The Crypt (2 page)

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, a feisty bitch. I like that.”

She was still walking backwards. She looked for the man in the hat who had been leaning on the light post but he had disappeared. A quick look over her shoulder revealed a drop off in the sidewalk coming. Sarah hopped over a little to her right and used the street. In that second the trio moved as one to close the gap even more. Now they were four feet from her.

“You wanna have some fun with us?”

“Sure, but not tonight. Maybe some other time. Leave me your number. Maybe I’ll call.”

“No. You don’t come down here dressed like that and expect us not to notice. You came looking for some action. We’ve seen you around a couple nights in a row. What else would you be here for if you’re not hooking?”

Even though she knew he was right because she knew how men thought, dressing the way she did was never an open invitation. That was the part of men she hated.

“Hey, asshole. No still means no. It doesn’t matter how a girl dresses.”

One of the gypsies smirked.

“Do that again and I will break your fucking nose,” Sarah said.

The gypsy turned to the leader. It was evident to Sarah that the guy in the middle who’d been doing all the talking was the one they looked up to.

She held both her shoes in her left hand. Without looking down she adjusted the heel of one of the shoes to angle outward and the strap of the other to dangle loosely off her last two fingers.

She had stepped back a few more times. One fast look over her shoulder told her they were running out of time if these boys wanted to dance without being seen by the numerous drivers racing by. Maybe fifteen feet separated her from the sidewalk of the busy street.

She stared at the leader. He was smiling like he knew they had her. He looked confident and filled with attitude. He had to play the part for his boys. She’d seen this all too often.

Sarah slowed her step and then stopped walking about ten feet from the corner. They hadn’t tried anything yet. They’d waited too long. These guys were barely hitting their mid-twenties and were too afraid to outright attack her. Maybe a warning was what was needed. They should learn not to follow girls like they just did.

There was no way they were packing a gun. They weren’t tough enough. This had been a waste of time.

She needed a shot of whiskey and her bed.

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to play this. You three turn around and go back to wherever it is you crawled out of and I am going back to my hotel. That is the only way no one gets hurt. We all act like we didn’t meet each other at all tonight.”

The gypsy smirked at her again but this time he laid his head back, looking down at her along the bridge of his nose.

She’d warned him to not do that. He was taunting her. It was like he raised his nose in the air on purpose to offer it to her.
Here, break it. Show me what you got,
was written all over his face.

Well fuck him. He just bought a free ride to the local hospital
.

Sarah lunged forward with one quick step and raised her right foot into the guy’s stomach. The blow caused him to fold at the waist as the wind was kicked out of his gut. In that brief second, Sarah was already lifting her right elbow up. His face came down and forward as he folded and made contact with her elbow, snapping his nose with an audible crack. She extended her arm fully, using the back of her fist to smash into the side of his head.

The smirking gypsy fell to the ground half moaning, half squealing while he tried to breathe through his wrecked nose. Blood was already oozing down his face as he rolled on the ground.

This all happened in less than four seconds. The only brave one to stay close and not fall back was the English-speaking guy.

Sarah raised her left hand and presented him with the heel.

“Step up motherfucker. Step up and this heel goes in your eye hole.”

He paused a second and then stepped back, his hands out in front of him in surrender.

The guy on the ground moaned increasingly louder.

“I warned him. Now I’m warning you. A woman can dress any way she wants. Just because I have a nice red top and a dress, it doesn’t give you the right to assume I am going to be a willing victim. How do you
not
know that I’m lost. My husband and I might have been out on the town and I got lost.”

“You don’t have a wedding ring,” English said.

“Smart. Okay, be smart. We both know what’s going on here. You three followed me and tried to scare me. That shit is old. It doesn’t work on me. But the problem is, other girls would be afraid. Seriously afraid. Either get jobs and do something productive with your life or you won’t live long.”

What am I doing? Giving motivational speeches to street thugs at three in the morning in downtown Budapest? Better yet, why am I doing it? I can’t save the world.
Maybe my sister needs to make contact so I can stop looking for a fight.

“You are fucked,” English said. “We do have jobs. Good stable ones. We weren’t going to do anything. We were just following you. Taunting, teasing. We aren’t gang bangers as you call it in America. And now you’ve really hurt my friend. Just get out of here. Leave us alone.”

Sarah stepped back. Was she losing it? Is that why Vivian hadn’t been in touch? Did her sister feel she was unstable? Had the pressure been too much? She always thought she could handle it. Why would Vivian start sending her messages in the first place if she felt Sarah was too weak?

Still, these three men had made the wrong choice. They could’ve let her pass. They could’ve continued talking among themselves. But instead they had started to follow her. They had crossed the street and actually made her turn around to watch their progress as they got closer. The street was relatively dark. It was the eighth district. Gypsies had a nasty reputation. It all added together and came out with nothing nice. Any other woman would’ve been terrified. They made the wrong choice.

Fuck it, they deserved this.

“Are any of you three carrying a weapon?”

English looked at his other pal standing to her left. He looked back at her and shook his head. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling. It wasn’t confidence anymore. It was more of a knowing look. Like he’d seen her before or maybe he recognized her. After the Mormon compound was raided, Sarah’s face was plastered on the front pages of hundreds of newspapers across North America. Maybe even parts of Europe reported on her too.

The English-speaking guy did say something a moment ago referencing America. Did he guess based on her look or her voice? Or did he know?

The gypsy on the ground wasn’t moaning as much anymore. He’d rolled onto his side. One hand was still near his nose but his other hand was close to his abdomen. He cupped something in his palm.

Before she reacted adversely, her mind registered his hand was holding a cell phone.

In the distance Sarah heard a police siren wailing in the night. She guessed it was at least five to ten blocks away.

English whispered something to his friend.

“What was that?” Sarah asked.

He looked back at her. “I told him in Hungarian to help me hold you down if you try to run. The police are coming. You are in a lot of trouble.”

Sarah stared at him. There
was
something she didn’t know. Not that they were withholding information on her. It was more of a feeling, intuition. A change in the air. Like they had the upper hand and they knew it.

She scanned the immediate area. Was anyone coming out of the shadows? Was it the man with the fedora leaning against the light post?

Or maybe they were friends with the police? Could the officers responding to the scene tonight be their pals and they were going to conspire to really fuck her over?

Whatever they thought they had on her she was sure Vivian would’ve sent a warning. Silence for a month didn’t supersede Sarah’s safety.

Vivian would’ve said something. Sarah would stake her life on it.

“I’m not going to run. You needn’t worry.”

“You will be arrested,” English stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “You attacked our friend without provocation.”

Without provocation? Fuck you. I was being followed.

Sarah nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s just wait and see.”

The sirens were at least a block away now.

The rotating lights on the top of the little police cars could be seen bouncing off the walls of the building up ahead as they approached.

Now was the time.

Sarah raised her right hand, fingers splayed out and struck herself across the face hard enough to leave a serious red welt.

“Hey, what the hell was that?”

Sarah smiled his way. “I’ve been doing this too long.”

The police car rounded the corner and began to slow as soon as the driver saw them all in the middle of the road. The car stopped behind Sarah and the driver stepped out.

He addressed everyone in Hungarian. A ramble of monotone gibberish went back and forth for half a minute. Sarah waited until they were finished.

The guy on the ground started moaning louder again, rolling around a little, holding his face with both hands.

The officer turned to her and said in English, “What is your story?”

“I can’t sleep. I was out for a late night walk when I noticed these three guys were following me.” She heard one of the gypsies grunt as if she was lying. “I tried to get to this busier street.” She turned and gestured behind her. “But they got really close. I don’t have anything to defend myself with, officer, so I removed my shoes. They said, dressed the way I am, that I was asking for trouble. This guy,” she pointed at the gypsy on the ground. “He stepped up and slapped me hard across the face—”

“That’s not true!” English shouted.

The officer turned toward him and spewed something in Hungarian lightning quick. English dropped his head a little.

“Continue,” the cop said to her.

“After he slapped me, in my defense, I tossed my elbow in his face. I think I accidentally broke his nose. I’m sorry, officer. I just wanted to go back to my hotel. I was scared.”

English spoke first. “This is all lies. We were following her, but that’s because it’s our job—”

“Hey!” the cop yelled. “Enough out of you.”

Job? What the hell was he talking about? Could he have misused the English word and he meant something else? If not, then who hired them? Who wanted Sarah followed?

That must be what she felt earlier. It was like they knew something and she didn’t. These three had purpose. They’d seen her before. They’d watched her before. These three posed a danger to her now. Something was going on that was deeper than Sarah knew and Vivian wasn’t informing her.

What the fuck could it be?

“Look miss, you’re going to have to come with me. I will take your statement at the police station.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. How do I know you aren’t all in this together?”

The officer stared at her. “In what together?”

“English boy over there just said that it was his job. What the fuck does that mean? Who are you people? No one follows me. You will never get the drop on me.”

English turned away. He was evidently pissed that even a portion of the truth had been revealed.

“In America you may have crooked cops but over here I am a member of the
Rendorshag
, the Hungarian police. I do not consort with the likes of these men.”

“Bullshit,” was all Sarah said under her breath.

The cop looked surprised. “Okay, you’re coming with me.”

“Try it.”

“Try what?” he asked.

She could tell her confidence was keeping him at bay. But how far did she want to push this? She was in a foreign country. She didn’t know anyone. What would Hungarian jails be like? What was she even doing here in the first place?

“I was obviously followed by these three men. I was hit in the face and I defended myself. I am a small girl out walking alone. Three men attacked me and you want to take me to your police station? If that doesn’t reek of corruption then I don’t know what does. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“How could you possibly stop me? There’s three of us still standing.”

“As I said a minute ago, try it.”

The standoff didn’t last long. The officer stared for a moment and then stepped toward her.

He reached back for something on his belt. Possibly handcuffs or wrist ties. All that mattered to Sarah was that he left an opening. His chest and face were unprotected.

Without thinking of the consequences, acting only on her inner call to violence that seemed to never be satiated, she lunged forward and jammed her thumb into the base of the officer’s throat in the center of where the collarbones meet.

He instantly staggered back, mouth open and began the horrible sounds of choking for air.

She knew she’d jabbed hard, but not hard enough to kill him. It would leave him gasping for a minute or two.