57
Wake the Dead
Amanda
The rain gets worse. The news is cautioning a thunderstorm watch while lightning cracks all around me. It makes an awesome strobe light effect that I don’t appreciate.
No shit, weather lady. I wouldn’t be able to tell it’s raining without you.
I check my watch constantly as if I’m following the plan even though I’m not with them.
Eight o’clock. Work starts like any other day.
Nine. Jake whines about not having enough breakfast. Cade mocks him. They tussle.
Ten. They’re getting ready in their own ways for whatever showdown is coming.
Eleven. They’re on the road to the restaurant.
Twelve.
Lightning streaks in front of the window, close enough that I have to squint. A loud boom follows quickly. The lights go out and come back on.
“Great,” I grumble.
It happens two more times while I slump on the couch in the meeting room. It’s somehow satisfying to know that even the rich get power outages. Mother Nature is the best at reality bitch slaps.
The power goes out without warning. No lightning or thunder. Just darkness in a blink.
The doom feeling hits me in the chest.
Yay. They’re going to be fine.
I’m screwed.
I try to be nonchalant about going to my room to get Jakob. The maids are scurrying around with LED lanterns and cursing the weather. Every single person I see, I tell to get in the basement and lock the door when everyone is inside. I don’t know what’s up, but the fewer people around, the better. They’re convinced we’re about to have a tornado drop on us by the time I’m done.
I calmly make my way to my room. Jakob gleams in the light as if it’s saying, “Hey! It’s time!”
Damn right, it is.
I’m not sure where I need to be. I have the feeling that it won’t matter. If I’m in the gym, that will endanger a bunch of people who want a paycheck without drama. I feel that one so hard. I could be in the sitting room but the windows there are a hazard.
I choose the dining room. It’s mostly dark here. Mainly at the head of the table where Gabriel sits. It feels ominous and perfectly dramatic.
Sold.
I set my phone on silent and send out another mass text.
Me: Nvm. It’s my problem. You’re all good.
That calm settles over me. I’m as ready as I’m going to get.
I can’t hear anything over the rain and thunder. My body is perfectly still with tension. The doom feeling swells up like a balloon. It isn’t until he’s almost to me that I realize someone is there.
My arm jerks up, clipping the person in the chin with Jakob’s unmerciful hammer end. He lets out a yip of pain and falls back into the chair behind him. My phone starts buzzing on the table, lighting up to display a name. I can’t pay attention to it because it’s the only illumination that I can see the guy by.
It also alerts me to the fact that two more people are in here with us.
I’m not sure how to handle this type of attack. Just like a one-on-one, I barely have a clue. So I swing every chance I get, working my way out of the dining room and damaging a lot of stuff in the process.
Mistakes were made in location.
I hit a chair, forcing it to hit someone instead of breaking. I whack the table so hard that my fingers start tingling. I forgot my gloves. Another swing catches a body that lets out a hard puff of air. I make it to the doorway, only to back into someone.
Before I can correct, an arm goes around my waist and lifts me up. My flailing legs catch someone and knock them back. A lot of cursing begins as I struggle in the hold. I keep swinging Jakob with one hand and try to reach for the eyes of my captor. He dodges out of my way, his head rearing back. I get the feel of a ski mask before he can get away.
I don’t stop. I can’t. That rage inside is awake and ready to annihilate with no skill to back it up.
I shift my grip on Jacob and use its length to try and sock my captor in the face. The move gives someone a chance to grab onto the end of it and yank it out of my hold before I can connect.
My adrenaline goes into overdrive.
I’m not aware of the specific moves I’m using to keep them off me. It’s mainly a lot of wriggling, hopeful punches, scratches that don’t meet skin, and wildly kicking legs. The most I achieve is flailing around and forcing my captor to knock over things that break when they fall.
With four of them now up and moving, I don’t stand a chance.
I don’t know the punch is coming until my cheek explodes in pain. Dizziness assails me, and then all I can see are the backs of my eyelids as I pass out.