Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  “Oh yes. Where did you think I got it from?”

  “Your mother acts normal and talks normal, but she isn’t. Just like you.”

  “You understand her and me. I knew you would.”

  She wanted to scream that he couldn’t know her, and she wanted to escape so much she could taste it. Her instincts told her to keep him talking. Talking. Somewhere in all this stupid chat, she’d find a way to survive.

  The grin splitting his face turned maniacal. “I like you. Would you stay here with me? If you do, you’ll fade into the walls, too.”

  “Why is the house this way? There aren’t any other houses like this place.”

  He stepped toward her, and she stiffened. “There are other places like this. Other people like me. You just haven’t run into us before. Your lucky time, I guess.”

  “Does this only happen when a solar flare happens?”

  He shook his head and moved a step closer. “No. It happens all the time. But the solar flare is helping. The energy is making it easier for darkness to overtake the earth. It’s so delicious, isn’t it? All the people who have died here. Who’ve come in here and disappeared never to be seen again.”

  Horror didn’t describe her feelings. Frozen in disgust, she could barely speak. “Who else died here?”

  “So many. Many.”

  She inched away from the entrance, taking one step back. Fear rose inside her far stronger than it had moments ago. She’d fought it. Wanted to ignore it and had succeeded for a short time. No the thick, horrible feeling overtook her.

  Again he touched the curtains, as if he could learn from their texture. They reminded her of curtains her mother had once had on her kitchen windows. The air smelled musty, close and thick. As if oxygen had been restricted here.

  “You’ll become these cabinets. This floor. You’ll be a part of something extraordinary. Just like I am,” he said.

  For a staggering moment, perhaps only a second, her will to survive faltered. She hovered on the cusp, recognizing she was where many, many others had been in their lives. The moment where a person decided whether to fight or to succumb.

  Blackout: Chapter Thirteen

  A groan awakened Griff. Who the hell was making that noise? Couldn’t they see he wanted to sleep? Just sleep. Aches littered his body, and he wondered if he had the flu. No, that couldn’t be it. He rarely even got a cold. It was one thing his fellow marines always commented on when it came to Griff Nelson. He never faltered. Never lost. Never gave in even when a situation verged on hopeless. Fuck if he’d surrender to a damned virus. Shit, his head hurt, too. Maybe he was the one doing the groaning. Recalling basic, where he’d first learned to become a marine, he ignored his pain and opened his eyes. In the part of his brain not complaining about how much he hurt, he heard the other part of him think, Man up, pussy.

  What he saw confused the hell out of him.

  Penny sat on the floor next to him, legs crossed, a shit-eating grin on her face if there ever was one. She wore nothing but her underwear. A plain white bra and panties. Her soft, rounded body was significantly overweight, but that didn’t faze him. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what she had planned and why she’d apparently clobbered him over the head. A lamp lit the large attic space, and he noted a baseball bat propped against one box. Probably the one Cassie had the other day, and the one Penny had used to knock him cold. He lay on his back, arms and legs splayed out. She’d obviously rolled him onto his back.

  “What the—” he started.

  “Shhhh,” she said. “You’ll be all right now. I’m sorry I had to hit you so hard.”

  Obviously something weird was happening, so he resolved to move slowly and keep the conversation calm. As soon as his body cooperated, he’d tie her up and find Cassie. Fear for Cassie churned inside him. Where was she? Had Penny hurt her?

  “Why did you hit me?” he asked.

  “Had to. It’s a part of the plan. Benson promised me I could have you if I cooperated with him.”

  “Benson?” For a moment the name didn’t register.

  “My son.”

  Judas Priest. Yeah, he remembered now. Cassie had filled him in on what Penny had revealed about her son.

  She spoke again. “But you’re such a big guy I knew hitting you from behind was the only way. I wasn’t dumb enough to hit you too hard, of course.”

  He couldn’t thank her. Instead he eased slowly into sitting position, propping on his elbows as pain spiked up his neck and into his head. Fuck, if she hadn’t permanently screwed him up seven ways to Sunday he’d be damned lucky. When he made it into sitting position, and she didn’t attack him, he counted himself lucky.

  “Why did Benson say you could do this? What do you mean by have me?”

  “I’ve always admired you.” She smiled again, her eyes blooming with a craziness anybody would recognize. “Since the moment you walked into the resort. You know, I thought maybe Benson was a loony, but when I first met him I understood we are definitely alike. Mother and son. A pair. I guess it wasn’t just him that was loony. It’s me, too.”

  Griff took one deep breath and then another. A woman with mental illness—he had no idea what—and an equally screwed up son. Not unheard of, but he’d never had the misfortune to run into two at one time. Just his luck.

  Fear made him ask, “Where’s Cassie?”

  She frowned, all sign of adoration disappearing from her eyes. “Don’t talk about her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s out of your life forever. It’s only you and me now.” She leaned forward, her elbows propped on her lower thighs near her knees. “We’re in this apocalypse together. She is out of the picture.”

  Stunned, Griff stared at the woman. He braced, ready to take action. “What do you mean out of the picture?”

  “Benson’s taking care of her. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt her. He told me about all the other women, but he said Cassie is different. He’s found the perfect place for them to be together.”

  Terror unlike anything he’d experienced before raced through him. He’d survived fire fights in the Middle East by the skin of his chin. This fear outstripped anything he’d experienced. If he’d been a praying man, he would have been on his knees right now.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  Irritation started in her eyes, and she leaned forward again. It was almost as if she wanted him to see down her bra. “I told you. With Benson. He told me he’d found the one after all his searching.” Her frown deepened. “He also found the place they can be together forever. Now that the world’s gone nuts, we can be together. In the hotel. I’m so glad I found a man like you. I grew up near those crazies like Peterson and Jacky. Icky men. But you’re a good man, and you know all the stuff they know. It makes me happy to know there are men like you out there in the world. Good men.”

  He almost snorted in derision. Little did she know how much he resembled Jacky and Peterson.

  “Where did Benson take Cassie?”

  “Somewhere they’ll be safe when the rest of the world goes to hell. Because it is going to hell, Griff. You and I know that. If we’re together, though, even in the end it’ll be all right.”

  This crazy-assed woman thought he would stay with her at the end of a so-called apocalypse. He’d rather face down any army, any enemy but waiting for life to drain from him here in this dusty attic.

  “Where is she?” he asked again.

  “Why do you keep asking?”

  God, just the thought of Cassie under a crazy man’s power made everything inside Griff twitch for action.

  She stood slowly, and he did the same. Her gaze sized him up. Darkness seemed to remove her admiration, as if she’d worked out what he planned. He kept his gaze pinned to her eyes, to what her hands did. If she planned to go extra psycho on him, he calculated what he’d need to do to take her down. He didn’t feel as steady as he should on his feet—she might have given him a concussion. At least he could see st
raight, and the pain in his head had lessened considerably.

  “You’re asking because you want her, don’t you?” Penny asked, her mouth turning petulant again.

  “Look, Benson needs help. What if he’s hurt her?”

  She put her hands on her generous hips. “Well, what if she has? You shouldn’t care when you have me. I’m more of a woman than she ever could be.” She pointed at her cleavage. “I have more of everything that her bony ass can’t compete with.”

  For a second Griff wondered if he wandered in a dream. Maybe he hadn’t woken up. Jesus, if this was a nightmare, he had to wake up.

  Her eyes blazed with sudden contempt, and she swept her hair behind her ears. “Tell me right now you don’t care for her.”

  “No. I won’t lie to you, Penny.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Her voice went sharp and high. She stomped her bare foot, her face now contorted with pure hate. “You dumb shit! You creep!”

  Her gaze darted to the left. She ran for the baseball bat.

  Now or never.

  She reached the baseball bat, lifted it and swung. He caught the bat, threw it to the side. She shrieked a high pitched squeal that practically broke the sound barrier. He made a move he’d learned long ago. A few twists, a choke hold. Her back pressed to his chest as he used his far superior strength to immobilize. She went limp in his arms seconds later. He lowered her face down onto the floor and grabbed some scarves lying in a pile on the floor nearby. Maybe she’d contemplated hog tying him at one point. He swiftly tied her feet to her wrists behind her back. Part of him hated leaving her like this, but what choice did he have? He needed to get the hell out of here and find Cassie.

  He left the attic, taking the stairs just slowly enough he wouldn’t break his neck on the way down. Strength returned to his body more swiftly than he expected, thank God. Cassie needed him now. He couldn’t afford weakness. Penny had taken his gun and done something with it—he was lucky she hadn’t shot him with it. He raced back to the parking lot and discovered his vehicle was still there, and checked the trunk for his other weapons. He pulled the other Glock out of a box in his trunk and hurried into the hotel again and to Benson’s room. No sign of the bastard or Cassie. That left one place to look, and the most probable location where he could have taken her.

  Running as fast as his battered body would allow, he returned to the Charger. Fast and furious described his departure as the Dodge’s tires squealed on the blacktop. He roared down the road, hoping to hell cops didn’t stop him. Soon he rocketed up the dirt road toward the Point. His heart banged in his chest, and his breathing came hard and agitated. He’d never been this damned scared in his life. He slowed the Charger on the dirt road. Wouldn’t do Cassie a damned bit of good if he wrecked. A litany ran through his head as he feared for her safety.

  What if the fucker has hurt her? If he’s touched her, I will fucking kill him. I will choke the ever living hell out of him. God, please keep her safe.

  The emotions running like a river through him represented everything he’d felt as a marine. As if he stood on a high-tension wire, almost ready to step into oblivion. He’d give his right nut to see Cassie again and make certain she lived.

  With all that he’d learned in his life, both good and bad, he took a deep breath and made a determination.

  Even if he had to give his life to save Cassie, he would do it.

  * * *

  Cassie waited for Benson to make another move, but he didn’t. He simply took a step toward her and disappeared.

  “Oh shit,” she whispered. “Shit.”

  She hadn’t just seen that.

  “I’m here.” His voice came from nowhere.

  Everywhere.

  She looked around swiftly. She jerked this way and that. He wasn’t there. Her heartbeat rammed into the stratosphere again. Maybe he’d snuck off to the bedrooms or to that hidey hole—

  An arm came around her mouth. She tried to turn, to scream. A hot band encircled her waist. She kicked, she wriggled, but the person—maybe Benson—yanked her down the hallway with ease. She stumbled, walking backward. His strength was amazing. She jammed an elbow backward, met with solid flesh and heard a gasp and curse. She stomped on his foot, or at least where she thought a foot would be. Whoever had her was invisible. She connected. Benson howled and released her. She heard someone screaming and thought it was her.

  Faintly she thought she heard a man’s voice calling her name from somewhere far away. Griff? God if only—

  She swung around, but as she did, a slap to the face sent her reeling, her flesh stinging. She stumbled against a wall. A push sent her sailing toward the open hole in the hallway floor. She screamed as she stumbled and tried to right herself.

  “No!”

  She tumbled into the hole head first. Slamming into hard packed earth, she ate dirt. Her nose hurt like hell, and grit filled her mouth. Sputtering she sat up. In the darkness she saw something to her left.

  A body.

  Dougray McPhee, lying with his neck askew in a way he shouldn’t be, and with his eyes wide open.

  Horror clutched at her throat, freezing her to the spot. Benson must have killed McPhee.

  “Help!” She bellowed for rescue again, hoping against hope.

  “Shut up!” Benson’s voice came at her from above, but she still couldn’t see him.

  She looked down and realized something far more horrifying. She couldn’t see her own hands. She was invisible. Invisible.

  “No, no, no.” Cassie refused to take that inside. No way. No way.

  A huge bang came from the front.

  A volley of curses came from Benson. “I thought my mother was going to take care of him.”

  Footsteps moved into the living room. “Cassie!”

  Griff’s dear voice gave her strength. “Griff watch out! Benson’s invisible.”

  A grunt sounded. Cursing. Griff’s roar as a fight started. The raging of two men in mortal battle. Choking. Strangling. She ran toward the end where the ladder door was located but when she got there it was gone. The morphing house had done it again. She returned to the hole, her ears assaulted by the continued fight. She prayed like she’d never prayed before. Finally a shot and the thud of a body falling. Heavy breathing continued.

  She thought she would die waiting. Die before she knew who had won. God, please let it be Griff.

  “Griff! Griff!”

  “Cassie? Baby where are you?”

  She choked on relief, the sound a gurgle in her throat. “Griff! I’m down here in this hole.”

  When he arrived at the hole and looked down, she saw his dear face smeared on one side with blood, his hair matted with it and a dark patch on his sweater. He looked down into the hole.

  “Griff I’m down here.”

  “Where?” He looked confused.

  “I’m invisible, too. This house…” She choked, tears finally welling in her eyes. She strangled on her fear.

  “God damn it.” His face contorted with an agony she’d never seen on his features before. “Go to the ladder. I’ll get you there.”

  “The ladder is gone.”

  “Put your hand up so I can feel it. Stretch high.”

  She reached and stretched and their fingers brushed. “Griff.”

  He lay on his stomach. “No way in hell we can get you out of here this way. I’ve rope in the trunk. Be right back.”

  “No.” She didn’t want him to leave her.

  He winced. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back.”

  His footsteps left her, and for a terrifying few moments horrific emotions crashed in on her. Abandonment. Fear more thick and hateful than anything she’d experienced. Grinding hatred for Benson and Penny. She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging.

  Pounding footsteps echoed in the hallway and then Griff was there, unrolling the rope and sending it down. “Tie it around your waist.”

  She grabbed the rope and tied it securely around her waist.
Seconds later he pulled her up, his strength impressing her as she worked with her feet against the opposite wall to assist. He hauled her up and out, and she tumbled into his arms on the floor. He lay half over her, looking down at…nothing.

  His shocked expression hadn’t left. “Jesus, I can’t see you. Are you real?”

  She touched his face, cupped it with her right hand. “I can see you. I’m really here.”

  He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where’s Benson?”

  “Dead on the floor.” Icicle coldness filmed his voice. “I shot the asshole.”

  When the entered the living room, she saw Benson lying bloody and very visible on the floor. The hurried past him toward the front door—the lock was blasted off and hanging. She assumed Griff had shot it. There was no time to wonder. They rushed out the front door, her invisible hand in his comforting grip. They charged through the snow, running, running around the crumpled roses bushes with their dying blooms. When they reached the Charger he stopped and turned to her, and his face went from grim to pure joy.

  He yanked her into his arms. “I can see you. I can see you.”

  Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she could see herself restored. She laughed, then sobbed, and the tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked, apprehension in his eyes.

  “No. Well, yes. He hit me over the head back at the resort hotel.” She told him the shortest version of what happened.

  “You can tell me the rest after we get out of here.”

  “What happened to you?” She touched the drying blood on his face and winced.

  “Like mother like son. She clobbered me with the baseball bat when we got to the attic. Long story. I got the bat away from her and tied her up.”

  He held her fast to his chest and kissed her once, twice, three times.

  “Come on,” he said as he opened the passenger door and she slipped into the car.

  He rounded the hood, jumped in, and they were off in no time. They turned their backs on the horror house.

  “I never want to go back there again,” she said. “Don’t ever let me return.”