by Jon Athan
Reece glanced back at Owen and shrugged—what the hell is going on? Owen wagged his rifle, communicating with the gesture—get in there and check it out.
Reece stepped into the doorway and glanced around the room. The bedroom was dark. He could see the queen-sized bed in front of him. There was a dresser to his left and an entertainment center to his right. The bathroom door was closed and the light was off. There were windows on the parallel walls to his left and right, too. The windows were covered with curtains and blinds.
Reece walked into the room, holding the knife over his shoulder like a masked serial killer in a horror movie. Nathaniel and Jessie reluctantly followed behind, walking with stiff shoulders. They couldn't see anyone through the darkness, though.
Owen and Caden took two steps froward. They could only see the foot of the bed from the hallway.
Owen asked, “What do you see, boys?”
As he stood in front of the bed, Jessie shrugged and shouted, “Nothing! They're not here!”
“Look around. Check the bathroom, check the closet.”
As he walked towards the bathroom, Nathaniel stumbled forward. He barely stayed on his feet. He glanced down at the floor, baffled. The bed sheets were tied to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. The bed sheets were ripped and tied together. The braided fabric led to the window on the left. It looked like a makeshift rope.
As he examined the sheets, Nathaniel whispered, “It doesn't make any sense. They couldn't have climbed down without this dangling outside, right? Vincent would have seen them, right?”
He followed the rope of bed sheets to the window. His eyes widened with fear. There was a noose at the end of the sheets—a loop large enough to strangle any one of them.
As the neo-Nazis searched the room, baffled and anxious, Alexa slowly reached out from under the foot of the bed—a pair of scissors in her right hand. In one swift movement, she grabbed Jessie's left calf and pushed his pant leg up. Before Jessie could react, she snipped his Achilles tendon with the scissors.
Jessie shrieked at the top of his lungs as he fell to his knees in front of the bed. He glanced back and, upon spotting the grisly gash on his sliced ankle, he cried. Again, he didn't have the opportunity to react.
Alexa grabbed Jessie's injured leg, then she dragged the limb under the bed. Jessie's eyes widened as he felt a stinging pain across his calf muscle. Under the bed, Alexa violently stabbed his leg with the scissors. Blood splattered on her face, some of it even squirted into her mouth, but she couldn't stop herself.
Jessie flailed his arms and yelled, “They're cutting me! Help! Oh, fuck! Help me!”
From the hallway, Owen shouted, “Get out of the way! Move, damn it!”
He could see the attack, but he couldn't see who was under the bed since Jessie blocked his view. If he took the shot, he would have shot through his soldier—and that was out of the question.
Owen shouted, “Caden, get in there and shoot 'em, boy! Hurry!”
Caden did not respond. He vacantly stared into the dark room, paralyzed by his fear. Owen sneered in disgust. His son had the perfect firearm for close-quarter-combat, but he was too much of a coward to move forward.
Alexa pushed Jessie's pant leg up to his knee. She had already cut through his calf muscle, so she moved on to the fragile ligaments behind his knee. More blood splattered on her face as she cut through the veins and muscle. Squelching and popping sounds emerged from under the bed.
Nathaniel and Reece finally bolted into action. Nathaniel rushed to the left side of the bed, Reece stood on the other side. Together, they heaved the mattress off of the bed frame. They spotted Alexa laying on her stomach under the bed. They chopped at the wooden bed rails, trying to break through the frame.
Nathaniel tried to stab Alexa's back through the slits between the rails, but to no avail—the blade was too short. Reece crouched and swung the knife at Alexa's body under the bed, but his arms were too short. He couldn't reach her.
As they tried to stab Alexa, Nathaniel shouted, “She's here! Bring the gun!”
“She's cutting him up!” Reece yelled as he crouched down and reached for Alexa. “Shoot this bitch, Caden!”
Owen barked, “Caden! Wake up, goddammit!”
As the men chopped and screamed, Ryan emerged from behind the window curtains on the right side of the room—quiet as a mouse. He held a clothing iron in his right hand, set at the highest temperature. The metal soleplate had reached over 400-degrees. He grabbed Reece's shoulder and turned him towards him, then he pushed the searing iron onto his face.
Reece shrieked as he staggered to his knees. He grabbed Ryan's arm and tried to push him away, but to no avail. The right side of his face slowly burned, his skin sizzling and wrinkling under the hot steel. His tender skin and flesh slowly melted, causing blood to stream every which way across his face and neck. The sweltering steel slid across his face until it burned his lips and nose.
Ryan pulled the clothing iron away from Reece's face. He was shocked by the neo-Nazi's grotesque condition. Reece's cheek, forehead, nose, and mouth were severely burned by the hot metal. His skin was painted with every tint of red. There were some black marks, too—charred flesh. The tip of his nose appeared to be missing, red like Rudolph. Blood leaked from his wounds, spilling out of his peeling skin.
It wasn't over, though.
Nathaniel shouted, “Get off of him, you fucking traitor!”
As Nathaniel and Jessie screamed, Ryan punched Reece with the clothing iron. The soleplate thudded on his mushy skin. The plastic handle crackled with each punch, as if it were going to snap at any moment. Yet, he didn't stop hitting him. One, two, three... seven—he landed seven punches on his cheek, burning his face while cracking his skull. Reece's dead body fell limp next to the bed.
Nathaniel rushed forward and thrust his boning knife into Ryan's lower abdomen. The blade penetrated two inches into his intestines. The pair stumbled back as Nathaniel pushed forward, trying his damnedest to drive the blade as deep as possible.
Ryan grabbed the blade with his left hand. The blade sank into his fingers, but he was able to stop hit from penetrating deeper into his abdomen. He placed his other hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, then he pushed him back. Pushing each other back-and-forth, the pair grappled until they reached the left side of the room.
As the men staggered past the doorway, Caden pulled the trigger twice—bang, bang. The booming gunfire echoed through the room. One bullet struck the wall over the bed, the other hit the floorboard in front of Jessie.
As Alexa stabbed at his leg, Jessie shouted, “Don't shoot! Don't shoot me! Fuck!”
He glanced back and sobbed as he stared at his mangled leg. Riddled with deep gashes, his leg was drenched in blood. In the cuts, he could see his shredded muscle. He screamed as Alexa stabbed down at his leg again. She left the scissors in his muscle as she held down his leg, though. She didn't release the handles, either. That way, if he moved, he would have to cut through his own muscle.
Eyes welling with tears, Jessie stared down the hall and cried, “Just get in here and shoot her! Oh, shit... I'm... I'm dying, man! Help me!”
Owen pushed Caden to the wall and glared into his eyes, furious. He said, “If you don't have the spine to do it, give me the damn revolver.”
Caden's bottom lip quivered as he gazed into his father's feral eyes. His father's rage frightened him. However, he feared the Martins more than anything.
He stuttered, “I–I can get 'em. I can... I just need...” He glanced over at the doorway and shouted, “Get the hell out of the way or bring them to the fucking door!”
While the family argued, Ryan and Nathaniel wrestled in the left side of the room. Ryan gritted his teeth as he pulled the knife out of his abdomen. Blood gushed from the wound and plopped on the floor, but it didn't stop him. The adrenaline pumping through his body helped him cope with the pain. He cocked his head back, then he smashed his forehead on Nathaniel's brow. The headbutt dazed the neo-Nazi.
Ryan even felt woozy due to the powerful blow. His legs wobbled, but he was able to keep his footing. He grabbed the braided bed sheets. As the neo-Nazi teetered about like a drunk, he tossed the noose over Nathaniel's head and tightened the loop around his neck.
Nathaniel's eyes practically bulged from his head as the sheets choked him. He scratched at his neck, helplessly trying to dig his fingers under the noose, but to no avail. Blood leaked from the scratches on his neck, making it harder for him to get a grip on the bed sheets. He swung his arm back and tried to reach for Ryan.
In a croaky tone, the neo-Nazi cried, “Don't... Don't do this. I'm just a kid, man. Please...”
Disregarding his pleas, Ryan wrapped his arms around Nathaniel's waist and lifted him a foot from the floor. With all of the energy he could muster, he threw the neo-Nazi through the window. The window shattered and the glass shards rained down on the muddy floor outside. The bed frame scraped the floorboards, dragged six inches to the left due to Nathaniel's weight, then it stopped. The rope of bed sheets stopped moving, trapped on the edge of the windowsill.
Outside, Vincent gasped and placed his hands behind his head—awed. He watched as Nathaniel flew out of the window. His friend fell three meters down, then his neck snapped as the makeshift rope reached the end of its length. The sound of his bones popping echoed through the forest. His dead body swung back and hit the side of the house, his legs dangling over the kitchen window.
Vincent stuttered, “Wha–What... What the hell is happening in there?”
His hand over the wound on his stomach, Ryan stumbled across the room and approached the hallway. As Ryan closed the door, Caden fired another round. The bullet struck the top-left side of the door. At the same time, Owen quickly turned and aimed his rifle at the doorway, fast and accurate like an experienced marksman. He pulled the trigger and fired, too. The bullet severed the top-half of Ryan's right ear—missing his head by a few measly inches.
Ryan grimaced in pain and slammed the door. He turned the lock, then he stumbled towards the dresser.
In the hallway, Owen shouted, “Damn it!”
As Ryan pushed the dresser in front of the door, Jessie cried, “You can't do this to me! Please, mister, you... you have to let me go. Don't do this, I'm begging you!”
He groaned in pain as he tried to move his mangled leg. He glanced under the bed and trembled in fear upon spotting Alexa's fierce eyes. He knew he was trapped in the room.
He stuttered, “Wha–What are you going to do to me? What is all of this?”
As he staggered away from the barricaded door, injured and exhausted, Ryan responded, “You're going to tell us the truth.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Truth
Owen and Caden stood in the hallway, astonished by the confrontation. They outnumbered the intruders five-to-two, excluding Vincent. Yet, the intruders emerged victorious from the battle—and they even captured one of their men.
As he reloaded his rifle, Owen whispered, “Everything's under control, Caden. Just let me think of something.”
Again, Caden did not respond. He stared at his trembling hand, watching as the revolver bounced every which way. He thought: did I fire two or three times? How many bullets do I have left? He turned his attention to the door at the end of the hall. From the corridor, the father-son pair could hear the footsteps and conversations inside of the master bedroom.
In the bedroom, Alexa sat on a wingback chair in front of the window on the right side of the room, trying to keep her weight off of her broken leg. Ryan leaned on the wall next to the window, holding his bloodied hands over his wounded stomach. Jessie sat on his knees with his legs folded under his thighs and his ass on his heels—seiza-style—grimacing and hissing in pain.
The group had moved away from the room's entrance because they feared Owen and Caden would just shoot them through the door. Reece's body was moved to the foot of the bed, though, and Nathaniel continued to swing from the noose outside of the window. Like the hallway, the bedroom was tense and quiet.
Ryan loudly swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared down at Jessie's mangled leg. Blood endlessly leaked from his mutilated muscle and formed a puddle under his body.
From the back of his mind, Lucia hysterically cried, “My leg hurts, daddy! I got a boo-boo! It hurts, it hurts!”
In the memory, he responded, “Calm down, baby, calm down. I'll clean your boo-boo and make it feel better. Here, put your leg up on my lap.”
He sniffled as he remembered cleaning a cut on his daughter's knee. Ow!—her soft cries echoed through his mind as he wiped her cut with an antiseptic swab.
As soon as her wound was cleaned, Lucia sniffled and said, “Thank you, daddy. It feels a lot better now.”
“It was easy, wasn't it?” Ryan asked in the memory.
Ecstatic, Lucia responded, “Yup! Now I can help the kids who fall in my class, like a real nurse!”
Ryan rapidly blinked and breathed deeply as he snapped out of the memory. He thought: would Lucia be a nurse if she ever grew up?
Alexa tugged on Ryan's arm and asked, “Are you okay?”
Ryan nodded and said, “I'm... I'm fine. We should... We should go on with the plan.”
“Okay.”
Alexa grimaced as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She swiped and tapped at the screen, then she aimed the camera at Jessie. The room was dark, so she opened the curtains and blinds. The moonlight revealed his face. She tapped the 'record' prompt, then she nodded at Ryan.
Ryan knelt down in front of Jessie and said, “I want you to tell us about... about that night. Tell us about Lucia's death.”
Tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes, Jessie shook his head and stuttered, “I–I don't know anything, man. Tha–That was all a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding,” Ryan repeated as he moved away from the wall. He stomped on Jessie's mangled leg, causing the neo-Nazi to howl in pain. Ryan shouted, “Tell me about that night! Stop playing these damn games with me and tell me the truth! What did you do to my daughter?”
Jessie flailed his arms and cried, “Stop! It hurts! You're fucking killing me, man!”
Ryan removed his boot from Jessie's leg. He knelt down in front of the racist and sternly said, “Tell me about that night. Now.”
Owen and Caden glanced at each other—frustrated, angry, horrified. They could hear the entire conversation from the hallway. They heard the talking, the screaming, and the crying.
As he continued aiming at the door, Owen shouted, “It doesn't matter, Mr. Martin! None of this matters! You're going to die tonight and there's nothing you can do about it! Nothing!”
Ryan gently slapped Jessie's cheek and said, “You have the chance to redeem yourself now. Tell me about that night and we'll spare you. What happened after you took my daughter? Shit, why did you take her in the first place?”
Jessie whimpered as he gazed into Ryan's eyes. Although he brutally slaughtered his friends, he could see Ryan was a caring man—a sincere man. He figured he could trust him. He didn't care about incriminating himself, he only wanted to survive.
A sincere man wouldn't lie, would he?
Jessie sniffled and said, “We didn't have a plan or anything like that. It... It just happened. We were buzzed, we were high... We just wanted to fuck around with some people. When you passed us without stopping, it made Caden angry. It made him real angry. He only got angrier when he saw you were with some spic... I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean to say that. It just came–”
“Keep going,” Ryan interrupted.
“Well, I mean, we did what we usually do: we fucked you up. Maybe it wasn't the usual... We did worse, I admit it. We were going to leave after beating you, but then Caden wanted to take the girl. It wasn't part of the plan, but Caden really wanted her. When we were driving away, he talked about... about having some 'fun' with her.”
Ryan and Alexa simultaneously grimaced in disgust. Fun—the only type of 'fun' a
grown and deviant man could have with an unrelated child was sadistic in nature.
As she glared at the door, Alexa screamed, “You're sick, you fucking pedophile!”
Caden shook his head and said, “He's lying. That bastard, he... he's lying!”
Caden turned towards his father and frowned. Owen glared at his son, angered by the allegations. Child abusers were universally despised, even by despicable men.
Caden said, “I swear, dad, he's lying. I never said–”
“Shut your mouth,” Owen sternly said.
A lump in his throat, Ryan asked, “Was he... Was he going to rape our daughter? Is he really a pedophile?”
His voice cracking, Jessie responded, “I don't know, man. He just said he wanted to have some 'fun.' He, um... He touched her chest a little in the back seat, but... I don't know. We never got a chance to find out what he wanted to do to her 'cause the girl jumped out of the car.”
“Jumped?” Ryan repeated in an uncertain tone. “You mean she was thrown, don't you?”
“No. When Caden grabbed at her chest and arms, she tried to bite his fingers. Caden got scared and moved away from her, then she... she fucking jumped out of the car. She wasn't thrown, man, I swear.”
Ryan nodded as he digested the information, collecting the pieces of the puzzle and forming a comprehensible picture. The tragic night was becoming clear to him.
He said, “After she fell out, someone climbed out and shot her. I saw that. We saw that. We didn't see who did it, though. It was dark. So, who shot Lucia?”
As saliva dripped from his mouth, Jessie stuttered, “It–It was... It was Caden.”
Caden stomped and shouted, “You rat! You snitch! You traitor! We're going to kill you, too, damn it!”
“Be quiet!” Owen snapped.
Ryan and Alexa glanced at each other. After years of uncertainty, they finally knew the truth about Lucia's death. The mystery wasn't completely solved, though. The failed court cases still tormented the couple.