Escape, Dead End

by David Antocci

  She managed to compose herself and catch her breath. “That’s funny, huh? I mean, really, what am I going to do?”

  Looking at their laughing faces gave her a certain satisfaction for what was about to happen. She gave Rosso a dead serious stare, which caused his heart monitor to drop off for a moment.

  In one swift motion, her left knee shot up, giving her the momentum to drive the heel of her foot into the side of Mikey’s knee. She heard the joint pop as his leg twisted in an unnatural direction and he collapsed to the ground like a bridge with the support beams knocked out, screaming in agony.

  She nailed Franco in the gut with her right elbow, and as he doubled over, she twisted her body and smashed the heel of her open palm into his nose, sending blood pouring from his face.

  Spinning on her left foot, she swung around to kick Monte full force in the stomach, but he was too fast and jumped out of the way.

  That’s when Abby’s plan suddenly fell apart in the most unusual way.

  Monte aimed the .22, not at Abby, but at Franco doubled over on the ground, and sank two slugs into the back of his skull.

  Rosso’s heart monitor screamed, and so did he. “No! Franco!”

  Abby froze. She couldn’t understand what just happened. It was as though she were watching it on television and not actually there.

  Mikey rolled over to see what happened, but before he could react, Monte took aim and put two holes in his forehead. Mikey collapsed, lifeless.

  Monte walked over to Franco and rolled him over with his foot, confirming he was dead.

  Abby finally found words in her throat. “What... why? Why are you helping me?”

  He looked over and sneered at her. “I’m not. You’re just last.”

  As he raised the gun toward her, she saw a shiny flash of light by Mikey’s left hand about eight feet from where she stood. He fired the first shot as she dove through the air. A split second later, her hand wrapped around the familiar leather grip. She rolled on her shoulder, came to a crouched position, and fired her knife. It sliced through the short distance across the room and plunged into Monte’s neck.

  Choking and gurgling sounds escaped his mouth as his hands reached up and tenderly touched the handle attached to the steel blade embedded in his neck. He struggled and raised the .22 as Abby charged and collided with him full force, knocking him backward into the wall.

  He dropped the .22 and wrapped his hands around her neck, using every last ounce of his strength to choke the life out of her. Abby thrashed, but his grip was strong. She couldn’t break free.

  Abby landed several punches to his midsection, but nothing loosened his grip. Then she remembered what he said earlier: “You and me are gonna have fun with these later.”

  Despite the blackness closing in from the sides of her vision, she smiled as she reached forward, found his belt buckle, the .45 tucked above it, flicked off the safety, and fired one massive slug right down his pants where it had been resting.

  Monte released his grip immediately as a scream, or something trying to be one, found its way to his throat.

  Abby took a step back as he fell to his knees, and she ripped her knife from his throat, causing blood to gush from his neck as he collapsed to the floor.

  Abby’s hands shook as she stood there holding her knife, having freshly taken the life of a man she knew surely deserved it.

  It took her another moment to realize how fast her heart was racing as she took her breath in gasps. She wanted to close her eyes, breath deeply, and calm herself, but she couldn’t look away from the devastation in the room. As she surveyed the bodies, all silently laid out on the floor, she had forgotten there was anyone else in the room. She nearly jumped when she heard Rosso’s weak voice from the bed.

  “He must have known,” Rosso said from behind her.

  “What?” she turned, startled.

  Rosso looked physically uncomfortable. He winced with pain, his breathing labored. “I put a hit on him. Not even thirty minutes ago...” He drifted off mid-sentence, looking at Franco. A tear escaped his eye.

  “Franco,” he continued. “Franco was supposed to take over. Monte over there, he wasn’t so keen on it, so I instructed Mikey to take care of him.” He gestured to the man whose leg was splayed in the wrong direction.

  “Oh, Franco...” Another tear rolled down the old man’s cheek as he patted his chest. Abby had heard the beeping of his heart monitor as background noise during the fighting and confusion, but it seemed to be in a fight with itself at the moment. His heart was speeding up, slowing down, and every few seconds there was a beep that seemed pretty out of sequence with the rest.

  He looked to Abby. “He was like a son to me, Franco.” He looked at the knife still in her hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it.”

  She wiped the blade clean on a cloth at the end of the bed and deliberately slid the knife back into its sheath on her leg.

  He shook his head, and Abby noticed a bead of sweat run down his temple. “I had a son once. He’s gone. Franco is gone.” He looked her in the eye. “If there is one man who can keep this family on its feet, it’s Bryce, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sell him out to you.”

  “How is he going to do that?” she asked. “He’s dead, remember?”

  “He’ll come back, and when he does, the men will listen. They’ll listen to him. They’ll respect him.”

  “There’s really no one else?”

  He leaned his head back into the pillows, wiping more sweat from his forehead, and nodded his head no.

  “It’s too bad about Nick.”

  The mention of his son’s name brought Rosso upright, bringing a few extra beeps from his monitor. “What do you know about my son?”

  “I know enough.” Abby smiled, gently. She wasn’t going to force the information she needed out of the old man. Not in his condition. He was unwell to begin with, and while she was no doctor, she knew that whatever the beeping pattern meant, it could not be good.

  “He was a good boy, Nick.” Rosso sighed.

  “No, he was a good man,” Abby said. “A good man who died before his time.”

  Rosso’s eyes welled as he held his chest, shaking his head. He cursed the family who killed his son, almost under his breath. “Fucking Patrizios.”

  Abby shook her head. “Did you ever learn who pulled the trigger?”

  “No. It was one of the Patrizio sons. It doesn’t matter which one. They’re all dead now thanks to Bryce.” Rosso smiled at the thought.

  She leaned close and took a cloth from the nightstand to dab the old man’s forehead before she whispered in his ear, “I know who killed your son.”

  His eyes met hers, and he reached up, taking a firm grip on her arm.

  She was surprised at the strength he still had. She knew she could easily get out of his grip, but played into it and let a little gasp escape her lips.

  “How would you know who killed my son?”

  “Bryce told me. He knew, too. He was there.”

  “What are you talking about? Who?! Who murdered my Nicholas?!” Rosso demanded, though his grip loosened a bit.

  “If I told you, Bryce would kill me. Why do you think he wants me dead?” she smiled.

  Abby watched Rosso’s eyes as the realization set in. “No...”

  She nodded her head yes and whispered, “Bryce murdered your son.”

  “No... no...” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Why do you think he’s gone to such great lengths to kill me? What threat could I possibly pose to him and his power?”

  Rosso just stared, waiting for answers.

  “He took your son,” Abby pressed forward. “He took him from you. Bryce was stealing from you, and Nick knew it, so Bryce killed him, then took his place at your table. That’s the man you want to inherit your family?”

  “No, it’s impossible. He wouldn’t...” The words were coming out, but she could see that he was thinking it through in his mind.

>   “He would, and he did,” Abby said. “He came home—it must have been two in the morning—covered in blood. Nick’s blood. He confessed the whole thing to me. Nick met him to talk. They went way out of town so no one would see them. Nick wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing, come clean with you, and start over. Bryce didn’t see it that way and killed him. He killed him in cold blood.”

  Sweat poured down Rosso’s head as he squinted at her and clutched his chest. “Why should I believe you?”

  Abby shook her head. “You don’t have to. But tell me this: Nick was a strong man; a smart man. How would he ever get himself into a situation like that? In the wrong part of town, no crew, didn’t tell anyone where he was going... he was lured there. Lured there by a greedy man who murdered your only son and then took his place in your family.”

  Rosso was wrestling with the thought. It never made sense to him why they found Nick where they did, behind an abandoned school outside of town. “That son of a bitch.” His heart monitor spiked into the one-sixties, chirping at full speed.

  Abby started to panic. “He took my daughter, Mr. Rosso. He took her so I would come find her and he could kill me. Please, tell me where he is. I need to find Ava, and when I do, I swear on her life I will avenge your son’s death.”

  Rosso clutched at his chest as the monitor beeped wildly in the background. “Shut that damned thing off!”

  She hit a button with a slash through what looked like a speaker, and the device went mute. Abby held his hand as he struggled to breathe in short gasps. “Please, Mr. Rosso... please... I need to find my little girl.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes from only inches away, thoughts racing through each of their minds.

  “Please, Mr. Rosso.” She blinked, a tear streaming down her cheek. “Please, I know you understand the love a parent has for their child. He took your son, and he has my little girl. Please.”

  He stared into her eyes silently, breathing in gasps, each shorter than the last, as she stared hopefully back into his.

  “Upstate...” he finally said between gasps.

  Abby was confused, “Upstate? Upstate what?”

  “He’s upstate... laundering money... the place...” His eyes widened and she felt his grip on her hand tighten.

  Abby leaned closer. “Where? What place? What is it called?”

  Rosso stared into her eyes, inches away, struggling to breathe. “Make that son of a bitch pay...”

  His hand went slack, as his eyes were suddenly vacant. Abby looked at the monitor to see a flat line.

  “No,” she said, jumping on top of him on the bed, trying to pump his chest. “No! Where is he?”

  She continued pumping and watching the monitor but saw nothing.

  What did he say? Laundering money upstate in a place... DAMN! Come on!

  Abby was so engrossed in thought that she didn’t hear the feet pounding down the hallway until the last second.

  The door swung open as a man burst in, and Abby dove off Rosso toward Monte’s body and came up aiming the .22 at the invader who had raised his own gun at her.

  At the last second, Abby stopped short of pulling the trigger as a moment of clarity set in.

  “Donny?”

  10

  “ABBY?”

  She stood, reeling at the sight of him. His dark hair and eyes, his broad shoulders, his ready-to-fight-the-world stance. He had been her protector for so many years, and just the sight of him gave her a fleeting sense of security. She remembered the last time they saw each other, outside the conference room at the studio when he stood in for Bryce to sign away all of his rights before she went off to Trial Island. She remembered the tight embrace and the light kiss that he placed on her lips.

  That kiss nearly broke the dam that held back their feelings for each other. Feelings that she pushed deep down to protect him from her maniac husband; feelings that he set aside so that he could be there to protect her. Then, after the kiss, he walked away as planned, out of her life forever. Until now.

  Abby snapped out of their stunned silence first.

  “Donny, what are you doing here?”

  For his part, he was equally stunned. “What... what am I doing here? Abby, you’re supposed to be dead... you are dead... how...?” His mouth hung open, speechless.

  They stared at each other, until Donny noticed Monte at Abby’s feet, the pool of blood spreading across the carpet. Next he noticed Mikey, Franco, and then Rosso. “Holy shit, Abby. Did you do this?”

  “No. Well, yes. Some of it anyway. Not Rosso. He had a heart attack. Or those two,” she said, indicating Franco and Mikey. “Just that piece of shit back there. It’s too much to explain right now. How many others are with you?”

  “No one, but there are four guys maybe five minutes behind me. They got a call a few minutes ago that the house was under attack. They’re Monte’s guys.” Donny suddenly realized there were a lot of guards unaccounted for. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Everyone else?”

  “The other guys, Abby. Rosso had a dinner tonight for all the lieutenants.”

  “They’re... um... indisposed.”

  Donny raised his eyebrows and pointed at her. “They’re dead, too?”

  She shook her head. “No, well, one other one I think. It all happened so fast. Most of them are just unconscious for now.”

  “Shit. What does that mean? You gotta tell me what the hell is going on. I mean, you’re dead. Dead! I flew to Canada. I was at your funeral for Chrissakes. I...”

  Abby suddenly pushed past him to look out a large picture window at the front yard. A car pulled up to the gate, waiting for it to open. She turned to Donny, “We don’t have time to do this right now. Give me your phone, quick.” She didn’t wait for a response before ripping it from his belt. She quickly dialed a number and hit send as she looked out the window. The car had just driven through the gate when the water bottle bomb she had left out front exploded behind it. The driver slammed on the brakes as the men in the car struggled to figure out what had just happened.

  “What the hell was that?” Donny stared out the window, taking in the fireball.

  “A distraction. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  He looked into her soft brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen in love with so many years ago. “I’ll help you, but you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, her heart fluttering. “There’s no time now. I’ll tell you everything, I swear, but we have to get out of here.”

  Donny thought a beat. “Alright, let’s go down the back stairs.”

  They ran down the hall, where he burst through an unremarkable door that led down a narrow staircase and into the kitchen. Donny was taken aback by the destruction. The glass windows were completely shot out, and the cabinets were now shards of wood strewn throughout the room.

  “Holy shit, Abby.”

  While he was distracted, she spied a phone on the corner of the counter. She took the receiver off the hook, quickly hit three numbers, and then tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, back door. I’ve got a car about a half mile back through the woods.”

  As they went to ease out the back door to make a break for it, Max started barking.

  “Fuckin’ dog,” Donny cursed.

  Abby was surprised the dog was awake though he had been the first, and he didn’t breath in the knock-out gas like the others. Still, she was worried the other men might start waking soon.

  Suddenly, the front door flew open and one of the men called out. Both exits were blocked.

  Donny thought a moment. “Do you trust me?”

  She didn’t have to give that much thought. Donny was one of the few men she had been able to trust in her adult life. Without him, she would have been dead long ago. He pulled the strings to get her a shot at Trial Island, he helped her smuggle Ava out of the country, and he helped her escape her life with Bryce. Had it not be for Donny coming to her aid one night wh
en Ava was an infant, Bryce surely would have murdered them both.

  “Of course I do.”

  “OK. Take off the knife and hide it.” She gave him a puzzled look, so he reached down, unhooked the sheath, and slid it into the back of her pants, pulling her shirt over the handle. “Just go with it, alright? I promise you’ll be fine. Get on the ground.”

  Abby saw where he was going with this and complied.

  When she was face down on the floor, Donny put his foot on her back and trained his gun on her. “Remember, just go with it, OK?”

  Abby nodded, noticing he never flicked the safety off.

  “Hey! In here!” he yelled toward the foyer.

  Four men came ambling into the dimly lit library.

  “What the fuck happened in here?” one of the men said, seeing the bodies on the floor.

  Donny nodded toward Abby, under his foot. “She’s an assassin. Came in shooting. I just got here. Bitch wasn’t expected me.”

  One of the men ran over and kicked her in the ribs.

  “Hey!” Donny shouted, holding up a hand. “Back off, there’s enough bodies here. Rosso said to get rid of her, so give me a hand. Get something to tie her up with.”

  One of the men looked around and took a length of rope holding back a curtain, inspected it, and satisfied that it would do the trick, he put a knee into Abby’s back and tied her hands behind her.

  Donny and the man got her to her feet, and one of the other men, a chubby little guy, let out a whistle. “Holy crap, she’s hot, man.” He looked at Donny. “Can I fuck her before we kill her?”

  Rage boiled up in Donny’s gut, hearing him speak of Abby that way, but he suppressed it.

  Another man hit the first one in the chest. “Billy, what the hell is wrong with you.”

  “What? She’s smokin’!”

  “No shit. But wait until after we kill her. You see what she did here? That’s a bad bitch. You don’t want your dick anywhere near her if she’s breathing.”

  The way he said it, so matter of fact, speaking from experience, sent chills down Abby’s spine. She looked at Donny, who half rolled his eyes. Don’t worry about them.