Instead, she turned to the pain in her foot, and after carefully taking off her boot, she was pleased to find only a flesh wound. The bullet had grazed the inside of her foot and drawn some blood, but otherwise, she was all right.
Abby next went through the glove box and found an emergency first aid kit. The alcohol stung and both of her wounds bled just a bit more as she cleansed them, but she was over it by the time she packed them with gauze and medical tape.
As she put the kit back, there was a tremendous thud as something slammed into the boat and the watercraft rocked to the side. Abby stumbled to her left, but her quick hands grabbed the wheel and she kept her balance. She immediately cut the power and looked around to see a buoy floating twenty feet behind the vessel as the increasingly steady rain made thousands of mini-splashes around it.
I must have hit it.
She realized that she should probably slow down at this point, looking back and seeing just a few twinkling lights on the shore. Then she heard something. At first she assumed it was just the gentle white noise made by millions of raindrops plunking into the massive lake, but then she realized it was something else. Something more powerful. Something man-made. The sound of another engine. Close by.
Ripping her night-vision monocular from her belt, she looked back to see the agents in their fishing boat gaining on her, and fast.
Abby turned over the key and gave the engine the full throttle as she looked back to see the boat barreling down on her. As the front of the boat pitched up, Bryce’s body rolled backward on the deck and thumped into the row of cinderblocks lined up near the engine.
She wiped the rain from her eyes and looked down at the speedometer to see she was going sixty knots. She wasn’t exactly sure how fast a knot was, but figured it was probably something like miles per hour. The rain was pelting her forehead hard enough, so she’d believe that.
About a mile a minute... she thought about this as she looked back again through her monocular and saw the boat even closer, continuing to close distance.
The senior agent was at the helm, looking through his own night-vision binoculars and waving.
She looked back at Bryce, face down by the cinderblocks. She was far enough out that she could dump him here, but not with a boatload of FBI agents one hundred and fifty feet behind her. She figured going a mile a minute, if she could disable the agents for just a couple of minutes, she could dash away and hide in the darkness.
Looking out at the lake, rain pouring down around her, she couldn’t see more than twenty feet without her night vision. If the agents didn’t have theirs, she would be fine, but she couldn’t exactly jump in their boat, grab them, and chuck them in the water.
Think... think... think...
Abby was suddenly struck with an idea. She looked into her pouch and found her last flash-bang grenade. She pulled it out and realized it would do her no good. It had been crushed, probably during the fight, and was just a bag of powder and duct tape now.
Damn.
After securing the bungee cord to the steering wheel again, she ripped open the glove box. She tossed the first aid kit aside to look through the other contents. After chucking a couple of old compact discs, a book of matches, and some maps behind her, she realized she wasn’t going to find what she had hoped for in there.
Her eyes darted around the boat until they settled on the bench seat at the rear of the boat, where Bryce lay face down next to the cinder blocks. She ran to the back of the boat and lifted the seat to reveal a storage compartment underneath. Her eyes quickly took stock: rope, half a dozen life preservers, oars, inflatable raft... aha!
Suddenly a large hand clamped around her ankle. “Bitch!” Bryce shouted as he ripped her leg out from under her, knocking her to the deck.
Despite being caught off-guard, Abby sprung up as soon as she hit the wet deck, whereas it took Bryce a moment to get to his feet. He was moving slowly and purposefully, having just regained consciousness.
He swung a big, lazy fist toward Abby, but she ducked and jabbed him in one of his cracked ribs. Bryce winced in pain, and like a wounded animal with a crazed look in his eye, jumped toward Abby screaming, trying to wrap his arms around her.
Twisting her body and throwing all of her weight behind her shoulder, she landed the first hit to his midsection, causing him to gasp as the air rushed from his lungs. Rotating her shoulders with each blow, she landed shot after shot to his body. Screaming and filled with rage, Abby unleashed a fury of blows to his body to his stomach and ribs, until he struggled to breathe, each gasp as painful as another punch.
As Abby ran out of air herself, her screaming stopped. She looked up at his rain-soaked face. Bryce wavered on his feet with the movement of the boat. Time stood still for a second as she took in the face of the monster she once saw as her ticket out of a horrible life.
He seemed in a trance as Abby threw a right cross to his jaw, snapping his head to the side with a knock-out punch as though she were a prizefighter. As his knees buckled, she grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the railing of the boat, breaking his nose. He collapsed face down on the deck in a heap.
Abby stood, staring down at the man, rain pouring down all around her, soaked to the bone and breathing heavily. She waited for him to move.
Nothing.
Only remembering the three FBI agents closing in on her broke her from her daze.
She grabbed the emergency boating kit and quickly found what she had hoped for. Making her way back to the front, she unhooked the bungee cord and steadied the boat. Looking ahead with her monocular she saw nothing but open water. To her right was the same, and to her left, twinkling lights that indicated the coastline. She estimated it was three or four miles away.
Looking behind her, she saw Vines at the helm, watching her through his night- vision binoculars and waving his arms, all the while shouting, “Stop the boat! Stop the boat!” The two younger agents on the bow held onto the rail, clearly ready to hop on her boat when they got close enough, likely within the next few minutes.
As the boats raced at full throttle into the blackness, she estimated they were only fifty feet away now. Much closer and neither would need their night vision anymore.
She examined the deck, Bryce hadn’t moved, but the pool of blood from his broken nose had grown substantially larger.
She looked behind her with the night vision one last time to be sure Vines’ eyes were still trained on her, and they were.
In one swift motion, she lowered the throttle, slowing her boat as she twisted her body around and shot the flare gun directly back at the fishing boat. The flash of light blinded Vines who was still looking through the night vision. He instinctively jerked the wheel hard to the right to avoid it, sending one of the junior agents into the water and the other toppling onto the deck.
Abby heard Vines scream and knew from experience that the sudden hot light had momentarily blinded him. She cut the wheel hard to the left and pegged the throttle forward, putting as much distance between herself and the agents as she possibly could in the little time she had. As she sped away, she looked back through her monocular to see Vines rocking back and forth, holding his eyes, and one of the junior agents throwing a life jacket out to the man in the water. The flare had landed on the far side of the boat and given it an eerie backlit glow.
She knew they would regroup quickly, so she turned her attention forward, concentrating on the shortest angle to the shoreline. She didn’t want to reach the shoreline—just get within swimming distance. Abby glanced over her shoulder occasionally though all she could see with the naked eye was the glow of the flare, and that was beginning to fade, too.
26
ONCE ABBY SAW the flare go out, she cut the engine and listened. The rain had become a light drizzle and she couldn’t hear anything, but some light drops around her. Raising the monocular, she looked back toward where the FBI boat should be, but she couldn’t make out anything. It was too far away. She hoped
that was mutual, but wasn’t about to waste any time finding out.
A quick check of the clock showed that about four minutes had passed. Looking around and doing some quick calculations, she figured the FBI boat was about four miles behind her with no way of knowing where she was. The shoreline looked to be a mile off the left side of the boat.
That should be far enough, and close enough.
She gave Bryce a gentle nudge with her foot.
Nothing.
She pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a pulse.
Good. A quick death is too good for this piece of shit.
It made her feel evil and vile, but she wanted him to die in pain. Abby wanted him to feel the pain and terror that he had inflicted on her.
She unrolled and laid out a black plastic body bag next to him, a bag that had been intended for her. She rolled him on top of it and pulled the edges up around him.
As he lay there, she couldn’t help but think that he almost looked peaceful.
Warm tears flowed from her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she began to sob. She paced the deck, trying to get control of herself.
“Get it together, Abby,” she muttered to herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned back to the task at hand.
Holding the two flaps together, she pulled up the heavy zipper from his feet until it reached the midway point of his chest, where she finally stopped to look at him.
Tears flowed down her cheeks again.
With bile in her stomach and adrenaline coursing through her veins, she slapped him so hard across the face that she drew blood.
“Fuck you, Bryce!” she screamed, staring down at his still body.
Suddenly, she wretched the contents of her stomach over the side of the boat.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said to him, wiping her chin.
She finished zipping the bag, rolled him to the bench seat at the back of the boat, where adrenaline and leverage helped her to push, pull, and maneuver him onto the seat, then onto the platform behind it.
Setting four of the cinderblocks on top of him, she quickly ran chains through them and around the body, pulling the chains taught and securing the whole package tightly with two padlocks.
Taking a moment to be still, she inspected her work, watching the two cinderblocks on his chest rise and fall slightly with his breath.
She could hear Ava’s voice in her head, the last thing she said before Abby left her behind.
Abby spoke the words aloud to make them real: “Make sure he’s dead this time.”
The bag suddenly jerked as though he were awake, but not fast enough. Abby tore her knife from its sheath and plunged it into Bryce’s stomach. A scream emitted from his lips below the fabric of the bag. She ripped the knife from the fresh wound and stabbed him again, drawing another scream.
As she felt the knife pierce him, she knew acid from his stomach would quickly spill into the wound, causing massive pain in addition to blood loss. One way or another, he would be dead within minutes, but not before experiencing the worst pain possible.
She wiped the knife clean on the bag before returning it to its sheath.
He groaned and whimpered as the bag moved slowly like a fat earthworm struggling under its own weight. He instinctively tried to get into the fetal position, but the cinderblocks at last kept him still.
***
He woke disoriented.
Where the hell am I?
Everything around him was pitch black, and he felt confined. He strained his eyes but saw nothing.
His head was throbbing, and it hurt to keep his eyes open, even though there was no light.
He tried to call out, but as soon as he moved his mouth, a searing pain shot through his jaw.
He tried to reach up through the darkness to feel it with his hand, but he couldn't move his hand either.
He tried to sit up, but without his arms it was a losing battle. It was as though a massive weight was crushing his chest, holding him down.
Bryce closed his eyes again. The throbbing in his skull only worsened with each movement. Even the thought of moving caused him pain. As he lay there, confused, he took stock of his facilities.
There has to be an option. How did I get here? Then he heard a familiar female voice speak, and it all came rushing back.
The voice said, “Make sure he’s dead this time.”
Bryce jerked forward upon hearing Abby’s voice, trying to sit up, but he suddenly screamed as he felt the sharp tip of her knife slice into his gut and tear into his stomach. He screamed again as she repeated the action.
He writhed, trying to get into the fetal position as a searing pain spread through his abdominal cavity, but he couldn’t move. His heart pounded at the walls of his chest as his breaths came in short gasps. Blackness enveloped him as consciousness escaped him.
***
Abby watched the movement stop, though the cinderblocks continued to rise and fall at a rapid rate on his chest. She smiled. He passed out from the shock.
With one foot on the deck and the other on the seat, Abby placed her hands on the side of the bag as the man inside shook with a tremor. She thought about all the pain Bryce had caused not only to her, but also to so many others. All the men he killed, the lives he ruined, the families he had devastated. She remembered her promise to Rosso just before he died: she would make Bryce pay for killing his son.
She hoped the pain he was in now was just a short taste of what was to come.
Abby leaned next to his head and whispered, “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”
She heaved, pushing him over the edge of the platform and watched as he splashed into the water below, floating for just a moment before the blackness swallowed him up and he was gone from sight.
***
He battled to stay awake, but it seemed to be a losing fight.
As Bryce fought between consciousness and reality, he felt for a moment as though he were falling. The weight on his chest lifted for a brief instant. He was aware of the searing pain in his gut but couldn’t recall how that had come to be or how long it had gone on.
Am I dying?
Suddenly he stopped falling, but only for a moment. The weight was heavier now, and he fell again, but more slowly. The weight was not only on his chest—but it was all around him, nearly crushing him. It was as though he were being enveloped in a cool embrace. It was almost a struggle to draw a breath, and when he finally managed to, he choked on... water?
A sudden rush of adrenaline brought a fleeting moment of clarity and realization. His eyes flashed open, suddenly aware of all around him. The next breath brought another mouthful of water, and he coughed and choked as he gasped for air while it burned his throat.
As the weight of the cinderblocks dragged him further into the crushing darkness below, he struggled against his own chains and thrashed with all his might, but there was no escape for him.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
With his final breath, Bryce let out a primal scream that no one would ever hear. He tried to hold his breath as panic embraced him as fully as the depths of the water around him. He could not hold it forever, though. His lungs forced open his airways to suck in precious oxygen though there was none left. As the water coursed through his throat and filled his lungs, it burned like acid as he crashed to the bottom of the lake with an inaudible thud.
Then, all was still.
27
ABBY LOOKED UP, the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air in the distance waking her from her celebration. She saw nothing in the black sky, with or without her monocular, but she could hear it out there somewhere.
Looking across the water, she couldn’t see Vines’ boat either, but she knew it was looking for her. She’d be damned if she was going to be punished for doing what the law couldn’t do: put Bryce away for good.
Moments later, the faint glow of searchlights in the distance dispelled any thoughts sh
e had that they weren’t out there for her. Though miles away, she could make out the flashing strobe lights of police boats cutting through the water.
She had to act fast. Still a mile out, she had hoped to pilot herself a bit closer to shore, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Knowing they were searching for her both from the air and water, and that one, if not both, were bound to have heat imaging, she wanted to be as far from the boat as possible when they found it.
Abby did a quick check, convincing herself that she was up for a little swim.
She quickly wrestled the overhead canopy into place so that no one could see into the boat, then turned the key until the engine rumbled to life. Abby pointed the boat toward open water and secured the steering wheel in place one last time with the bungee cord.
Taking a deep breath, she pegged the throttle all the way forward and sent the boat surging ahead into the wide-open sea. After a moment, assured that this would work, Abby ran to the back of the boat and leaped off into the chilly water.
The sound of the runaway boat became a distant noise as quickly as the pain shot through her body when her leg wound hit the water. She hadn’t counted on that, and as she started to kick, the mile or so distance to shore suddenly seemed insurmountable.
A few minutes later, she couldn’t hear the boat at all. She turned and treaded water for a few moments to get her bearings, and saw that the police boats and helicopter appeared to be moving toward the boat, not her. By the time they figured out she wasn’t on it, she planned to be long gone.
As she treaded water, she began to cry. All of the hurt, all of the pain, all of the terror that she had endured over the past decade were behind her now.
He can’t hurt us anymore.
They were tears of joy.
Nothing was reversed, but the future was infinitely more promising. She and Ava could live normal lives.
Struck by a sudden thought, she fished her disposable phone out of her back pocket and opened it in front of her face to find the screen black and unresponsive.
Escape, Dead End Page 20