Chapter 48
CHARLIE
No one ever tells you that being a hostage is infuriatingly boring. The silence. The lack of information.
Despite all the insipid waiting, I have still not riddled a way out of this. The situation or my ropes.
I have no way to track time. The thin slivers of daylight coming in from the outside are getting shorter.
The sun is higher. With this, the temperature rises.
While there is no light coming in to add any heat, there is also no air-conditioning.
This ship was meant to haul stuff, not humans.
Sweat trickles onto my lips. It’s the only thing I’ve had to drink since my meager breakfast of peanut butter and water.
I think I might be delirious when the first muffled thud calls my attention. It sounds both close and far.
Blaed walks up to X.C., his brisk footsteps drowning out whatever I thought I heard. They converse quickly. I can’t make out any of the words, which is annoying.
Blaed exits once more, this time down a narrow opening to my left.
I hear the noise again.
A few things occur to me at once.
1. X.C. specifically named Oliver and Declan in his plan. He must intend to tell them he has me captive, or he already has. He expects them to come for me.
2. While my hands, ankles, and torso are bound, my mouth is not covered. Is X.C. counting on me to call out for help? To draw them in? For what? A verbal spat? Or perhaps a more lethal showdown, given that both Blaed and X.C. are armed.
3. The noise I am hearing must be either Oliver or Declan. They are so close, my heart is singing. But this is a bad situation. One or all of us could be shot or killed. The consequences of what I say and when I say it matter.
I think on it before the noise sounds again. Thud. Should I stare ahead coolly, as if this is exactly what I expected? As if help is right on time. It might unnerve X.C. or he could call my bluff.
My immediate default would be to call out “I’m in here!” Which duh, captain obvious. Not helpful. It’s not going to give Oliver or Declan any useful information that the sound of my voice wouldn’t already provide.
The noise rings out again, this time much louder. Closer. I hear the grating scrape of metal on metal.
X.C. turns to face me, a sinister glow in his eye. He palms his handgun and unlatches the safety.
“There’s only two—” is all I manage to scream out before Blaed returns and covers my mouth from behind me.
X.C. shakes his head. Blaed’s strong hand covers both my mouth and nose. X.C. helps him to untie my ankles. Once my legs are free, I begin to kick wildly.
X.C. backs away before I can make contact. His gun is raised, ready to take aim once he locates his target.
Blaed uses his free arm to lift me from the chair. The rope round my torso drops to the ground once I’m standing and a new sensation touches my back. Even through my clothes, I can make out the shape. Round and hard. The muzzle of his gun.
We wait for whoever is here to enter.
“Charlie!” The only voice that would make me happier is Declan’s, but hearing Oliver is great too.
I don’t want to be shot. I really, really don’t want to be shot. But I need to let Uncle Ollie know I’m here. I do the first thing that comes to mind and stick out my tongue. Blaed jolts his hand a few millimeters. It’s enough, and then I open wider and bite down on his hand as hard as I can.
“Bitch!” he cries out.
“Don’t shoot!” X.C. hisses at Blaed. “We have no leverage without her!”
Blaed curses under his breath and wraps his arms round my neck, his gun again at my back. I’m a human shield now. I can’t believe I ever thought this guy was cute or nice. His touch makes my skin crawl.
“I’m coming, Charlie!” Uncle Ollie calls out once more. I can’t see where he is, but knowing he’s near gives me hope.
X.C. is on edge, turning this way and that to see where Oliver will come from. He’s terrified right now. That’s an advantage.
A bang rings out to my right. X.C. and Blaed both turn to face it. Then another clang to the left.
They shift again, me with them.
The recognizable thump thump thump of running feet approaches. Uncle Ollie grunts and then slams into X.C. Xander hits one of the metal bins hard and his weapon drops and so does he. The sound of the impact reverberates.
Then Uncle Ollie turns toward Blaed.
This is all wrong. Blaed has a clear open shot on Uncle Ollie; he needs to move. Another set of distant thuds begins to sound. Declan! My heart sings, hoping it is him. Blaed tightens his arm round my neck. I want to pull his arm down, but my hands are still tied behind my back.
I need to act quickly because this standoff between Uncle Ollie and Blaed has to end somehow. And both guns are pointed directly at or very close to me. I give my uncle as subtle a nod as I can and hope he catches it.
With all the force I have, I pick up my right leg, my power leg, my starting leg for every race, and smash my bare foot down onto Blaed’s foot. Sure, if I had a steel-reinforced boot or my running spikes it might have more impact. But I’m working with what I have.
Blaed lists to one side for a second and I kick backwards, hoping to hit his most sensitive bits. Instead, Blaed releases my neck and grabs my ankle, stalling my momentum and causing me to faceplant. I expect the bruise to be gnarly.
Before I hit the ground, Uncle Ollie lunges.
Blaed fires off a shot but misses. The bullet hits the metal. The ricochet echoes around us. Another metal-on-metal whine.
“Declan . . .” My parched lips scratch out his name.
X.C., who was down on the ground, stands and runs down the dark passageway. Coward.
I don’t hear any more signs of Declan’s approach; I can no longer hear anything over the grunting between Blaed and Uncle Ollie.
Even with my arms tied, I find my way up to standing.
The metal chair I was bound to is in front of me.
I make a knee-jerk decision to kick it over.
As Oliver and Blaed dance around each other, knowing someone has to shoot first. The sound of metal against concrete is loud and both Oliver and Blaed flinch, but Oliver clocks what I’m doing.
The next motions happen too fast for Blaed to move out of the way.
Oliver takes a half-step forwards and Blaed steps back and topples over the chair.
A bullet flies up to the ceiling. I duck and try to cover, hoping that if it ricochets back to the ground, it won’t hit me.
Then, with Blaed on his back, I do the ugliest thing I’ve ever done as a human.
I kick. My bare feet are taking a beating themselves because Blaed’s body is rock hard.
But I know I land a few solid blows when he calls out in pain.
Oliver grabs Blaed’s gun and pockets it.
Quickly, before Blaed can stand, my uncle uses his pocketknife to cut my wrists free.
My shoulders are unforgiving as I bring my arms forwards. Oliver places a spare gun in my shaking hands as he stands over Blaed.
“Uncle Ollie,” I whisper, my head light.
From the lack of food, heat, sudden and powerful movements, the fact that there is a gun in my hand.
One of these factors, all of these factors.
I’ve never felt this way before. Drained after a race, sure?
I’ve gone numb and tingly with my episodes.
But this is new, and whatever it is, it’s not good.
But I need to help. Right now, we have Blaed outgunned.
That could still change. In the distance, I hear the telltale whine of sirens.
Uncle Ollie gently guides my hand so I am pointing the gun at Blaed. Oh God, I hope I don’t have to use it.
While I stand over Blaed, my uncle uses the ropes that once tied me to bind him.
I keep telling myself I have to focus for just one more minute. Just one more.
“This is not the kind of dynamic work environment I was looking for, Uncle Ollie,” I pant with less conviction than I intend. My voice is whisper thin, but it still merits a smirk from my boss.
The sirens are getting louder. Closer.
Quick footsteps behind me are a reminder that they aren’t here yet.
I turn toward the sound. Declan is running along the narrow pathway that X.C. escaped down. Bright white spots dot my vision, and I am so light but also so heavy at the same time.
I hit the floor before I can even touch Declan. Before he can reach me.