by Dave Buschi
As he got closer he saw gravel towards his left. He stayed in the grass. There was a pile of wood on the side of the barn. Next to the wood was a tool of some sort. Something leaning.
He looked back at the house. Still no one outside. He slithered forward and reached the wood pile.
The thing leaning against the barn was a shovel. Rising to a crouch, he retrieved it and then slunk back into the grass. He stayed on his feet this time and didn’t crawl back. It would be too difficult to do that and hold the shovel, and a part of him was afraid he might be running out of time.
Sue was okay for now. But for how long? And his girls?
Let them be okay.
He gripped the shovel. It was a heavy one. The heavier the better.
His eyes and ears took in everything. Night sounds; the thrumming of crickets came to the foreground. They seemed intensified, louder. They were building to a fever pitch inside his head. Vibrations of millions of wings rubbing.
He got back to the clumping of rocks. Some of the men inside the house had moved into other rooms. He could see Paulson clearly. He could see his wife. They were next to each other on a couch.
His wife elbowed Paulson in the face. What was happening? He watched, transfixed, afraid of what would happen next.
Some words were exchanged. Two men came over and grabbed Sue. Oh no. Think James. Do something. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Sue’s number.
“Hey, it’s me.” He tried to keep his voice calm.
James? Her voice betrayed emotion. She was hiding it, but he knew her too well.
“Yeah, who else? You expecting another call?” He forced a chuckle.
Inside, Paulson appeared to be speaking to her. He heard Sue’s voice again.
Sorry, I nodded off honey. She paused; it was as if he could hear her thoughts. I know baby, you want to tell me, but you can’t. How far away are you?
“Almost there, but you won’t believe it, I just got a flat tire. Listen, I know your phone is about to die. I’m just down the road. I think I can see your driveway up ahead. I’m going to walk the rest of the way. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay? Love you.”
Click.
He sucked in a hard breath. He’d done it. His voice hadn’t cracked. He’d gotten through that, and now he had to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. There was lots of movement. Paulson got up and spoke to some of the men. There were words being exchanged. If only he could hear what they were saying.
Please.
Then…
They bit the bait.
The men, including Paulson, spilled from the house. He counted them. Some stayed. Three. There were still three in the house. One was in what looked to be the kitchen. That man was with Katie. Two men were with Sue. They had hold of her arms and were taking her into another room.
I’m coming, baby.
With his shovel, James moved quickly towards the house.
116
THE men threw her in the room. Sue stumbled and barely managed to keep from hitting the baseboard of the four poster bed. It was a massive bed made of hewn logs. She had a feeling of utter hopelessness come over her. She reined it in.
“You don’t need the rope,” she said. “I’ll do what you want.”
Inside, she was biting back bile. She did her best to keep those emotions from reading across her face.
“No tricks,” said the largest.
“Or we break your face.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll do as you say.”
“Course you will.”
The other one laughed.
These men were monsters. Where did people like this come from?
She inventoried the room without moving her head. There, on the wall, were two rustic design elements. A wooden pitchfork with rusty steel tines and an old wooden shovel. They were about six feet from the bed.
“Can I be with just one of you? It’ll be better. You can both have me, but it’ll be easier for me if it’s just one of you.”
The men paused.
“Please? It’ll be better that way.” She backed up to the bed and looked at the larger of the two. “How about you and me first?”
“No!” said the other man. “Both!”
But the larger man said something in Russian. They started to squabble. Sue tried to read their faces. They seemed to be arguing and their voices raised a notch. The smaller man glared at her. He spit on the floor and didn’t argue anymore.
The larger man grunted, “Wait outside.” He’d won.
Sue said a prayer. She was going to get through this. She forced a smile at the man who remained. “Do you have protection?”
The man laughed, cruelly.
“It’ll help me… help me not focus on other things. Please?”
The man laughed again. “Shut up and strip.”
Sue dropped her head. Lord help me. She started to unbutton the shirt her dad had given her when they arrived here. The man watched like a slobbering dog. From what she could tell his gun was tucked in his belt.
A part of her now just wanted to break down. To cry and scream. To make this go away. But she knew that was not going to happen.
Outside were her girls.
She needed to get him undressed—get that gun away from him.
“It’s not exactly fair.” She took off her jeans. “I’m almost naked and you have all your clothes on.”
The man grunted and leered. He pulled out his gun and bent down to untie his boots, not taking his eyes off her. Next, he undid his belt and let his pants drop. He motioned with the gun. “Take rest off.”
She unhitched her bra and let it drop.
The man ogled. “Kátit.” He set his gun down at his feet and went to pull up his shirt.
Sue waited till the moment his shirt was going over his head, then she ran over to the wall.
117
JAMES made it to the house in record time. He went to the closest rear door. He got a break. The door was unlocked.
He slowly pulled the handle and slipped inside. The room wasn’t lit, but there was plenty of light to see by. He scanned the room quickly. To his left there were boots lined up on the floor. The floor was worn tile. Clothes had been tossed haphazardly on a wooden bench that was on his right. Some shelves and curved metal hooks just above head height lined both walls. The walls were made of white beadboard.
He was in a mudroom of some sort. The space was long and of generous width, and appeared to lead to the kitchen. He moved quickly, but carefully so as not to make any noise.
The shovel felt solid in his hands. He paid attention to the distance to objects around him. It wouldn’t do to knock something over, or brush the wall with the shovel’s blade. He needed the element of surprise. There was a cased opening up ahead from which light spilled. That had to be the kitchen. His pulse started to race.
He paused and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. He reminded himself that this was for his girls. It didn’t matter what happened to him. Just so long as he saved Sue, Katie and Hannah. Right now he was giving himself the mother of all pep talks. Drilling one point home. One sole objective.
This was for them.
What he did now only had to accomplish one thing. One very important thing. Save his girls. And he wasn’t going to fail.
It had its desired effect. At the moment, he firmly believed he could take a bullet right now and just by will alone force his body to keep going. He was going to save his girls, and heaven help any person that tried to stand in his way.
He moved forward the last few steps, towards the light. Through the cased opening there was a small foyer. On another beadboard wall was hanging an old antique sign. It was a picture of a little girl with black locks bringing something up to her mouth. Chocolat in italic letters was on top. Beneath the girl was the word Suchard. She was smiling.
James took another step forward. He wanted to run in, but there were three men and they likely were armed. One step at a time
. He reached the cased opening. Through it he could see the extent of the foyer. There was another door to his right. It was partially open. That probably led to the garage. He needed to peek the other way, into the kitchen, see where the guard was.
He moved slightly, tilting his body. He could see a counter and glimpsed what must be a stainless refrigerator. He couldn’t see anymore; his vantage point was restricted. He needed to be on the other side of the cased opening.
He reminded himself to breath. One big step. Now.
He moved across the cased opening and made it to the other side. He saw a blur of shapes and the rest of the kitchen. There were people on the floor.
No shout, no noise. He waited. Still nothing. He hadn’t been seen.
From his new spot, James had a sliver of a view into the space. There were cabinets and a kitchen island. On the floor were two men tied up. One he didn’t recognize. He was older with lined skin, sitting in an uncomfortable position with his hands tied behind his back. His legs were also tied. Next to him he recognized Bob, Sue’s dad. His head was drooped and there was a large knot on his forehead and what looked like dried blood.
James looked for the guard, but couldn’t see him. He looked for his girls. When he’d seen Katie from outside, he could only see the top of her head. She had to be on the other side of the island.
A small movement made James key on Bob again. Bob’s head had moved, just slightly. James watched as Bob’s eyes opened and flicked around. A grim expression was on his face. His eyes were observant, calculating. He was okay. James then noticed that Bob’s hands were moving. He was working on the ropes, trying to free his hands.
He stopped. There was some movement off to the side. James saw boots and a man’s leg. The cabinets on the wall prevented James from seeing anymore. That had to be the guard.
James gripped his shovel. The man standing took another step.
“What are you doing?”
The man partially filled James’s view. His back was to James.
If James stepped forward now he could get him. But he realized the space he was in was restricted. The man was too close. There wasn’t enough room in the foyer to swing the shovel. Not with the cabinets, the wall and the overhead cased opening.
He choked up on the shovel like a ballplayer might do with a bat. No, it still wasn’t good. Choked up on the shovel like he was gave him less to swing. He might not be able to bring the man down with it, and if he didn’t, the man could yell and bring the others.
“I said what are you doing? You think me stupid?” The man kicked Bob with his steel-toed boot. He had an unlit cigarette in his hand. He pulled a lighter from his pants. He didn’t appear to be armed.
James carefully turned, leaned, and set the shovel lengthwise on the clothes on the bench. He moved his torso back to how he’d been standing and took one small step so that he was fully tucked from sight, tight into the corner. The man was just a few paces away.
He could move out now and with one grab to the neck, pull him down. He’d have to make sure he grabbed the neck just right and silence him, prevent him from yelling. James edged his head sideways till he could see the man again. The man was raising his lighter’s flame to his cigarette. The man’s head turned abruptly.
There was a blur as something streaked across the floor. It was a cat. It darted into the mudroom and raced past where James was standing.
Halfway into the space the cat stopped running. It stopped almost mid stride. The cat was a calico with a mottled black and brown coat. It stood stiffly, then took two minced steps forward and glanced back with an irritated look, as if to check if it had been followed.
James knew that cat. It was Tigerlily. Tigerlily’s green eyes appraised the guard with a look of disdain. She shifted her eyes slightly and they alighted on James.
A subtle change occurred. The cat recognized him instantly. Although she was Katie’s and Hannah’s cat, she periodically deigned to show James traces of affection. She liked to rub against his leg when he was sitting on the couch. And occasionally, when she really wanted to bestow a gift, she’d sit and fall asleep on his lap. That was usually on rare occasions when Sue and the girls were away.
Of course, those thoughts were not on James’s mind right now.
“Meow.”
James pulled himself tighter into the corner. Tigerlily meowed again. It was loud. She had the loudest meow of any cat James had ever heard.
“What are you meowing at?” The guard stepped into the mudroom. He strode forward a few steps and Tigerlily arched her back and hissed. The guard stopped. He looked at the cat and cursed something in Russian.
The man’s head tilted. James eyes went to what had drawn the man’s attention. There on the worn tiles were footprints.
James’s footprints.
Wet tracks leading to where James was standing. Right to his corner.
118
SUE grabbed the pitchfork and pulled it off the wall. Like a bare-skinned Amazon warrior, she turned in a flash, pitchfork pointing out like a lance.
The man had just finished pulling his shirt over his head. His eyes went wide, seeing Sue with the weapon. He looked at the three steel tines with their sharp points, then his eyes briefly flicked to the pistol at his feet.
Sue lunged forward, not giving him a chance to reach for it. The man jumped back, but his feet got tangled. They were still partly in his pants. Just as it looked like he would fall, his right foot tore free from his trouser leg. He jerked and caught himself; his legs splayed, like a man doing some crazy dance. He kicked his pants off his other foot.
With both feet free, he looked at Sue. She had pushed him back towards the other side of the room. Away from the door, away from the pistol. The pistol was now closer to her than it was to him.
She feinted with the pitchfork and went for the gun. She had to take one hand off the pitchfork to reach for it. The man wasn’t about to let her get the gun. He went for it too.
Sue checked herself and grabbed the pitchfork with both hands again. She went to stab him, but the man leapt clear of the points. He swiped with his hand, trying to grab the shaft of the pitchfork. Sue was quicker and pulled it back.
They stood there, eyeing each other. Two stripped-down combatants. He was muscled, dressed only in his underwear, which looked like some tight red bathing suit hugging him obscenely. A smirk came on his lips. He eyed her nakedness.
“Svlad! Bit’ baklúshi!”
He was calling for his partner. Sue’s eyes flicked to the door.
The man seized the opportunity. He dove for the gun. Sue was slow to react. As the man’s hand touched the gun, Sue stabbed with the pitchfork. The steel tines dug deep into the man’s arm, into the meat of the triceps.
The man howled and shrank back. There was blood on his arm. Two of the points had gashed his skin.
He hadn’t retrieved the gun. It was still on the ground. The man touched his bleeding arm and cursed.
The smirk was gone now. The man yelled something else in Russian. Sue looked at the door with fear. She had to get the gun before the man’s partner came in.
She lunged for it. The man went for her. She saw him moving and swung the pitchfork, but she was holding it with only one hand and it was a slow swing. He easily dodged and kept coming.
Sue screamed as the man grabbed her arm. She tore away from him, and scrambled to get clear. She butt his head with the pitchfork, using its back end. He snarled and swiped for her face.
Stumbling back, she crashed into one of the log posts of the four-poster bed. It hurt. Somehow she managed to keep hold of the pitchfork.
The man had pushed her far enough away. He went to grab for the gun. Sue jumped forward with the pitchfork. She gave it everything she had. She caught him in the side, digging into flesh, hitting hard into bone.
The man grunted. He clawed for the pitchfork with his free hand. Sue stumbled. He got a grip on the shaft. He ripped the points clear and then with the strength of a bear, h
e swung her around. Sue tried to hold on, but he was too strong.
She was whipped around. Her legs and body smashed into the bed’s footboard and the pitchfork flew from her hands and sailed from his. The man howled in triumph.
Rising to a full stand, eyes blood-crazed and ablaze, he came towards her.
119
James launched himself as the man started to turn. His arm hooked the man’s neck. His momentum almost made them both topple. James was behind him. Spinning, they smashed in the wall, bounced off and tottered like two drunks in a drunken brawl.
The man jerked back with his elbow, but James was pressed against him tight, and the blow barely landed. James shot his other arm under the crotch of the man’s arm and put it behind the man’s neck. His cupped fingers pushed down.
It was a combination of a chokehold and a half nelson. He applied force, pulling back on the man’s neck and pushing down on the head at the same time. The man’s windpipe was cut off. He couldn’t yell and couldn’t breathe. The man clawed at James’s arm. He kicked out with his feet.
James let go with the half nelson and swiped the man’s leg, using a sweep. It brought the man down. James landed on him, making sure the man took all two hundred pounds of him.
The man wheezed. James had just collapsed the man’s lungs, expelling his remaining breath. The man squirmed and tried to move. James wrapped his legs around the man and immobilized him. He took a quick second to adjust his grip. He locked his arms. This move was illegal in collegiate wrestling. On WWF they faked using this hold.
They called it the sleeper. It was very effective. Particularly when it was applied for real. James squeezed the man with everything he had, using both his legs and arms. His legs alone, back in the day, could do a number on his opponents. He’d won many a match by squeezing a guy till the guy just quit.