The Storm

by K. C. Crowne

  He stepped forward, more beast than man, his frame eclipsing the light in the doorway. He was trying to look intimidating, but he'd have to try harder to ruffle my feathers.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” I told him.

  He jerked his head back, affronted. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “I said you should be ashamed of yourself. All of you. You're supposed to be military men. Supposed to have honor. And here you are. Selling out to a crook with a fat wallet. You're scum.”

  I waited for the tidal wave of bodies to hit me. Waited for them all to fight me, but they didn't move. They knew I was right.

  “If I hear another word from any of you again, I will testify and put you in the cells too.”

  “You guys are military men?” Carly asked. Lucas had hurried to her side and helped her up. She looked angrier than I was. “You pieces of shit,” she said. “How can you protect a man like this?”

  Her eyes were on the knives stuck to the walls. I knew what she wanted to do with them. I reached for her, and she hurried to my side. We stared at the men, accusatory glares that I hoped they remembered for the rest of their lives. There was the scuffle of boots on the ground as threats were issued from Mario's spitting mouth.

  “Do you not know who I am. I'm Mario Gianni! I'll kill you all myself! You assholes. You motherfucking assholes! I'll make you dig your own graves!”

  I slumped back, exhausted. Feeling the threat of danger leave my body.

  It's finally over.

  The relief was overwhelming, and I leaned into Jackson's muscular body, relishing in his warmth and strength.

  “I thought you'd never come,” I said. “I thought I was going to die down here.”

  “You should have known I would come for you,” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “I'll always be here for you.”

  Chapter 24

  Jackson

  "Tell me he's going to be okay!" I shouted at the EMT as the gurney was wheeled at top speed toward the ambulance.

  "Please, sir. You'll have to step back. We're doing everything we can."

  "He's my brother!"

  "Please."

  He was taken away from me into the waiting ambulance, an entire team working on him as I stood watching. I felt helpless. More than anything I wanted to jump right in and make them all work harder, but I knew they were doing their best. All I could do was wait.

  "He's going to be okay," Dylan assured me.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. He's a fighter. He'll get through this."

  As much as I wanted to believe that, I couldn't rid my mind of the nagging doubt.

  What if he dies and it's all because of me. Why couldn't I save him?

  "Where's Dax?" I asked, still looking into the ambulance.

  "Clearing snow from the roads so the rest of the emergency services can get here."

  On cue, sirens wailed in the distance.

  "That'll be the sheriff now, no doubt."

  In the distance, I could see Lucas on his phone talking to Sandra. I didn't want to imagine what that conversation was like.

  "Hey," came a soft, croaky voice from behind me.

  I turned around and saw Gabby with two EMTs on either side of her. She was huddled in a blanket, her whole body exhausted, but her eyes were fiery. Dylan, sensing the energy between us, walked away toward Lucas.

  "You need to go to the hospital," I told her, opening my arms to hold her tight.

  "I hate hospitals."

  "But you have to go. You blacked out." Brushing the hair from her neck, I could see where purple bruises were already beginning to form in the shape of fingerprints. "Bastard."

  She pulled my hand away from her neck and kissed my fingers. "You know, I had a pretty good handle on things. I was gonna kick his ass before you guys showed up."

  "How can you be like this? Cracking jokes after what you've been through."

  "It's better than crying," she replied, turning around to look into the ambulance. The team were still working on Jared, still pumping him full of fluids. I saw nothing but a mass of uniforms and tubes. "And I could have been so much worse," she said, her eyes sadly fixated on Jared. "Is he going to be okay?"

  "I...don't know."

  From the main road, the sound of sirens grew closer until they were piercing. The sheriff's car was the first to screech to a stop beside us. Baxter leaped out, his eyes darting wildly all over the scene. When his eyes fell on the ambulance, he broke into a run.

  "Dear God. Tell me it's not—"

  "It's Jared," I said. "Shot in the leg."

  Baxter held a hand to his jaw as his mouth fell open. "Shit..."

  I had never heard him swear before and it felt strange to see him so distraught.

  "Sons of bitches," he said. "But we got the bastards. I've got word my deputy has that asshole Mario in custody."

  "He sure does."

  I pointed toward the main house where an unmarked car was parked beneath the trees. Through the back window, we could just about make out the shape of Mario's head.

  "What kind of hell took place here?" Baxter grumbled. "This is supposed to be a small town. A paradise."

  "Even paradise has demons," Gabby said as she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  Behind her, Carly traipsed over to the stone wall and perched on it, shivering. There was a haunted look on her face as she stared at her shoes, her thumb moving to her mouth so she could chew on her nail.

  "I'll be right back," I said and moved toward her. I knelt in front of her, but she didn't appear to notice. "Carly?"

  She shivered even more. Taking off my coat, I draped it over her shoulders.

  "Sis, I'm so sorry I wasn’t here earlier to save you. I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

  She raised her gaze to meet mine and sniffed. There were tears in her red raw eyes. "I don't care about me," she cried. "I'm worried about Jared!" A loud sob heaved out of her as she stared at the ambulance. "It's my fault, isn't it? I should have listened to both of you. If I'd just stayed at home none of this would have happened."

  I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her like I used to do when she was five years old and fell off her bike. I was close to falling apart too, but I knew I had to be strong for both her and Jared. So I took a deep breath, hugged her until it hurt and said, "He's going to be okay. You know how tough he is. He's been to war, for Christ's sake. You think a little chunk of metal in his leg is going to damage him?"

  She forced a slight smile. "I guess not," she sniffed again and wiped her eyes. "Thank you," she said. "If you hadn't come at just the right moment, I don't know what would have happened next."

  "You'd have reached for more meat cleavers," I said. "You're a tough cookie. I'm proud of you."

  Behind me, I could hear the crunch of footsteps as a medic approached Gabby. He was trying to guide her toward an ambulance with a kind smile, but she was having none of it.

  "I'm fine!" she insisted.

  "You were asphyxiated. You need to come down to the hospital and get checked out."

  "No. Seriously. I'll be okay."

  I approached her and saw the anger in her eyes. "Please, Gabby," I said. "What if he did some serious damage to you? What if he fractured a bone in your neck?"

  "I told you. I'm fine."

  "You're in shock," I explained. "You're not feeling it right now."

  The medic nodded in agreement. "That's right," he said. "I can't recommend enough that you get checked over."

  I don't know if it was the concerned look on both our faces, or the fact that she knew deep down she needed medical attention, but she eventually sighed and said, "Fine. But I'm not hanging around for a hundred different tests. I'm straight in and straight out."

  I stood at the coffee machine staring down into the scalding hot liquid that tasted like dishwater. In front of me, the long line of private hospital rooms stretched out, each one containing their own private drama. Out of
the corner of my eye, I became aware of a tired figure approaching from the direction of the waiting room.

  "Yo, Jackson."

  "Dylan? Where's Lucas."

  "Gone home to Sandra."

  "Best place for him."

  "Yeah."

  Dylan slotted in some loose change into the coffee machine and asked, "How are the Americanos?"

  "Vile."

  "Just as long as it’s caffeinated. That was one long night."

  He sighed as he watched his cup fill up and dragged a hand down his exhausted face.

  "What's the situation with Jared?"

  I looked down to the ICU ward where just beyond the double doors, his room lay.

  "Still critical," I said. "But stable. The doc says he should make a full recovery in time. Just needs to stay in for a while to keep an eye on him."

  "Thank fuck for that," Dylan said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He was trying his hardest to look tough, but I could tell he was close to cracking up. "I really thought we lost him back there."

  "Me too. But we didn't. Thanks to you."

  He smiled weakly and picked up his coffee, turning up his nose as he smelled it. "Aw, Jesus, this shit smells like gasoline."

  "Hey, just be grateful for it. Once you get the chance, you can head back to the diner and fill up on all the fresh coffee Tracey can bring you."

  A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Say, what do you think of Tracey?"

  "What do you mean, what do I think of her?"

  "You reckon she's nice, right?"

  "Sure! She's a great worker."

  A little twinkle came to his eye. Sinking his top lip into his coffee, he took a sip and wrinkled up his face with the taste.

  "I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said. "Last night... Well, I really thought for a while that we wouldn't all get out of there alive. If it wasn't the cold that killed us, it could have been a bullet."

  His eyes drifted away, and he stared at the wall for a second in deep thought.

  "It really made me realize how I've been wasting my days. You know drinking, gambling, hanging out all night, not doing anything meaningful besides work. Not having anyone truly close to me.”

  His eyes moved down to his left hand. I wondered if he was imagining a band on his ring finger. “I want what Lucas has,” he said. “Someone to go home to."

  He slammed his coffee down and abandoned it on top of the machine. "You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

  "No. Why would you say that?” I asked, cuffing his shoulder with my fist. “I think you're right. Settling down with someone would do you a whole lot of good, and something tells me you think that someone should be Tracey."

  The hint of a wicked smirk returned to his lips. "Yeah, I've, um, always had a thing for her. She's a hot, little thing all right, but that's not all. She's real sweet, you know. Always has time for me. I've never told any of you this, but sometimes late at night, after the diner closes, we would lock ourselves inside and—"

  "Oh, Dylan, no. Spare me the details. I eat my breakfast there!"

  "No, no, nothing like that,” he said with a laugh. “What I mean is the two of us would hang out and just talk, you know, just talk for hours about everything, and she really listened. Listened more than that dumb Navy shrink we all got sent to. She really seems to get me, really seems to care.” He smiled wickedly. “Besides, she's got a tight little ass on her too."

  "Ah, there it is. The real Dylan. Didn't think you could keep up the gentleman act for long."

  He laughed and tugged at his hair, his eyes shining at the thought of her.

  "Think she'll say yes if I ask her out?"

  "She'd be stupid not to, buddy."

  At the end of the hall, a doctor in a white coat emerged from Gabby's room with a clipboard tucked under his arm. He looked up and down the hall, and noticing me, ambled down, his brown brogues squeaking on the linoleum floor.

  "Jackson?"

  "That's me."

  "Yes, I thought I recognized you from the diner in town. You can go in and see Gabby now."

  Dylan flashed me a warm, mischievous smile and slapped me on the back before walking away.

  "Is she okay?" I asked the doctor, following him down the hall.

  “A little shaken,” he replied with a smile. “Although that's to be expected.” He opened the door and nodded inside. “Take your time. I have the paperwork to handle, then she can be discharged.”

  I stepped into the room and was confronted by a bunch of beeping machines and wires attached to Gabby's chest and arms.

  "It looks worse than it is," she informed me blandly. "They insisted on checking my heart for some reason. I keep telling them I'm fine, but they won't listen."

  As I approached, I noticed the bruises around her neck, deep purple and turning crimson at the edges. But just above them, her perfect face rested serenely with a smile.

  "How can you look so beautiful after all you've been through?"

  "Drugs," she replied with a giggle. "The doc sedated me."

  "Ah, that explains it."

  She giggled again and reached for my hand. Her fingers were silky and warm, and I pressed her hand to my mouth, kissing her fingertips one by one.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "For what?"

  "Coming to my rescue, although I've got to admit, if you hadn't turned up, I totally would have floored him. I had it all under control."

  She laughed again, forcing herself to see the funny side of a terrifying situation. As I watched her laugh, I became overwhelmed with a flood of love for her.

  "What are you looking at me like that for?" she asked.

  "I just love you so much, that's all. Carly told me everything you did down there. Busted your way out of that room, told Benny where to go. He must have cursed himself for picking you as a victim."

  She bristled as the smile dropped from her face.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I just don't like that word," she said. "Victim. Makes me sound weak. Like I could just be plucked off the street like a child."

  Taking a seat beside her on the edge of the bed, I pulled her closer to me, cupping her face in my hands to look deep into her eyes.

  "Gabby, there's no shame in being a victim. It wasn't your fault and it doesn't make you weak. I can promise you that."

  "I still don't like it," she said, reaching a hand up to brush my hair. "I prefer the word survivor."

  A slight smile returned to her face.

  She's tough as hell.

  Just look at her! She's not afraid of anything.

  "Survivor it is," I said.

  She leaned up and kissed me softly, her hair still smelling like the bunker, earthy, dark, and smoky.

  Behind us, the door opened and a rosy-faced nurse entered along with an orderly carrying a tray of food. She saw us cradling each other and halted in the doorway.

  "Oh, sorry. Do you want us to come back later?"

  "Not if you've got food," Gabby said. The orderly set the tray down beside her with a smile.

  "It's not much,” said the nurse “But you need to keep your strength up. How are you coping? Those bruises look really nasty."

  "I'm doing fine," Gabby said. "I'm discharging myself as soon as the doc comes back. Not sure why I was admitted anyway. Surely it's just some bruises."

  The nurse frowned and looked unimpressed by her blasé attitude. “You could have been seriously hurt,” she said. “It's safer if you stay in for observation for at least twenty-four hours to make sure you're okay. As you're aware, it's not just the neck injury that has been reported. From what I understand, you inhaled smoke and were exposed to underground mold. I'd highly recommend you stay here and receive more tests.”

  "I don't think so," Gabby said, reaching for a vanilla pudding. "I'm not keen on the idea of hanging around in here getting poked and prodded."

  The nurse gave her a sympathetic look but didn't argue with her. “You can put the TV on,” she sa
id, gesturing toward the remote attached to the bed. “Gets a little boring in here.”

  “Good idea,” said Gabby, pressing the on button. “These four white walls are starting to close in on me.”

  With a polite smile, the nurse departed. She reminded me of my mother, kindly and plump with white hair and the smell of talcum powder following her from room to room.

  "Hey," Gabby said. "Look!" She pointed her spoon up to the TV.

  "Shit, that's the bunker."

  "Turn it up!"

  I reached for the remote and turned the sound up as loud as it would go so the sound of the anchor's voice filled the room.

  "The underground Mafia lair is currently being searched by police and forensic teams although what they'll find remains a mystery. Current estimates reveal there are around three miles of tunnel spreading inside the mountain complete with bullet proof doors, a luxurious living quarters, and even its own hospital wing."

  "Oh my God," Gabby said. "It looks so creepy when you see it like this."

  On the screen, the anchor was standing beside the manhole cover, the camera panning down to a man in a paper suit descending the ladder. Then it cut to close-ups of Benny's bedroom, his burned-up lair, the operating table that Jared had lay on, his blood still spattered down the side of the wall.

  "Looks like something from a horror movie."

  "Wasn't it?" Gabby nodded and pushed her pudding away, suddenly losing her appetite.

  "Of course locals have speculated for years about the existence of buried treasure," the anchor continued. "But are the rumors true? Well, sort of."

  Gabby frowned and leaned forward on the edge of the bed, gripped by the unfolding story.

  "Many objects were discovered during the search of the premises, from paintings and jewelry to collectible baseball cards, but the real treasure was discovered hidden even deeper underground, in the makeshift sewer system built by Benny Gianni Senior."

  "Sewer system?"

  "Shut up a minute!"

  "Priceless gems including sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds were discovered along with millions of dollars in unmarked bills, but was the treasure soon to be discovered as little more than fool’s gold?"