I caught my own plunge before it got too deep. Stop freaking out and making up imaginary connections, I yelled at myself. Get yourself together!
Even if he did know and planned it that way, I wasn’t going to let Hashimoto’s mind games get to me. It didn’t matter anyway. They thought we were dead, and now we were able to get away.
I adjusted my position on the floor. Biting pain screamed up my leg. “Max, you have to drive me to Jillian’s.”
“Ellie?” There was something strange in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“I can’t see.”
It was too dark to see anything, but I reached up and felt his face. It was wet and sticky. Blood.
“Oh, shit! What happened?” I was so caught up in my own injuries that I selfishly hadn’t thought to ask if he was okay. I remembered the scream I heard before going over the balcony, and a cold feeling ran through me.
Max was silent for a full minute. I could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the steady beat in his chest as his heart pumped blood throughout his body. Then, quietly, his voice just above a whisper, he said, “He took my eyes.”
27.
“I passed out.” Max told me how they pinned him down, how he could see the point of the knife coming towards his eye, how Hashimoto laughed and told him he was going to keep it as souvenir. He sounded calm about the whole thing, like he’d just related a story about going to the grocery store. He was probably in shock.
“Oh, God.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I just held on to him. We sat silently, my mind spinning, trying to figure out what to do.
Finally Max spoke. “Do you have your cell phone?”
“No, it’s in my bag on the kitchen table.” Probably melted. “Do you?”
“No, it’s in my coat. Also in the kitchen.”
“We need to get help. We need to get to Jillian’s.” The car was just in front of us, but neither of us was in any shape to drive. If the car had been an automatic, I probably could have managed. It was a standard. There was no way I could operate all three pedals with a broken leg.
“What if I drive and you steer?” Max suggested.
“How would that work?”
“Sit in my lap and tell me when to brake or accelerate. I’ll shift and work the pedals. You work the steering wheel.” It was crazy, but we didn’t have a lot of options. If we waited until someone noticed the fire all the way out here, we could be stuck in the barn for years, not to mention that we were likely to be questioned and neither of us wanted to give the answers. The pain would be excruciating, but I was willing to try.
“Okay,” I agreed, knowing it was the only way out.
He lifted me as I buried my face in his shirt and groaned. He walked to the car and got the handle open. It was an awkward maneuver, but somehow he slid into the seat with me in his arms and readjusted it to fit us both. He positioned me to face forward without jarring me too much, my right leg stretched to the side across the passenger seat. I fished the keys out of my pocket; we were lucky they were still there. We shifted around a bit to get it just right, and I pulled the seatbelt across us to buckle it in place. It would be amazing if we made it all the way to Jillian’s without crashing.
As I shut the door, I got a quick glimpse of Max in the rearview mirror before the light when out. His head leaned against the headrest, turned to the right so I could see the left socket. There was a gaping bloody hole where his beautiful green eye had once been. I made a small squeak and looked away, trying to get the horrifying image out of my mind. I felt like I was going to cry. I couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was for him. I leaned my head on the steering wheel to catch my breath and pull myself together.
“Ellie, are you okay?” He snaked his hands around my waist and kissed my back.
“I’m fine,” I lied, hoping he didn’t hear it in my voice. “Just a little uncomfortable. Let’s go.”
I started the engine, and Max put the car in first. We rolled out of the barn and down the driveway.
Driving the WRX together wasn’t a natural feeling and, at first, we were hesitant while we tried to get in sync. It didn’t take long, though, before we were able to drive in a fairly smooth line, once again working in perfect cooperation with each other. As we drove on, our confidence grew, and soon we were driving down the road almost as fast as I would have by myself. The speed limits were posted at 35 mph, but I always drove a lot faster than that.
We rounded a corner, the headlights sweeping a path ahead of us. A flash of brown crossed in front, and I screamed, “BRAKE!”
I turned the wheel sharply to the left, and Max slammed his feet onto the brakes and clutch, as well as yanking the emergency brake up. The car swerved to the left and skidded sideways toward the trees, tires squealing as the backend fishtailed around 180˚. There was a big oak close to the side of the road, and I could see it coming fast at the passenger side door. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact.
The car stopped. There was no crash, no crunch of metal, no shattering glass. I peeked to the right and saw that the car had come to a standstill about an inch away from the tree. Everything else seemed to be falling apart around me, but my car was still perfectly intact.
“What the hell just happened?” Max asked. He was breathing rapidly and had his left arm wrapped around my waist, squeezing a little too hard.
“Ow, let go. You’re squishing me,” I said. If he had been any higher up on my body, he would have squeezed my broken ribs. As it was, his arm was like a vice in my midsection.
“Sorry.” His grip loosened.
“There was a deer in the road.” I took a deep shaky breath. If we had hit it, it could have killed us both.
Neither of us moved for a full minute, trying to compose ourselves. I didn’t know what else to do so I decided we had to keep going. “We have to back up. We’re facing the wrong direction.”
Max put the car into reverse and pressed the accelerator too hard. It shot backwards with a loud crunch. Again, he slammed on the brakes.
“Oops. What did I do?” he asked.
The side mirror was dangling off the door, hanging by a few wires. When he backed up, it hit the tree and scraped off. So much for my car being okay.
Oh well, I thought. In the scheme of things, that’s really not a big deal.
“It’s just the mirror,” I said.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He started forward and stalled the engine. His nerves were unraveling. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
“It’s okay. Take your time,” I said and gave his hand a little squeeze. He took a deep breath and started the car again.
This time, I wouldn’t let Max accelerate too much as we cautiously drove down the back roads; it felt a little too out of control when we hit speeds over 25 mph. The trip to Jillian’s house took a lot longer than the usual twenty minutes, but there was no way I’d drive any faster.
Every bump sent stabbing jolts of pain up my leg, every breath squeezed my side in agony. By the time we arrived, we were exhausted and soaked with sweat.
We parked the car in the driveway outside of Jillian’s office door. She lived in the attached farmhouse. I was shaking as I pried my hands from their death grip on the steering wheel. Max blared the horn to wake her up and get her attention. If the horn didn’t wake her, the dogs barking in their kennels surely did.
I rolled down the window and yelled at the top of my lungs. “Jillian! We need your help!”
A light came on in the upstairs bedroom and the window opened. Jillian poked her head out, her eyes barely open. “What’s going on down there?”
“Jillian, can you come down here?” Max called.
“Max? What are you guys doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”
“We need your help.”
“This better be good. I’m not alone.” She slammed the window shut, and a moment later came out the front door. She looked
annoyed that we had bothered her, especially since it had been awhile that she had had company for the night. She stomped over to the car wearing a green silk bathrobe and work boots she had slipped on over her feet without tying. Hannibal was at her heels, barking wildly.
“What the hell are you --” she stopped short, looking at us, her eyes huge. “Oh, shit! What happened?” Her demeanor changed from annoyance to concern, and she was all business. She helped me get out of the car, and I screamed, the pain overtaking me.
Our bodies had been pumping chemicals, adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol into our bloodstreams, keeping us going until we were safe. But they had done all they could. I lost consciousness.
When I woke up, I was on a cold steel exam table. I was alone in the room, but could hear voices nearby. Jillian was talking to a man.
“I’m sorry about this. Probably not the best way to meet my brother, is it?” she said.
“It’s okay. My family is screwed up, too. Do you need anymore help? I don’t mind staying,” the unfamiliar man said.
“No. It’s probably better if you go. I’ll call you tomorrow. That is, if you still want to see me again.”
“Of course I want to see you again.”
There was a pause, I think they were kissing, then Jillian said, “Thanks again.” The door opened, and I heard the man leave. Jillian walked by the room quickly and was gone for a long time. She finally came back and entered the room where I was lying.
“I’m going to give you something,” she said as she pressed a needle into my skin. I felt it working immediately and soon sunk down into blackness.
A faint light of consciousness started to draw me upward into reality. The first thing I became aware of was the soft warmth around me. When I opened my eyes, the sky was just staring to lighten at the edges of the horizon as dawn broke. I didn’t know where I was, confusion swirling in my head as I tried to clear away the last remnants of sleep. I sat up too quickly, and my ribs screamed in protest. My leg, now encased in a plaster cast, was propped up on a pillow. I looked around and recognized one of Jillian’s spare bedrooms. My head felt light and fuzzy from the painkillers, but I was grateful she had doped me up.
“Jillian?” I called out. I heard footsteps in the corridor, and Jillian peeked around the corner. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing blue scrubs that made me think of pajamas.
“You’re awake!” she said and came over to sit on the edge the bed. She smiled sweetly, her big teeth exposed. She felt my forehead, seemed satisfied, then peered into my eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Is Max okay?” I asked, not bothering to answer her question.
“Here, take these.” She handed me some pills and a glass of water.
“Jillian, are you going to answer me? Is Max okay?”
“Okay?” She shrugged. “He’s not dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just that. He’s not dead, but he’s not in great shape. Neither are you. You have three cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a nasty bump on your head. You know, someday you guys are going to come to me with something I can’t fix. Drink up.” She pointed to the glass.
I tossed the pills into my mouth and swallowed a big swig of water. I set the glass on the nightstand then looked a Jillian expectantly. “How bad is he?”
The longer she waited to tell me, the longer I had to imagine the worst.
“He lost an eye,” she finally said.
“Only one?” I asked, a spark of hope in my voice. “He said they took his eyes. Plural.”
“Yeah. Well, he can’t see anything, but they only took one. After he passed out, they didn’t bother with the other one. It was so swollen he couldn’t see and assumed they were both gone. Hell, the swelling might have saved it. I doubt they could have pried it open if they tried.”
My stomach cramped into a knot like a fist. “I can’t believe it. How could this happen?”
She looked incredulous. “What? How do you think this happened? You guys have been into this illegal shit for a while now. How could you expect it to turn out any other way?” Her pleasant bedside manner had vanished. She was in lecture mode. “You’re lucky as hell.”
“Lucky? This doesn’t feel lucky.”
“Well, you could be dead. Like Frank.” She gave me a stern look that made me feel stupid and guilty. Then her face softened. Jillian had known Frank almost as well as we had. He helped her buy the vet office she now owned. “Max told me what happened. I’m sorry.”
“I want to see him.”
“He’s sleeping.”
“I don’t care if he’s sleeping, I want to see him. Where is he? Why are we in different beds?”
“He’s in the next room. He didn’t want to disturb you when he went to bed last night. Really, you should just lie back and rest.”
“Jillian, please,” I begged.
“Fine. You’re so impatient.” She got up and left the room.
I started to think she wasn’t coming back, hoping I would get tired of waiting and fall asleep again, when she walked in with a pair of crutches.
“I’m glad I kept these from when I fell off the roof that time,” she said as she handed them to me. I remembered the incident well. Jillian had climbed up to decorate her house for Christmas, slipped on the ice, and fell into a snow bank. She was lucky that she only sprained her knee and didn’t break her neck.
“Thanks,” I said and eagerly jumped off the bed.
“Slowly. You’re going fall on your ass,” she admonished.
I hurried in as fast the crutches would take me. Max lay on the bed. My breath caught when I was saw him there, blind and helpless.
“Ellie? Is that you?” The springy thump of my crutches roused him from sleep. His head turned toward me.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said.
The bed springs creaked as he moved over to give me room. He patted the newly vacant spot and held his arms out to me. I crawled into the bed. It was warm where he had been. He reached out to touch me, but poked my face, miscalculating the distance. I took his hand and held it to my cheek.
A white bandage was wrapped around his head, covering his eyes. The left one had a thick gauze padding underneath to soak up the liquids that oozed out of the hole, but a bloody stain still spread from the center across the surface. The skin of his face was swollen and mottled with purple bruises, leaving him hardly recognizable. His lip was split, and there was a deep cut on his chin. They had beaten the crap out of him.
Oddly, the only thing that seemed to be intact on his face was the easiest target, his nose. I leaned down and kissed the end of it. He tilted his head up and brushed his lips against mine, kissing me lightly, the stubble scratching me where it sprouted from his jaw. I snuggled against the warmth of his body and closed my eyes, happy to be next to him. I felt better just knowing we were together and was able to relax enough to let sleep take me.
“Do I even want to know what you guys are into this time?” Jillian asked.
“No.” We both answered at the same time.
The three of us sat around the kitchen table having breakfast. It was almost noon, and Jillian had been up for hours taking care of the animals in the kennel out back. Max and I finally woke up around 11:00, but found ourselves too restless to stay in bed where Jillian wanted us.
I buttered a piece of toast and handed it to Max. He took a bite, then set it down, leaving it uneaten. I didn’t even try to eat anything, just sipped my coffee.
“You guys are welcome to stay as long as you need to, but . . .” She paused, as if trying to think of the right way to word it. “I can’t have my practice or my patients compromised. If there’s any danger to them, I need to know.”
“I’m sorry we involved you at all,” Max said. “We shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I may not want to know exactly what you did to get here, but I’m always willing to help you out. It’s just . . . well,
is there any way they could trace you here?”
“No. They think we’re dead.”
“Plus, the snitch didn’t know anything about you,” I added. “Max and I are the only ones who have ever been here, and we don’t talk about it.”
She seemed satisfied with my answer. “Then, like I said, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”
Max turned to her and with complete sincerity said, “Thank you.”
28.
Jillian offered to take me to the farmhouse to see what was left. Max came along for the ride even though he couldn’t see a thing. I told him he should stay home and rest, but he confided that he didn’t want to be alone.
In the car on the way, I asked about the mystery guy who was with Jillian when we got to her place.
“That’s Tom,” she answered, her cheeks getting pink at the mention of his name. She reached down and turned the radio on, giving me a hint that she didn’t want to discuss her love life.
Jillian dropped us off and left to do some errands. She told us she would pick us up in an hour. I thumped along the driveway, looking at the burned out shell of our home.
“Is anything left?” Max asked. He was sitting in the Adirondack chair where I read in the summer.
“The barn.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.” I stared at the black pit of destruction where our house once stood. The depressing skeletal remains of charred beams still smoldered in places.
I heard an electronic chirping and followed the familiar ring tone to a spot on the lawn not far from where our front steps had been. I searched the grass with my crutch until I saw the shiny object hidden within its strands.
“Hey, Max! I found your cell phone.” I reached down and picked it up. We were lucky to get reception there. A lot of Vermont was dead space. “It must have fallen out of your pocket when we came home.”
“Who is it?”
I checked the caller ID. “617. That’s Boston area, right?” I hobbled over and handed him the phone.
Hashimoto Blues Page 18