by J. A. Huss
It’s because we’re in this endless pattern of destruction. We’re a trainwreck. A plane crash. A hurricane of nothing-will-ever-come-of-this.
Ever.
“Here!” Tori screams. Her voice cracks, that’s how loud her yell is. But there’s no way in hell they can hear her. So I get to my feet and jog after her. Her arms are flailing in the air as she tries to get their attention.
“Tori,” I yell over her noise, and the wind, and the rain. “They can’t hear you. Just stop!”
She does stop. Like… immediately.
It’s a fucking miracle. I’m just about to ask her what’s up when she points to the island behind me. “Do you think that helicopter is unusually large for a rescue mission?”
“What?” I whirl around and look over at our island. “What the fuck are they doing?”
“What is that hanging down? Do they have cargo or something? Are they not here for us, Weston?”
“Jesus. Maybe not. But what are they lowering?”
“Men,” Tori says. “I’m counting them as they lower down. That’s twenty so far.”
Twenty guys? To rescue two people from an island? She counts the rest of the guys and stops at twenty-eight.
“Twenty-eight men. Do they look like soldiers to you, West?”
I think it’s funny she’s suddenly so calm. And if she had never said the word ‘soldier’ I might take a moment to enjoy her stillness.
But yeah. “Soldiers,” I say, repeating her word.
“Do you hear that popping noise? Is that shooting? Why is the helicopter hovering, Weston? Do they always have two of those propeller things on a helicopter?”
Everything about this is suddenly wrong.
“I think we should go back to the house, Tori. I don’t think they’re here for us.” I want to say, I don’t think they’re here to save us. But I keep that part quiet. “I think we should just go back to the house and wait for Mysterious to figure shit out and show up. If they’re looking for us they won’t know we’re here. And if they’re not, they won’t see us out on the beach when they go to leave.”
“Look, they’re running back to the helicopter.”
“Shit. We better go. They won’t come here. We’re fine.”
“Um, Weston. Do you promise not to get mad at me if I tell you something right now?”
My stomach sinks. “What?”
“You have to promise.” She looks up at me and smiles that smile when she wants something from me and I’m not giving in.
There’s a time and a place for that. This is not either of those things. “I promise. Now what?”
“They will come here looking for us. Because I left a note.”
Chapter Thirty-One - Victoria
I expect him to yell. I expect him to scream, and tell me I’m a selfish, stubborn woman who thinks she’s always right. I expect all the things I’ve gotten from him in the past.
But he doesn’t do any of that. He doesn’t even frown.
He takes my hand and drags me through the trees, pulling me along with him, so hard I think my shoulder will come out of the socket.
“West,” I say, trying my best to keep up. “Slow down!” The branches and leaves are drenched with rain, which has stopped just as suddenly as it started. But they slap me in the face and water gets in my eyes so I have to close them and hope I don’t fall as West continues to freak out and drag me along.
He says nothing until we get to the boat house on the lagoon. Then he stops and looks me in the eye as he places both of his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “Victoria. I need you to listen to me. OK?”
I nod.
“You’re going to stay here. You’re going to hide in the trees until I come back. And if any of those men from that island come while I’m gone, you’re going to run in that direction as fast as you can.”
He points off to the left and my gaze follows.
“There’s no beach on that side of the island. OK? There’s no beach so it won’t be easy for them to find you. So you make your way through the brush, as fast as you safely can, and then wait until I call for you before coming out. Do you understand?”
“Where are you going?” I ask, suddenly very frightened.
“I’m going back to the house to close up the safe. Maybe they’ll think we’re in there and it will give us enough time to find a good hiding place.”
We both look up as we hear the sound of an approaching helicopter.
“Do what I say, Tori. I mean it. These people are not fucking around and they are here for us.”
“Why, though? Why are they after us?”
“We can think about that later. Right now, we just need to hide. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you. Now run. We don’t have much time and I’m not going until I see you run.”
“West—”
“Run, Tori. I’m dead fucking serious. And don’t stop until you can see the ocean.”
I want to kiss him or hug him. Or say I’m sorry I didn’t trust him and left that note and now he has to clean up my mistake.
But I don’t. I figure the best way to show him all that is to follow his directions.
So I take off into the trees. There is no path. Just underbrush and tree trunks and bugs. I have no shoes on, so my feet are bleeding almost immediately as I step on rocks, and sticks, and all the tiny disgusting things that live on this island.
It takes me minutes to be brave enough to look behind me. I didn’t get that far. I can still see the red roof of the boathouse through a break in the leaves.
The helicopter is louder. So loud I have to clamp my hands over my ears. It’s circling the island above. I stop when I get to a small clearing with a tall tower in the middle, afraid to move for fear of being seen from the air.
So I hide under the tree cover and watch it. Whatever cargo it’s carrying is hanging by ropes or chains. It’s nothing but a box.
What’s in that box?
I crawl on my hands and knees to the tower, then climb up as fast as I can. It’s only about thirty feet high, but that’s higher than the tallest trees, so I have a good view.
The men are being dropped down by a line, one after another. There must be no good place to land here. “Please, let West already be leaving the house. Please, please, please.” I chant it over, and over, and over.
Men are yelling on the other side of the island. Shouting, then shooting.
Holy fucking shit.
“Please, please, please,” I say, climbing back down the tower. It’s my mantra and I chant it as I run. There’s a small trail, but I don’t take it. What if they fan out and start looking down all the trails?
I keep to the brush, trying to put some distance between me and the shouting.
A branch catches my shirt and it rips as I keep going. Red lines appear on my arms and legs as the thin branches of young trees slap against my body.
The helicopter circles overhead again. Like they are searching for someone.
Me?
Or West?
I don’t know, I just cower in the brush and hide under long fern fronds. When it moves on to another spot, I continue my run. A few minutes later I can hear the ocean, then see it. And I’ve run out of room.
This is where I’ll have to stay.
This is where I’ll have to hide.
Chapter Thirty-Two - Weston
I lose precious seconds looking for the guns I don’t have on me. I didn’t expect Tori to walk off. I should’ve fucking put them somewhere close the moment I woke up.
But I didn’t.
I totally fucked up and now I need them and I don’t have them. And these fuckers are here to kill us. I just know it.
I don’t want to think of the how or the why. I don’t want to think of the number one suspect on my very short list who might’ve sold me out. I don’t want to think of Tori, out there in the trees, running for her life.
I just need to get those guns.
Last night I woke up and stared ou
t the window, planning what we might need to do today. None of those plans included a Chinook helicopter filled with mercenaries.
That’s what they are. I know it. They’re not soldiers. This is most definitely a private operation.
The sound of the helicopter becomes deafening and I know they are hovering over the house. The guns are at the bottom of the dry bag, and the bag is… where is it? Where the fuck did I put it? I left it—
There. I grab it off the kitchen counter and run for the stairs. I practically leap down them, five at a time, and rush towards the safe, slamming it closed and arming the lock. I’m just about to leave when I see the silver envelope, slide on the smooth floor as I pick it up and stuff it into the bag, and then, just when I think I’ll get out of here in time…
They kick the front door open upstairs.
My body freezes but my mind is filled with thoughts.
There has to be a way out of the basement. Think, Corporate.
It’s not my voice in my head, it’s Paxton Vance’s. Mr. Mysterious would not have a basement with no exit. He’s far too paranoid for that. And I know—I just know—this is his house.
I have twenty, maybe thirty, seconds before they come down here.
Think!
Why the fuck didn’t we explore this whole house yesterday?
Oh, I know why. I was too busy trying to fuck Tori. Me and my goddamned cock are gonna get us killed over that mistake.
Think!
I don’t see any windows, so that means it has to be a door. I open the first one I see. Bathroom. Next is a closet, then a bedroom. The last one is the utility room that houses the generator. It’s humming along. Well, not humming, exactly—that fucker is loud. And we never heard it. Which means these walls are soundproof.
I close the door and flip on the lights. Another door, on the other side of the generator, has light leaking through the bottom. I glance at the machinery, find what I’m looking for, and flip the switch.
The power goes out and my whole world goes silent and dark.
Get out now, Corporate.
I feel my way along the wall towards that sliver of saving grace light near the floor.
Are they out there? They have enough guys to surround the house. I press my ear against the cool metal and listen.
Nothing.
I place my hand on the door handle, push. Nothing. Pull. Nothing. Fucking locked. I feel along the door for the lock, flip it, then try again.
Just a crack.
The helicopter is suddenly there, right on top of me, that box of cargo swinging in the air as it circles the house. It lowers, hovers, and then I hear a man shouting instructions.
A man whose voice I recognize.
Chapter Thirty-Three - Victoria
The shooting. They are shooting. More and more and more shooting.
He’s dead, Tori. And you killed him. He’s dead and you’re stuck here without him. And you’re going to die too.
No.
I stand up in the brush.
No.
I start making my way back. Fuck that. They are not getting him. I will not live the rest of my life knowing that he died to save me and I did nothing to help. Even if I have to kill them with my bare hands for revenge only, I’m going back.
I get about fifty feet when there’s a loud boom!
Instantaneously I’m on the ground, my face pressed into the wet grass and dirt.
What the hell was that?
I get up and start running again, not stopping until I reach that little clearing on the hill. I climb the tower as fast as I can, praying that these people are too busy to be looking. Too busy with their mission to notice me.
And when I get halfway up, I cling to the metal rungs, unable to believe what I’m seeing.
A tall pillar of smoke a couple miles away.
They blew up the house on the other island.
That’s what was in that box.
Explosives.
Holy shit. What the fuck is happening?
I climb down and start running again. The shouting is loud and I can hear one voice in particular giving orders.
Why does it sound familiar?
Who cares, Victoria? Just do something!
I slow down when that commanding voice gets closer. “He’s dead,” he yells. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before the whole thing explodes!”
No. No, no, no.
I stand up and rush towards the voice, making so much noise in the underbrush, I cannot believe he can’t hear me when he comes into view.
Everyone else is running away, back towards the hovering helicopter. They are lifted up, one at a time, and still that one lone man waits, the back of his head swiveling from side to side, like he’s the lookout.
When he turns his body in my direction, I duck and pray that he didn’t see me.
“Vance!” someone yells. “Vance, we gotta go! We only have one minute!”
I don’t want to think of what will happen in one minute, but I know. They are blowing up this house too.
This guy’s name is Vance. Paxton Vance.
He set us up.
“I see you,” he says, the underbrush crunching under his boots as he draws closer. “And you’re going to do exactly as I say if you want to stay alive, Victoria Arias.”
I stand up and shake my head. “I’m going to kill you, Mr. Mysterious. I’m going to kill you and get you back for what you did.”
“Vance!” the guys yell again. “Vance!”
“No,” he says calmly as he extends his hand. “You’re going to come with me and do as you’re told. Because in thirty seconds, that house is gonna explode.”
“Vance!” His friends are frantic now.
“Stop, Tori!” Weston yells.
There’s shooting in response. Not from Vance, who is standing still when Weston’s bullet hits him in the center of his chest. But from the other guys.
“Drop!” West yells. “Drop!”
I do it on instinct. My face hits the ground again as bullets fly past over my head.
He was alive.
He was alive.
And now he’s standing in the middle of a rainstorm of bullets.
The shooting stops and the helicopter whines, circling over the top of me, but the trees are too thick for them to aim.
And just as quick as all this started, it ends.
The helicopter tilts, and flies off.
I wait for the silence but it never comes.
Because that’s when the house explodes in a fireball.
I stay where I’m at for minutes, at least.
“Miss Arias?”
That motherfucker is not still alive.
“Miss Arias? Are you hurt?”
What is happening?
“Answer me, goddammit.”
“Tori,” West calls. “Tori! Where the fuck is she, dude?”
I stand up, unable to believe it. But he’s there. West is there, standing next to his friend, who has a bullet hole in his chest.
“What the fuck is going on?” I scream.
I run up to Paxton Vance and punch him in the face. He grabs hold of me by my arms, but West is there, tackling him to the ground.
I fall with them, and the three of us struggle.
I grab Vance’s rifle and pull, but he jerks back. “Tell her, asshole. Tell her before she gets us all killed!” Vance yells.
“He’s on our side, Tori. Just calm down! He’s on our side!”
I stop struggling and just lie there, panting. “What is happening? What the fuck just happened?”
“It’s OK,” West says, pulling me up off the ground. Vance gets up, pulling the barrel of his rifle out of my grip as I stand.
“I’m the fucking cavalry, Arias. So quit your bullshit and give me a fucking minute to explain.”
Chapter Thirty-Four - Weston
“This had better be good,” Tori growls.
“We don’t have time for that,” Pax says, one finger probing th
e hole I left in his armored vest. “Our ride is at the boat house right now. We need to go before those assholes start feeling guilty for leaving me behind and come back.”
I can’t argue with that. Because I can’t answer her question.
I have no idea what’s happening. All I know is that we have no choices here. We either stay on the island and hope for some kind of real rescue when people show up to investigate the explosions, or we go with Mysterious.
“Come on, Tori. We can talk about it once we’re safe.”
I expect a fight. I mean, what are the chances that Victoria Arias will ever go quietly?
But she says nothing.
Pax starts heading in the direction of the boathouse and she simply falls in line behind him. I take up the rear, and can’t help but be pissed off that her shirt is ripped open and Pax got a good view of her tits just now.
We walk the half a mile back to the lagoon in silence and even though I’m not expecting anyone to be there, there is someone there. A guy I’d like to punch in the face for many, many reasons.
Vlad the pilot is grinning like an asshole as we walk up to the boat.
“I count three living, breathing bodies,” he says. “So looks like this one went off without a hitch.”
“Don’t count the living just yet, Five. We’re not even close to being done here.”
Five. I knew that guy looked familiar.
Five was our fixer back when we were charged with rape. Five was the guy Match called to swoop in and tell us what to do.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, looking straight at Mysterious.
“Just get in the boat, man. I’ll explain along the way.”
“Nice to see you again, Vlad,” Tori snarls as she moves forward. But I grab her hand and turn her around to face me.
“Are you OK?” I ask, taking off my shirt and holding it open for her, so she can slip it on.
She sighs and looks down, like the tough girl just flew out of her with that exhale.
I button the shirt up so she’s covered again. “Are you hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head and looks up to meet my gaze. “No. But I’m scared to fucking death right now.”