jodie uncurled her legs out from beneath her. She put her feet on the floor and reached for the cup. Kennedy’s throat threatened to collapse on itself. Part of her wanted to force her eyes away. The other part wanted to brand each small detail into the recesses of her memory. Maybe God could forgive Jodie’s uncle and kidnappers for what they were forcing her to do, but Kennedy never could. She steeled up her heart, fortified its chambers with walls of cool, calculating wrath, and wondered if she had ever really understood the phrase righteous indignation until this exact moment.
The thermos trembled in Jodie’s hand. Kennedy sucked in her breath, steeling herself.
The tin cup clattered on the floor. The water splashed out and sprayed Kennedy’s leg. The pills made the smallest of thuds when they hit the ground. Jodie yelped and jumped to her feet. Everyone stared at the front of her pants.
She was covered in blood.
CHAPTER 17
Kennedy forced a deep breath into her lungs even though her diaphragm threatened to spasm. Her head felt light. Whatever energy she still had left seeped out of her body and dissipated into the air.
Ignoring the spinning in the center of her brain, Kennedy balled her hands into fists and glowered at Vinny. “What did you do?” She recognized a hint of hysteria sneaking into her tone but couldn’t control it.
Vinny was still frozen, his angry scowl cemented in place. Kennedy couldn’t stomach the sight of him, but she met his glare with open hostility. Tha
t was another difference between her and the Secret Seminary students. Hannah and the others might be able to love their enemies. But if she ever broke free, Kennedy wouldn’t sleep until Vinny was either dead or rotting away in a general population prison, where she hoped the inmates’ sense of vigilante justice would only prolong his suffering.
She narrowed her eyes and thought about the big pit bull terrier that lived next door when she was a little girl. If he meets your stare, don’t be the first to look away. She didn’t know how long her face-off with Vinny would have lasted because after a few seconds, Jodie sunk back on the couch with a moan. “My stomach hurts.”
At the sound of the tiny whine, Kennedy and Vinny both turned to the couch. Jodie’s hands were clasped around her midsection. The wet spot of blood on her lap was even larger than before.
Contempt heated up Kennedy’s whole body. Stay calm, she told herself. Remember, you’re still their prisoner. She took another breath and swallowed down her disgust. “Would it be all right if I took her into the bathroom?” She remembered the men credited her with some degree of medical knowledge. “She might have gotten injured when you fell on her.”
Vinny looked aside. “You have five minutes,” he growled without changing his facial expression. A jerk of the head sent Dustin fumbling with the handcuff key.
When Kennedy was free, she put her arm around Jodie. “Do you think you can walk?”
Jodie grimaced. “It hurts.”
“I’m going to stand up first, and then I’ll help you, ok?” Kennedy blinked over her dry contacts. She pulled Jodie to her feet, and the child let out another whimper.
Kennedy was so weak she could hardly stand up straight, but she managed to shuffle toward the bathroom, half dragging, half carrying Jodie. A few steps away from the door, she lost her footing and nearly stumbled. She clenched her jaw shut to ward off the frustrated scream that threatened to jump from her throat. Why were they here? Why was any of this happening? And if Jodie needed real medical intervention, what in the world could Kennedy do about it in this cold, musty basement?
Please God, we need a miracle. We need to be rescued. Kennedy grew up learning God had amazing plans for her. When she heard stories of believers who went through incredible suffering or persecution, she figured that they were the unlucky ones like Job, but in the end they too would have their reward. She assumed her own life would continue on as always, paved with blessings, filled with abundance, sheltered from tragedy, free from fear. Could it really be that last week the biggest stress was the calculus test she was now missing?
She thought about Crime and Punishment. What would Dostoevsky say about her situation? Probably not much. Her case was one more petty injustice in a world teeming with suffering and evil. Kennedy had never felt so insignificant, so invisible. She bit her lip, repositioned her weight, and helped Jodie take the last few steps to the bathroom.
“Five minutes,” Vinny repeated behind them.
Kennedy shut the door. A whole day, a whole week of prayer wouldn’t have prepared her for any of this. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to help Jodie? Kennedy wanted to find the man who came up with the catchphrase, God wouldn’t give you more than you could handle, and laugh in his face. Or maybe shake him by the shoulders.
Jodie dropped to the ground when the door closed. Kennedy cringed when she thought about how many bacterial colonies were thriving down there. “Do you want to sit on the toilet or something?” Not that it was any cleaner.
Jodie stared into her lap. “I’m bleeding.”
“I know, sweetie. I think something …” Kennedy stopped herself. She didn’t know what was going on. Had Vinny hurt her when he fell on her? Or was something else going on? “I think we just need to see about getting you cleaned up. Can you come up here?” She patted the back of the toilet bowl and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Jodie glanced at the toilet the same way Kennedy might have stared at the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea after someone told her she should race across it. But she couldn’t leave the girl on the floor, could she?
“I think I wet my pants,” Jodie finally confessed.
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s get you up here, and we’ll see if we can clean you up some.” Kennedy doubted the men had a change of clothes here.
After she helped Jodie onto the toilet, she opened the bathroom door a small crack. Dustin was standing outside, but his gun was still concealed. “She’s bleeding pretty heavy.” Kennedy’s face warmed with humiliation, and she kept her eyes low. She didn’t want Jodie to think she was embarrassed, and she forced her voice to sound natural. “Can we have some pads?”
Dustin looked over his shoulder at Vinny, who was tinkering again at the work table. “What do they need?” he grumbled.
“Pads.” A small hint of pink dusted the tops of Dustin’s ears.
“Pads what?” Vinny yelled back. “Pads of paper?”
Dustin looked once to Kennedy before answering, “No, pads. You know. For girls.” The last two words came out reluctantly.
Vinny slammed his wrench onto the table. “You go get them, then.”
Dustin didn’t object. Kennedy wouldn’t have either, not when Vinny used that tone of voice. Dustin went up the stairs without saying anything else. Kennedy reminded herself to try to gauge how long he was gone. That might give her some clue how far away they were from real people and real stores. She wasn’t sure exactly how that knowledge could help her, though. What they needed was a real SWAT team with real tactical gear. She thought about Dustin’s gun and wondered what other weapons the men had stashed around here.
With Dustin gone and Vinny tied up with whatever project he was working on, Kennedy and Jodie could have a little privacy. She shut the door the rest of the way. Jodie was still clutching her stomach, and in the artificial light from the bulb hanging overhead, her skin looked a strange shade of grayish green.
“This hasn’t been a very good day for you, has it?” Kennedy was half joking and didn’t really expect a response. She didn’t know what else to say. She had dozens of questions, but any one of them would remind Jodie of their awful situation. Another panic fit was the last thing either of them needed. “How’s your stomach feel?”
“A little better, I guess.” Jodie offered Kennedy a weak smile. “Thanks for being here.”
Kennedy forced herself to chuckle. “I could say the same to you, too. I definitely wouldn’t want to be alone right now.” She didn’t know how late it was but figured it was some time Tuesday afternoon. At school, she would either be cramming for calculus or taking that test. It seemed silly now, all the time and energy Kennedy had spent worrying and stressing over her GPA.
“So, you know what you were saying before?” Jodie began. “About God being with you?”
Kennedy had never had a serious conversation — or a conversation of any kind — in a bathroom with someone who was bleeding on the toilet, but what was it she had told Reuben a few days ago? First time for everything. She waited for Jodie to continue.
“Well, I was wondering. Do you think, I mean, do you think he’s with you even when you do something bad … like have an abortion or something?”
The question hit Kennedy like a kick to the gut. So did Jodie know the truth about the pills? “Sweetie, what your uncle tried to make you do … that wasn’t your fault, you know. You didn’t have any control over that.”
“Yeah, but …” Jodie bit her lip. “I actually told him I would. Have an abortion, I mean.”
Kennedy hoped if she ever got out of here that God would keep Jodie’s uncle in another country, preferably on another continent. Kennedy didn’t want the guilt of murder on her hands, but she sure felt capable of it every time she thought about Anthony Abernathy. She couldn’t let Jodie know though, so she nodded and asked, “When did you tell him that?”
“Well, he said that if I let him take me to this clinic after church that he’d … well, he’s going to Franc
e this Christmas. And he said he’d want me to go and be Charlie’s nanny while he’s there, and I’ve never been to another country, so …”
Jodie nodded and kept her gaze on the grimy floor.
“And so after church my parents thought I was just going to play with Charlie for a few hours, but we took him to his grandma’s and went to the clinic instead.”
“What happened there?” Kennedy felt like she was reading an overly-violent scene in a novel. Her initial reaction was to skim past it all, but her brain forced her to pay attention to each word so she didn’t miss anything. Instead of speeding up past the gruesomeness of it all, her mind slowed down as if it wanted to absorb the horror in small bits at a time.
“Well, I started crying. It was hard to breathe.”
“Kind of like this morning?” Kennedy asked.
Jodie nodded.
“That’s a panic attack, sweetie. It feels really scary, but you’ve just gone through a whole lot. It’s your body’s way of showing you it’s frightened.” Kennedy realized then she didn’t know half of what Jodie had endured. Almost all of it was still conjecture. “It’s a natural reaction for someone who’s gone through as much as you have.”
“I told them I didn’t want to do it.” Jodie’s voice trembled a little. “I was screaming. My uncle had to hold me down.” She hung her head.
Kennedy’s skin tingled with rage. “Did he force you?” She had been horrified by the video her dad made her watch once about abortions, and that was when she was a senior in high school. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a thirteen-year-old girl to have to suffer first-hand through something so traumatic.
Jodie shook her head. “No, he would never do that.”
Apparently Jodie had a higher opinion of her uncle than he deserved, but Kennedy kept the thought to herself.
“He went outside for a minute to talk to the nurse. And then he came back and gave me a pill. He said I had a case of nerves — that’s what the crying was about — and that I should take it to feel calmer. But it didn’t help. I started throwing up really bad. Not just like the morning sickness, either.”