by Lynn, JB
“Yeah,” I answered, trying the old trick of getting one’s captor to see their captive as a person. “It’s hard. I miss her. I cry every time I go to see her.”
“Liar,” God whispered.
I took a break from excavating and just stood there, holding the shovel. “I just want her to get better,” I whispered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Blondie sidled closer in order to hear me better.
“I just want her to know who I am, you know?” I pretended to dash away tears. “To have her know who I am when she sees me.”
I bent over and let out a fake sob.
“You’re never going to win an acting award,” God whispered in my ear.
I faux-sobbed louder, subtly changing my grip on the shovel so that I could use it as a weapon.
Dad moved closer to comfort me, not realizing I was crying crocodile tears.
I turned as if to get away from him, when really I was positioning myself to attack Blondie.
“Maggie May,” Dad pleaded, sounding heartbroken by my apparent rejection.
“Leave me alone,” I warned.
“Wait to swing until I tell you,” God whispered in my ear, since he had a better view of Blondie.
“Enough with the family drama,” Blondie complained. “Just dig the—”
“Now!” God urged.
I swung the shovel as hard as I could in Blondie’s direction.
It connected with a satisfying thud, the impact reverberating up the shovel’s handle and into my shoulders.
Caught off-guard, Blondie dropped his gun and stumbled backward.
“Hit him again!” God yelled.
I stepped forward to do so but lost my balance as searing pain shot through my foot when I stepped on a rock. It took me a moment to recover and in that instant, Blondie recovered, too.
He grabbed the other end of the shovel and we ended up in a life-or-death tug-of-war over the weapon.
He was bigger than me, stronger than me, but I hung on to my end for dear life.
“Help,” I gasped.
I meant for my dad to help me, but God jumped from my shoulder onto the handle, ran across, up Blondie’s arm, leapt onto his face and stuck his tongue in the henchman’s eye.
Startled, he let go of the shovel to swat the lizard away from his face.
God went sailing through the air screaming, “Sensitive skin!”
I used Blondie’s distraction to deliver a bone-crushing blow to his kneecaps. Literally, bone-crushing…or at least cartilage-damaging. Whatever it was, it made a horrible crunching sound as the shovel made contact.
Screaming in pain, he fell to the ground clutching his knees. Ripping off his shirt, Dad dropped to his knees beside the injured man and stuffed the fabric into his mouth to muffle his cries.
I immediately grabbed the gun from the ground. “Where are you, God?”
“I don’t think God’s going to help us out of this one, Maggie May,” Dad said, kneeling on Blondie’s shoulders to pin his arms so that he couldn’t remove the gag.
“Just lower the shovel and I’ll climb up it,” the lizard called from close by.
While he scaled the handle, I looked to the B&B, trying to determine if the occupants had detected the scuffle. I didn’t notice any activity.
God clambered up my arm and perched on my shoulder. “I’m going to be bruised for weeks.”
“I’m going in,” I told him and Dad.
“Maybe you should go to your sister’s place and call the cops,” my father suggested.
I shook my head. “I’ll assess the situation and then get my phone off the porch and call Detective Griswald.”
“Be careful,” Dad urged.
Nodding, I gingerly walked toward the house, trying not to gasp and groan as the rocks bit into my feet.
“Next time you’re battling bad guys, I’d highly recommend footwear,” God whispered as we approached the kitchen entrance. “Put me in first, and I’ll scout ahead.”
I slowly opened the door, taking care not to make any noise doing so. I placed him on the kitchen floor and he raced away.
Stepping inside, I stood still, holding my breath, trying to make out the conversation that was taking place in the next room, but I couldn’t understand a word.
Instead of God returning, a furry little white blur charged at me.
I bent down to scoop up Benny.
“Problem. Problem. Problem,” he whisper-squeaked as I raised him up to my face. His whiskers twitched like mad and his ears seemed to be vibrating with anxiety.
“What is it?” I asked, trying not to panic that something must be really wrong for God not to come back.
“Bomb. Bomb. Bomb.”
Chapter Twenty-five
My heartbeat stuttered as I remembered how catastrophic the explosion had been at Armani’s place and relived the fear that Piss had died in it.
This was worse. Much worse, because most of the people I loved were trapped in a house with a bomb.
“Where is it?” I whispered, hoping against hope it wasn’t in the dining room so I’d at least have a chance to remove it.
“Dining room. Dining room. Dining room,” Benny said, confirming my worst fears.
I hesitated for a long moment, unsure of how to proceed. If I snuck back outside to call the cops, their arrival could make Sinister trigger the bomb. If I had a standoff with Sinister, someone could be hurt or killed in a shootout and he could trigger the bomb.
I broke out into a sweat as panic overtook me. I had no idea what to do.
“Where’s God when I really need him?” I muttered.
“Right here. It’s about time you acknowledged you need me.”
Relief flooded through me and my heartbeat returned to normal as I looked down to see the lizard standing by my feet. Bending over, I put the gun down on the floor and scooped him up with my other hand. “What should I do?”
“First thing, put Benny outside.”
“No. No. No,” Benny protested.
“Yes, yes, yes,” God insisted. “You can’t help and you’ll be one less thing for Maggie to worry about.”
I turned to put Benny outside.
“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”
I lifted him up to my lips and he gave me three quick little kisses on my lower lip.
“Luck. Luck. Luck,” he said as I put him down on the outside stairs.
Glancing across the yard, I saw that Dad was now standing holding the shovel, his prisoner lying prone on the ground. He hadn’t seen me reemerge, so I quickly ducked back inside.
I put the lizard on my shoulder so he could talk directly into my ear and then grabbed the gun off the floor.
“You do realize that the plague was probably spread by humans kissing vermin, don’t you?” God chastised.
“Not now,” I groaned.
“Like Benny told you, there’s a bomb. Piss says that he’s got a remote control to detonate it with in the pocket of his pants.”
“Front or back?” I asked.
“Front. Unfortunately, he’s sitting right next to Leslie, so your chances of getting a clean shot are pretty low.”
“Do you think I should call the cops?”
“No. He’s listening to a police scanner app on his phone.”
“This guy’s thought of everything,” I said despairingly.
The lizard pinched my ear. “Not everything, you ninny. He didn’t anticipate you taking out his henchman.”
“I got lucky,” I muttered.
“You act like every time you take out a bad guy, it’s some kind of fluke, but I’m here to remind you that you’ve got a pretty impressive success record.”
I knew that he meant that as encouragement, but just the fact that he thought I needed a pep talk revealed how much trouble we were in.
“Maybe I should put you outside, too,” I suggested.
“Nonsense. I’m with you until the bitter end.”
“Do you think this is the bitter end?” I aske
d worriedly.
“Of course not. We’ve got Piss on our side, too. She’s crouched beneath the table, ready to attack. All you have to do is say the word.”
I nodded, slightly reassured that the one-eyed cat would be assisting me.
“You didn’t ask me what the word is,” God nudged.
“Word?”
“The attack command.”
I sighed heavily. “What is it?”
“Silver.”
“Silver,” I repeated.
“Who left their purse and shoes on the porch?” a familiar voice demanded to know from the foyer of the B&B. “Honestly, I go away and you all just—”
Startled, I lunged forward to try to warn Aunt Susan away.
“Stop!” God yelled in my ear. “It’s too late.”
“Oh my!” Susan gasped.
“It’s a sister thing,” God whispered.
“Hands up,” Sinister ordered. “Who are you?”
“Susan,” Leslie and Loretta called together.
“Where’s Griswald?” God asked.
Hoping the U.S. Marshal was outside parking his car, I quickly turned and ran out the kitchen door, hoping to catch him in the driveway. I forgot I was barefoot and barely stifled a scream when the gravel dug into my soles.
Griswald was nowhere to be found and neither was his car.
Dejected, I turned to go back inside. “Great. Now he’s got one more hostage.”
“At least you know she’s still alive,” God supplied helpfully. “There’s that.”
“There’s that,” I agreed, hoping I could keep her that way.
Carefully reentering the kitchen, I checked to make sure that the gun’s safety was off.
I slowly tiptoed toward the dining room, the sound of my approach muffled by the animated storytelling of Leslie, Loretta, Marlene, and Armani as they explained to Susan how they’d all ended up in this predicament.
My hand holding the gun began to shake as I neared the doorway.
“Breathe, Maggie,” God coached. “Remember what Patrick taught you and just breathe.”
I almost screamed and dropped the gun when a white-faced, gray-haired creature with a long snout and a prehensile tail skittered up to me. “You Maggie?” she asked in a voice that was smokier than Lauren Bacall’s.
I nodded, too stunned to speak as the opossum considered me.
“Ian’s outside,” she announced.
I stood up a little straighter as the odds were suddenly tipped more in my favor, knowing that my half-brother was on the scene. Like me, he had the gift to talk to animals, too.
“We thought it was better for me to sneak in than for that loud-mouthed crow to come flapping his wings and his beak.”
“Mike?” I asked, finally finding the ability to speak.
“Yeah. Mike. He came beating on the window, telling Ian you were in danger.”
“How did he know?” God asked.
The marsupial stared at the reptile perched on my shoulder for a long moment. “What do you want Ian to do?”
I considered my options for a long moment.
“Have him throw a rock through the window,” God suggested. “If he attacks from outside, Piss attacks from beneath, and you attack from out here, he won’t know where to look.”
I nodded. The plan seemed pretty solid.
“Can you tell him that?” I asked the possum.
She nodded.
“And can you come back inside and tell me when he’s ready?” I requested.
“Of course.”
She waddled away quickly.
“Feeling better?” God asked.
“Shut up!” Sinister bellowed from inside the dining room.
The storytelling ceased and eerie silence filled the house.
I sidled away from the dining room, not wanting to alert him to my presence before Ian was in place.
“You,” Sinister ordered, “go find out what’s taking them so long.”
A chair scraped along the floor as someone got to her feet.
“And remember,” Sinister warned. “Any funny business and they all die.”
I held my breath, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t inadvertently give away my location.
Marlene rounded the corner, head down. She was almost on top of me when she finally looked up.
Pressing a finger to my lips to signal her to be quiet, I leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Dad’s in the back. Stay out there and, whatever happens, don’t come back in.”
“But—” she protested on a whisper.
“Trust me.” I kissed her cheek and gently shoved her toward the door.
She eyed the gun in my hand nervously but nodded her understanding and slipped outside, letting the kitchen door close audibly behind her.
I turned back around to face the dining room and found that the possum had returned.
“He’s ready,” she whispered. “He said to whistle when you want him to throw it. You do know how to whistle, don’t you? You just put your lips together and blow.”
I nodded my understanding. This was it. The chance to save my family.
I tightened my grip on the gun as I raised it in front of me.
“We could use a distraction,” God said. “Maybe I could tell Piss to let out one of those horrible yowls of hers.”
“I could provide a distraction,” the possum offered. “Trust me, people see a possum in a house and they freak out worse than an elephant spotting a mouse.”
Without waiting for approval, she sauntered into the dining room.
“What’s that?” I heard Aunt Loretta gasp in horror.
“Is that a possum?” Susan asked. “You let a possum in my house?”
Taking a deep breath, I whistled as loud as I could.
“Silver! Silver! Silver!” God bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Glass tinkled, the cat yowled, women screamed, there was a loud crash, and I charged into the room.
But I couldn’t get a clear shot at Sinister because he’d grabbed Aunt Leslie and was using her as a human shield.
“Let her go!” I yelled, taking aim at him.
“Margaret,” Aunt Susan huffed indignantly. “You’ve got a firearm in my house.”
“You’re not going to have a house, lady,” Sinister threatened, shoving Leslie at her and pulling the bomb remote control out of his pocket.
Still tied to his chair, Jack tried to crash it into him, but he missed and fell to the ground with a clatter and a groan.
Sinister kicked at him.
“Ian, throw another rock!” the possum yelled, before falling over onto her side and playing dead.
Clinging to each other, Susan and Leslie stumbled across the room, moving out of the line of fire.
“Get out of here,” I yelled at them, waving them out of the room.
Another window broke as another of Aunt Susan’s garden pavers flew through the air.
Sinister turned to see where the missiles were coming from, and I took my shot. Considering the close quarters, I couldn’t miss. I aimed and pulled the trigger smoothly.
The bullet should have caught him squarely in the chest but nothing happened.
“Safety off. Safety off!” God reminded me.
“It is off,” I muttered.
“Throw another rock!” the possum yelled again.
A malevolent grin stretching across his face, Sinister turned to face me, pointing his gun at me. “I couldn’t trust that idiot with a loaded gun. Me, on the other hand….”
Just as he pulled the trigger, another paver caught him squarely in the shoulder, knocking him off balance and forcing the shot wide.
Not wanting him to get another opportunity to fire again, I threw my useless gun at him and grabbed the candelabra as I scrambled across the dining room table, swinging it wildly at his gun hand.
“Not the silver!” Susan gasped.
I hit Sinister with the candleholder, but not hard enough to make him drop the weapon.
> Meanwhile, Piss leapt at his crotch, digging in her claws.
But still the maniac wouldn’t stop.
The gun went off again.
It took a second for me to feel the pain and another moment to drop the candelabra.
I clutched at my arm with my other hand and felt my own warm blood on my palm.
Sinister yanked the cat off him and threw her across the room. Her body made a horrible dull, heavy sound as she hit the wall.
Losing my balance, I pitched forward and fell to the ground, landing on top of Templeton’s poor painting. On one side of me lay Jack, eyes closed, bleeding from a head wound. On the other were Loretta and Armani, who were feverishly trying to untie Templeton.
I felt cold and weak as I had alternating moments of incredible pain where I’d been shot and feeling like I’d left my body.
“I’m getting my money!” Sinister yelled and fired again.
I couldn’t tell who he’d hit. I was struggling to keep my eyes open.
“He needs a distraction, Maggie,” God whispered in my ear. “Provide a distraction.”
I rolled over onto my side so that I could get a better look at Sinister, who was facing the window, trying to get a clear shot at Ian. I shifted my weight so that the corner of the painting canvas didn’t dig into my ribs.
“Hurry, Maggie,” God urged. “You’ve got to do something.”
I glanced down at the picture, even though some of the paint was now smeared, I could still make out the subject matter. “Old mill,” I muttered. What was it that Jack had said? He set fires as distractions?
Reaching into my bra with my blood-slicked hand, I pulled out the lighter and with a flick of my finger, set Templeton’s art ablaze. I shoved the flaming masterpiece at Sinister’s feet.
Startled, he put the gun down so that he could grab the vase of flowers from the tabletop and douse the fire.
“Her vase,” I muttered under my breath, wondering how Armani’s Scrabble tiles could have benefitted the bad guys instead of us. She must have really angered those spirits.
That’s when our savior made his move.
Templeton jumped to his feet and delivered a solid right hook and a killer uppercut.
Sinister fell like a sack of potatoes.
Chapter Twenty-six
Slowly, with the assistance of Templeton and Loretta, I got to my feet.