36. Chapter 36
Ipretend I’m unconscious as the guy who threatened to punch me in the head carries me into some kind of warehouse. Seriously, I hang like dead weight. He’s grunting as he hauls me in.
“She don’t look that heavy,” Henchman says.
“She fucking weighs a ton.”
I suppress a smile. As revenge goes, it’s pretty ‘meh’, but at the moment it’s the best I can do. I’m not insulted either. I know I don’t weigh a ton.
I slide my eyes open a crack, just enough that I can see a little bit of what’s around me. The place we’re in is big, mostly empty, a few rooms with closed doors. Chromedome heads to one of the rooms, Henchman following.
Henchman unlatches the door and kicks it open. Chromedome steps inside and dumps me on the floor.
“She better not be dead,” a voice that’s familiar to me says.
“She’s alive and well,” Henchmen says defensively.
“Right, because you’re a doctor when you aren’t kidnapping helpless females.”
“Look,” Henchmen replies. “She was awake in the van.” He’s sounds like he’s talking to his angry girlfriend.
The door slams shut, then the bolt slides, then blessed silence settles around me for about three bloody seconds.
“Mina! Thank God you’re here.”
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
Why are you doing this, God? To challenge me? For revenge? What?
“Lavender,” I croak.
“I’ve been so scared. I didn’t know what they were gonna do to me.” She lets out a weak sob. “I think they’re gonna kill me.”
I consider my friend, uh, ex-friend. I’m injured, bleeding. For all she knows, I could be internally hemorrhaging to death. I might be the princess of insensitivity, but she’s definitely the queen. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
Her face looms over mine. “Are you hurt?” She reaches out and grabs my face, squishing my cheeks together. “I need you to be okay. I need you to get us out of here.”
“Why me?” I’m talking to God, but Lavender interrupts his reply.
“Because you’re the action one.”
Her hands are creeping around my hair, trying to separate the strands that have stuck together because of the blood. “Really,” I reply as I knock them away. “Then what are you?”
“The smart one,” she replies without hesitation.
“This world is fucked,” I mutter, sounding remarkably like Reaper.
Tears burn my eyes as I think of him. Maybe the baddies didn’t kill him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hurt, torn to shreds, maybe a jagged of piece of metal piercing his stomach. What if he’s dying slowly? Alone. No one to help him.
Fortunately, I don’t have a whole lot of time to sink into despair. “Let me help you up,” Lavender says, grabbing my shoulders and yanking me into a sitting position. That’s her. Gentle as a bear at a campsite.
“Give me a minute to get oriented.” I will my head to stop spinning as I crawl towards a wall. When I get there, I slump against it and look at her. “I know why I’m here, but why are you?”
“They broke into Edgar’s place and tied him up.” She points to her split lip. “And pushed me. I fell over the coffee table.” She slides up one of her pant legs. “And scraped my shins. I was screaming so they dragged me out of the apartment and threw me in a van.” She swipes at tears that are running down her cheeks. “I think they killed Edgar!”
“Edgar’s fine. Knocked around a bit. Ripped off half his ear.” I shift to ease a pain in my side. “We called him an ambulance.”
“Who’s we?” Lavender asks pretty much forgetting about Edgar’s well-being.
“Me and Reaper.” She looks confused, so I qualify, “My boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend named Reaper?” Her big eyes get bigger.
I shrug. “It’s a nickname. His real name is Jax.” I grin because even though the current situation can only be described as dire, I’m rather proud of myself for having such a hot boyfriend. “He’s tall, super good-looking, totally ripped, and can he ever kiss.”
“Wow! How’d you bag him?”
I narrow my eyes. “He saw me in hot pants.”
She pauses, her eyes losing focus. I’ve seen that look before. She’s thinking. “I guess that makes sense.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She sits down cross-legged a few feet from me, like we used to do when we were friends. “I’m sorry, Mina. About everything. I didn’t have anything to do with the coke. I promise.”
“I know. Edgar told me.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever talk to him again.” Then she looks contrite. “As long as he doesn’t die.”
I stare around the small room with puke yellow walls and poor ventilation. “Either way, you’ll get your wish.”
She rubs her neck. “What are we gonna do?”
My headache’s shifted from drum-banging pain to tolerable thumping. I lick my split lip. I think the jerk who punched me knocked a molar loose. Other than that, I’m pretty much battle ready. “Get out of here.”
Lavender cocks her head. “How?”
“Did you even try?”
She throws her hands up in the air. “What would be the point?”
I roll my eyes in frustration. “The point is to try! There’s always a way.”
Almost always, my mom corrects.
As long as you try, mama. That’s what counts.
You’re right, Bella.
I swallow down a sob in my throat as I think about how hard my mom tried not to die. She’s who I inherited my strength from.
And your papa, she reminds me.
You’re right.
And God.
Right again.
I climb to my feet and stagger over to the door. It logically makes sense to check it even though I know it’s locked. I rattle the handle.
“I think it’s locked,” Lavender whispers, so close to me I can feel her breath in my ear.
“You think?”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“You think?”
I rattle the knob a few more times.
“You got your purse?” I ask Lavender.
“Sure,” she replies. “The baddies were kind enough to let me grab it and my cell phone as they dragged me out the door.”
I guess I deserve that. I put my hands on my hips and scowl at the door. So much for thinking I could use a credit card to open it. Which of course, I couldn’t anyway because the door is bolted or barred on the other side. It only works if the lock is a simple one. I read it in a book.
“Do you at least have a credit card?” I ask anyway because I want her to think I could open the lock if I had one.
“Why? Are we gonna bribe them?”
Holy. She’s as good at sarcasm as I am. I wonder why I never noticed it before.
I lean against the door. “Well, then we have to figure something else out.”
“Like what?”
I finally lose my patience. “Oh my God! I don’t know. But we can’t just sit on our hands waiting for them to come back and torture us.”
Lavender starts to cry. “I’m sorry,” she blubbers.
I look heavenward. This is not funny, God.
Should I hug her or apologize? I decide to try the apology first then if unsuccessful follow it up with a hug. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I’m a little wound up.”
She sniffles, then wipes her arm across her eyes. Then her nose. Then uses her hand. Nothing’s sacred anymore.
God narrows his eyes. You’re one to talk.
Yeah, I know.
“Okay, I’m sorry too.” She sounds subdued.
I prowl around. The room is small, unlit, but dusky because there’s a window up on the wall. Way up on the wall. Even if we were able to reach it and get it open, I’m too curvy to crawl through. And Lavender, while more of a stick than I am, would forget to rescue me if I let her crawl out. Which doesn’t matter, since it’s too high to reach and probably wouldn’t open, because why would it when its only purpose is to let in a little light.
On the bright side, we do have a little light. Good pun, X.
Oh Bella, mom says, but she’s smiling.
There’s a desk in the room with three drawers, all of which are empty. A broken table lies on its side against the wall, the two remaining metal legs are bent and rusting. A desk lamp, one of those horrible ones that looks like what a serial killer would use for a spotlight, is dumped in a corner. It’s missing its cord so strangling one of the bad guys isn’t an option.
A few boxes hold some dusty binders that would make decent school supplies. A couple of dusting cloths lie in a heap.
“What are you thinking?” Lavender whispers.
“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” I say. “What do you think?”
She opens her mouth, shuts it again. “I can’t think. I’m too traumatized.”
Sure, she’s traumatized. I massage my temples to ease the ache in my head. “Well,” I say slowly, formulating the plan as I speak. “First we break the light bulb in the lamp, wrap a cloth around the jagged glass left over. Kick one of the legs off the table so we have a club.” I look closer. “I think we could make a sort of sword by stomping on the end of it.”
Lavender frowns. “It seems pretty violent.”
Good grief. “Lavender, these guys tortured and killed Miguel. Tracy and Mariah are missing. Edgar was beaten so badly, we had to call an ambulance. They kidnapped you, shot up my pop’s bakery, T-boned Reaper’s truck, punched me in the head and dumped me in this room. I think they’ll understand violence over inviting them to join us for tea to negotiate our release.”
“They shot up your pop’s bakery?” Her eyes are wide. “Is he okay?”
Once again tears threaten. “Yeah. He’s okay.”
“Thank God,” Lavender says, the set to her lips determined. “Let’s do this then.”
She grabs the leg on the table and starts to pull, then falls on her ass as the table moves with her efforts. “Ow!”
“Just a sec,” I tell her as I grip the table and hold it. “Okay, pull now.”
The leg easily gives way and Lavender once again falls on her ass. “Ow!”
“They don’t make tables like they used to,” I say as I offer her a hand and pull her to her feet.
“They sure don’t.” She rests the top of the leg on her shoulder, then takes a couple of swings like she’s trying to hit a home run. “I’m ready. You start banging on the door.”
I love Lavender… I mean loved, because she’s my ex-friend, but she’s never going to win a Nobel prize. “And say what? Come in so we can beat you up?”
She stops swinging. “Well then what’s the plan?”
I take the table leg from her, stomp on one end to flatten it, then set it in the corner next to the door.
“Ready now?” she says, bouncing from foot to foot like a terrier on caffeine.
“No.” I unscrew the light bulb from the lamp and wrap the cloth around it, then gently tap it against the edge of the desktop like I’m breaking an egg. The glass shatters. What’s left is a jagged rim around the tin edge of the bulb.
I grip the tin part thinking I need to give it a better name.
How about lightbulb holder, Bella? Mom says.
How about electric part, baby girl? Pops says.
How about deadly weapon, sexy? Reaper says.
My heart jumps. Reaper’s voice is now part of my inside chat room. And no offence, Pops and Mom, but the guy called me sexy. I gotta go with him.
Once again, I ignore the fact that he might be gravely injured or worse, because if I dwell on it, it will render me useless, which is not what I need right now.
“Maybe you should wrap the cloth around it again,” Lavender suggests. “Gently, so you don’t break it further. Then you can let go of it just before you swipe at the baddie.”
“Right,” I say with a tinge of bitterness. “It doesn’t matter if I slice myself to ribbons as long as the deadly weapon stays intact.”
Lavender frowns at me. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“Hey, I’m not Miguel.”
Lavender looks confused. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“You know, sex related. He comes too soon.”
Lavender still looks confused, but I figure it’s the audience not the joke.
Mom nods. Yes. It’s too subtle for Lavender.
Moving on. “This is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna lie on the floor, face down, holding the deadly weapon wrapped in a cloth slightly under me. You’re gonna pound on the door, yelling, ‘Help! I think Ximina’s dead. She was up and talking to me, then collapsed. Oh God, oh God.’ Or something like that.”
“Can I say Mina instead? I mean I think that will come out more naturally.”
“Whatever works.”
“Good.” She starts talking under her breath. “Help. Help. Mina won’t wake up. She’s not breathing. Oh God, please help.” She looks at me. “Then I’ll start screaming and crying.”
“Sure,” I say, annoyed that she’s improvising for some reason. Maybe because her lines sound better. “Then the guy comes in the door and leans down to check on me. I’ll roll over and slash at him. By then, you’ll have the table leg and you’ll smash him over the head.”
“Or stab him.”
“Hit him a few times first. Then, if he doesn’t stay down, stab him.”
“What about the other guy? If our guy’s down, won’t he notice?”
Legitimate question. “Not right away. He’ll figure his mate has it under control. We’ll have time to sneak out, but we’ll take our weapons with us just in case.”
What if more bad guys have arrived? I ask myself.
I shrug. Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind.
Be careful, mom says.
Reaper glares at me. Stay the fuck put. I’m on my way.
I hope so, future father of my children. I hope so.