Willow #3
As I looked up, I noticed a vent in the corner of the ceiling. It wasn’t large, but neither was I. Trying to get in was a big risk, with no cover. But at that point, it was a better plan than walking into a room filled with bikers all by myself.
I decided to go for it. I quietly climbed onto the counter, took one of the knives out of my back pocket, and used it to take off the screws that held the vent in place.
My heart raced knowing that my hands were occupied and my torso was exposed to attack.
All senses on alert, I scanned for anyone entering the kitchen with me in such a vulnerable position.
Once I had it off, I hoisted myself up. Thanks to Dad for making me do all those stupid pull-ups. It was a tight fit, but I was able to wiggle myself in.
My breath echoed down the metal. Glancing down one last time, I prayed no one came in and noticed that I left the cover on the counter. My hands were full, and I was not going back for it.
I crawled down the vent and saw that it branched off. I kept following the music, which was thankfully still on because I knew I was making more noise than I’d like. I made it to the vent that looked down on the party that was going on in the main room.
I’m sure they had so much to celebrate being able to kidnap a pregnant lady and a kid.
Ignoring my irritation, I scanned the exits: four doors that connected to the main party area, and no windows to the outside.
Everyone seemed like they were on something already, and not just the alcohol that was lying out everywhere.
Others were engaging in some activities that I could have gone my entire life without seeing.
Mostly, it didn’t look like anyone was too concerned with what was going on around them. Good.
If I had a chance to get us out, I was going to have to take out as many as I could at once. It was going to be messy, and I didn’t know what my parents would think, but if I went out, I was going to have some fun with it.
What they don’t tell you when you decide to wiggle your way into a tight space is that turning around is freaking impossible. I had to ungracefully scoot my ass backwards down the vent, but finally, I made it back to the kitchen, then backtracked the way I came.
When I entered the basement, the lady looked at me with relief. “Good, you’re back. Come sit with me while we wait,” she said, patting the non-bloody area on the concrete floor next to her.
“Nah, I still have some stuff to do,” I said with a shrug as I looked around the basement. There had to be some kind of exit down here. I assumed when they brought people down here, they didn’t go through the main part of the house.
In the very far corner, almost hidden completely in the shadows of the dim room, I could faintly make out a small door. It had a lock on it, but I still had Chucky’s keys.
“Good, we can both just leave and walk to the road for help,” the lady said on an exhale.
I looked at her in question. I hadn’t gotten out much in the last few years, but I knew if this place had cages in the basement, they probably had guys watching the perimeter.
Maybe I knew this from being around former military personnel.
I felt like it should be common sense, but she’d had a hard day, so I decided not to mention it.
“That’d be nice, but I’ll go out and make sure there isn’t anyone walking around. I’m going to come back for you because, no offense, you don’t seem that light on your feet at the moment. You know, from the beating and the whole super pregnant thing,” I said as I opened the small door.
“It’s Jaz,” she said as she attempted to stand up, wobbling a bit. I looked at her confused as she tried to smile with her split lip. “My name is Jaz,” she said again as she stopped trying to stand up. She definitely needed a doctor.
“Okay, Jaz. I’m Willow, but I like Will.
I’ll go look around really quick and find the best way for us both to get out of here.
I need to move fast and be quiet, and I don’t think you can do either of those things right now.
I’ll find a way out of here for us and take you to a doctor.
Be ready when I come back for you,” I told her with an awkward smile before I turned around and ducked out of the door.
When I popped my head outside, it was dark.
I looked around and didn’t see any patrols, which made the next part a lot easier.
The building was surrounded by trees. I ducked and ran into them for cover.
I bounded from tree to tree, keeping myself behind the large trunks for as much cover as I could manage.
I couldn’t hear anything, so we probably weren’t close enough to any major highways to flag someone down for help.
After about fifteen minutes filled with only my beating heart and the wind whistling through the trees, I saw a chain-link fence.
There was no one walking it, but I could see a gate that opened to the property, and only one man standing by it—I assumed to let people in and out.
He was my first order of business. Staying in the dense tree line, I worked my way around to him.
He was reading a magazine with a flashlight, probably only looking out for approaching headlights. I could only see the back of his shaggy blonde head. He wasn’t big in comparison to the other people I saw at the party. Probably younger, too, with a skinny build.
I planted my back against the tree behind him and pulled out the knife that I’d gotten off Fatty.
It was sharper than the kitchen knife, and I only had one chance.
I was a lot smaller than him, so I had to find the easiest, cleanest way to handle this.
I decided to go for something I could reach.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to three to center myself.
The second I opened my eyes, I pivoted around the tree to face him.
Before his eyes could move from the magazine to me, I already had my knife in his kidney.
The cry he let out was a mixture of surprise, fear, and pain as he dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
As fast as I could, I moved behind him, grabbed his greasy hair, and ran my knife across his throat as deep as I could.
I released his hair and let his body fall forward, face down into the dirt.
I stood as quietly as I could for a moment to make sure his cry didn’t alert anyone.
But the only sound around me was a choking, gurgling noise coming from the man at my feet.
I knew it would take a minute for him to be completely gone.
I didn’t have time to wait for that. I decided to grab his knife, too, and toss the one from the kitchen into the brush.
I began the walk back, along the edge of the trees so I could see the front of the house better.
Some people were talking and smoking just outside the front door.
Calculating outcomes, a malicious smile formed across my face.
I slinked to the side of the building. The side entrance door had a chain with a lock hanging from it that wasn’t engaged.
It reminded me of a game of operation, not letting the metal touch as I moved the chain into position.
The click of the lock engaging made me bite my lip and look around. But nobody made a sound.
With Chucky’s keys, I continued around the building, re-chaining and locking the doors. I darted into what must have been a detached garage and looked around, noticing a few gas cans scattered around.
With a silent plea, I picked one up and let out a breath of relief when the weight confirmed that it was full.
I took it and continued casing the perimeter, leaving a trail of gasoline as I went.
The complacent shits didn’t leave anyone to guard their bikes that were conveniently parked along the side of the building.
I stayed in the shadows, out of view from the few people hanging out around the front, as I continued my task of locking every door that I passed.
I had to go back for more gas cans a few times, but I’d much rather have too much than too little. When I was done, I headed back to the basement with the last two gallons.
When I came in, Jaz looked up at me, seeing the blood that covered me from my escapade with the gate guy, visibly relaxing when she realized I wasn’t hurt. I set one of the gas cans in the middle of the room, and without a word, I removed the last chain and lock from the basement door.
Jaz held her stomach protectively as I helped her get up and through the door, which was a tight squeeze for her. We pressed our bodies against the wall as we reached the side of the house.
I took her to the trees. “Wait for me here,” I said. A crease formed between her brows, like she wanted to protest, but I didn’t stay long enough to hear it.
With confidence in the lack of security, I don’t bother crawling this time. I confidently strolled through the basement, down the hallway, and opened the door to the party room.
No one was paying attention as I lifted my gun and lined up the sights with one of the guys sitting in the middle of the party. The shot echoed through the room as thick droplets of blood splatter rained down from his head. His body fell against the girl who was grinding on him in only a thong.
Everyone stared at him in shock, and I think Thong Girl’s scream was the only thing that brought them out of it.
I didn’t wait for them to look around and discover me.
I ran as fast as I could back to the basement.
Footsteps and curses trailed behind; I was not sure how many people were following me, and I didn’t dare look.
Speed was the only advantage I had, and I wasn’t stopping.
I turned the corner to the basement, taking the steps two at a time down.
Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.