Breakdown: Season One

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Breakdown: Season One Page 18

by Jordon Quattlebaum


  Thom went back to testing his bonds, pulling at them against the pipe behind his back. He tried everything. The pipe was solidly fitted and secured, offering no chance at breaking it. Thom pulled at his bindings until he could feel hot, slick blood coat his wrists, and then, for the moment, he gave up.

  …

  It was close to 2am by Matt’s watch when the El Camino pulled into the parking garage nearest the dorm where Thom was being held. Matt rolled down the tinted windows and offered a wave to the lackadaisical sentry on the third floor who waved them in. Rolling up the window, Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Operation Enter the Parking Garage: full success.

  Time for the real fun to start.

  “Good thing is, these kids don’t know much about bein’ good at bein’ bad. Not yet, anyway,” Herbie quipped.

  Bruce smiled. “Luck’s on our side.”

  “Don’t get cocky. Remember, they have guns. I want all of us going home in one piece tonight.”

  The boys nodded, Herbie’s somber reminder bringing them back to the task at hand.

  Matt climbed out of the bench seat of the El Camino, followed by Herbie, and Bruce exited through the passenger side. They closed the doors quietly and moved to the bed of the truck. The bed had been mostly loaded with food, but one section held a secret. Moving a few empty cereal boxes aside, Matt pulled back a blue tarp revealing a smiling Anna.

  “That was fun,” she grinned.

  Matt smiled back. “You could have just sat up front, you know.”

  “And sit on Bruce’s lap? In his dreams.”

  Herbie grinned but put a finger to his lips. “Stay put. Like we talked about. Won’t be long.”

  He walked up the ramp to the third floor cautiously, not sure what to expect. When he scouted earlier there’d only been one guard posted on the garage, so he crossed himself and prayed these kids hadn’t wised up in the last few hours.

  He returned to the El Camino just a couple of minutes later.

  “How’d it go?” Matt asked.

  “Down for the count and trussed up like a hog at a luau. Found him peeing against one of the walls. Caught him by surprise.”

  “That explains the smell,” Anna quipped, pinching her nose.

  “Oh man, did he pee on you, Herbie?” Bruce asked incredulously, a huge grin on his face.

  “Might be a bit on my boot. Don’t laugh!” the old man warned, pointing a finger at the teens.

  They did anyway.

  “Okay, Serious now,” Anna said, “we’ve got a job to do. Let’s get our heads in the game.”

  “Right,” Herbie started, “next objective. We’ve got at least one guard out front at the entrance to the dorms, and another across the street up a bit higher. We’ll leave him out for now as there isn’t a lot we can do to take him—”

  Anna coughed gently.

  “Or her, out,” Herbie finished diplomatically.

  Anna nodded her head, and a small smile graced her lips.

  …

  When Thom heard the vehicle pull up the street and cut its engines, his heart sank. He knew it was the crew Dan had sent to retrieve his daughter. It only sank for a moment, though. His eyes flickering to the victims across from him, a fierce determination filled Thom to the brim. He would not see his strong, loving daughter victimized.

  Ignoring all pain, Thom grunted and strained at his bonds, clenching his teeth so tightly he thought they might crack and powder to dust like old pieces of chalk.

  Nothing.

  “Think, Thom,” he said aloud. “There’s got to be a ‘brains over brawn’ solution here. Just think. How do these things work? A set of teeth, and a little ratchet thing.”

  Then it hit him.

  He reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. Inside was a toothpick he’d kept with him for over 20 years. It was from a restaurant that was located just down the street from his house. It was from one of the first times he’d met Sarah. The first thing she’d ever given him.

  It was a joke between them for the longest time that he’d asked her for her number, and she’d given him a toothpick. He’d had a piece of something green stuck in his teeth. His buddies at the time gave him such a terrible time about that. But now, she had bought his freedom.

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  Thom took the toothpick and inserted it under the ratchet mechanism, shimmying it open. He grinned all the wider as he pulled his bloodied wrists free of their bonds.

  The joy was short-lived, though, as the sounds of the stairwell door opening jarred Thom back to reality. He held a finger up to his lips for the girls to see, then put his hands back behind the radiator. He needed time, and an opportunity. He prayed he’d be given both.

  A moment later, Dan entered the room, holding a couple of lit candles to replace the ones that had burned out. He had two men with him, both armed with bats.

  “Oh, good, everyone’s awake. You guys can bring our new toy down now.”

  Two more men entered the room.

  Thom willed God to strike down the two bastards that carried his little girl down into this dungeon. He’d never seen them before, but this one act filled his heart with overflowing anger. One of them, a kid dressed as a cowboy, had the audacity to wink at him.

  They set her down on the table in the middle of the room that students used to fold their laundry…those few who actually folded laundry, anyway.

  Her hands were bound, but her feet were free. A gag filled her mouth, but she screamed against it, and Thom knew she’d fight until the end.

  This was it. He was going to die down here. He was no match against any of these young guys. “Old man strength” only got a man so far, and there were five of them. Not to mention the fact that he’d already had the crap knocked out of him.

  Dan had a pistol in one hand and a candle in the other as he loomed over Anna. Her breathing came in heavy rasps, her chest heaving with each angry inhalation. Dan delighted in it all. Taking the candle, he dripped hot wax on her exposed legs and stomach. She screamed and squirmed.

  When Dan began to unbutton his shirt, Thom could no longer afford to wait. He flew through the air, spearing Dan with a flying tackle that sent both men to the floor. The gun skittering across the room.

  The other men shouted, but Thom’s focus was on the fight at hand, until an elbow caught him under the chin and made him see stars. Somehow Dan had regained his footing first.

  Thom pushed himself back to his hands and knees, only to catch a kick to the stomach, and then one to the face, splitting the skin of his brow. His vision swam and turned red; not from anger but from the blood dripping into his eye.

  After what felt like an eternity, Thom was yanked to his feet, an arm wrapped tightly against his throat. That’s when he noticed the gun pressed against his back.

  Taking a deep breath, his eyes flickered around the room, and his battered head tried to make sense of what he saw.

  The two men that had carried his daughter down were holding the other two men at bay with guns drawn. Anna was on her feet with a pistol in her hands, pointed at Dan.

  “Anna?” Thom asked.

  “It’s all right, Dad. Those two are friends. We’re here to get you out.”

  “Fat chance, girl,” Dan sneered.

  “I love you, Anna,” Thom said.

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  “We’re getting out of here, old man. Anyone tries to stop me and I’ll put a hole straight through him!” Dan said, jabbing the gun further into Thom’s back. Thom just nodded and began to walk toward the stairs.

  Dan did a good job of keeping Thom between himself and the others, not allowing anyone a chance at a clear shot.

  They reached the heavy metal door leading to the stairwell, and Thom knew he
was in trouble. Past that door his usefulness to Dan was at an end. It was quite literally a “do or die” situation, and dying wasn’t an option.

  Thom held his hands up in the air, and Dan edged backwards until his back was against the door. Dan let go of Thom’s neck, reaching for the door handle, and Thom made his move, spinning away.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  Dan squeezed himself through the door, firing a couple of shots through the door into the room. Matt and Bruce returned fire, punching dozens of holes through the door. One of the guys with a bat decided now would be the time to attack, and he charged Bruce. Before he could get to him, one of the girls who was chained to the radiator stuck her leg out and caught his foot, which sent him crashing onto the table. His head hit the corner with a sickening crunch, and then he was still.

  After that, the only sound was the ringing in their ears.

  Blood dripped under the stairwell door. A lot of blood. Bruce busied himself untying the girls, and Matt broke down and cried. A couple of moments later the door opened, and Herbie walked in. He said something they couldn’t quite make out and pointed up the stairs.

  Thom nodded and moved to his daughter’s side to make sure she got to safety. Herbie caught his eye, and the old man pointed at Thom’s side. When he looked down, he noticed the red blossom of blood forming.

  “That can’t be good,” he managed before falling to the ground.

  …

  “…Hand me that vial…purple label.”

  “Get me the…”

  “He’s losing a lot of blood…”

  “…Rubber hose…clamps from the tackle box...”

  The world spun as Thom Monroe drifted in and out of consciousness. He saw himself lying on a metal table, surrounded by young men and women, and Herbie of course. On the outskirts of the room, sitting in the shadows, were old faces he hadn’t seen in years. Faces of those who’d passed through this realm already. They waited there for him in the darkness.

  “Come on, Daddy. I need you. We just found one another, you can’t leave me now,” Anna pleaded.

  He was tired, and he wanted to sit down and rest with them for a minute or two. Just a short rest…

  …

  Birds chirped, and Thom Monroe felt the warmth of the midday sun on his face. His eyes opened slowly, and he wasn’t sure where he was.

  He was in a bedroom, somewhere. He lay in a twin bed piled high with blankets. An IV stand was stationed next to the bed, with a drip feeding into a line in his hand. Whatever they were dosing him with definitely helped cut the pain.

  There, in the corner of the room, was a sight that sent his heart soaring. His daughter Anna sleeping in a rocking chair.

  A quiver in his chest sent him into a coughing fit, which brought a good deal of pain and woke his daughter.

  “Oh, Daddy, you’re awake! I was so worried about you!” She scrambled over to give him a kiss on the forehead.

  “I told you I was coming to pick you up for spring break, didn’t I?” Thom grinned.

  Anna smiled. “You’re only a couple of days late. We’ll have to spend spring break here at the farm.”

  “You mean we made it?”

  “Welcome to the Jackson family farm, Daddy. Our new home.”

  Thom smiled.

  “How’d we get here?”

  “My friends put you back together.”

  “Med students?”

  Anna looked a bit sheepish. “Vet sciences and chemistry, but they got the job done. The Jacksons are great. You’ll love them. They took us in without a second thought. I think our skill sets and the supplies we brought helped, but I get the feeling they’d have taken us in without any of that.”

  Thom nodded. “If they’re anything like Andrew, they’re good folks.”

  Anna smiled. “Daddy, are we going to be okay?”

  Thom thought for a moment, and then smiled.

  “Yes, baby. We’re going to be just fine.”

  He’d thought those words to himself a few times in the last couple of days, but today, for the first time since the event, he actually believed them.

  They sat in silence for a moment longer, until Anna heard her father snoring softly. She brushed a kiss on his forehead and left him to get some rest. There was plenty of work to do, and those chores weren’t going to take care of themselves.

  About the Author

  Jordon Quattlebaum is a former elementary school teacher who started to think about preparing for emergencies when he became the father of two beautiful baby girls and the husband of a beautiful wife. He enjoys learning about alternative building methods, food preservation, gardening, and countless things from YouTube, as well as playing playing board games and Dungeons and Dragons with friends. Oh, writing is up there, too.

  www.theQuattlebaum.com

  Twitter: @TheQuattlebaum

  Facebook: /JordonQuattlebaumAuthor

 

 

 


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