Memory: Book Two (Scars 2) (14 page)

I
crept closer to the door. “I don’t want that. I don’t need to sleep.” I managed
to keep the whimper from my voice.

His
eyes flicked up again into a quick smile. With an abrupt jerk of the steering
wheel we were taken from the road and onto a dirt path with a sign signaling a
rest stop. I groped for the door handle, preparing to run the moment the car
came to a halt, but his hand took a firm hold on my arm.

“Trust
me, it’s for the best.”

I
squeezed my eyes closed and felt the sharp prick. The last thing that I remembered
was him rubbing the sight of the injection as if soothing me to sleep.

Somewhere
something dripped. In my blackened mind I imagined that to be a drip of blood,
a crimson drop that continuously appeared to splatter on the floor, but I
couldn’t quite make out the body from which it had come. Eternally, that drop
appeared at the fingertips of that nameless person in my dream, falling before
being replaced by another red indicator of something terrible.

It
took a lot of effort to crack my eyes open. Part of that was due to the
grogginess in my brain while the other part was the reluctance to face whatever
may come next. There was no body like my subconscious had expected, there was
only darkness, interfered with by a dim light coming from a corridor far off.
The other surprise was that I was not bound. My limbs were free as I lay on
some kind of cot covered by a sleeping bag that rustled as I moved. My
movements were slow and lethargic, and the energy that it took to make the
slightest action had me nearly screaming in fear and frustration in the
realization that I wouldn’t be going anywhere fast.

But
that didn’t stop me trying. I managed to sit up and the sleeping bag slid from
me to the ground. My legs tried to follow it but the effort had me moaning and doubting
my ability to stand.

Footsteps
made me freeze and wait on the cot like a lamb to the slaughter. A brighter
light approached and a shadow sprung up, large and nightmare-like against the
wall. Ryan appeared, lit by a gas lamp that he held, appearing smaller and less
terrifying than his shadow. My breath exhaled, almost in relief.

But
remember, this is the guy that just cracked your head open a short time ago.

He
set the lantern down with a clunk on the concrete floor as he took off his
backpack, opening it and extracting a bottle of water which he handed over to
me. My hands worked better than my legs and I took it, even managing to open
it. I lifted it to my lips and drank deeply.

“Hungry?”
he asked as he watched me satisfy my parched mouth from where he crouched next
to his backpack.

I
shook my head as I screwed on the top of the bottle.

“You
sure? It’s been a while since you last ate. You’ve been out for the better part
of a day,” he urged. “I’ve got tins of beans, fruit salad…”

Why
was he being kind?
“I’m
not hungry.”

He
stood and gave a nod as he accepted my answer. “Maybe later then.” He moved
over to the cot adjacent to the one that I sat on, leaning against the wall and
out of the light.

“Where
are we?” I asked.

“We’re
below ground. It’s my family’s bunker.”

I
raised my hands and felt the wall behind me; it was made from concrete blocks,
cold beneath my shaking touch. “A bunker? What for?”

“The
End of Days.” He shifted on the cot again, bringing his face back into the
light. “Not that it saved them then, of course.” There was sadness in his tone
more than anger.

I
swallowed and asked, “What happened to them?” Part of me already knew though.
His name reverberated around my brain like it was bouncing off these concrete
walls.

“Do
you really want to know? Do you really want to be faced with the things that
he’s done?” The way he watched me was like I was under a microscope and he
didn’t want to miss any part of my reaction.

I
leaned in slightly closer. “I know what he is, what he’s capable of...he’s done
bad things to me as well.”

“I
know, your friends, terrible business.”

My
head snapped up and my back straightened while my stomach twisted with dread.
“What?”

He
gave a slight smile and tilted his head, studying me. “The two girls. Mary, and
the other was called something weird, Toro maybe?”

“Torrance,”
I said quickly, wanting their names correct, they deserved at least that. “Mara
and Torrance. Those are their names.”

He
gave a nod. “That’s right. Pretty girls, I saw their pictures in the paper, along
with yours. Such a tragedy.”

“What
do you know about them?” My lips barely moved as I asked that, as if my body
were rebelling against the question because it knew that the answer to it would
not be good.

“I
know what he did to them.”

“He
didn’t,” I barked out automatically, my heart beating fast.
No, no, no, no,
no…

He
gave me a soft smile that was almost pitying. “Paige, I’ve been watching him
for a long time now. I had him watched when I couldn’t do it myself. My man
followed him up to where those girls were drinking, he watched him throw them
both over the edge.”

I
clutched at my stomach and struggled to breathe.

“I
didn’t know why at the time. It seemed odd that anyone would order a hit on
those two particular girls, but then I figured out that it was you that he was
watching, that it was personal.”

I
managed to look at him. “Were you there when he took me? Did you just stand by
while he did those things to me?” My voice shook.

There
was nothing in his eyes for me to read. “My man saw him abduct you. We lost him
after that, he disappeared for a good month, but you reappeared, adding to the
mystery of the whole affair, but then again, you weren’t my target so I didn’t
spend too much time on you. It was interesting, however, that you took him as
your lover.” His lip quirked up slightly.

Bile
rose in my throat but I managed to swallow it down. “Why is Aaron your target?
What did he do exactly to your family?” I rushed out. I wanted to hear
something awful, something far more terrible than I had just been told. I
wanted to drown in the misery of others rather than deal with my own suffering.

He
met my gaze head on and lifted his chin almost as if in determination, meeting
a challenge to speak the truth out loud. “He slaughtered them. All but me. He
was just twelve years old and he hunted them down with his crossbow. He picked
them off one by one.”

My
face stayed twisted in horror. An image of a young, lethal Aaron committing mass
murder, a lone wolf killing off sheep, danced in front of my eyes.

“You’re
supposed to ask why,” he continued. “You’re supposed to look for reason and
meaning behind the horrible actions of the one you love in order to justify it.
That would be normal.”

“But
I don’t love Aaron, and nothing he does surprises me,” I replied in a dull tone,
wishing I could get the picture of him stained in the blood of others out of my
head. A sudden thought occurred to me. “Did he kill your sister, the one that
he was sleeping with?” I couldn’t even comprehend why the answer to that
question was so important, but it was and I held my breath.

Ryan
nodded. “Right in the heart, don’t you just love the symbolism?”

I
looked away, clutching my stomach harder as queasiness seized my insides. “He
didn’t just kill them for fun though, did he? There would have been a reason,”
I said weakly as I did just what Ryan expected; I looked for some way to
justify Aaron’s actions.

“What
reason could possibly justify taking out an entire family?”

 I
squeezed my eyes shut and lay down on the cot. My head hurt, my stomach hurt,
it was too much effort to continue sitting up. Hugging myself, I turned to face
the wall, not wanting his eyes staring at me.

“I’ll
let you rest,” he murmured and I heard the squeak of his cot as he stood and
his footsteps on the concrete floor sounded. I didn’t breathe again until they
died away.

If
everything Ryan had said was true, then Mara and Torrance had died because of
me. Aaron had killed them to torment
me
. I felt like ice was beginning
to spread through my body, numbing and killing the fiery anger that should have
been burning from my heart outwards to crush through vessels and organs until
an explosion rocked everything around me.

But
instead, there was just coldness. There weren’t even any tears.

Ryan
returned later, his footsteps serving a warning that had me sitting in
preparation. Although, in truth, I didn’t care that much what he would do to me
or what the point of his near friendliness was. All I could think of was Aaron.

“You
need to eat and keep up your strength.” He passed over a bowl that had steam
rising from it.

“Why
do I need my strength?” I asked listlessly as I took the spoon and out of habit
stirred the hot liquid. “I don’t need to be strong for you to kill me.”

He
gave me a small smile that was almost pitying. “Is that what you think I’m
going to do? I’ve already apologized for hurting you the last time that we
met.”

“I
think that you’re a fucking liar, that’s what I think,” I murmured as I still
stared at the soup. Its heat rose and warmed my face.

“I
can hardly blame you for thinking that, but Aaron is my enemy, not you. Unlike
him, I try not to take my rage out on innocents unless it’s avoidable.”

“And
it wasn’t unavoidable to crack my head open?” I still stared at the soup,
wondering if there were drugs in it. But then I decided that I didn’t care and
ventured a taste. It was tomato flavored and thick; it burned my tongue.

“That
was necessary, I’m afraid. I needed to send a message and it had to be via that
particular method or he wouldn’t have got it.”

I
raised my eyes to find him watching me. “Why?”

Ryan
let out a breath. “Because that’s how he killed my father. He tied him up and
bashed his head into a concrete wall until his skull cracked and his brain
turned to mush.” He shook his head. “Although, I’m not sure that he quite
understood the relevance. Sometimes I doubt my family’s death even lingers in
his memory.”

I
thought of the terrible tree mural and its hidden people and knew that it
wasn’t true.

“I
don’t think that he does the things he does for pleasure. He’s…different, but
there’s usually a purpose behind his actions. Why would a twelve year old boy
go on a killing spree?” I said this more to myself than to Ryan, and then I
continued eating the soup so my mouth wouldn’t be tempted say anything further.

“You
should have met his old man. He was one tough son of a bitch. He was brutal. He
would tie that kid up and whip the shit out of him until Aaron was unconscious
and his back a mess of exposed flesh and blood.”

My
mouth twisted at the image that Ryan created in my mind. I put the spoon back
in the soup and lay it down on the floor. The metal bowl made a clunking sound
as I did so that echoed around us. Just how big was this place?

“How
did you know that? Did you watch?”

“Our
land bordered his family’s farm. I used to spend most of my time exploring and
creeping around. I was always younger than my siblings and anyone else in the
area and they were all too busy for me, so I used to hide and spy on everyone.”
He let out a low whistle. “The things I used to see…”

“So
what? He just snapped one day and decided to kill everyone?”

Ryan
grinned. “He found out that his mother was sleeping with my father. That,
apparently, was the catalyst.”

“Did
he kill her as well?” My heart was thumping as I wished that his answer would
be no.”

But
unsatisfyingly, he just shrugged. “She’s dead too, so it seems likely.”

“And
his father?”

“Dead.”

“And
why did he spare you?”

Ryan’s
grin faded. “Probably because I cried like a fucking baby. I was always the
wimpiest of the lot. I had a machete in my hand and just dropped it when he
turned to me with the crossbow loaded and ready to go.”

“He
just let you go? Knowing you’d go to the police?”

“I’d
never speak to the police. That was against our way. I didn’t think he cared
right then anyway. He just turned and went back to his house, and I followed
for some stupid reason. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. I watched him
from the trees. He went into the house and came out a minute later with a
handgun. On the steps of the house, he sat down casual as anything and put the
gun in his mouth. I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see his brain
splatter everywhere, even after what he’d done. But then I heard the sound of a
car, he heard it as well and he took the gun from his mouth. It was his uncle.
I didn’t know how that man knew about what had gone on, but he was speeding
like he was in a panic. The moment the car came to a stop, he was out the door
and running to Aaron, pulling him to him like he was the most important thing
in the world. And Aaron cried. He fucking sobbed like he was the one to be
pitied.” Ryan gave a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his short hair.

“And
then what happened?” I leaned forward.

“They
made it look like Aaron’s father did it. This was before forensic testing was
what it is now. They forged a note and made his death look like suicide. He was
the local drunk anyway, a real asshole, and everyone was just too eager to
believe that he was the villain in our little nightmare.” He stared down at the
floor.

“And
what happened to you?”

“My
grandfather took me in. He and my Dad had been estranged. Dad hated the greed
that my grandfather and his corporation stood for so he moved us out here and
prepared us for the day that we’d be raided by the government. He’d be spitting
tacks if he knew that I was the sole heir to that fortune now.” His forehead
furrowed as if this bothered him.

I
frowned. “So you use that money to have Aaron watched, his house attacked…”

He
raised his eyes to look at me and gave a crooked smile. “You know what they
say: revenge is a dish best served cold.”

I
closed my eyes briefly before opening them again. “You’re right. Get them when
they’re least expecting and their mind will run over every bad thing that
they’ve ever done, wondering who the hell wants to ruin them.”

“You’re
a smart girl, Paige. It’s a shame that we didn’t meet under different
circumstances.”

I
swallowed. “Can I watch when you kill him?”

He
raised an eyebrow. “Are you that upset over your friends?”

I
looked him straight in the eye. “Yes,” I said in a tight controlled voice. “You
have no idea what he’s done to me. I want to see him dead at my feet, hurt and
begging. I want him to know that I won. After everything,
I
won.”

He
watched me, his cool gaze giving nothing away. “Really? He was your lover one
day, your enemy the next? He’s going to die because he came looking for you.”

“He
was always my enemy, and we were never lovers. I was his whore, there for his
amusement. That’s all that there was.” My voice sounded deep and raw; it
sounded brutal. “And he won’t be the first person to die because of me.”

Ryan’s
lips flicked up into a brief smile. “It won’t be long now. He’s coming here,
finally.”

“How
do you know?”

“I
have a lot of money, and a lot of people willing to do what I ask,” he said
smugly.

“Will
they kill him, or will you?”

“Me.
Definitely me. I’ll be delighted to get my hands dirty.”

“But
Aaron has connections. Aren’t you worried that you’ll make enemies with the
wrong kind of people?”

Ryan
shrugged. “This is my moment of reckoning, Paige. What happens after this
doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he dies by my hands.” He seemed at
peace with the process. There was no rage in him, or emotion. He was almost businesslike
in his single mindedness. Nothing would get in the way of the task that he had
set for himself.

His
phone went off. How it would work underground like this was beyond me. He
stared at it, frowning. “We’ve got a visitor. That was the alarm on the
perimeter of the property. He’s taken out my men,” he murmured, not acting like
he cared that much.

“How
do you know that?”

“Because
they would have warned me. That means that they’re dead or incapacitated
somehow. I’m guessing the former.” He gave me a smile. “Come on. It’s time to
welcome our visitor.” He stood and slipped his phone into his pocket as he
gestured for me to do the same. I stood warily, taking a breath as I let the
sleeping bag and its warmth and security slide to the floor. I followed him out
into a narrow concrete corridor that was lined with closed metal doors and lit
by dull green emergency lighting. Finally, we came to a set of steps and he
stopped and turned to me as he reached into his jacket pocket. “I hope you
don’t mind, but I still don’t really trust you.” He pulled out a set of handcuffs
and held them out. Slowly, I reached out my arms in front of me, hoping that he
wouldn’t insist on locking them behind my back.

He
didn’t, and gently locked one cuff in place before securing my other wrist.
Then he took a gun and holster from a bag that lay on the floor, before picking
it up and starting up the stairs. I followed up the narrow steps and waited as
he pushed two huge doors open. The bright sunlight was a shock to my eyes and I
lifted my hands to shield them, tempted to retreat back down into the darkness
of the bunker.

But
Ryan wouldn’t let me, gripping my hand and pulling me up into the fresh air.
The area was deserted. An old house sat to our left while a road was on the
right, and led over a hill before disappearing from view.

“I
don’t see him,” I said as Ryan pulled his keys from his pocket and threw them
down next to the doors of the bunker.

“You
will. It’s just a matter of time.” He stared intently at the screen of his cell
phone, waiting. I thought briefly about running, but if this were truly in the
middle of nowhere, as Aaron had told me so long ago, then I would need a better
plan. I scanned the area, seeing fields and trees, and not much else. What was
presumably Ryan’s pickup truck stood outside the house, a sharp contrast to the
decay of the rotting house with its shiny red paint job. The sunlight caught
the polished bumper, nearly blinding me for an instant, and I turned away, just
in time to see dust rise over the horizon. Next we heard the sound of an engine
carry over, but it was still a wait for the vehicle to come into view.

When
it did, it was an old truck, one that I had seen before when he had come to see
me after letting me go. My mouth twisted at the memory. It had been when he had
paid me like a whore.

Ryan
just watched, clutching his phone. His entire manner was calm but his knuckles
told a different story; they were white, the skin stretched thin over them.
There were guns in the bag beside him, but he wore only the one that he had
taken before.

“Why
aren’t you doing anything? Shouldn’t you be preparing?” I asked him, my heart
beating hard and a sheen of sweat coming over me. I felt like I could faint.

He
didn’t answer me and never took his eyes from the fast approaching vehicle.
Aaron was going to slaughter him before he could even blink, and I nearly felt
a pang of regret for that boy who had lost his family. Nearly, but not quite.

Finally,
he acted, but all he did was to raise his cell phone up as if putting on a
show. He gave a smile as in one dramatic action, he swiped his finger across
the screen. For a moment, nothing happened.

And
then it happened all at once.