by James, Leigh
No. We couldn’t. We couldn’t leave her here.
“Matthew, no,” I said, willing myself to speak up, in spite of my overwhelming desire to just get the hell out of here.
Matthew being Matthew, he chose to ignore me. He patted my back as if to indicate that it was going to be okay. He must have thought I was in shock, and I couldn’t blame him for that. He continued to pull me towards the door, but I dug my heels in and threw myself out of his arms.
He turned towards me in surprise. “What the hell?” he whisper-yelled at me.
I landed on the floor, panting, looking up at him.
“Liberty?” Matthew asked, cautiously. I could hear him forcing himself to be patient, like he was talking to a crazy person, or to his small son.
“We can’t go yet,” I wheezed, swiping a clump of greasy curls off my face. “It’s Catherine — John’s daughter. She’s here. She’s completely crazy. She’s been holding me captive. And burning me with cigarettes.” I was babbling. “We have to get her out of here.”
Even though we didn’t have the time for it, Matthew just looked at me for a beat. Comprehension dawned on his face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked. He exhaled and went over to the window. I saw him reach his hand up so John could hopefully see it. He held two fingers out: two minutes. Two minutes more.
I heard more shooting and I looked at him desperately. “She’s not gonna come willingly,” I added, a whine creeping into my voice. That was an understatement of the first degree.
Everyone was gonna be so mad at me.
“Is she armed?” Matthew asked, sighing again, sounding resigned. He pulled his mask back over his face.
I nodded.
“Awesome,” he said. He crouched down in the corner of the room that was parallel to the door, so that whoever entered it wouldn’t see him right away. He motioned for me to sit down on the cot.
There was more noise coming down the hallway, people yelling in Spanish and running. A guard I’d never seen before suddenly burst into my room.
“Por que se abre esta puerta?” he yelled at me, running in, his machine gun trained on me.
I shook my head at him: No. You should run, I thought. I didn’t want him getting killed just because it was his bad luck to come in here.
Before he could move, Matthew was up and on him. He held his hand over the guard’s mouth and put the silencer to his head until the guard released his weapon. Matthew moved his hand just long enough to pull a roll of heavy duty masking tape out from one of his enormous pockets and throw it to me. I tore off a piece with shaking hands. I silently patted it over the guard’s mouth.
Matthew handed me his enormous gun, motioning for me to put it behind my back. The guard tried to yell through the tape so Matthew punched him hard in the stomach. He pushed him back into the corner and punched him again, square in the face. Clearly, Matthew had done this before: the guard was completely knocked out and slumped silently, conveniently down to the floor. Matthew crouched in front of him, ready for anything, his borrowed machine gun trained on the door.
I heard her careening down the hallway in her inappropriate shoes before I saw her. The only person who would wear heels in a Mexican prison. She stopped outside my open door. I leaned back against the wall, not wanting to make eye contact with her, not wanting to face the encounter.
“Liberty?” she called, warily. She must have been inspecting the dead guard. “Are you in there?”
“I’m here, Catherine,” I called. “I don’t know who shot him…What’s going on out there?” I flicked my eyes over to the window: the boot was gone.
“Come here,” Catherine ordered.
“On my way,” I said. A cold sweat ran down my body. I tucked the large gun into the back of my waistband, hoping it would stay put. I didn’t even look at Matthew as I stood up. He would know what to do. I hoped.
Catherine watched me as I shakily stepped over the guard. Her guard was with her, watching the stairs, watching me and watching her all at once.
“Let’s go,” she said, grabbing my elbow and painfully jerking me down the dark hall. I tried to move slowly; I didn’t want the gun slipping out of my pants and clattering to the ground. And I also didn’t want to go down the hall. I’d been down there, once, and I was never going back. Angel was down there somewhere, and John was in the opposite direction, back towards the outside. I pulled against her, just a little, and she turned towards me.
“Don’t you dare. Whoever they are, they are not getting you,” she said, and yanked me down the hall.
A shot hit her guard in the back. I watched in horror as he collapsed to the floor. She wheeled around, dragging me with her, and there was Matthew, all glorious six-foot-five of him, pointing the machine gun at her chest. I had to bite back the sudden feeling of guilt I had about John…this was his daughter…we were here to save her…and it would have been easier if Matthew just shot her.
She never let her firm grip of me loosen. But she managed to pull out a small pistol from behind her shirt and raise it back at Matthew. She clicked it into ready position and then turned and aimed it painfully up against my jawline. Ow.
I watched Matthew; he hadn’t moved. His gun was still trained on her. I looked at Catherine; she was staring at him, challenging him, cold as ice. She would do it. She would kill me in a second. No matter how bad it would hurt her father. She would officially cut all ties to her former life, her family, and she wouldn’t look back. I didn’t doubt it for a second.
My right arm was free. My right hand was sweating, but I didn’t even stop to think about it.
I pulled out Matthew’s gun and shot her in the foot.
She screamed shrilly, totally taken off guard, and fell to the floor, clutching herself. Her gun fell to the floor nearby.
I would only ever admit this to you, I thought at my inner voice, but I don’t feel too bad about that. Not too bad at all.
Honey, me neither, she said, agreeing with me for once.
Catherine clearly had experience with pain — she got herself under control and shook it off fast. I kept my gun pointed at her but she still fearlessly gave me a filthy look. Even though I was the one who was armed, I was afraid. I practically felt my knees knocking. Hell hath no fury.
Still glaring at me, she reached for her gun. Daring me to shoot her again.
Just give me a reason, part of me thought, but Matthew was there before I was. He kicked the gun out of the way and picked her up, pulling her arms roughly behind her back. She fought, bucking against him, wild to get free.
“HELP! AYUDA! AYUDEME!” She was screaming her head off.
I clapped my hand over her mouth. Still screaming, she tried to bite me at the same time. I crushed my hand against her, pushing her head back against Matthew.
“Can I hit her?” I hissed to Matthew.
“Better yet, can you?”
“Some stepmother you’re gonna make,” he said.
I looked at him, horrified at the thought.
“Keep your gun out and your hand over her mouth,” he instructed lowly, dragging her towards the stairs.
We went up cautiously, climbing up into the confused darkness. It was chaos in the yard. Matthew kept Catherine close, one arm wrapped around her, the other wielding his weapon. I was next to them, with my hand flattened against her mouth. She was still making a ton of noise, but at least it was muffled.
All I could see were the flashing lights of guns that outlined the silhouettes of bodies, lots and lots of bodies, splayed out in the yard. My stomach roiled. Granted, I’d shot Catherine moments before, and I would be happy to elbow her in the face right now, but all the dead guards were too much. I knew they’d been my captors, but still. They had wives, kids. And working for the cartel was the best job they could find — in Matamoros, it was probably even the safest. It was all just such a waste. A waste of life.
All the shooting, all the bodies. But where was John?
“Where
is he?” I asked Matthew. He was scanning the yard but hadn’t fired yet — keeping us out of sight for now.
“He’s around the side of the building — guarding you from the outside, so he’d be close but also in the most dangerous position possible. ‘Cause that’s John.” My heart plummeted.
“Corey and Sean are out there,” he said, pointing towards an outbuilding where there was heavy fighting, “and Ethan’s still waiting outside the fence,” Matthew said. “I hope.”
I felt blackness threaten to overtake me. All I’d done was bring pain and suffering to everyone. Then someone hopped into the stairwell and I screamed, pointing my gun at the figure.
“It’s okay, Liberty,” a familiar voice said. A warm, strong hand grabbed mine, pointing the gun away from him. I looked up into the gorgeous face of the man I loved. John Carter Quinn. His beautifully lined face appeared like a mirage out of the darkness. He kissed me quickly on the side of my face.
“You’re gonna need that gun — just don’t point it at me, okay?” he asked and smiled at me. I gaped back at him as his smile was replaced by an intent, calculating look. His game face.
“You need to do exactly what we tell you. Now stay down.” He leaned over the edge of the stairwell and started firing, then pulled back down, scanning the stairwell below us.
He looked up at Matthew and Catherine. Matthew’s hand was over her mouth, obscuring her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she were trying to block us all out.
“What’s this?” John asked, not recognizing her in the darkness and confusion.
“Interesting development,” Matthew said. “But she’s bleeding. We gotta get her out of here fast.”
Shots hit the door around us and I screamed, ducking down in terror.
“Can you run?” John asked me.
“I can try,” I said.
“I’ve got her,” Matthew said, lifting up Catherine in his iron grip. “And there’s no way Liberty can run.”
“I’m going out there,” John said to Matthew.
“John, no,” I said, but he ignored me and continued. “The last of their guys are set up over there,” he said, motioning towards part of the dark yard. “Sean and Corey are on the other side. I’ll find them and we’ll take out the rest of the guys on the ground. There’s not that many left.” My stomach roiled again. “I’ll come back for Liberty and the guys can cover us. Cover me now,” he said, and he was gone.
I shut my eyes tight as I listened to all the gunfire. Thank goodness it was dark so I couldn’t see. Please, I thought, please god, let him be safe. Matthew was shooting and holding Catherine at the same time. I stayed down, useless, repeating my silent prayer, for what felt like forever but was probably a few minutes.
“Get ready,” Matthew said, “he’s coming.”
John came at us at a full sprint. “Go!” John yelled at Matthew. Matthew lifted Catherine up, still struggling, and moved as quickly as he could across the yard. There was still firing, and yelling, but they kept moving.
“I’m going to carry you over my shoulder,” John said, breathing hard. He picked me up and placed me there as gently as he could. “Okay?”
“Let’s go,” I said. “I have my gun — I’ll cover your back.”
“Just don’t shoot my back,” he said as he ran, straining beneath me. He kept firing and I watched as the dark landscape bounced up and down below me. I made sure to keep my gun’s safety on.
We made it to the wall and John put me down gently. I just wanted everything to stop for a minute, so I could bury my face in his chest, so I could tell him about Catherine. But bullets sprayed the wall right above me and I cowered down. Corey and Sean ran to our spot at full speed; they turned their backs to us and formed a protective shield, firing back.
“Matthew — get them through there,” John called warningly, and fired off another round.
“Go now!” Sean yelled back at us. “There’s not that many left, but they’re coming!”
I turned to Matthew. “Under there,” he grunted, struggling with Catherine. “Where part of the bush is torn out.” I got down on my hands and knees and saw a path through the brush; part of the concrete had been blown out. I got on my stomach and slid through.
It was empty on the other side, at least as far as I could see; no cars on the dirt road that ran parallel to the wall.
“Liberty! Pull her through!” Matthew hissed at me through the opening. I could barely make out the top of her head, but I could hear her struggling and hitting while he covered her mouth and tried to push her through.
“Cut the crap,” Matthew said to her. “I’m gonna count to three,” he said, and I could picture him saying the same thing to his little son. “One, two…” I heard her fight and flail. Maybe she wanted the darkness. Maybe it was easier that way.
“Three,” Matthew said, and I heard him hit her a couple of times, hard. Then there was no more struggling.
I was pretty sure his kid just went in time out.
We wrestled her limp form through the opening. Matthew came next and propped her up against the wall.
“Did you have to knock her out?” I asked him, stricken.
“You shot her,” he said, defensively. “Besides, it’s not a family reunion without a little drama.”
I sighed, totally overwhelmed by the circumstances. “What am I going to tell him?” I asked.
“The truth. He’ll only want the truth,” Matthew said. “Now, we gotta take care of that foot.” He ripped part of his teeshirt off and tied it around her foot tightly, so she would’t lose any more blood.
We saw headlights then, and Matthew pushed me next to Catherine, behind him, and crouched in front of us, his gun ready.
It was a massive white Hummer, gleaming in the darkness. Matthew put his gun down and stood up. “It’s Ethan,” he said. “Liberty, stick your head under there and tell them he’s back. We gotta go.”
I went back under the fence and found all three of them on their knees, firing round after round. “The car’s here,” I said. “John! Come now!” Corey got off some more shots and then followed me. Confident that they’d heard me, I jumped into the car, next to a still unconscious Catherine. Matthew was still outside the car, making sure the other men got out and checking for trouble.
“Liberty,” Ethan said, turning around and smiling. “Always a pleasure.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” I said, but I was barely able to focus on him. I gripped the edge of my seat, still listening to the firing. Finally, Corey and Sean jumped into the car, into the back. Matthew hopped into the front seat.
I held my breath while I waited. And waited.
After what seemed like an eternity John jumped into the car and slammed the door. “Go go go!”’ he yelled at Ethan. Ethan floored it and the tires squealed underneath us. Then there were booms coming from the compound. Big booms. I could see fire bursting up towards the sky over the wall.
“Nice touch,” Matthew said.
“It might buy us a few minutes,” John said. I didn’t even wait a second — didn’t wait for things to stop blowing up all around us —before I grabbed his hand and yanked him towards me. “John. I have to tell you something. It’s Catherine,” I said, motioning to the form next to me.
“What?” he said. In the darkness I could the uncomprehending look on his face.
“Your daughter,” I said. “This is your daughter. She’s passed out. Matthew punched her.”
“What?” John asked. He looked staggered.
“Liberty shot her,” Matthew said.
“What?” John asked. He sounded near hysterics. “That’s Catherine? Give her to me,” he said, and I moved quickly over so he could get to her.”
“She’s okay. I got her in the foot…Matthew bandaged her up,” I said, miserably.
“It’s okay, Liberty. It’s okay,” he said, and briefly squeezed my hand.
None of the us spoke as he hit the overhead light and took her face in his hands. He
looked at her in wonder. He ran his hand across her cheek gently. Then he looked over at me, his eyes shining with tears. “It’s her,” he said, and an actual tear ran down his face. “It’s my daughter.”
Just then Matthew started talking to Ethan about directions and Sean and Corey started discussing the type of explosives that John had used.
John reached over and pulled me to him, putting his cheek against mine. “You found her. I can’t believe it.” He pulled back, too quickly for my taste, and checked her foot. He untied the fabric and inspected the wound. “Matthew, the First Aid kit,” he said, and Matthew handed it back. John went to work on her, cleaning the wound with antiseptic and bandaging it tightly.
“That should get us to the border,” he said. He sat back and put his arm around me, pulling me to him. I finally got to put my face in his chest.
“Tell me everything you know about her,” he said. He kept his hand on her hair, stroking it gently, and I felt a blind, ridiculous jealousy boil up inside me.
It was just that he was looking at her so lovingly. And I knew the truth about her.
He must have seen the expression on my face because he looked stricken for a second.
“Liberty. I don’t think I’ve had the chance to say it yet: I love you.” He leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips. “I cannot describe how relieved I am that you’re alive. You know that, don’t you?” I nodded, pushing my petty jealousy to the side. I felt the warmth and strength of his chest and inhaled his delicious smell. I’d just needed to be near him again, to feel his strong touch. That he’d come for me and risked his life for me told me everything that I needed to know about us. It was real. He loved me, too. I promised myself in that moment that I would never leave him again, not willingly. We were stronger together than we ever could be apart.
“I shot her because she was aiming her gun at me. She wouldn’t come with us willingly,” I said, as we sped through the darkness. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t say that. I’m the one who’s sorry. I left you down here too long. Her too,” he said, looking back at Catherine.
“I think they turned her,” I whispered to him, afraid to hear myself say it aloud. Afraid for him to hear the truth. “She told me she was kidnapped when she first came down here. Angel Morales rescued her from them.” I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the sex trafficking.