by Lizzy Ford
“Except, today, it’s not a game.” Baba opens his fist to reveal what he’s holding. “Answer quickly,” he orders.
I stop breathing for a moment, my heart taking off. “No. It doesn’t.” No part of me objects. If anything, the choice seems even simpler.
“How does it feel?”
“Right. Natural.”
“There it is then. Decision made.” He appears pleased. He replaces it in the pouch and hands it to me. “Now go tell your brother.” His work done, my father returns to his place at the hearth with Katya, who’s waiting curiously to hear what’s going on.
The familiar sense of flying towards a mission comes over me: exhilaration mixed with the kind of calm, brutal clarity fueled by adrenaline. It causes the world to slow down to the point where I can take in every last detail of my environment before the chaos of a mission erupts. I open the pouch once more and remove its single inhabitant.
My mother’s engagement ring. It’s plain considering her wealth, bought for her by a man on a soldier’s budget in a country and time where luxuries such as this probably cost him a year’s wages at least. She was buried with her wedding ring, I knew, but I never considered her engagement ring or that Baba was saving it for Mikael’s bride.
Understanding his intention gives the simple solitaire even more importance. Baba had met all my girlfriends and Mikael’s over the years and never once mentioned this. He knows what I do: that the right person makes all the wrong ones seem so obviously incompatible, it’s painful. It’s moments like this when I don’t doubt my father was a damned good spy chief capable of assessing a person like no other.
Stuck in the moment of clarity, I grab my sweatshirt and shrug into it as I leave the study for the backyard. Five generations of my mother’s family are buried in the garden-sized, private cemetery surrounded by snow-topped hedges. It’s cold and dark, somewhere around four thirty. The back lawns remain well lit from the holiday weekend, and I trudge through the snow. More snowflakes build in my hair and soon, the skin of my head is cold.
I open the freezing iron gate of the graveyard and enter. There are footsteps leading to Mikael’s grave. Katya comes here daily when she’s in town to talk to him and Baba at least two to three times a week. I tend to drop by after long runs, about four times a week. It’s when I miss him the most. We worked out together every day throughout high school, college and when stationed close enough to run together in the military. We always talked during those times about whatever was going on in our lives, how irksome Katya could be, and who Baba was trying to set us up with that week.
Standing before his tombstone, I reach into my pocket to touch the pouch and smile. Baba’s gut test is twofold, and I know it. First is to see my reaction when he handed me the ring. The second: what I tell Mikael. It’s not possible to lie at the grave of someone you love. This is where Katya came when she and Sawyer became serious, and Sawyer came to tell Mikael as well how he felt about my sister.
I brush the snow off the top of his tombstone and crouch. I don’t normally speak when I’m here, just … think. Or maybe, speak to him silently the way we used to while running.
This weekend filled in many of the gaps I had about Claudia. We spoke for hours upon hours about everything from our families to favorite movies to pet peeves and turn-ons. Without her barriers, she turned into the kind of woman I glimpsed through our interactions at the diner: kind, sweet, spirited without a drop of malice, affectionate, honest and genuine to the core. She loves to laugh and equally to tease, and in bed she shows the same spirit of adventure, endearing consideration and generosity she does outside.
She reacted with compassion rather than pity or revulsion to my leg. Her tears and desire about wanting to take away my pain still touches me to the point I’m left speechless whenever I stop to savor the memory and recall the expression on her face.
Even the voice of insecurity has nothing to say about how I feel for her.
“She’s kinda perfect,” I tell Mikael, unable to help my smile. There’s no other way to say it, nothing left to explain. Mikael would know what that means.
I do, too. There’s nothing wrong with my thinking. For the first time since the incident, my path is completely clear. Claudia is my future.
“Petr!” Katya’s breathless cry comes from just outside the graveyard.
I stand quickly, hearing the alarm in her voice.
“Petr! Todd is having a seizure or something!”
I whisper a catch you later to Mikael and hurry out. Katya’s in Sawyer’s coat and breathing hard from her sprint through the thick snow. She waves for me to hurry and turns away, hurrying back to the house.
Concern flares within me. I beat her back and take the steps up the veranda two at a time then wait for her at the door to the kitchen. “Where is he?” I demand.
“Foyer!”
I picked him up after school today and brought him here before unleashing him to hang out with Riley, the SEAL from my old team, for a bit. I know Riley had plans at five and Todd was supposed to pick out which room upstairs he wanted for his own, since I suspect he and his sister will be here quite often from here on out.
When I reach the foyer, I see Sawyer with the kid. They’re seated on the floor, Sawyer’s hand on Todd’s back and Todd’s head between his knees. His breathing is shaky, his face blanched and his body shaking.
“Is he okay?” I ask. I never thought to ask Claudia if Todd had health issues. I kneel beside him and ruffle his hair. He’s not in danger now. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is ragged if steady. Sawyer’s an expert at calming down someone in the middle of a crisis or meltdown, a skill I suspect comes in handy with my emotional sister.
“He hyperventilated,” Sawyer explains. “Probably because of this.” He hands me Todd’s phone. “He was on his way out the door when he sort of dropped.”
I take the phone.
Todd dont go hoem. Go somewhere else. Don’t go home. He found us he’s here don’t go home. The hasty text is from Claudia.
My breath catches for the second time in the past half hour. I can almost feel her panic and terror. Instinctively, I reach for my phone. I’d put it on silent when I went to talk to Baba and Katya. I’ve got a voicemail from a number I don’t recognize.
Standing grimly, I hit play to listen to it.
“Petr! He’s here … he says he has Todd. I can’t … oh, god I can’t do this again. Please help me find Todd.” Claudia’s hysterical voice cuts off.
My blood runs cold and for a long moment, I don’t register anything except the despair and fear in the voice of the woman I care about. I blink, and automatically, as with any time I’m faced with danger, I flip into mission mode.
“Sawyer, keep Todd here and calm, please,” I say over my shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait,” Todd whispers and shifts. He hands something to Sawyer, who tosses it t me. It’s the key to their apartment.
“Petr …” Katya is gazing at me uncertainly.
“Come help me with Todd, baby,” Sawyer says to her softly. “Petr knows what he’s doing and when to call for backup.”
I give a wry smile, snatch my keys from the coatroom, and trot outside to my truck.
Whether or not she knows it, Claudia is already part of my family, and no one threatens those I love.
Chapter Twenty: Claudia
I’m struggling not to melt into the puddle I usually am when he finds us. The memory of this weekend gives me some strength, the reminder of what happiness feels like, of how much I want to feel that forever.
Whatever happens, the mess with The Monster ends tonight. I don’t care if it costs my life in the process so long as Todd is safe. I know Petr will take care of him if something happens to me. It’s all I can think of as I stand staring at the door to my apartment.
The door is ajar, a welcome mat daring me to enter lain out with The Monster’s twisted sense of humor. I’m trembling already and trying not to fall apart, for
Todd’s sake. Hands and face numb from the weather, I’m short of breath from the mad sprint here. My legs are heavy, my lungs burning from sucking in quick breaths of below freezing air, and my hair wet from the snow.
I push the door open. “Jake?” I hate the fear in my voice. “Todd?”
The Monster is seated at the kitchen table on the other side of the kitchen flanking the entrance. One leg is crossed over the other, and he’s relaxed. His eyes are as dark and cold as the snowy night.
Every time I see him, I want to puke. He usually has a plan when he finds me, and this time is no different. Beside his feet are two red, five-gallon jugs of gas.
Oh, god.
“Close the door, Claudia,” he says.
I do but I don’t lock it, just in case I have the chance to leave. “Where’s my brother?” I ask and venture halfway through the kitchen.
“Safe for now.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter, Claudia? He’s not here. You can check.”
The Monster is a pathological liar. I can’t trust anything he says. My eyes go to Todd’s closed door. I know this trick well. If I leave my position near the door, I can no longer run. Jake has me trapped, which is what he wants.
But the apartment is too quiet. If Todd is here, he must be hurt or tied up to be so quiet. If he’s not, then I need to know where he is.
Swallowing hard, I leave the kitchen and cross to Todd’s room first to push open the door. “Todd?”
The apartment door locks, and I stifle the urge to start crying. The Monster has me where he wants me. I make a show of searching Todd’s room thoroughly, including the closet, when I spot the skull and crossbones on his Secrets Box.
Todd’s gun. It’s under my mattress.
My emotions surge.
Hoping to play off my eagerness, I leave Todd’s room and go to mine.
“I told you. He’s not here.” The Monster grabs my arm.
I wrench away. “Todd!” I push open my door next and examine the room with the same interest as Todd’s.
“He’s in the trunk of my car, Claud,” The Monster says from the living room, entertained.
I freeze momentarily and quickly calculate whether or not he had the time to tackle and tie up Todd before I arrived.
He did. It doesn’t look like Todd even made it in the door. His book bag isn’t around, and the blanket of the bed where he sits to take off his shoes isn’t crinkled.
Todd didn’t get my message. He walked into a trap.
I can see The Monster’s legs from his position on the chair beside the couch. Bending quickly, I swipe the gun from beneath my mattress and tuck it in one of the deep pockets of my coat. I don’t know anything about them, even if it’s loaded, but if it gets me out of here and to The Monster’s car …
Emerging from my bedroom, I stare at him. I hate the fact I’m shaking and almost too terrified to move. “What do you want, Jake?” I whisper.
“What’s mine. And to know why you sold me out.” He says the same words he did last time. The Monster stands, grabs a chair from the able and sits it in the center of the living area. He snatches my arm next and shoves me into it.
“Is Todd okay?” I ask.
“As long as you cooperate.” He sits down in the armchair once more and stretches to reach into a pocket. He withdraws a switchblade and flicks it open. “So tell me, Claudia. How much of the government’s case did you give them?”
I know this game. It crushes me before it even begins. “Nothing. I gave them nothing.”
The Monster takes my arm, pushes back the sleeve and slides the blade of the knife down my forearm. I gasp at the flash of pain.
“I’ll ask again. How much came from you?”
“Nothing.”
Another cut, this one deeper, more painful.
“Are you testifying?” he asks.
“I want to see Todd,” I respond.
Another cut. I yank away. The Monster slaps me and pulls my hand back. My frozen cheeks don’t save me from the pain of his blow; if anything, the sudden return of sensation stings worse than I recall a slap feeling.
“Are. You. Testifying.”
“Todd. Then I’ll answer your –”
This time, it’s a punch that knocks me off the chair. I hit the ground, my head spinning.
“You don’t negotiate with me, bitch!” The Monster snarls. “Or didn’t you learn that the last time we had a little talk?” He hauls me up and shoves me onto the chair again.
I’m crying, and I hate it.
“If you don’t tell me what you told the feds, I’ll cut you to pieces and do the same to Todd.”
“Stay away from him!” I shout, sickened by the image in my head of the last time he hurt Todd. Anger gives me strength, and I shove The Monster away from me and bound to my feet. I reach for the pocket with the gun.
The Monster is faster. A flash of silver crosses my gaze, and the knife bites into my cheek. Startled, I stumble back. He pushes me to the ground and shoves me onto my belly.
“I’m taking no chances with you this time, Claudia,” he snaps.
Pinned beneath his weight, I struggle to break free. The sound of duct tape being stripped from its roll rips through the air. My cheek is warm from the wound, the blood pooling beneath me.
The Monster wraps my wrists with the tape and leaves me on the floor.
“I’ll burn this place to the ground and when I’m done, you want to know what I’ll do to your sweet little Todd?” he growls.
He starts to tell me in such filthy, disgusting detail, I break down and cry at the visions flashing n my mind. As he speaks, The Monster snatches one of the jugs and begins dumping its contents all over the living room. The scent of gasoline fills my nose and helps pull me from the building hysteria.
If I die here, Todd is next. The singular thought forces me to act when I want to lie there weeping until it’s finally over.
The Monster is going on about the mess I put him in with the feds. “It’s your fault, Claudia!” he shouts at me and approaches once more, shoving his foot into my back to keep me on the ground.
I wait for his fit to end and him to move away before I climb to my knees. One of my many readings since beginning to run was about how to break out of bonds. Duct taped wrists in front of the body – easy. Behind me? I can’t get the leverage I need to rip the tape. My eyes dart around for something sharp as The Monster returns to his rants and covers the living room with gas.
Todd’s scrapbooking project is under the coffee table. I remember there being scissors, even if I can’t see them in the shoebox where he’s gathered the disjointed project. With a glance towards The Monster, who is in the kitchen, I shuffle on my knees to the table and push it aside with my shoulder. I can see the scissors in the bottom of the box and lean back awkwardly until my fingers brush the box. With more concentration than I thought myself capable of, I stretch for the scissors and maneuver them around the best I can.
They slip more than once, and tears blur my eyes. Todd can’t die because I had a meltdown. I’ve kept him safe for four years. I’m not going to fail him now. With renewed effort, I manage to pierce the duct tape once with the blades and scratch my thumb. I shift and do it again and again, crying quietly at the pain caused when I miss stabbing the tape and hit my hands.
Pausing when The Monster crosses through the living area towards the bedrooms, I resume the moment he turns his back. With a hefty tug, I manage to break one side of the bonds and twist my hands free before bounding to my feet.
“Hey!” The Monster shouts, emerging from my room.
I reach for the gun in my pocket only to find it gone. My eyes search the floor frantically as I duck an attempt to grab me by The Monster. Skirting the armchair, I spot it and lunge.
The moment I lift it, he freezes. “Don’t get no ideas, Claudia. You shoot me and the whole apartment goes up in flames.”
“It’d be worth it for this to be over!” I respond and wipe t
he tears from my eyes with one hand.
“Not if you kill Todd in the process.”
“You said he’s in the trunk of your car!”
“Or under the kitchen sink. I had to move your snowman jar.” His smile is cunning.
My heart sinks. There’s no way for me to know what the truth is without verifying it for myself. I struggle to determine where Todd might really be. At four fifteen he said he was almost home. It’s a quarter ‘til five now. Assuming he made it in the door, he would’ve hung up his key beside the door the way he does every day.
I inch to position myself for a clear view of the area around the door.
The muzzle of the gun is trembling, thanks to my unsteady hand. I’ve dreamt of a world without The Monster and experienced it this past weekend.
But I never considered what it’d be like to have the choice and power to kill him like I do now.
“I sprayed the cabinets down good,” The Monster adds.
“Let him out.”
“No.”
I choke back a sob. “Jake … just go! Leave us alone! No one will find you here … just run to Mexico or something!”
“I’ll be hunted wherever I go, thanks to you.” He shakes his head. “No, Claudia, if I’m going down, you’re coming with me, and so is Todd.” The Monster pulls a lighter from his pocket.
“You won’t do it,” I say. “You’re a narcissist.”
“A narcissist headed to jail.” He flicks it closed, open, closed, open. “You willing to risk Todd’s life on it?”
My world is cracking and starting to crumble. The safety and joy I experienced in Petr’s arms, the fairytale weekend … they were too good to be true. This is my reality, and no amount of hope will change it.
“Or you put down your gun and I’ll put down the lighter,” The Monster adds.
I risk a look over my shoulder towards the door.
No key.
Todd didn’t make it into the apartment.
“I want this to end, Jake,” I whisper and shift the gun to see if there’s a safety or anything. “I don’t care if we both die to make it happen.”
By the look on The Monster’s face, he’s starting to believe I’m serious. Which is good, because I am. My heart feels like it’s in a blender, my mind flickering between images of Petr’s face to Todd’s and how I’ll miss the both.