Taylor Made Owens (55 page)

The man carrying Kristen dropped her to the ground next to the fire. She immediately got up and bolted toward the trees. The man caught her by her hair and dragged her back screaming. She scratched his face. He struck her with the back of his hand across her face, knocking her to the ground. Blood dripped from her nose as she lay on the ground, dazed.

“You don’t know how to handle a woman proper-like,” the gang leader said. “Here’s how you treat a lady,” he announced as he picked her up by the arm and tore off her blouse. The five burly bikers surrounding her hooted. She threw punches that had no effect at all on the leader. The assembled roared with laughter. “She’s a feisty one, boys. Can’t wait to feel her squirming around underneath me.” He ripped off her bra, which made the fiends howl with delight. She crossed her arms over her breasts, her wide-open eyes showing absolute panic. She was too petrified to cry; she moaned and quaked. “I’ll hold her arms, and you pull off her pants,” he instructed his brother.

The leader seized Kristen and pulled her arms away to expose her chest, inciting another cheer. He put one big arm around her neck to hold her fast and put his large hand across both her breasts, saying, “Here, honey, I’ll cover up those itty-bitty titties for you.” The others laughed. Kristen shrieked as he squeezed hard.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. The brother approached to take off her pants, but Kristen started kicking. She managed to kick him where it counts, which put him in a stoop and made the others laugh more.

“Can’t handle a skinny little girl?” the leader teased as he laughed.

“I get to kill the bitch when we’re done with her!” the brother roared. “I’ll cut you and slice you until you bleed to death as I’m doing you up your tight little ass,” he said as he yanked off her pants.

Now down to her panties, she shook with fright and cold. One of the five left the semicircle around Kristen to get a beer. The leader pulled back Kristen’s head by her hair and kissed her so hard it bloodied her lips. Frantic, she again tried to fight him off, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He bit down hard her right breast. She screamed in pain.

“You want some of this?” he asked his brother. He grinned and went over to suck hard on her left breast. A third biker came over and pulled at her panties. She screeched again, kicking and scratching frenetically. The leader put his hand down her panties and clutched so hard she yelped in agony.

Kristen scrambled to get away, her torn panties hanging from her hips. She managed to get three feet or so from them and fell to the ground. “Looks like she’s ready, boys,” said the leader to their howls. “Enough foreplay. I’m first.” He unfastened his pants and lowered his zipper.

Overwhelmed with fear, exhausted from fighting, and beleaguered by pain, her mind could no longer cope, and she began to go into shock. Things were getting blurry, and voices started to echo. The gang leader dropped his pants to his ankles and approached the prone victim. Suddenly he collapsed to the ground next to her. Then another body crumpled to the ground on the other side of her. Her bewildered mind could not comprehend what was happening.

The two other fiends turned, took their knives out, and moved away from her. Kristen remained on the ground, stupefied. “Run, Krissy!” someone yelled. Through her bafflement, she didn’t at first comprehend. Still immobilized by shock, she couldn’t even blink, but the glimmer of hope impelled by the familiar voice helped her mind struggle to revive. “Krissy, get the hell out of here!”

She recognized the voice and looked to see the malefactors close in on Robert, waving their knives. She glanced down at the dead brothers. Each had the handle of a dagger sticking out of his face. Robert, now unarmed—having employed the two knives he’d taken from the two bikers he’d previously subdued—was backing away to lure the assailants as far as possible from Kristen. He knew if either of them used her for protection with a knife to her throat, all was lost.

She slowly stood as she came to her senses. One biker broke off toward Kristen as the other moved in on Robert. Seeing the threat to Kristen, Robert ran to cut off her attacker. Kristen witnessed Robert inflicting a punishing kick to the side of his knee, breaking his leg and bringing him down. Seeing the other man quickly closing in on him from behind, Kristen shouted, “Look out, Bobby!”

He turned to see the other biker jab at him with his knife. He dodged, but couldn’t avoid the blade altogether. It pierced his left side just below his ribcage. He screamed in pain. “Bobby!” said Kristen. Now more worried for him than herself, she started toward him to see if she could help.

The six-foot-five monster viciously thrust his blade at Robert’s stomach but, with lightning reflexes, Robert seized his wrist and turned the blade aside; with his other hand, he grabbed the hand with the knife and propelled it backward. Kristen heard the crack; the man shrieked. Robert then took hold of the biker’s injured arm and spun him around. He put both arms around his foe’s neck and kicked his legs from underneath him. The man went limp, his neck broken. Robert let the body drop. All this in a few incredibly brutal seconds. There could be no quarter with Kristen’s life at stake.

Bleeding profusely, Robert crouched over to recover the knife, and stumbled toward Kristen as she ran to him. His adrenaline and strength spent, he collapsed into her arms, and the two fell to the ground. Kristen put her hand on Robert’s wound to staunch the bleeding. He grimaced in pain.

The man with the broken leg got to his feet and limped toward them with his knife. Robert, now feeling lightheaded, said, “He’s coming. Run!” He was too weak to throw the knife at the attacker.

“No. I’m not leaving you to die. Get up!”

“I can’t. Please, Krissy. If you stay and he gets us both, I’ve died for nothing. Get away!”

“If you die, I die. I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance, too far away to help in time. He began to lose consciousness. Desperate, Kristen took Robert’s arms and dragged him away from the enraged, injured animal. As the man closed in, Robert murmured, “Run, Krissy.”

Kristen, realizing it was hopeless to get Robert to safety, took the knife from Robert and stepped in between him and the attacker as Robert blacked out. The biker bent over and extracted a gun from the gang leader’s belt. Kristen threw the knife, but missed her target. She then lay across Robert’s body and prayed. Gunshots echoed through the trees.

“K
rissy! Krissy!” screamed Robert as he awakened in a hospital bed the next morning. “Krissy! Where’s Krissy? Is she dead? Krissy!” Hospital workers struggled to calm him and sedate him. “Krissy!” he yelled in sheer panic. With an orderly holding him down, he was, at last, sedated by the doctor. “Krissy!”

Quickly, the sedative took hold, and he settled down. “Who is Krissy?” asked the doctor as he checked Robert’s sutures.

“Kristen Taylor. Is she …” Robert said as he fell asleep. The nurse, orderly, and doctor went back about their business.

As Robert was waning, Mark was waxing before reporters with his incredible tale of daring as he raced to save an innocent victim of motorcycle gang violence. He had called a press conference to inform the public about the astonishing events the night previous. He began, “I have a lengthy statement to make. Please hold your questions until I’ve completed my statement. Let me warn you that the incident in question was very violent, with several deaths. I’m tired and extremely upset over the bloody outcome, but I feel I need to explain this to assure the public that the worst is over.

“Last evening, as you know, I announced the arrest of the leaders of two rival motorcycle gangs that have been plaguing our city. After the news conference, I offered one of my campaign workers a ride home. I won’t mention her name for the sake of her family, who are legitimately worried about reprisals from the gangs. That’s the way these thugs think.

“While we were driving to her house, at approximately ten-thirty, a biker drove up alongside of my car and smashed out the passenger window, probably with a crowbar. I couldn’t let him get away with that kind of intimidation. If the chief of police looks the other way when he is victimized, we might as well all give in to the violence they cause, even if it was a last act of desperation after they’d already been defeated.

“I followed him into what turned out to be an ambush. He stopped his motorcycle, and I stopped my car to arrest him. Suddenly, eight more bikers drove out of a side road and surrounded my car. I took out my phone to call for backup, but one of them used the crowbar to smash my window. He tried to hit me with it, but I was fortunate enough to grab it and take it from him. In the scuffle, I lost my phone, so I couldn’t call for help. Much worse, as I was fighting for my life, another of the hoodlums pulled my passenger out through the broken window. Now they had a hostage.”

“What did you do?” asked a rapt reporter.

“Of course, my first urge was to get out and rescue my companion, but I realized it would have been hopeless. Outnumbered nine to one by armed ruffians, what were my chances? And they had a hostage that they could threaten at any time to make me back down. My sole course of action was to go for help. I hoped if I got away, they would realize the police were coming soon and they would be hesitant to harm their hostage.

“I floored my vehicle and hit … I’m still not sure if it was one or two of the bikers. Two more of them got on their bikes and pursued me. One of them had a gun and began shooting at me. That complicated the situation enormously. Not only was my life in imminent danger, I couldn’t just drive to the nearest farmhouse to get to a phone, because that would put more innocent lives at risk. So I took a calculated risk. I let them get close to me and hoped their marksmanship was poor.”

A few nervous chuckles pierced the silence of the awestruck crowd.

“Obviously it was, as I stand here before you. When they were just off my rear bumper, I jammed on the brakes. One of them ran into the back of my vehicle. He was thrown over the top and onto the road in front of me. The other avoided my car, but went out of control into the ditch. Fortunately that finished both of them.”

“Finished? Are they dead?”

“One died this morning; the other is seriously injured.”

“What about the hostage? How long did all of this take?” asked an anxious reporter.

“This was no more than five minutes after they kidnapped her. But I still hadn’t been able to call for help. I thought if I could find that gun, I could even the odds in a hurry. Fortunately, it was gleaming in the distance from the light of my headlights. I got the gun, dragged the body off the road, and put a flare there to mark where the injured people were. A motorist came by at that point, and I asked him to phone the provincial police.

“Then I raced back to the scene of the kidnapping. They were down an old, disused road, maybe a hundred meters from where my friend was taken. One of the thugs was unconscious at the entrance to the road, presumably one of my hit and run victims. I looked down the road and saw a fire. I ran down as fast as I could. When I got closer, I realized there had been a great battle there. There were several bodies sprawled on the ground around the fire.”

“What happened there?” “Were they dead?” “Was the hostage dead?” reporters asked.

“Forensic experts are still trying to sort out exactly what happened. We’re not sure yet. As I approached, I saw the hostage was still alive, but there was one biker pointing his gun at her. She was trying to help another man who was also an innocent victim of the gang.”

“What do you mean? They kidnapped him, too?”

“We think he may have been trying to rescue the woman, but didn’t succeed. He’s in the hospital, recovering, and we haven’t been able to speak to him yet.”

“Please, Chief, end the suspense. What happened to your campaign worker?”

“I shot the man aiming at her before he could shoot. She’s alive and recuperating in hospital.”

“Had she been sexually assaulted?”

“She was not raped, but was brutally assaulted. She suffered some scrapes and bruises, but the emotional trauma is more serious. A sexual assault counselor will help her through this.”

“So you ended up saving her and the failed hero to boot.”

“I guess so,” Mark confirmed with a bashful smile.

“What was the condition of the other gang members on the ground?”

“Four were dead; the other had injuries consistent with getting struck by a car, probably my other hit and run victim. Preliminary evidence suggests at least three died from knife wounds.”

The questions continued as the media prepared to make a hero out of Mark Loftus once again. With the election just days away, Mark basked in the glory and thanked his lucky stars.

•

“Gertrude,” observed Mr. Carlton, “paper says the police chief saved some lady and a chump that tried to rescue her, but ended up gettin’ stabbed hisself. Freakin’ loser. Guess I’ll vote for the hero after all.”

•

Kristen had flinched when she heard the report from the gun. For an instant, she expected the bullet to strike her down. When she felt nothing and saw her attacker fall to the ground, she felt more confused than anything. Mark’s hand on her shoulder elicited a scream, but she turned to see his concerned face and realized her deliverance was at hand. He put his jacket around her and attempted to hug her, but she turned away from him. Her single concern at that moment was Robert. Now her skills as a physician would be critical to save his life.

“Kristen, are you okay? What in the name of God happened here?” asked Mark. Police officers streamed into the clearing to check on the bodies and secure the crime scene.

“Is there an ambulance? I need to get him to the hospital right away.” Mark told an officer to get the ambulance to their location at once.

Mark saw who it was. “Did he kill these men? Did he follow us here?” Mark asked.

The ambulance drove up. “Over here!” Kristen said. “I’m a doctor. I need O-negative blood right away.” She barked out her instructions and the attendants obeyed. She toiled to staunch the bleeding and stabilize him for the ambulance ride to the hospital.