Aftermath (21 page)

All it would take for this entire basement to go boom was dropping that lighter where he stood.

"You suicidal?" Cam asked him. He pointed at the wet floor. "If you drop that fucking lighter, you'll die, too. Not just us."

Psycho smiled. "By killing you, I will still do the world a favor. I will make a noble sacrifice." His smile became both wider and creepier. "Maybe this is how it was supposed to be all along. I'll go down as the hero who has taken out ten mediocre nobodies." Standing behind him, Austin placed a hand on Cam's hip, gently tugging him back from the doorway. Just a few inches, enough for Cam's back to touch Austin's chest. It was a silent request that said he didn’t want Cam too close to the danger. Psycho went on with, "My father will finally be proud."

He looked so fucking pleased with himself that Cam shuddered. 'Cause this scumbag wasn’t just insane—he was fucking delusional. Which had already been established, but now it reminded all the men that they were far from safe. Despite being restrained, Psycho held the power.

Victor tried to inch closer, but he didn’t get far.

"Uh-uh-uh. One more step…" Psycho's warning was clear. He was fully prepared to drop that lighter and send them all to their deaths. "In fact, why prolong this? I have nothing more to say."

Before anyone could react, the lighter slipped from his hand.

Austin parked next to Cam's Camaro at the end of the parking row, killed the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, but didn’t get out. Instead he grabbed his bottle of water and reached for the painkillers in the glove box, downed two, and sat back with a heavy sigh.

Taking off his sunglasses, he rubbed his tired eyes then slid the glasses up his nose again.

It was only Tuesday and this week was already killing him.

He'd gotten a lot done, but he understood Gale's reason for telling him to relax even more now. While it felt good to keep himself occupied, it made his mind spin. He suffered from furious headaches, and now he was in desperate need of a physical outlet to help with his anger issues.

Control was slowly making its return to Austin's life, though, so he was thankful for that. Because there was no other way to describe it. It was control. He'd taken control of his life. There was a plan, an agenda, things to do. He'd applied for all the papers needed, he'd talked to Angelo—his physical therapist—about what he could do to let off some steam, he'd found an apartment—as of twenty minutes ago—and he had started the process for Riley to change schools. But now, he was beyond beat. And he still had one more thing to do today: a session with Gale.

He already knew what it was about, which didn’t make anything easier. At first, he didn’t really think it was a big deal to miss one single group session, but when Gale told him what today's topic was going to be, he'd reluctantly made an individual appointment.

The last thing he wanted to do was to talk about how they broke free from that basement.

*

Time slowed, making every millisecond painfully clear. Austin didn’t miss a single thing. He watched with horror in his widening eyes how the lighter was dropped and ignited the floor in a sea of fire.

Grabbing hold of Cam's arm, Austin ripped them backward. Someone shouted, "No!" Another one shouted, "Run!" In what felt like slow motion, Austin and Cam ran toward the stairs, quickly followed by the rest of the men.

Behind them, flames consumed the floor and began to lick the walls. Their kidnapper's evil laughs were replaced by ear-shattering screams. Everything was engulfed by the fire except for the concrete staircase. Hopefully, that would buy them a few seconds, because they still faced the problem of the door.

"Get ready to ram that door down!" Tim yelled.

They reached the small vestibule—much too small for seven men—and while someone closed the basement door behind them, Austin, Cam, Victor, and Chase charged for the door that led to freedom.

Pain ripped through Austin's body as his bad arm, shoulder; hell, his bad
side
made impact. But the door budged, so pain was pushed down. Beyond desperate, they all slammed their bodies toward the door, some of the guys getting mangled in the process. But Austin didn’t give a shit, and he was one of the guys nearest the door. In his mind, he saw Riley. It made him fight harder. He had to see his baby girl again.

As smoke and heat rose, slithering into the vestibule under the basement's door, time and force became everything. The men didn’t think about the future, although they were fueled by the thought of having one, and they didn’t think about where they hurt.

Adrenaline surged through seven men, and two sayings became one. The first stated, "No man left behind," and the other stated, "Every man for himself." They contradicted each other, but it worked. While they shoved and used all the strength they could muster, not caring about who got smashed in the middle, they were still bound to one another. No one had any intention of leaving somebody else behind, but the main priority ensured they didn’t give a rat's ass about bruises and broken bones.

Austin thought briefly about those two sayings and how the words he'd exchanged with Cam a few times summed it all up. Gun or no gun. Regardless of whether they got hurt, they would do their best to get free. But maybe it went a little further than that. Because to Austin, Cam was just a bit more important to get out than the others.

Blood, sweat, and tears mingled with the smoke that slowly filled the small space, but their efforts paid off. Just as Lance started saying something about choking from the smoke, the hinges on the door gave away.

"Yes!" Victor shouted hoarsely.

"Come on!" Chase barked out.

Gasping for air, Austin and Cam grabbed at each other, much like the others did, and ran for their lives, making sure they were all included. Blindly, they headed toward light. Freedom was the only thing on their minds, but they did register the wooden structure that surrounded them, much like the torture room. This place was about to go up in flames. The house was old, really damn old, and everything looked aged and about to crumble.

Passing closed rooms, heavily draped windows, and a filthy kitchen, at last they reached what had to be the door leading outside.

The cool night air met them as they emerged.

"Oh, God." Sean let out a breathless sob as they ran toward a barn about five hundred feet away.

"Don’t stop!" Tim grabbed Sean by the arm and made sure they kept running.

To anybody else, it wasn’t a "cool" night. It was dry, hot, and a thunderstorm could be heard in the distance—something very common for the Mojave Desert in the middle of summer. That was where Austin guessed they were. It had to be.

Nevertheless, the slightest breeze felt like an icy chill to the guys who had suffered months of stifled humidity in a basement.

The barn had seen better days; the front side was almost completely gone, wooden boards missing and rusty nails littering the ground. The doors being gone, too, left two gaping holes, one from the ground, one from the hay loft.

It was shelter, though, and all the men ran inside, just barely giving a crap about the nails and screws on the ground. They were all barefoot, and several other clothing items were missing, as well. Austin stood in his torn sweats that clung to his hips, Cam wore his coveralls—the arms still tied around his narrow waist—Victor was only in boxer shorts and a work T-shirt, Sean wore holey jeans…everything was torn and threadbare.

As the house they'd escaped was swallowed by flames, seven survivors stared blankly at the destruction while catching their breaths. Grime, blood—old and new—sweat, and some soot covered their features. Streaks from salty tears joined the mix, making trails down their cheeks.

"I…I can't…" Cam gasped and bent down to rest his hands on his thighs. He couldn’t believe any of this, Austin knew. And Austin couldn’t, either. He couldn’t grasp the reality. They were free, but the knowledge wouldn’t sink in.

Glancing around them, Austin took in the classic desert landscape. As far as he could see in the night, only the burning house and the barn stood taller than the small bushes, rock formations, and the occasional Joshua tree. Without knowing where in the desert they were, the guesses could pile up endlessly.

Austin wasn’t a stranger to the desert, but when his father had taken him camping when he was younger, they stuck to trails and tourist spots, only venturing into the empty wilderness for shorter hikes. You did not want to get lost out here.

Temperatures could go to the extremes in both directions, depending on season and elevation.

"I suppose it's too risky to get that truck over there, huh?" Lance jerked his chin to the old Chevy that stood close to the house.

"Don’t even think about it," Tim affirmed. "We don’t even know where the keys are."

Just a moment later, the truck caught on fire, too.

*

Austin took a deep breath, his lungs expanding with the late-afternoon air. The windows were rolled down in his Mercedes, creating a nice cross-breeze, and the car stood in the shadow of a couple trees.

He reminded himself that he never had to go through that again.

Riley had always been an active girl, enjoying the outdoors and so on, but due to what Austin had been through, he'd actually denied her when she asked if she could get her own computer at Austin's new place. Partly, he thought she was too young to have her own, but it was mostly because he wanted to encourage her to go out and play with her friends instead of texting and PM-ing them—or whatever it was called these days.

For being called social networks, they sure involved a lot of time spent holed up alone.

He'd promised her a dog instead, which had certainly cushioned the blow of having to switch schools. Perhaps it was a dirty trick, but Austin couldn’t care less about that. He'd take the responsibility. Hopefully, he'd return to work soon, too, and then he could always hire someone to take the dog out midday.

There was a lot of adjusting coming Austin's way, but he was ready. It couldn’t be worse than other shit he'd had to adjust to.

*

When dawn approached, the men were sedate and silent in the barn. Sitting on the ground, Cam and Austin leaned against each other for support and comfort. Sure, they could rest against the walls, but they preferred not to run into any snakes or worse. In this climate, there was no doubt what hid underneath rocks and wood.

"Do you guys see that over there?" Sean asked before yawning.

Tiredly following the man's gaze, Austin squinted and thought he saw a trail of dust. But it was too far away, so he couldn’t be sure.

"Think it's a car?" Victor asked.

"I fuckin' hope so," Chase muttered. "We don’t wanna be stuck here when the sun comes up."

They all knew what he was talking about. Throughout the night, the fire had raged on, and if that light hurt their eyes, the sun would blind them and scar them for life. Already, Austin could feel his eyes stinging with protective tears, and the sun was barely touching the horizon.

He hadn't thought about his reading glasses in a long time, but he supposed he'd get new ones soon. His vision wasn’t far from 20/20, but he often got headaches from straining his eyes, so his glasses helped him. And now? Well, he knew if the sun did any damage, it might impair his vision.

People might think these men should be jumping for joy now that they were finally free. But how could they? Austin himself felt like a shell, and he was sure the others felt the same. He couldn’t really muster any feelings other than dazed and tired. Jesus Christ, was he tired. Like the rest of them, he was also malnourished, in a severe amount of pain, and it wouldn’t be long until dehydration kicked in, too. Not in this heat.

The air felt kind of fresh, though. He liked that.

"You okay?" Cam touched his scruffy cheek to get his attention.

Austin nodded automatically, eyes on the approaching trail of dust.

It was probably someone who had seen the fire. Maybe. Well, he hoped it was.

"You?" Austin asked back as an afterthought.

"Peachy."

As it turned out, it was a man and his son who drove the truck. They'd seen the smoke from the house fire and had decided to drive over to check it out.

They were shocked to see the seven men; the seven men were blank.

Austin and the others found out they were just outside Johannesburg, or Jo-burg as the two locals called it, and it was one of the many ghost towns in the area. Why it was called a ghost town when a group of people—no matter how small it was—still lived there, Austin didn’t understand.

But that didn’t matter.

Two strangers were about to take them back to Bakersfield.

The sun rose on the way.

The men covered their faces with their hands.

*

Direct sunlight after months without it, combined with the desert dust, had definitely caused Austin some problems. One doctor told him it was the darkness in the basement that had impaired his vision, and another one said it was sudden sun exposure that had caused it. No matter the reason, he now needed his glasses—and shades for when the sun was out. Stupidly, he didn’t follow the doctors' orders all the time, but he tried. He could still function without them, but it was only a matter of time before the headaches came, not to mention dryness and the mother of all itches.