Mourning Reign

by Edward Hancock II

  Chang was an explosives expert with the ATF, having worked in local law enforcement bomb disposal units in three towns before joining the ATF. Quiet, stoic, but interested, Agent Chang let his partner do most of the team’s talking, filling in mostly the gaps called for by his expertise.

  “I’d really like to know how any of this connects to my wife,” Alex said, his impatience growing by the second.

  “Mr. Mendez, we believe that Abdullah and Ibrahim were somehow connected to the attack on the police headquarters. We believe they’re outcasts, trying perhaps to start their own organization.

  Further, we believe that they’re running scared. We’re dealing with desperate men; men who fear being seen for fear of losing their anonymity. Fear of being caught, because they’ll no longer be soldiers in their Jihad.”

  “And this connects to Lisa how?” Alex asked again.

  “We believe,” Agent Sutton interrupted. “As does the ATF I’m assuming, that these men intend to eliminate any witnesses.”

  “You mean they intend to kill Lisa?”

  “I mean there is a reason they were so desperate to speak to her.

  They want to know what she knows. They want to know what she saw. And they intend to prevent her from telling anyone. And frankly, they’re just pissed off she survived. They want to make an example of her. The fact that she’s a woman probably makes it worse.”

  “She has amnesia,” Alex said. “Even if she did see something, she won’t remember it.”

  “That probably won’t matter to these guys,” Agent Sutton said. His eyes filled with an unexpected sadness. “They might not even believe her. Probably won’t care. The fact is, Mr. Mendez, a lot of this is speculation. We have to also consider the possibility they will be trying to assume different identities. Not your wife’s of course, but...”

  “You’re saying they’re going to kill her regardless?”

  No one said anything. They didn’t have to.

  Alex stood up, turned and headed for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Agent Sutton asked.

  “To find my wife,” Alex growled. “I can’t just sit here.”

  “Yes you can,” Danny said, standing to block Alex from moving any further.

  “Get out of my way, Danny.” Alex ordered. “If you know what’s good for you, you will not try to stop me.”

  “If you know what’s good for Lisa, you won’t go off half-cocked. Come on Alex! You know better than that! That’s not how we do it. We need to think. Beat these guys.”

  “Ineedto find my children’s mother. You can sit on your brains all you want. I’m going to find Lisa.”

  A young black girl that had accompanied Danny stood up and placed a finger on Danny’s arm. “All due respect sir, I believe Mr. Mendez is right. The more we have looking for Mrs. Mendez, the quicker we will find her.”

  “You’re out of line Officer Warner,” Danny said, passing the young woman a disapproving glare.

  “She may be out of line,” Alex said, glaring at Danny. “But she’s got more brains than half the people in here—including you apparently.”

  Ignoring Danny’s scowl, Alex pushed past him and walked briskly toward the exit. As he reached the automatic doors, he felt a gentle hand on his arm. “Mr. Mendez?”

  He turned and met the eyes of Danny’s young companion. “You a cop?” he asked her, just hoping she wasn’t too much of a rookie.

  “Yes sir,” she confirmed. “Officer Tisha Warner.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tisha. Let’s go see if we can find my wife.”

  “What do you think you’re doing, Officer Warner?” Danny called.

  “I’m guessing,” Tisha said, not making eye contact with her superior officer.

  “Guessing?” Alex asked.

  “Cop instinct,” Tisha said, loud enough for Danny to have overheard. “He’ll understand.”

  ***

  The car faced the unsettled waters of Lake Gilmer. Eric himself teetered between watching the calming waves and closing his eyes, dreaming of exotic maidens feeding him tropical drinks and massaging his neck and shoulders into delirious relaxation.

  This was the most at peace he’d felt since the funeral of Jenny Anderson.

  He let out a hefty sigh as the radio softly hummed with a tune from the latest American Idol winner. It wasn’t his favorite song by any means but the slow, soft steadiness of the tune forbid him from changing the station as it served to further the calm he was so desperately seeking. For once, radio reality had taken a break.

  He told his mom that he was going to be out looking for another job. In truth hehadgotten a Longview newspaper. It currently sat pristine and undisturbed in the back seat where it had been placed before Eric had left the small mini-mart, where he had also purchased a Sunkist soda and a bag of Cheetos. Shortly thereafter, Eric made a mental note that just because two food items shared the same orange color didn’t exactly mean they would go well together.

  One thing Gilmer wasn’t short on was fast food places. Having failed to satisfy his overly powerful need for sustenance, Eric Reid had opted for a double cheeseburger value meal with a Coke. He hadn’t eaten the fries, opting instead to finish the chips he’d bought earlier.

  So now his floorboard was a mess of fast food sacks, half-empty soda bottles and a couple of candy wrappers from the Mr. Goodbars he’d also bought at the convenience store. He’d have to solve the spring cleaning problem later. He wasn’t the cleanest person by any means but he did his best to keep the mess in his car down to a minimum.

  Eric checked his watch and saw that it was nearly 4 in the afternoon. The last of three fishing boats to have occasioned the lake had left what seemed like hours ago.

  He was getting tired, feeling a strange sensation that the only other vehicle in the small parking lot, a maroon SUV, had been there nearly as long as he had and not one single person had yet emerged from within. Whoever was in there, Eric thought, they weren’t doing anything kinky. Occasionally it would jolt as if someone inside had merely shifted positions a bit too roughly. For the most part, the vehicle remained utterly still and, from what Eric could tell, quiet. The stillness of the vehicle spoke volumes while adding to the strange mystery that had begun to crowd into Eric’s otherwise growing calm.

  ***

  She was now totally unbound. Unfettered by any rope or piece of fabric that might otherwise prevent her from doing harm to her captor. In truth, she lacked the strength to do anyone much harm. Between the pain in her shoulder and stomach, not to mention whatever drug he had shot into her, she was little more than a useless blubbering lump. If there was a positive side to her predicament, her legs were gaining more and more feeling if not more stability.

  What did he want from her? She couldn’t even remember how she got in her current condition. She didn’t know her own name. She assumed it to be Mendez, but if God knew her first name He wasn’t being very forthcoming with that misplaced detail. Maybe Idiot Man had the wrong person. Whatever he wanted to know, she sure as heck didn’t know it. Why he wanted to know it was anyone’s guess. She couldn’t remember anything. Nothing he was asking was making any sense. Who was the guy talking about? Had she seen what?

  Who? When? What happened? What blew up?

  Why was this happening to her?

  This knee throbbing is starting to hurt a little.

  Despite the confused cry of her mind, she found herself more angry than scared. Aggravated that she couldn’t remember who she was, frustrated that she lacked the strength to kick this guy’s brains out of his eye sockets. She had to do something. That much was certain. She couldn’t stay here. No matter who this guy was, he wasn’t safe. He did not give her the warm fuzzy feeling that Mr. Sexy, her imagined fascination, did.

  “You’re going to die anyway, Mrs. Mendez. Why not die with the truth on your lips? Tell us what we need to know and maybe we’ll let you die quickly. Continue to resist and maybe we can arrange it so your children get to watch
as their mother dies slowly and painfully. Your cries will echo in their hearts forever, Mrs. Mendez. And their cries will be the last thing you hear.”

  Jackpot, she thought to herself. Keep talking. Kids huh? I have kids? Yes that makes sense. And if you think you’re going to hurt them you’re nuts.

  Okay, she told herself, keep him talking. It’s got to come back to me. Mendez. Who Am I? Mendez who?

  “You really want to know?” she asked, feigning a sudden revelation, or perhaps a mere loss of stubbornness he obviously thought blamed for her perceived lack of cooperation.

  “Of course,” he said, his eyes turning almost oozing with venomous glee. “Mrs. Mendez we need to know what the police have.

  We need to know what you saw. Then we can let you see your children

  one last time. Tell us everything.”

  “You’ve got to do something for me first,” she said

  “I have to donothingfor you, Mrs. Mendez.”

  “If you want the information up here,” she said, pointing to her temple, “this small favor shouldn’t be too big a price to pay for my cooperation.”

  “What is it you want, Mrs. Mendez?”

  “I just want you to say my name,” she said, “my whole name—first and last.”

  “And why would you want such a silly thing?” he asked, his voice slipping deeper into a thickening accent that was becoming increasingly foreign and difficult to understand.”

  “Call me crazy,” she said, shrugging. Her shoulder burned, she winced at the sensation of imaginary glass being rubbed against her skin. Rubbing her shoulder lightly, grimacing, she continued. “I figure I ought to at least be on a first name basis with a man about to make orphans out of my kids. You want something from me. Well I want something from you. Give and take. Or you can just get it over with.”

  “Mrs. Mendez,” he began.

  “I told you I want you to say my name!”

  “Lisa.”

  ***

  The more he thought of the SUV, the more Eric’s mind began to create impossible imaginary stories as to its sinister purpose. Maybe his mom had hired a private investigator to check and see if he was looking for a job. Maybe there was a team of models in there desperate for the studly affections of one Eric Reid.

  No. More than likely it was just some homeless couple camping out for the night. Maybe they were just waiting on Eric to leave so that they could privately utilize Lake Gilmer as their own personal bathtub or, more likely, restroom.

  Eric saw the SUV jostle a few times. Interesting, he thought to himself. The Hobo Family was awake.

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” she said, launching herself full force into the man’s gut. The pain in her shoulder intensified, as did the sharp needle-like pains in her stomach. It felt as if the very skin covering her abdomen might tear itself apart with each frantic motion.

  There wasn’t time to worry. Panic was not an option.

  Escape!

  Stunned, the man banged his head on the SUV’s metal shell. The echo of bone meeting metal was deafening in the hollowed out automotive cavern.

  With each movement the pain coursing through her body increased a hundred fold. Her eyes swam behind an ocean of uncontrollable tears, clouding her vision, making it next to impossible to find the latch that would allow her escape.

  Alerted, the two men in the cabin exited the SUV and made their way toward the side doors just as she managed to find the latch to the rear.

  A small crack of light warmed her face. With the little bit of strength her body possessed, running off of pure adrenaline, she flung the door against a powerful breeze.

  A hand on her leg!

  She screamed.

  The sudden commotion from the SUV drew Eric’s trepidation.

  “What the…?”

  Before he knew what he was doing, he opened his car door and started to exit the Sunfire.

  Thinking better of it, realizing he was hardly the hero type, Eric decided it might be better to prepare for an inevitable flight, should he be witness to some awful deed.

  Two men exited either side of the front. Eric watched as the one nearest him frantically pulled on the passenger side back door. He could see what looked like a person struggling inside. Kicking. Then they were gone.

  The back door to the SUV flew open, staggered for a moment then started to close again.

  A scream! He definitely heard a scream.

  Just before the door banged shut, another scream. This one sounding more like a scream of pain.

  What was going on?

  He revved his engine thinking if nothing else he might distract the men on the outside of the SUV.

  He considered the possible success rate of ramming into the man on the near side of the SUV.

  Sunfire Vs. SUV?

  ***

  She turned to see the interrogator’s hand on her ankle. His grip was unbelievably strong. A fingernail buried deep, removing skin.

  Instinctively, she jerked her ankle, ripping the skin all the way to her heel, freeing herself in the process. Instinct again perhaps, she kicked the interrogator twice and threw herself forward just as the door flung back, smacking her in the arm.

  She grunted, growled in agony.

  Her vision became a dancing cacophony of fireflies and stars.

  She heard something. What was that?

  Help?

  She blinked frantically, trying to clear her vision.

  “Help!” she said, trying to scream, though half exhausted, half drugged, her body wracked with pain. Her voice grew suddenly graveled. Her chest filled with choking phlegm or any number of unthinkable fluids that could be the end for her.

  What was her name again?

  Mendez. She’d heard that a number of times. She remembered

  Mendez. What did he say her first name was?

  Think!

  Fight!

  ***

  Sunfire Vs. SUV?

  No thanks. There was no way he was going to destroy his getaway car in some misguided attempt at heroism that might be as unnecessary as the rest of his existence.

  Wait!

  His dad’s cell phone!

  Eric’s dad had lent his cell phone to Eric in case of emergencies.

  Say what you would about Eric Reid’s parents but be sure to add overly protective.

  While most parents of automotive-licensed teenagers were busy ignoring their teens rampant sexcapades and drug use, Eric’s parents were laboring under the delusion that he was chronically ten years old.

  For the first time in his teenage existence, Eric saw a silver lining to the cloud that had hitherto been hanging over his adolescent head.

  He grabbed the cell phone and dialed 911.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “My name’s Eric Reid,” he announced to the operator. “I’m at

  Lake Gilmer. There’s a red SUV with a couple of guys in it. Looks like they’re attacking somebody. Beating somebody up. Looks like a woman maybe. I don’t know what they’re doing but I’ve heard screams and…”

  “Sir did you say you were at Lake Gilmer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And there’s someone being assaulted?”

  Eric watched as the door flew open again.

  “They’re trying to escape!” he screamed into the phone. “Get somebody out here. I’ve gotta go help!”

  Eric ended the call, threw the cell phone into the passenger seat and shifted the car into gear.

  “No guts, no glory,” he whispered to himself.

  The car’s engine hummed. He shifted it into gear.

  The automatic locks triggered. Eric reached down and unlocked them.

  “Hang on, whoever you are. Help’s on the way.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Will Power

  Whoever these guys were, they meant business. She fumbled with the door. Finally managing to swing it all the way open, smacking one of the would-be kidnappers in the face. Willing the str
ength to return to her body, if only for a minute, she again lunged forward toward freedom.

  Her skin met the warmth of the evening sun. Her mind was still very foggy. Her vision not as clear as it should be. The outside world seemed to be spinning. Never could she remember feeling the earth’s rotation until this very moment. To her left she heard the sound of another vehicle. The engine was revving. She heard tires scrape against asphalt.

  Mr. Sexy?

  James Bond?

  Lisa!

  Her name was Lisa! Or at least that’s what the interrogator had called her. Lisa Mendez.

  Okay, hold that thought.

  Why am I not moving?

  She fumbled and fidgeted but hung helplessly, half in, half out of the SUV. Her head throbbed. She felt something cold against her stomach. A mixture of sensations as the mysterious cold pressed against something very hot to the touch. The vehicle’s bumper was burning hot against the thin hospital gown—the only thing between her skin and heated metal and rubber.

  The sound of ripping fabric diverted her attention to the closed door to her right. Her gown had caught on the latch, trapping her. She was dangling headfirst, the blood rushing to her skull, pounding relentlessly against her temples.

  She reached back and tore furiously at the hospital gown. Weak, drugged, fighting fatigue, battling cloudy vision, forcing herself to ignore the horrendous pains coursing through her body, she fought to free herself from the entanglement.

  It ripped free and she fell helplessly to the ground with a great thud. Giant phantom fireworks flashed in her eyes as skull met asphalt.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Sharp needle-like pain seized her, causing her knees to buckle. As she fell to her hands and knees, she realized that her unknown assailant’s grip had been relinquished, probably due to her unexpected fall. Instinctively, she mule kicked just hoping to catch a piece of the guy, whoever he was. She felt her foot kick something.