Sweet Sacrifice

by Crystal V. Rhodes

  “I’m going to move closer to the playground,” he informed her as he slid out of the car. He ignored her attempt to protest. Opening the back door, he withdrew the shopping bags containing the money then walked around to Sash’s window. He knocked on it and she rolled it down just as he withdrew a set of walkie-talkies from one of the bags. He put one in her hand. Sash looked surprised.

  “What’s this for?”

  “For you. He handed her a card containing both telephone numbers. “You wouldn’t take a wire from the agents but I’m asking you to take this so that you can keep in touch with me. I also want you to slide into the driver’s seat. I left the key in the ignition. At the first sign of trouble you drive away like a bat out of hell.” With that he walked away.

  “Brandon! Wait!” Sash called from the open window, panicked at the thought that he was changing the instructions. He wasn’t to get out of the car until time for the drop. Despite the authorities covering them, anything could happen to him. The thought upset Sash as he ignored her call to him and kept walking. Sash pounded in frustration on the padded dashboard. The man got on her last nerve! It was as obvious as the nose on her face what he was doing. He was putting distance between them in an effort to protect her, and she resented it. She told him more than once that she could take care of herself and she could.

  Rolling the window up, she opened her shoulder bag, unzipped the center pouch and withdrew a small handgun. It was Brandon’s. She had discovered it in a hiding place on his plane on their way here. He had yet to miss it. She wasn’t an expert on guns, but she knew enough to release the safety, point and shoot. If it became necessary, she planned on doing just that.

  She looked up to see how far Brandon had progressed in his trek into the darkness. The street was empty. He was no longer there. Sash frowned. How had he vanished so quickly? She pushed the button on the walkie-talkie and whispered.

  “Brandon! Brandon! Where are you?”

  There was no response. Sash swallowed nervously as she peered past the windshield into the darkness. The bark of a dog and the sound of an ambulance siren in the distance interrupted the silence of the night; but there was still no sign of Brandon. Where was he? She called again.

  “Brandon, I know you hear me.” The whisper was louder this time, more urgent. “I can’t see you. Where are you?”

  Sash stopped short, alerted by a sound. She could hear the crunching of tires against the pavement. She lowered the window a crack and listened intently. The crunching sound drew closer. Glancing in the rear view mirror she spotted the headlights of the car approaching from behind. Was this them? She glanced at the illuminated numbers on the dashboard. It was 11:50. It could be them, but it was still early. Brandon hadn’t made the drop yet. As the car drew closer she lay across the front seat to conceal her presence. As she did so, Brandon broke his silence and answered her call. His voice was calm.

  “Sash, did you hear that? What is it?”

  “A car is coming,” she responded excitedly.

  “Is it them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sash raised her head enough to see if she could see the car and its driver. The passing car had tinted windows.

  “I don’t think it’s them. It’s a little too early.”

  Sash could hear the hum of the engine as the car slowly passed by. Then, waiting until she could no longer hear the idle of the engine, she eased up cautiously. Once again it was quiet. She informed Brandon.

  “The car passed by. I don’t see it.” Sitting up completely, Sash glanced at the dashboard clock. It was nearly midnight. I don’t know why you got out of the car so early, but now it’s time for the drop.”

  She looked out the front windshield. Less than a second later a figure suddenly appeared in the distance and crossed the street. It was Brandon. He moved swiftly toward the playground with a shopping bag in each hand. A single light illuminated the playground and the basketball court. Brandon’s tall figure looked shadowy and mysterious as he moved with purpose through the night. Sash watched as he walked across the matted grass toward an aged jungle gym. Stopping at a wire trashcan he examined it closely and then headed toward the basketball court.

  She needed to get closer to Brandon so that she could… What? Help him? Protect him? She would if it came to that. There was no sign of the FBI agents who were supposed to be protecting them. Where were they anyway? Could she and Brandon really count on them?

  Hurriedly slipping the walkie-talkie into one jean pocket and the gun into another, Sash opened the door and slid out, never noticing the walkie-talkie fall from her pocket to the ground. She did notice the scattering of cars parked on the street. Aware that the kidnapper may be watching from anywhere, Sash used the cars as cover as she scurried up the street closer to the playground.

  Sash was moving forward quickly when she was distracted by a noise behind her. Turning, she saw a car with the headlights off moving slowly down the street. Ducking behind a nearby bush, she watched it moving forward. Sash recognized the car and its tinted windows. It was the car that had driven down the street once before. She froze. It was the abductors. She was sure of it.

  Her attention returned to the playground. Brandon was near the basketball court walking away from a second wire trash can. His hands were empty. He had found the drop site.

  Sash reached for the walkie-talkie to signal Brandon that their nemesis was here. Her pocket was empty. There was no way for her to communicate with him. Frantically, Sash’s eyes searched the ground in the dark in an effort to spot the instrument that could prove to be her lifeline. She couldn’t find it. Her attention returned to Brandon who never broke stride.

  Just as Brandon crossed the street, increasing the distance between him and the playground, the car picked up speed. The monotonous hum of its engine became a roar and with tires squealing the car swerved across the dividing line of the small, two-way street and onto the curb outside the gateless fence leading into the playground.

  Caught off guard by the escalation in activity, Brandon whirled around in time to see someone fling the passenger car door open, leap from the vehicle and head straight to the wastebasket he had just left. The figure was short, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. The figure’s trot turned into a full run as the bounty from the trash can was retrieved. Burdened by the weight of the bags the figure headed back toward the car.

  From the back of the car came a child’s piercing cry. Still crouched in the safety of her hiding place Sash watched the action impassively until jolted by the sound of the cry. It was Sweet! She’d know his cry anywhere. The cry was pain filled and it brought her instantly to her feet. No longer shielded by the security of her hiding place, Sash withdrew the gun. Safety was no longer a consideration. She had one goal and one goal only as she started down the street, running. She was going to get her brother and she dared anyone to stop her.

  CHAPTER 12

  Brandon also heard the child’s plaintive cries, but unlike Sash, his close proximity to the idling car allowed him to hear the slap that had preceded the cry. Brandon had retreated into the shelter of the thicket of bushes across the street from the playground in which he had been hiding prior to having made the drop. He wasn’t sure whether the kidnapper had observed his retreat, but he was close enough to see and to hear all of the action. What he heard made his blood boil. Brandon’s hand settled on the gun resting in his jacket pocket. He was determined to use it if he had to and from the sounds coming from the car he might be forced to do just that. It took a coward to attack a frightened child. He could only hope that he would get the opportunity to get his hands on the bully.

  Tearing his attention from the car back to the playground he watched as the hooded figure reached the car. Brandon guessed by the figure’s movements that it was a woman. He had no doubt that it was the woman caller. She was at the car and Brandon waited anxiously for the young boy to emerge from the car. The abductors had the money, or at least they thought that they had
it. If prayers were answered Sweet would be free before they discovered what they really had were marked bills with a tracking device hidden among them. The child’s only hope for life was to be released here and now. Brandon watched with baited breath willing the boy to appear.

  The woman had reached the car. Shoving the bags through the open window to the driver, she scurried around the back of the car to the passenger side. She was reaching for the door handle when her attention was diverted. She hesitated.

  Following her gaze, Brandon saw what had drawn her attention. His heart nearly stopped. Sash was moving down the sidewalk in plain sight and she was moving fast. He summarized that she had heard Sweet’s cry and that all rationale had been abandoned. As he watched her racing down the street he frantically called into the wire asking the authorities for help. Feeling less than confident in the reassurance that they would come to their rescue in time, it was at that moment that Brandon make a split second decision that would mean either life or death. Withdrawing the gun from his pocket, his focus switched back to the woman at the car; but he found that she was having problems of her own.

  The woman was pulling on the car door handle of the passenger side, but the driver had stepped on the gas and was moving away from the curb. The car was rapidly picking up speed as she trotted along beside it calling to the driver to stop. She was being ignored. As the car’s speed continued to escalate, the back door opened a crack and a small figure appeared in the shadows of the car’s interior. Brandon gasped. It was Sweet. He almost screamed out his name. It was clear that the boy was about to make his escape when the woman managed to open the back door completely and dived into the car. Both woman and boy tumbled inside the car’s interior as the car door dangled open precariously by the hinges. Suddenly, with tires screeching, the driver made a U-turn, heading back in Sash’s direction.

  Emerging from his hiding place, with gun in hand, Brandon followed the fleeing vehicle at a gallop. Grappling for his walkie-talkie, he yelled into it.

  “Sash, here they come! Here they come! Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” There was no response.

  Sash observed the action ahead of her. She could see Brandon talking into the walkie-talkie but her mind was focused on only one scenario, releasing Sweet from his captors. Her only concern was that the kidnappers still had Sweet and that they were getting away. That wasn’t going to happen.

  As the lights turned in her direction, Sash found refuge behind an abandoned car. Tightening her grip on the handle of the gun, she watched the car approach. A dim street light in the middle of the block provided her with the light she would need to assure her of hitting her target. There would be only seconds to take aim and stop the car and chances were slim that could be accomplished, but she had to try. With adrenaline pumping she scurried around the front of the car and settled into a crouch. Whispering a quick prayer for Sweet’s safety she held the gun with both hands, pointed it and took aim at the car’s front tire.

  The car was only a few feet away. The streetlight reflected off the car’s tinted windshield and Sash could only guess at the face of the man sitting behind the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure that he saw her, but if he did she could imagine his taunting laugh at having extorted the money from Brandon. Well, she would have the last laugh after she stopped the car and she was going to stop it.

  Every muscle in Sash’s body was tense. The hatred she felt for her faceless nemesis welled up inside her like bile. The car was within sight. Shoot! The word exploded inside her head as loudly as the shot that echoed in the night.

  Lights flickered on in nearby houses and people peered from behind drawn curtains and shades to see what had disturbed their peace. Further down the street, Brandon stood, gun in hand, also aiming at the fleeing vehicle. His shot had also pierced the stillness of the night and had hit its intended target—one of the car’s back tires. Simultaneously, Sash's shot hit one of the front tires. Both tires ruptured with a loud pop. A child’s terrified screams came from the car’s interior.

  A hubcap from one of the tires jumped from its mounting and rolled around in a grotesque circle dance before landing in the street with a clang. Crippled by flat tires at a fast speed the car jerked out of control. It jumped the curb, careening through waist high weeds and grass that covered the vacant lot next to the playground. Sash sprinted after the car, calling for Sweet. Brandon did the same, calling her name. Fighting tangled weeds that lashed at her hands and legs, Sash reached the lot before Brandon and was the first to see the large tree rising majestically above its untended domain. She made no connection to its towering beauty and disaster. Her only goal was to reach Sweet. She was within yards of her destination when she heard the dull crush of metal then smelled the sweet odor of gasoline.

  Whether it was the kidnapper’s scream, Sweet’s screams or her own that rang out as the car exploded was unclear, but Sash’s lungs ached with the sound of her brother’s name as she rushed toward the fury of crackling flames that followed. She beat at the weeds that stood between her and the car as she drew closer, so close that she could feel the searing heat of the flames that lit the midnight sky. She was almost there, a few feet away from saving Sweet, and then suddenly she was tackled. Sash fell face first to the ground.

  Brandon was holding her, dragging her away from the wreckage. She fought him, twisting, squirming, wiggling, and struggling to break free as she screamed for Sweet. She screamed his name over and over.

  The light of the flames bore witness to the agony unleashed from them both as they struggled in the shadow of the fire. The force of the collision had demolished the vehicle, leaving only the opened back door on the passenger side hanging by a hinge, unscathed. The subsequent explosion had extinguished any hope of survival for the car’s occupants. There were no signs of life. But any hope was better than no hope and somehow Sash slipped from Brandon’s grasp. She started once again toward the flames.

  The heat was intense and Sash shielded her face with one arm as she advanced on the burning hulk. Her screams intermingled with gut wrenching sobs as she stood before her brother’s funeral pyre—a pyre that she had helped light. The pain was unbearable as sobs tore from her throat. She tried to leap forward but Brandon caught her firmly by the waist dragging her backward in a vice like grip which she fought with matched determination. The struggle was fierce as she fought to die and he fought to keep her alive.

  As their struggle continued, voices and footsteps could be heard in the distance as people ran from their homes toward the field. Revolving red lights from squad cars cast eerie shadows in the night. Someone knelt beside Sash and Brandon asking about their welfare. Brandon didn’t answer and Sash couldn’t answer as she lay in his arms. Her screams had ceased and had turned into a low, mournful wail, a primal sound, like that of a wounded animal. It was over. Sweet was gone. The ruins of a vacant lot had become his burial ground.

  Brandon felt Sash’s pain as he buried his face in her hair, holding her close, in an attempt to shut out the sights and sounds around them. Fire engines had arrived behind the squad cars. The smell of charred remains and smoldering metal intermingled with the glare of rotating lights and the din of voices shouting commands and making inquiries. The quiet night pulsated with activity. It was alive with motion, but not for Sash and Brandon.

  Immobile, Sash lay in Brandon’s arm tasting her tears and feeling her pain. It was intense. Her goal, her mission had been clear, to get Sweet home safely, but she had failed. The possibility no longer existed. All hope for that had gone up in flames. Now only guilt, pain and misery remained.

  As Sash began to slip into the welcomed oblivion of unconsciousness, the sounds around her began to fade, including Brandon’s effort to keep her with him. “Sash! Sash!” Also fading into the background was the disembodied voice of authority giving orders. “Hey, Hartman, look at this. Over here! Over here!”

  The sound of rushed movement, hushed conversation and the memory of a child’s plaintive cry all faded
into the distance as Sash descended into welcomed darkness.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sash’s eyes felt as heavy as lead as she slowly opened them. The light in the room was blinding and she blinked against the intrusion as she regained consciousness.

  “Sash?” It was Brandon calling her name and he sounded worried. What did he want? She looked around, but her vision was blurred. Where were they? Gradually the jumble of the day’s events began to unravel in her mind, climaxing in the fiery ball of flame that had taken her brother’s life.

  “Sweet!” Sash screamed, sitting up with a jolt as the reality turned to grief. Sobs racked her body.

  “Sash, don’t.” Brandon reached out to comfort her and drew back stunned as she slapped him hard across the face.

  “Murderer!” Her face was contorted with hate. “You killed my brother! You called the cops! It was you! Your fault! You killed my brother!” Dropping back onto the bed, Sash covered her face with her hands, weeping uncontrollably. She didn’t hear Brandon draw away from the bed, nor did she hear the door to the room open. She didn’t hear the rustle of movement in the room or the muttered conversation of those around her. Sash’s mind, body and soul were all consumed by the grief of her lost, so much so that she didn’t hear the whispered sound of her name being called—not at first.

  “Sash?” The voice grew a little louder. “Sash, please. Don’t cry.” It was the voice of a child. The voice belonged to Sweet.

  What cruel joke was Brandon pulling? Did his cruelty and insensitivity know any bounds? Sash could barely open her swollen eyes, but she was determined to get Brandon Plaine told. Through the tears and over wrought emotions Sash forced herself to focus on the face that she could feel near her own. She was ready to attack Brandon again if necessary. She wanted him out of her life!