by Neven Carr
But Papa closed his eyes again. I appealed to Lia. She appeared as bewildered as I felt. Back to Papa and I noticed his lips moving.
Then I knew.
I carefully lifted his mask, rested it on his forehead and waited. His first intelligible word was my pet name. I fought back a hysterical laugh and cupped his face with both hands. “Yes Papa, it’s me, your Carino.”
He smiled.
“You’re going to be fine, Papa. I know this in my heart.”
Papa coughed. I realized it was an attempt at a laugh. And when he spoke, it was with an unusually croaky, brittle voice. Still the best sound I’d heard in a long, long time. “That is because your Papa is strong… like a….”
“Bear.” I laughed with him. That one beautiful moment could’ve lasted forever.
But it didn’t. My phone bleated; Tallow warning me.
I wanted to tell Tallow to go away, that this was my time with Papa, probably my only time. To give me just a few more precious seconds.
It was as if my father knew. Those charming blue eyes of his, the ones that I always synonymized with trust, loyalty and more importantly love, locked with mine. “You have to go,” he whispered.
I didn’t know what to say.
He searched for my hand, found it and covered it with his own. “I did not mean the awful things I said that day, Carino.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I swallowed them back. “I know, Papa, I didn’t either.”
Papa sighed; his eyelids fluttered in a sluggish, sleepy-like way. So many unsaid words seemed to drift aimlessly between us. But I had to let them go.
Instead, I pictured the day when Papa and I would again laze back in a pair of comfortable sun-loungers, soak up the glorious Nankari views and a good bottle of Chianti.
I stroked his newly moistened cheek with the back of my hand, allowed my own tears to fall. Somewhere in that emotional haze, my phone bleated again.
Take a hike, Tallow.
“Someone is worried about you,” Papa whispered.
“Yes.”
“I worry too.”
For once, Papa had every reason to worry. But what was I to tell him? That unknown people for unknown reasons were trying to kill me, some tolerantly waiting outside this very hospital? “You aren’t to worry, Papa. I am safe.” I tried not to avert my look. Papa would immediately know I was lying.
“Saul Reardon?”
I raised my brow. Strangely, it was in no way malicious or resentful. “Yes, Papa.” I waited for an adverse comeback. But there was none. “In many ways he’s like you, smart, strong and every bit as fiercely protective. He won’t let anything happen to me, just as you haven’t.”
Papa nodded. “Then you must go… now… as this Saul Reardon has planned.”
My jaw dropped. “How do you know about what Saul has planned?”
Papa glanced at my surgery scrubs. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
With a heavy sigh, I kissed both his cheeks and gave him a gentle hug. As I did, Papa cast a strange glance sideways. “Just be careful who you trust….” I caught Lia grimacing. She shrugged. “And above all, keep safe.”
I promised him I would and then I replaced his mask. With one last squeeze of his hand, I headed towards the door. Behind me, high heels click-clacked along the vinyl flooring. “Claudia, wait.” I semi-turned. Lia appeared every bit as disturbed as she sounded. “At least tell me what’s going on with you?”
I could’ve laughed. I mean, seriously, how many ridiculously truthful answers could I give to that question? And did I really want to? Yes, Lia had been an incredible source of strength in my life, particularly during my weakest moments but….
My phone bleated a third time and I swore again. “I don’t have the time now, Lia.” I quickly text Tallow that I was on my way.
“I need to talk with you.” She hesitated, conspicuously dipping her eyes. “I know some things… family things.”
We look after our own was fast becoming a tiresome mantra that I just wanted to do horrible stuff to.
“Things that can help me?”
She nodded.
“I’ll call you very soon. Right now, for everyone’s safety, I need to go.”
I hugged her and left.
***
Viola wasn’t outside.
I withdrew my mobile, precautionary only, and made my own way back. When I finally spotted the fire-escape door, I tasted sweet relief, blessed Saul for a plan well thought out.
That was, until someone called my name.
Rationality told me that to be impossible. To hear one word rise amongst the clamorous sounds of a hospital ICU ward was, yet again, my hungry imagination feeding. I pressed on.
Heard my name again.
I wiped the increasing dampness from my forehead. Muffled, unintelligible voices rushed past me. A shoulder bumped mine, slowed me down. A curt apology later, I was back on my way. But to where exactly? As a rule, fire escapes are only accessible from one side. Once I used it, Tallow and I would be incapable of locking anyone out.
What to do?
Perhaps go to a nurse’s station, call 000. And tell the police what? That someone called out my name? Not a crime in this country, not yet, anyway. I readied to press speed dial to Saul.
“Claudia?” The high-pitched voice skidded along the corridors like an army of pre-pubescent roller-bladers. I cringed, felt relief in some crazy kind of way. When I reached the exit, I heaved the door open and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Tallow’s gruff, ruddy face flashed back. “Where have you been?”
Before I explained, the door re-opened. With one deliberate, slick movement, Tallow aimed his weapon.
Mel appeared. Her hands were raised high; her stretched, stricken eyes humorously crisscrossed on the gun’s barrel.
I stepped towards Tallow. “She’s a friend.”
“I don’t care. Why is she here?”
I decided if Tallow had any affable people skills, he employed them on a needs basis only. “If you remove the gun from her face, she might just answer you.”
Tallow lowered it, only partially.
“To… to find out about your father,” Mel said, still watching the gun. “You never pick up your damn phone, Claudia.”
That wasn’t it. I had my phone turned off, as did Saul and Ethan. Precaution if anyone was trying to track us down. We now all possessed disposables.
“Is it possible you were followed?” Tallow asked Mel.
What?
He repeated the question.
“Why would anyone follow me?” Mel’s lip twitched, quite a lot, not a trait I had ever noticed before.
Tallow swore, raised his weapon again and swung a steady, glacial look at me. “Claudia, get downstairs, now.”
Without hesitation, I grabbed Mel’s hand and began our long flight. Tallow’s heavy boots thumped close to our heels. “Not looking good, Saul,” I heard him say.
The fire escape door opened.
And closed yet again.
Chapter 37
Claudia
December 28, 2010
9:15 pm
FEAR HOUNDED ME.
But I had no time for it.
Still clutching Mel’s hand, we U-turned, began the next flight of steps.
No thudding sounds from Tallow. I slowed, half-turned. Tallow was crouching against the inner concrete barrier gripping his gun. Grey, shifting shadows circled him, swallowed him. He motioned for us to keep moving.
From the corner of my eye, something stirred. Another shadow, larger, darker, grossly misshapen appeared along the upper steps’ wall. My breathing stilled as I saw it descend. I quickly alerted Tallow to it, then gripped the solid steel railing and began hurrying down the steps, dragging an anxious-looking Mel along with me.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
You and I both. “We have to get downstairs, fast,” I said. My voice sounded strange, guttural. “Whatever happens, whatever you hear, don’t think be
hind… just think forward.”
Time slowed down; my pulse ramped up. And for the tiniest moment, it was blissfully soundless, except for the soft, whooshing air against my ears. The proverbial lull crossed my mind.
I prayed for the storm not to come.
Gunshots cracked and echoed.
Mel froze. “A… are they real bullets?”
I wanted to say, no; that Tallow and Shadowman were just having a jolly play date.
I bit back the sarcastic urge. “Yes Mel, they are real. That’s why we’ve got to keep going.”
She didn’t need telling twice. Another U-turn. More steps. And I wondered if someone had sadistically added an extra flight or two. A quick scan ahead and I imagined an old, friendless, tomb, an inescapable place haunted by bone-chilling creaks and shuffles, and dank, decrepit air.
A place where the dead stayed dead forever.
The extra shivers I didn’t need. I cautioned my imagination and snapped back to the real world. Nearby, several bullets ricocheted off the walls. Mel and I dropped, hovered close to the barriers.
Someone above groaned. Once. Twice.
A piercing scream. A rushing sound. And a final, emphatic thud.
All was quiet. I stood and half-heartedly peered over the edge.
One flight lower, laid a hideously contorted body of a man. A crimson pool swelled from him, the only bright, living color amongst the surrounding dead grey.
It wasn’t Tallow.
Any minor relief I had was short-lived. Mel popped up beside me, took one look at the figure and began screaming.
I had never heard Mel scream before. I never wanted to again. I likened it to nitro-glycerin laced pinballs exploding on impact. I shook her, yelled for her to stop. It was useless. I tried to pull her forward but she clung stubbornly on to the barrier.
Tallow yelled. I couldn’t decipher the words but I could decipher his brusque tone. Heat flushed my face, tingled, felt itchy. Shit, what to do… what to do?
Looking back, I wondered why I did what I did next. Instincts? Or just the vital urgency to quieten Mel. Whatever, I stretched my hand as far back as possible and slapped her sharply across her face - just as good old Hollywood had taught me.
My palm stung. But Mel’s screams skidded to an automatic halt. Her wide, glassy eyes stared back at me. Her bottom lip jittered, her body swayed, and sagged back against the barrier. I called her name.
Nothing.
I gripped her shoulders, called it again. Short, fast gasps followed. And then the mascara-tainted tears. The last time I had seen Mel cry was on her wedding day, just before we walked the long aisle. She had been so happy, so excited… so unlike today.
A piece of my heart broke away. Mel was strong, always had been. But this horror was new territory for her. I hugged her, soothed her, tried to recall the last time I had done that for her. Mel clutched onto me as if I were her only lifeline. In some twisted way, the unexpected role-reversal felt good. We slowly dropped down but there was very little comfort in the ground’s hard, emotionless veneer. I hugged Mel tighter still.
And fear took a few steps back.
“The guy is dead,” I whispered. “We’re safe.”
She nodded and sniffed. I pulled some tissues out of her bag and handed them to her. “I have never seen a dead body before. It’s so….” She stopped, screwed her face, and then glared at me, strangely.
“Shit. How many times have you been through this?” she murmured.
I spread my fingers, tapped my pinkie. “Well, let’s see, last count….”
“This is not a joking matter, Claudia.” The old Mel was back. “I thought I understood, was so harsh on you, but all this time I… well, I just didn’t know.”
I took hold of Mel’s hands; they were cool and damp, a little shivery. “You didn’t have to know,” I said. “You were there for me anyway, every single time, helping me in the best way you could. I will always be grateful for that.”
Above, the fire escape door opened and closed again. Saul’s men? I looked upwards, waited for Tallow’s verdict, waited for any sign that promised us safety. But all was still, all silent.
“We’ve got to keep moving.” I tried to sound calm but Mel wasn’t stupid.
“You said we were safe now.”
The sudden, ominous echoes of fresh gunfire confirmed otherwise.
Mel gripped my wrist. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “Claudia, my god… my children. I can’t.”
I pictured the three small versions of Mel, all girls, all flamed-haired, the youngest barely three, the eldest seven. I pictured them without their mother, pictured Pete without his wife. All because Mel was my friend.
Because she was collateral.
Anger powered me to my feet. “That is not going to happen.” I hissed. “We will get out of this, alive and you home to your kids.”
I had no basis for her to trust me. I wasn’t even certain I trusted myself. I reached out with a visibly unsteady hand. Mel studied it, then studied me. She wore an expression I hadn’t seen before.
Above, more shots sounded.
Mel clutched my hand and I pulled her up. She wobbled a bit, took a few solid breaths and then gripped the railing. “Let’s go.”
And we did, scampering off like small, frightened rabbits down a nefarious rabbit hole.
Tallowed yelled a warning.
Another shot and Tallow yelled no more.
Threatening footsteps thundered in his place.
No time to turn, to check.
Bullets zipped around us like hungry, single-minded mosquitoes. Acrid gunpowder polluted the air. We skirted the twisted body, careful not to slip in its darkening, syrupy pool. Then, sped up again.
Endless grim, concrete blurred past. And I wondered what a bullet to one’s back felt like. Would it hurt? Would it be quick and painless or slow and agonizing? I thought of Saul waiting on the other side of the door, imagined him pacing, fiercely rubbing his brow. I began jumping two steps at a time. Mel did the same. Not enough, though. Pounding, rhythmic footsteps vibrated to our rear.
Mel groaned. “I can hear him….”
“We’re almost there.”
One more U-turn. My feet skidded, lost balance. Mel caught me, leveled me. We charged to the door. Behind us, there was a low, satisfying laugh and a less than friendly gun cocking. “Little late, ladies,” a male voice whispered.
Perhaps it was; I didn’t care. I threw my full weight on the long horizontal handle, pressed down hard and flung open the door.
“Get down!” Saul yelled.
I grabbed Mel and pulled us both to the ground. One last gunshot and then a clear, loud thump. After that, all I heard was Mel’s and my heavy wheezing.
We took our time before inching into a sitting position. Mel straightened her sleeveless top, twisted back her bag and began checking out her gravel-rashed knees. She brushed one and winced. “Tell me, we’re definitely safe, this time.”
I turned to Saul. He was still facing the exit. Both hands had his gun cemented directly ahead of him. That fixed, lethal look of his, the one I had seen two days earlier with the mammoth, had returned. I followed it to fire escape door. The spread-eagled body of a man lay across the exit. Centering his forehead was a single bullet wound.
“On second thoughts…,” Mel said.
I swung back to her. Her reddened, grubby palm pressed close to my face. “Don’t answer. You just might jinx it.”
I smiled. “I know how scared you were, Mel, and it’s okay; you did great.”
Something cold and ‘shadow-less’ crossed those striking green eyes of hers. When she blinked, it was gone. But I knew what I saw.
True fear.
The type that inhabits your body, messes with your mind for good.
Mel grunted. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Claudia, don’t shit me, it was you who did great. Not me. If not for you….”
If not for me, my dear friend, you wouldn’t be here.
S
he pulled off her hairband, smoothed her rebellious hair and tied it again. That one simple action appeared to steady her somewhat. Her eyes tapered. “In fact, Claudia, who were you back there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. That whole superwoman crap.”
Superwoman? Hardly. “Guess, just adrenalin kicking in.”
“Well then, I thank your fricking, adrenalin kicking arse.”
We laughed, hugged.
Mel pulled back, gazed at Saul. His stance hadn’t changed. “Saul Reardon….” she whispered.
I nodded.
“What’s he doing?”
“Safeguarding me.” I flicked my head. “I mean, safeguarding us; probably being cautious there aren’t others.”
“It’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”
“He’s only like this with these murderous scumbags. Normally, he’s very compassionate, kind.” I shrugged. “You know.”
She ogled me with that irritating Mel sees all look. “Really?” she said.
Footsteps resonated from the fire escape.
A swarthy, neckless man in a white V-necked tee and denim shorts appeared. It was Scotty. “So sorry, Saul,” he said.
It was as if the midday sun had just breathed on Saul. Section by section his body uncurled. “How’s Tallow?”
“Being taken to the ER. The bullet went right through his lower shoulder but he’s conscious. Tough bugger. Jenna’s with him now.”
Saul slotted his gun into the back of his jeans. “You and Jenna were his back-up. What happened?”
“I got duped by a couple of heavies is what happened.”
Even in the semi-lit doorway, I noticed Scotty’s reddish, cracked lips tighten as he shook his head. “I never get fricking duped.”
“Tell me about the heavies.”
“Shit, Saul, you should’ve seen ‘em.” Scotty coiled his hands and spread them wide. “They stood out like a pair of solid D-cups in micro-bikinis.”
I forced the disturbing analogy from my head. Saul bit his lip.