by Shay Lynam
Tyler says: What's your angle? Why do you want me to find Emily so bad?
Emily says: I don't care about the girl. If you haven't figured out so far, it's you I'm after.
My heart was pounding so hard by now, I thought it was going to rip right out of my chest. What could this psycho want with me?
Tyler says: Where is Emily? Just tell me what you want me to do.
Emily says: I want to meet you.
Tyler says: If I meet up with you will she be safe?
Emily says: Completely.
Again I looked back over my shoulder at Jordan and Simon. Jordan had somehow managed to cuddle up to his friend in his sleep. The two were going to find themselves in an awkward position when they did finally wake up. They'd be safe enough by themselves. I could just leave the room key. Judging by this guy's message, I probably wouldn't be coming back anyway...
I felt so sick to my stomach I rushed into the bathroom with barely enough time to get the seat cover back up before retching into the bowl. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and I felt clammy and weak. What was going to happen to me? I swallowed hard, getting back up and trying to force the sickness down. Finally, I made my way back out into the room and sat down in front of my laptop.
Tyler says: Tell me where Emily is.
Emily says: You'll find her in O'Bryant Square.
Tyler says: Where's that?
Emily says: I can't give you all the answers, now can I?
Swearing under my breath, I googled O'Bryant Square. It was only three blocks from where I was. Without thinking too much about it – after all, that was the only way I would be able to do this – I grabbed my jacket, took my room key back out of my wallet and laid it down on the table next to the two laptops. Taking one last look back at the two guys who had become my friends over the past day or so, I felt the lump in my throat again. Swallow it down, Tyler, I told myself. I had to do this. I had to save Emily.
When I got outside, the car I had seen from my window was nowhere to be found. The wind was blowing even harder, if that's even possible, and the trees lining the parking lot groaned as they bent dangerously down toward the ground. I tried putting my hood up to shield myself from the sheets of rain but the wind managed to blow it right back off my head and I was immediately drenched. By the time I had reached my car and climbed inside, I was soaked and chilled to the bone. I fumbled through my pockets for my pack of cigarettes. Flipping up the lid, I let out pathetic chuckle as I pulled out the last one.
“It's probably about time I quit anyway,” I muttered to myself as I lit it and let the sweet smoke fill my lungs. Holding the cigarette between my lips, I started the car. It roared to life and the parking lot was flooded with light from my headlights. “O'Bryant Park.”
I turned out of the parking lot and onto the street. Being two o' clock in the morning and stormy beyond belief, the streets were deserted making it a little less difficult to navigate. The sign for O'Bryant Square was invisible in this weather so I missed it completely and had to circle around the block to find it again. Lightning flashed just as I was nearing it the second time so I was able to see the words on the sign clearly for a split second. I threw the stick shift into park and pulled the parking brake before jumping out of the car and running into the square. My eyes scanned the entire place at least twice but it was deserted.
“Emily!” I called over the sound of the wind. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Lightning flashed in the sky again lighting up the whole square. In that instant, I saw a crouched shadow making their way toward me from out of some trees. I ran over to the figure and held them up so I could see their face.
“Emily?” Her hair was stringy and dirty, her make up smeared all over her face and she looked scared and fragile but this was definitely the girl I had seen in the picture.
“Tyler?” she whimpered, her voice small.
I pulled her against me. “Holy crap,” I sighed clutching her to my chest. I felt her arms wrap around me and she buried her head in my jacket. “Let's get out of here,” I yelled over the wind and started for the car, trying to shield her from the rain with my coat. When we reached the car, she stopped.
“We can't,” she yelled resisting my attempts to get her inside.
I took her face in my hands and looked at her. Tears welled up and overflowed, spilling down her face. And her eyes, they held such sadness.
“What's wrong?” I asked over the sound of the wind. “You're safe now. I found you.”
Emily shook her head. “I wish you wouldn't have.”
“What?”
“You should have stayed away.”
What? “I don't understand,” I said quietly.
"I'm...s-sorry..." Her lips trembled as that apologetic whisper broke the silence, and she repeated it over and over again, unable to stop the tears that finally fell to the pavement. “I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...”
“Emily, what are you sorry for?”
“Ah, so glad this worked.”
I turned around and immediately recognized the man standing before me as the guy from the surveliance tape. My eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” I hissed pulling Emily behind me.
“Why don't we go inside and talk?” he said, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I shook my head. “Yeah, I don't think so.”
The man shrugged. “Alright then.”
Then I heard Emily cry out and something hit the back of my head hard enough to knock me over. The last thing I saw was the wet concrete coming toward my face and then everything went black.
By the time I was finally able to open my eyes and lift my head, I found myself sitting on a sofa in an ordinary looking apartment. Of course, the fact that my hands were in my lap, bound together by one of those clear plastic zip ties and the fact that I had a gun pointed at my head made this place anything but ordinary.
“Have a nice nap?” the man asked me, sitting in his chair.
“Best I've had in years,” I replied bringing my hands up together to feel the goose egg sized bloody lump on the back of my head. “Was that really necessary?”
The man shrugged. “I had to get you in here somehow.”
I sized up the guy standing beside me holding the gun. He had to be no shorter than six foot five and could easily bench press a horse. I looked back at the man in the chair. “I'm guessing you had to have him carry me in here.”
He smiled an unimpressed smile. “Now, Tyler, I'm sure you're wondering what you're doing here.”
“Not as much as I'm wondering how you know my name,” I replied.
“I know a lot about you,” he said.
“Where's Emily?”
He waved off my question. “Oh, don't worry about her anymore. She played her part very well in all this.” The fact that I didn't respond made him smile wider. “You really have no idea what's going on.” Still I said nothing. I refused to believe that Emily had anything to do with this guy. “Well then,” he continued. “Where shall I begin?” This guy had to be a joke. “Ah yes, it all started when I screwed a whore and got her pregnant.”
My heart hammered once in my chest just then and I felt my stomach drop. “No,” I whispered.
“Ah, now we get something,” he smiled. “I was wondering if you had forgotten how to talk for a second.”
“You're not...”
“I am,” the man said. “And we have a lot of father-son quality time to catch up on.”
“I'd rather cut off my manhood and sit in hot sauce,” I replied pulling at the zip tie around my wrists.
My apparent dad chuckled. “You have your mother's stubborn attitude, that's for sure.”
“I'm nothing like my mother,” I replied. “and I highly doubt I'm anything like you either.” Again I brought my hands up to the back of my head to feel the bloody mass.
“Want a towel?” my dad asked me.
I glared at him. “No, I think I'll just sit here and bleed at you.”
“No. Sometimes I'm asleep.”
“Very well then.”
“So, are you going to tell me what you want and why I'm here?” I asked him.
He laughed again. “First things first,” he said. “Emily!” he called. A few seconds later, Emily emerged from the kitchen, her eyes holding the same sadness as when I first found her.
“Emily,” I said looking her in the eyes. “What's going on?”
I watched as tears started down her face again. “I'm so sorry, Tyler,” she whispered.
“Why do you keep saying that?” I whispered back.
“Here's the thing, Tyler,” my dad said taking her arm and pushing her down onto the couch beside me.
I sat forward. “Hey!” I turned to Emily. “If he hurt you-”
“You won't be wanting to protect her here in a second, Son.”
“Don't you dare call me your son!” I yelled getting up and lunging at him. I heard a shot and Emily scream. A massive pain started blooming in my shoulder. I landed hard on the ground. My shoulder hurt like it never had before. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out as my dad's lug picked me up by my hands and pushed me back onto the couch next to Emily.
“Now, are you done being a little brat?” my dad asked getting frustrated.
My shoulder hurt. “I've barely gotten started,” I muttered shifting so my top half wasn't touching the couch. On second thought, I leaned back again, smearing my blood on the cushion.
“You done?”
I smirked. “For now.”
“So,” he started. “When I caught word that your mother was dying and planned to leave everything to her poor, wretched son, I knew I needed to step in.”
“What?”
“Enter Emily,” he continued, pacing the floor and putting his hand out as if announcing her entrance. “A cute, young, college student, needing money to support her love for foreign languages.”
I turned to Emily, whose face was still hidden by her hair. “Emily?” she didn't look at me.
My dad laughed. “Her only job was to talk to you and get you to come to Portland to meet her. Too bad she fell in love along the way.” My eyes had not left her and still she did not move.
“Emily, look at me,” I said. Finally, she turned her head and I could at last see her eyes. The sadness that filled them, I now knew was regret. I could feel my own lip quivering so I bit down on it to keep it still. “How could you do that to me?”
She shook her head, closing her eyes and exhaling heavily. “I'm so sorry, Tyler,” she said.
“Luckily I had a plan B.” my dad continued. “I was going to get you here one way or another, Tyler. So, I kidnapped her. I knew you would come after her then.”
“And do what? Force me to sign everything over?”
“Exactly,” he smiled.
For the longest time I held his gaze. My eyes drilled deep into his. I could feel the fire blazing behind my own and my temples ached with every loud thump of my heart. It wasn't what he was doing to me. It was what he had done to Emily. I gritted my teeth and muttered, “Fine, whatever.”
The smile left his face. “What?”
“I'll do it,” I replied still looking him straight in the eye. My shoulders relaxed. “I mean, I never wanted it in the first place. The only reason I met with the lawyer was because I needed to use it to get here,” then I chuckled. “Which is ironic really if you think about it. I mean, you could have just called me and I would have gladly transferred everything over for you. But no, you had to go the evil villain route. You must have something small you have to overcompensate for.”
“How much did you take out?” he asked me ignoring the obvious insult to his manhood.
“All of it,” I lied with a shrug.
My dad's face paled a bit. “It took you two and a half million dollars to get here?” he asked me.
“Nah, it only took me about three grand with everything. The rest I threw in the Willamette River.” A sound escaped his throat that sounded like a stifled cry. “What?” I asked not even trying to contain my smile. “There's still plenty with all her stocks and investments. Of course what with legal fees and everything you'll only get about half. Which is about four hundred thousand, right?”
The man's nostrils flared to seriously two times their size as he stood there staring at me. The muscles in his jaw were working as he ground his teeth together and his hands were balled into such tight fists, his knuckles had turned completely white. I was staring at him, waiting for him to self combust when he looked to his lug and motioned with his head for the guy to follow him into the kitchen. The two left the room leaving Emily and I alone on the couch.
“Tyler,” she started again, her voice shaky, “I-”
“Don't.” I cut her off. “Alright? Just don't say anything.”
“But, Tyler-” This time she stopped as soon as I turned my head and looked at her.
My dad stormed back into the room by himself with a phone in one hand. He threw it down onto my lap, pulled a chair forward and sat down. Taking his lug's gun out from behind his back, he shoved the tip right into my neck and growled, “Do it.”
I swallowed hard, trying to breathe around the big hunk of metal crushing into my windpipe. With shaking fingers, I dialed John Parson's number and held the phone up to my ear praying he would pick the phone up and hoping he hadn't left his cell at work.
“This is John.”
“John?” I squeaked and pulled back away from the gun so I could breathe better. “Hey, it's Tyler.”
“Tyler? What's going on? Why are you calling now?” he asked me sounding a bit concerned.
I looked up at my dad. He raised his eyebrows as if telling me to go on. “I've just been talking to my dad here,” I finally said.
“Your dad?” John sounded very confused.
“Yeah,” I replied. “He contacted me and I decided to come see him. Meet him, ya know?”
“Alright,” he didn't sound convinced. “So what did you call me for?”
“Well, you know I didn't really want any of my mom's money or anything anyway, so I was thinking I would sign it all over to my dad and he can have it. I mean everything I would have gotten after you were able to get everything else.”
“Including the money in the bank accounts?”
“I already got all that,” I said.
“You only took out fifty grand, Tyler.”
“I know,” I said still staring into my dad's eyes. “I'm one greedy SOB, aren't I?” I said with a smile.
“So, just the investments and stocks?”
“Correct.”
“Well, you would need to come and sign everything over,” John said to me still sounding unsure.
“Is there any way I can do it now over the phone? I mean, I'm here in Portland and I just want to get it done now,” my heart was hammering in my chest at this point. “You know me, John.” There was silence on the line and I began to worry that he had hung up or that we'd gotten disconnected. “John?”
A sigh came through my ear. “Alright, Tyler,” he finally said. “I just need some information, so if you will give the phone to your father, I can get things going.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Thanks a lot, John. Here he is.”
I handed the phone over to my dad and he put it to his ear. “Hello,” he said then waited for John to respond. He stood listening for a moment before continuing. He gave John what I'm sure was a fake name and a temporary bank account. Unfortunately, I figured that if this guy was clever enough to get me here and force me into this, he wasn't about to give his real information out. After saying thank you and goodbye, he tossed the phone back to me. I put it to my ear.
“John?”
“Tyler? Now, are you absolutely positive there's nothing else you want to tell me?” he asked.
I again looked up at my dad and said “No.”
“If you're in any kind of trouble or danger, I want you
to say 'have a good night'. Do that and I'll have the police surrounding your location in three minutes.”
“Goodbye, John,” I said then hesitated, “and have a good night.” Then I shut the phone.
“You done?” my dad asked me.
I looked down at the phone then over at Emily. “Yeah,” I finally muttered.
“Good.”
Time slowed down and I was suddenly able to take in everything that was happening, each individual thing and watch it all happen at the same time. To my right, Emily was burying her face in her hands, feeling the guilt flowing through her veins like black ink, pumping into her heart like poison. Dad's lug was coming in from the kitchen, his eyes set on her like she was lunch. Like he was excited to pick her tiny frame up in one of his monstrous hands and squeeze, breaking every fragile bone in her body. And finally, I looked at my dad. I had known this man for all of twenty minutes and I could already tell the kind of person he was. Anytime I had heard mention of my father, I had always wondered what kind of person could be so cowardly, so pathetic that he could leave the girl he had once loved. It all made sense now. This was the type of person that was too selfish, too scared to step up and be a man. Too greedy to – after all this – just leave me alone. This was the man I watched pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at my neck and I couldn't help but smile because I knew I was nothing like him.
It wasn't a flash of black, some coldness or numbness. It was... everything. I was feeling ice sliding down the back of my shirt while watching a dog disappear into a blue sunset, my mother laughing in the background. Seeing a spoon against a neon-blue background, with the sharp pain of a pricked finger as I heard music from the music-box I had had when I was little. I guess people are right. Your life really does flash before your eyes as you die.