Cast the Cards (18 page)

More
twigs broke in the opposite direction.

“Turn
off your flashlight.” The seriousness in Carey’s voice gained her corporation
without question. Together they clicked off the black cylinders.  The crackle
and snap of debris came their way faster. Her blood roared in her ears and her
throat grew dry.

Breathing
in through her nose, she waited.  He tugged her arm and they walked back the
way they came, essentially blind except for the light of the moon. The night
took a sinister turn. This couldn’t be their people tromping through the woods
with no lights. Keeping their pace steady, they fled. Thwack. Wood exploded
from a tree, splinters and bark rained down on them.

“Fuck!
They must have night vision. Run!”  Two more rounds struck too close for
comfort.  Slivers of wood pelted her face. Spurred into action, she bolted.
Disorientated she lost her bearings.
Am I moving toward the cars or back to the
crime site?

A
shot whizzed from the opposite direction and they found themselves playing a
dangerous game of pickle.  Something hit the ground with a thug. Smoke billowed
up, filling their lungs. Coughing, she held her sleeve up to her face and
crouched low in an attempt to escape the onslaught.

“Son
of a bitch!”  Carey’s voice was too far away, at least ten yards. The crunch of
sticks came from her right. Straining to get her bearings, she surged forward
through the smoke.
Am I closer to Carey or the killers? I can’t call out
until I know.

Bending
once more, she buried her fingers into the ground to center herself. She
swallowed hard. Her stomach churned and her mind struggled to come up with a
plan.
I cannot be captured again.

Snap.
Spooked like a horse that had seen a snake, she sprang into action and ran full-tilt.
Pain exploded in her back and she was thrown forward onto the forest floor.
Whimpering, she pushed up onto her knees. Locking her jaw, she ignored the pain
and gained her feet to continue forward. Sticky, hot, liquid soaked the back of
her shirt. Adrenaline and shock would keep her up for a bit.

She
scanned the area, looking for a sign of civilization or opening in the woods.
She stumbled over something hard and landed on her arm. A sickening crunch made
her scream.
Dislocated.
 Fear drove her. Half crawling on the ground she
tried to rise once more. Heavy footfalls came up behind her and the world went
black.

“Ugh.”
 Flames licked up her back. Her chest ached. She took a shaky breath and clawed
her way out of the blanket of sleep. Lifting her arms seemed like a Herculean feat,
but she managed it.

A
few inches and she found her movement restricted.
Of course I’m bound.
Swinging
her feet, she came up short.
Bound there too, damn!
Her vision refused
to clear, doubling and blurring. The dull ache in the back of her head made it
unclear if she’d been drugged or simply had her bell rung. The sticky wet heat
forming at her back worried her. Cool fingers touched her face, and she jerked
away.

“Shh.
It’s Clark, Vannah. I need you to stay very still. You’re bleeding pretty badly.
We need to get you help.”

“W-Where
am I?”  The floor beneath her was cool and smelled of musk.
Basement?

“An
abandoned warehouse they’ve set up shop in about twenty minutes out of the
city.”

“Did
they drug me?” Woozy, she closed her eyes.

“I’m
not sure.” His voice shook.

“You’re
frightening me, Clark.”

“That
shot you took to the back wasn’t just a bullet. It was a shotgun shell.”

 No
wonder I’m in so much pain.
“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

 “They’re
coming. Lay limp and pretend to be unconscious.” Allowing her arms and legs to
go lax, she closed her eyes and breathed evenly. A door creaked open. A sliver
of light shone into the dark space.

“She’s
still out,” A heavily accented voice said.

“We
need to hurry. She’s bleeding like a stuck pig. If she dies before we complete
our ritual all of dis will be fo nothing.” 

“Patience,
we gonna get to it soon enough.”

Their
Cajun accent was too obvious. It would’ve attention everywhere they went. They
must mask it the way they did their violent, perverted, nature. These were the
worst kinds of predators, wolves in sheep’s clothing.

“Let’s
get the tools out of the truck and we’ll begin.”

Please
hurry, Clark.
Tears ran down her face. A wave of
dizziness hit. Reality receded as she battled her way from the river to
oblivion.

“Vannah.”
Clark spoke again the moment the door closed.

“Mmm
here.” Her words slurred.

“They’re
coming back. You can’t be here when they arrive.”  The ropes were removed. Cool
fingers massaged her wrists and ankles.

“I
know you’re hurting, but I need you to move.”

“Trying.”
Like a car with a faulty starter she couldn’t generate enough energy to move.

“Don’t
try, do. Now!”

Face
pressed against the cool wall, she pushed off from the floor. Her body slid
upward.  “W-where am I going?” Breathless, only her will kept her upright.

“Stay
put.”

The
silence that followed her indicated Clark had
popped
out.

“Here.”
The unmistakable slick of a safety sounded. A ridged pistol grip was shoved
into her hand, and the safety clicked off.  “It’s your gun. Send these bastards
back to hell where they belong.”

“I
will.”
If it’s the last thing I do.
Injured arm dangling at her side,
she aimed at the square outlined in light. Her body swayed and her eyelids slowly
dropped. The arm that held the .45 shook. The door creaked open.

Adrenaline
flowed through her veins. She squeezed the trigger, emptying the rounds into
the chest. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils and she keeled over.

Savannah
opened her eyes expecting pain, but instead experienced a peace unlike any
she’d ever known. A soft white light surrounded her body. Glancing down, she
saw her arm was healed and her clothes weren’t stained with filth and blood.
The area surrounding her was lush and green. She peered around what appeared to
be a park. Tree branches swayed in the wind, yielding groups of pink cherry
blossom petals that fluttered down onto the grass.

“Hello?” 
Moving in a circle, she peered into the distance but saw nothing but land. She
began to walk, cresting a hill, the field of soft-yellow daffodil, blue
bonnets, heather, and red and yellow Indian paintbrushes took her breath away.

“Where
is this place?” she whispered to thin air.

“The
in-between.”

She
spun around to see Clark. “Am I dead?”

“No,
but you are gravely injured. Whether you go back is up to you.”

The
words rocked her. “How bad off am I?”

His
face twisted into a mask of despair split seconds before it smoothed over.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“If
I stay do I get to remain here with you?”

“This
is just a stepping stone. Heaven is so much better.”  He grinned. The
combination of joyful and wicked made her purr.

“Do
I have to decide now?”

“Yes,
honey. Your body is ready to give. Flight or fight?”  Leaning forward, he ran
his fingers through her hair. “No matter what you choose I’m always here to
support you.”

The
words made her choice easy.

Chapter
   Thirteen

An
unknown number appeared on the screen of his cell phone. A million different
ideas ran through his mind. Answering, he lifted his trembling hand up to his
ear.

“Hello?”

“Carey,
you need to get here ASAP. Vannah is fading fast. Those bastards took her down
with a shotgun blast to the back and a rifle butt to the head.”

“Where
are you?”

“An
old abandoned warehouse. The killers are dead. Right now I’m the only thing
keeping her grounded, but I can’t hold her to the in-between indefinitely.”

“I
hear you, keep talking.” He jogged back inside the room.

“I
need a trace on this number! Agent West managed to subdue the kidnappers, and
she’s hurt badly. Hang in there, West.” He feigned acknowledgment as the people
in the room burst into activity seemingly at once. “Just rest, conserve your
energy, and stay on the line.”  His voice cracked. 
What are we going to
find when we get there?
He questioned his decision to leave once more. When
he’d emerged from the woods by himself he’d contacted the station and waded
back in, ignoring their request that he wait for back-up. On the scene within
minutes they’d discovered a trail of blood and disturbed debris that told them
she’d been taken. Immediately he’d known her best chance of survival was
locating her, so he’d come back to the station to work with the techs and try
to contact Clark.

 “We
got it!”

The
rattle of information registered but his head dreamed up images of Vannah lying
in a pool of her own blood. A streak of red running from the corner of her
mouth. Her brown eyes, glazed and unseeing in death.

“Sergeant!”

“Yeah?”
Snapped back into the present, he turned to face Officer Rodriguez.

“You
here with us?”

He
met her gaze and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s get out of here.” Turning from
the computer, he jogged for his squad car.

The
twenty-minute drive was done in ten with the wail of sirens and the flash of
blue and red clearing their path.  When they pulled up into the empty lot the
only vehicle was a white van with dark-tinted windows.

How
many others have they taken in this thing who never saw the light of day again?
Slamming
the car into park, he stepped out.

He
fell back, allowing Rodriguez to point as they approached the building. His
emotions were running high, and he refused to compromise his people. Guns drawn,
they entered the dilapidated stone building. Gutted on the inside, planks
boarded the window, blocking the light, but large spotlights were set up to illuminate.
As they traveled farther inside he spotted a hospital gurney. A silver tray
lined with what appeared to be surgery grade equipment rested on a blue towel.

“Jesus
Christ.”  His stomach churned in agreement to the comment.  They point rounded
the corner.

“I
see blood spatter and two men down.”

His
muscles tensed as he waited for the signal.

“We’re
clear.”

Two
of his officers knelt beside the men, checking for a pulse. He rushed to
Savannah who lay sprawled on her back, blood pooling beneath her.
Not again,
please.

Placing
his fingers on her neck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Faint and much too fast,
the rhythm scared him, but it was there. The crackle of radio reached him
through his emotional haze. An officer gave the okay for the medics to come in.

Bending
down, he whispered in her ear. “Don’t you leave me Savannah Marie! I just got
you back. You said no more running, remember?”

Feet
pounded over concrete.

“Sir,
we’ll need to look at her now.”

Unable
to speak he scooted back, giving the medics access. The rip of her shirt rent
the air. The others moved back to allow her privacy as the medics worked.

“Carr?
What’s going on?”  an officer asked.

He
shook his head. “I’m going to get some air.”  Rushing out of the dank building,
he let out a roar.
Is it my destiny to always be too late or make the wrong
choice?
It was Clark all over again. He didn’t go that night and look where
it landed him. Now he took a left instead of a right, got separated, and she
clung to her life by a thread.

“This
isn’t your fault.” The sound of his brother’s voice to his left didn’t surprise
him. “If you’d been with her you’d probably be dead.”

“If
you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re failing miserably.”

“What
I’m trying to do is end your pity party for one. She’s in there fighting for
her life. She’s going to need you to keep her grounded to the Earth and later
for recovery.”

He
narrowed his eyes. “You know something, don’t you?”

“Just
give her a reason to stay. You understand me?”

“How?” 
Clark disappeared and he found himself talking to empty air. “Okay, I’m
starting to hate that.”

The
medics emerged with Vannah hooked up to an I.V., her body limp and
unresponsive.  Tilting the gurney, they loaded her into the back. 
Being
separated is not an option.
He turned to the officers lined up outside, dug
his keys out of his pocket.

“I’m
going with her. Can someone take care of my car?”