Chapter 5
Trapped
Thorsen
When I woke up it was still dark, so I decided to go back to sleep when a wet drop hit my nose. Was it raining? I straightened up, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, when it all came back to me. I was running after Bob when I heard a groan in the distance. It made me freeze on the spot because I knew that voice, and my heart sank to the fucking ground. Carter. I ran down the darkened alley, crashing into the trash cans and dumpsters when something fell on my head, and then… nothing.
And now, where the fuck was I? Definitely somewhere underground, but where? A cellar? Not dry enough. A sewer? Not stinky enough. I could discern four stone walls around me and a small hole in the ceiling. It looked like a drainage opening, and it had bars that let the faint light in. And where… fuck, where was Carter? Cold fear washed over me as I looked around in alarm only to spot a body lying on the ground further away from me.
“Carter,” I hissed, crawling towards him. “Is that you?”
His body felt warm, but was he still alive? I placed my fingers on his neck to check his pulse, wondering if I should give him mouth-to-mouth.
“Don’t even think about it.” A low growl warned me. “I’m fine.”
“Jesus,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “My heart nearly stopped. I thought you were dead.”
“You’re not that lucky.”
Carter scrambled to his feet, but his movements were unsteady.
“Careful,” I warned him. “You might have a concussion.”
“And I would still be more comprehensible than you.”
“Asshole,” I muttered. “By the way, I presume your gun is missing, too?”
“Yup. Whoever put us here made sure we die a slow and painful death. And I left my phone in the car, although I doubt there’s reception here.”
“Me too,” I grumbled, shaking my head in frustration. “Shit.”
The impulsive movement made me frown as the sharp pain in my temples reminded me that someone whacked me on the head earlier. I felt my forehead, looking for an open wound or worse, but all I could find was a large bump.
“I think we’re in some kind of bunker,” Carter said, looking around.
“You don’t say,” I mocked him. “Is it the lack of our means to escape that led you to this conclusion?”
He smirked, pointing his chin at my biceps. “Are you sure about that? These look as if they could tear down walls.”
“Charming. But, yeah, we’re somewhere underground. There’s water dripping through those bars, which means we’re near a source of water. Not in the sewer, though, because I can still smell your cologne and not shit.”
Carter chuckled. “Perceptive.”
“A compliment? Be still, my heart.”
“Can you be serious for once?”
“Probably not.”
“How the fuck did this happen?” Carter growled, letting his anger show. “Damn it to hell.”
How did it happen? First, I had a nice talk with Bazooka and ate a hot dog. After that, I found myself running down a shady alley, trying to save my idiot partner. And then someone knocked me out like some kind of amateur.
“I blame you, by the way,” I said, feeling rightfully pissed.
Carter stopped his pacing.
“Pardon?”
“I came to your rescue instead of calling for backup. Fucking hell!”
“Well, I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know you didn’t, you insensitive prick. Unlike you, I have feelings.”
“Right.”
At that moment, I hated him. I hated him for being my partner. I hated him for ending up in this bunker. Maybe I even hated him for ending up in Shitsville, although I couldn’t blame anyone for that except myself.
We were silent for a while before he sat down next to me with a resigned sigh. I shared the sentiment. I felt hopeless, too.
“So,” Carter said, stretching his legs. “Is it true that you’re Belgian?”
I looked at him incredulously. “Are we getting to know each other now?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Whoever put us here will either leave us here to rot or show up eventually. Either way, I suspect we’ll be here for a while. Do you have a better idea?”
No. I didn’t have a better idea.
“Yes, I’m Belgian,” I said finally.
“You have three languages over there, don’t you? Don’t tell me you speak all of them.”
“I do. My German is rusty, but I could probably remember enough to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
“Impressive.”
“I’m only half Belgian, actually,” I mused. “My father is Norwegian. I lived with maman in Belgium until I turned eighteen, and then I moved to Norway to live with my dad. I hated it there, though.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t fit in, probably because I didn’t get along with my father.”
Carter chuckled, but it lacked mirth. “Story of my life.”
“Why don’t you share it? Take a load off.”
He hesitated before speaking. “It’s a short story. I grew up in a small village on the east coast. My father was a pastor, and my mother was a religious nutcase, so it was a match made in heaven. When I was old enough to take care of myself, I ran away from home and moved to the city.”
His face was pale in the darkness apart from a light flush in his cheeks. To my regret, his eyes were closed. I missed the jungle green.
When a ray of light fell on his forehead, I gasped in alarm and scrambled to my knees. I cupped his face and tilted it to the side when he slapped my hands away.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed. “Stop touching me, asshole.”
“You’re bleeding, dickhead. I’m trying to help you.”
Carter touched his forehead, frowning. “It’s just a scratch.”
“It’s not a scratch,” I said, moving closer to him. “Let me look at your wound.”
“No.”
“I can overpower you.”
He laughed. “You can dream of overpowering me.”
I was a big, strong dude, but I suspected he was right. He reminded me of those panthers in the jungle that jump on your head when you least expect them.
“Can I at least stop the bleeding so you can help me get out of here?”
That got him thinking.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Just be quick about it.”
I ripped off a piece of my shirt and cleaned the gash on his forehead as much as the light allowed me. He flushed, probably because his face was in line with my crotch, but pardon the fuck me. Decorum was the last thing on my mind since I was too damn scared he would bleed out in this shithole.
“I feel stupid for asking this,” Carter said, clearing his throat, “but is it true that you set the police station on fire?”
I burst into laughter. “Of course not. Who said that?”
“People talk.”
“Right.”
He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t fuck the president’s daughter, either?”
“Hmm, guilty as charged, but she was only the mayor’s daughter. She wanted to spite daddy by doing it with a cop he hated, and Boggs hated me because I was following a trail of dirty money that led to him. Not that I could prove it.”
He hummed thoughtfully, but remained silent.
“My turn,” I said. “Is it true that you killed two men with one bullet?”
Now it was Carter’s turn to laugh.
“Not likely. But I killed one man with two bullets. Does that count?”
I chuckled. “It does. You have a pretty smile, by the way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Have you noticed that we haven’t argued for the whole five minutes?”
“We will if you don’t remove your hand from my head.”
I did it reluctantly, sad that our truce had ended. And I knew it had ended because I could see those invisible walls lifting around him until I could barely see him.
“If it starts bleeding again, wake me up,” I said, lying down next to him. “I’m going to take a nap.”
“Are you kidding me?” Carter exclaimed in disbelief. “How can you sleep in here? How can you sleep, period?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
I was tired… in my body, in my soul, and in my heart. I could be as optimistic as the next person, but this time, I had a feeling we were in deep shit.
Carter
“What time is it?”
Thorsen’s question pissed me off for obvious reasons.
“I don’t know.”
“What day is it?”
“I don’t know. Still today, probably. Stop asking stupid questions.”
He was awake for a while now, and I knew it because I heard his breathing change. It was easier to notice these things in the darkness, when my sense of sight wasn’t the dominant one. How his chest rose and fell with each breath or how he groaned when he got uncomfortable. Or how his hand lay beside mine, close enough to feel its heat. I thought about pulling my hand away, but in the darkness and the cold, I needed to know that I wasn’t alone in this bunker.
“Who do you think set us up?” Thorsen said, sounding hoarse.
I shrugged. “It could be Bob. Or Baldie, since I sent him to prison a few times. It could be anyone.”
“So, Baldie is an admirer, too? I’m jealous. By the way, how long do you think before the gang figures out that we’re missing?”
At that point, I really wished for him to shut up.
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “A day?”
“And how long before they figure out where we are?”
Now that was a tricky one.
“Days? Weeks?” I mused. “Never?”
“Fuck.”
Yeah.
Fuck.
Thorsen
“We should do something.”
Carter gave me a skeptical look.
“Like what?”
I stood up and looked at the ceiling, mulling it over.
“Like, maybe try to reach that hole.”
A bitter laugh fell from his mouth. “We can’t reach it, brainiac. If it’s not obvious to you, then you're an even worse detective than I thought.”
“You don’t think I’m a bad detective,” I countered. “And you may be right, but I still want to try.”
I bent my knees and pointed at my back.
“Hop on, grumpy.”
Carter blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“It won’t work the other way around if that’s what you’re implying. I’m bigger than you.”
“A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“I’m all for sexual innuendos, but can we leave the cuddling for later? I kinda want to get out of here.”
Carter rolled his eyes and stood up.
“If you get hurt by this, don’t blame me,” he said, taking off his shoes.
“Duly noted.”
“And keep your hands away from my ass.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself.”
When he climbed on my shoulders, I stood up, holding his knees so we wouldn’t topple over.
“Impressive, Thorsen,” he said, resting his hands on my head for balance. “You didn’t even lose a breath, did you?”
Not from lifting him, but his hands on my head made me think all kinds of crazy shit. Most of it would, under normal circumstances, leave me with my pants tented.
“Now stand on my shoulders,” I instructed him. “Can you do that?”
“I was a semi-professional gymnast before I joined the academy. Does that answer your question?”
When his fingers yanked at my hair, I hissed more from shock than pain because, goddamn. Goddamn.
“Fuck,” Carter muttered, sounding equally alarmed. “Sorry. I thought I was going to fall. By the way, I think I messed up your bun.”
“I thought you were a pro gymnast,” I said through my teeth, trying to ignore his package that I could feel against the back of my neck. No wonder he was so cocky, all pun intended.
“I said I was a semi-pro. And stop touching my ass.”
In my defense, I had to touch his ass to shift him into a more stable position, although it made my heart race as if I was competing at the Olympics. It was a Mona Lisa of asses, after all.
“Ready, partner?” I asked him, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.
“As I’ll ever be. Don’t drop me.”
“Don’t fall.”
I felt his hands on my shoulders, and then his feet replaced them when he stood up, holding onto the wall for balance. When we were both confident enough to move, I took a step toward the hole in the ceiling. Then another one. Then another one.
“Stop,” Carter said, his voice strained.
“Can you reach it?”
“No, and I’m not trying because I will lose my balance.”
“What if you jump? Could you reach it then?”
“I don’t think so, and besides, there’s a locked padlock on it which we can’t open.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m coming down. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
I lowered my knees, careful not to fuck up my back, but he already jumped down.
“This is bullshit,” Carter said, running his hand through his hair. “We’re never getting out of here.”
Despite my natural optimism, I had to agree. Dying here with him seemed like the most likely outcome. I just didn’t know if starvation would get to me first or his sense of humor.