The Portal ~ Large Print (13 page)

B
lurred lights flickered
overhead. Jarod leaned forward and rubbed a kink from his neck. Where was he? Glancing around, he found himself sitting in a row of molded plastic chairs, linked together on a steel lattice. Trapped inside the greasy light panel above, a dancing moth cast tense shadows over the Greyhound Bus Station sign.

Had he blacked out again? They were headed to the safe room with Leon. And then he woke up here.

A sparse scattering of people stood throughout the station. Though the sound of laughter and murmurs swirled around, nobody’s lips moved. Was he dreaming?

In the distance, a scratchy recording of Ave Maria played. Fuck he hated that song. They only played it at funerals.

Directly across from him, a twenty-something skinhead stored an electric guitar case underneath his seat.

“Where are we?” Jarod asked. The musician’s face looked as though it had been wiped with a busboy’s filthy rag. Prison-ink stained the sides of his neck. “Dirt bag, I asked you a question.”

Canned laughter erupted through the station. Still, nobody’s lips moved. They just stared at him. Now he knew it was a dream. He must’ve passed out on the way to the safe room.

“Not too pleasant here.” Jarod recognized Vincent’s voice.

He turned to find the old man sitting a few feet away, in a chair that had been empty just a second before. His brown tweed suit hung from his frail body.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“It’s got nothing to do with me.” Vincent tapped his forefinger to his own temple. “This is your head.”

“Then leave.”

“Sorry son. This is the only place I can reach you now that your light’s almost out.”

“You’d better start making sense.”

“Didn’t I warn you about messing with that woman?” Vincent’s nostrils flared. “Aren’t too many folks stupid enough to attack a lioness. Especially one protecting her cub.”

“And I told you that there was no way that bitch was going to take my son.”

“That’s right.” Vincent nodded. “There’s no way. Not one. Except right now, you’re stuck here with me, and she’s fixing to put you down like some mongrel dog.”

“Let her try,” he said. “She doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong.” A smug look crossed Vincent’s face. “She’s cutting a deal to trade you over to Mr. Kevin Stromsky as we speak.”

“Impossible,” Jarod said, but he wasn’t so sure. No. This was another one of Vincent’s power games. “Leon wouldn’t let her.”

“That man turned on you the second you passed out.”

Could that be true? Something in Vincent’s eyes told him that it was.

“I’ll kill them both,” Jarod said.

“Mighty tall words from a man who’s lying in a puddle of his own blood.”

Vincent’s deliberate laugh made him furious.

“If you’re here,” Jarod said. “You must think you can help.”

“I might be able to give you a boost,” Vincent said. “Keep you awake for a second or two to stop the trade, but that bullet’s in your lung. Unless your boy opens the gate for me, you’re dead anyway.”

“You mean like last night?” Jarod remembered the visions that Vincent had shown him in the bathroom. How he’d supposedly torn that kid’s head off. Earlier, the carnage had made him sick to his stomach. Now, he only wanted one more opportunity to do the same to Vivian. “Wake me up, and I’ll handle her.”

“No.” A stern look crossed Vincent’s face. “You won’t touch her.”

“She shot me. I won’t let her live.”

“You’re going to be a happy family if it kills me. You’re going to make Cody feel just fine until the portal is opened. You hear me?”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“I asked you a question,” Vincent said. “Do you understand?”

Jarod couldn’t believe the nerve. Treating him like some grade school kid.

“I’ve been jumping through your hoops all day,” he said. “I’m through dancing unless you tell me what you’re really after.”

Applause echoed through the bus station. He looked around. As he suspected, none of the people moved. They just stared at him.

“You’ve screwed off everything that I’ve done for you.” Vincent bared his teeth. His gums looked diseased. “The power. The money. Everything. And now you think you can give me orders?”

“Done for me?”

“You’re gonna fix this,” Vincent said. “Then you will leave that woman alone.”

“Without me, you wouldn’t even exist,” Jarod said, and Vincent’s eyes widened. “What, you think I couldn’t figure why you need me alive?”

“Choose your next words carefully.”

“The way I see it, you’d better start treating me with some fucking respect,” Jarod said. “I answer to no one.”

“Oh, you will.” The lights flickered to darkness. “Or you’ll rot here with your mistakes.”

The power returned. A slick tongue of blood led down the dirty isle to three corpses. They stared with eyes of pure black. Their lips moved, but no sound came.

Two of the boys bled from their necks. The woman’s body had been torn so viciously that it seemed on the verge of collapse. The musician across the aisle held his own head in his lap.

“Christ.” Jarod stood and backed away.

“What’s the matter?” Vincent’s guttural laugh seemed to shake the walls. “Scared of what you’ve done?”

“Get rid of them,” he shouted.

“You still haven’t learned who’s giving the orders.” Vincent stood.

Suddenly, the air burned oven hot. Jarod stepped back, but his shoes melted to the floor. He tripped and dropped to his hands, which blistered.

“Stop now,” Jarod shouted. “Or I’ll never help you.”

As the old man walked, chairs rattled. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling panels.

“You were my brightest creation.” Vincent touched his face with icy fingers that stabbed into Jarod’s cheek like needles. “And now the great Jarod Carmichael dies on his knees.”

“Wait.” He clutched the old man’s pant leg to avoid the floor, which began to glow red. “Don’t leave me.”

“Why would I waste my time on you? Somebody who is broken beyond repair. Somebody who answers to no one.” He mocked Jarod’s voice.

“I’ll do what you want. Don’t let me die.”

“Before you ever open your mouth to me again.” Vincent leaned down just inches from his face. “Choose your words.”

“I will.” He was disgusted with his own weakness, but he couldn’t stop begging. “I’ll do what you want. Anything. Don’t leave me here.”

“You have one last chance. That’s your son. Either he opens the doorway for me, or you die. It’s that simple.”

A sharp pain exploded in Jarod’s ribcage. Suddenly, he wasn’t in the bus depot anymore. With blurred vision, he looked up to see a woman’s face. Lines morphed and folded together, and he could barely make out Vivian, struggling to carry him by his arms. Leon lifted his legs.

“Let go of me.” His dried tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“He’s conscious,” Leon said.

“It doesn’t matter,” the bitch said. “I’m not leaving Erika out there.”

Jarod could barely see Vincent standing beside the console.

“Take the gun from her waist band,” he said. “Shoot the guard.” The sound of pistons releasing. Was that the door to the safe room?

“You’d better hurry,” Vincent said. “Not much time left.”

Jarod reached for the gun, grabbed it, and aimed wildly in Leon’s direction. He pulled the trigger. Immediately, his legs dropped. He pulled away from Vivian.

From nowhere, he found the energy to stand. She raced over to him and shoved her finger into his bullet wound, but he felt no pain. He slammed the butt of the pistol across her head and kicked her through the doors of the safe room. Quickly, he locked himself back inside. On the floor next to him, he saw the bullet had hit Leon in the face. It served him right. The fucking traitor

Cody was crying on the far side of the room.

“Open it.” Jarod staggered to him. “Open the doorway for Mister Vincent.”

Cody shook his head, so Jarod pointed to the monitors over the center console.

“If you want to save your mother.” He coughed thick blood into his hands. “If you want to save—” He paused. “Your mother, you have to let Vincent.” More breaths. “Let him in.”

Jarod fell. He felt strangely disconnected from his body.

“Bad Daddy.” Cody’s voice echoed through the static. “You’re bad.”

J
arod’s punch felt
like an aluminum bat to Vivian’s skull. Her ears rang. As she staggered back to the vault, the doors wheezed shut. Cody was trapped inside. Was Leon alive? Most of the bullets had hit his vest, but at least one had hit his face. She had to get back inside.

A cold barrel pressed to the base of her skull.

“It seems that you’ve failed to live up to the terms of our agreement yet again.” Stromsky’s voice felt like a wire around her neck.

Slowly, she turned. He wore a black suit and leather gloves. His eyes bore down on her with such anger, that she was forced to look away.

“I tried to give him to you.” She could barely open her mouth to speak. Her jaw throbbed from the punch.

“Move over there,” he said.

He nudged her and she walked. The back half of the library came into view. Turned on its side, Jarod’s desk was riddled with bullet holes. Beyond that, two wrought iron chairs were arranged in the center of the room. Erika sat in the farthest one with her hands tied behind her back. Her right eye was swollen shut. Blood trickled from the corner of her lip.

“I warned you of the consequences for speaking to the authorities,” Stromsky said. “Now sit.”

“I didn’t say anything to them.”

Pain exploded over her left ear. She fell into a potted palm tree. Spiny fronds dug into her hands.

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself,” he said.

Why didn’t he just kill them? Jarod wasn’t going to open the doors. She sat down, and he pulled several plastic ties from his pocket.

“I’ll make this simple for you.” Stromsky walked around her. Somehow, he managed to restrain her hands behind the chair without taking the barrel of the gun from her head. “When matters become complicated, my employers begin to question my qualifications to complete the job.”

“I just want my son.”

“Because of your actions, Mrs. Carmichael has commissioned a second team.” Stromsky grabbed a handful of Erika’s curls and yanked her head back.

“Leave her alone,” Vivian shouted.

“I will not have my reputation tarnished.” He holstered his gun underneath his black jacket and checked his watch. “You have just under five minutes until they arrive.” He motioned to the vault doors. “Either give me access to Mr. Carmichael so I can clean up this debacle, or matters will become unpleasant for you both.”

Leon had gained them access to the room. If Stromsky knew that she didn’t have the code, would he shoot them right there? Yes. She needed to buy time for the police to arrive.

“What guarantees do I have that you’ll set us free?” Vivian asked.

“Don’t,” Erika said quietly. “He’s going to frame you for Jarod’s murder.”

“I assure you that I’m only after Mr. Carmichael,” Stromsky said. “Four and a half minutes.”

“I overheard him on the phone,” Erika slurred. “They want to take Cody from you.”

“I can see that we’re not communicating,” Stromsky said. He’d used those exact words when he’d nearly broken her wrist in the hospital. “Did you know that the human thumb accounts for forty percent of all hand function?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something. God, no. Wire cutters.

“Don’t do this,” Vivian said.

As he kneeled behind Erika’s chair, she just stared forward with half-closed eyes.

“In fact,” Stromsky said. “Its importance is such, that I’ve read in the World Journal of Surgery that surgeons have reattached the big toe to the hand when the thumb has been severed.” He pulled open the clamps. Erika’s breath became quick and shallow. “A filthy practice to say the least, but it demonstrates just how important this particular digit is.”

“I’ll help you get Jarod,” Vivian said. “Whatever you want. I already shot him once myself. He’s almost dead.”

Stromsky stopped and looked at her. “The code.”

“I can’t give you Cody—”

The sound of splitting bone filled her ears. Erika wretched forward. Her scream raked down Vivian’s spine. Her thumb dropped onto the wood floors.

“You motherfucker,” Vivian shouted and struggled with her bonds.

“Don’t worry.” Stromsky looked at his watch. “Four minutes is plenty of time for you as well.”

Where were the police? They should have been here by now. Rivers of tears streaked Erika’s cheeks, bordered by banks of black mascara. She whimpered, her chin hanging down.

“The middle finger is not quite as useful,” Stromsky said. “But I assure you, combined with the loss of the thumb, the hand can appear quite hideous.”

Now, Vivian knew. They were going to die unless she did something.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt Cody,” she said.

“Don’t,” Erika said.

“Young lady, I hardly think you’re in any position to give orders.”

“Promise me,” Vivian said, desperate for any time. “Or I’ll never tell you—”

The crunch of a second finger. Vivian screamed at him. She pulled at her restraints. Her chair screeched across the hardwood floor, but her arms wouldn’t budge. Looking over, she saw Erika’s head slumped forward. On the floor behind her chair, two of her fingers sat in a growing puddle of blood.

“I swear to God I’m going to kill you,” Vivian said.

“No, no, no.” Stromsky clicked his tongue. “This won’t do.”

“You’ll have to kill me because I’ll never give you my son. Do you hear me you fuck?”

Stromsky pulled out his gun. “Are you certain?”

“Never,” she screamed so loud, her voice cut out.

“So reckless with a friend’s life.” He held the gun to Erika’s temple. She looked over and mouthed the words
I love you.

Vivian’s eyes welled up.

“How touching,” Stromsky said.

If they were going to die tonight, she’d give the prick something to remember her by. Vivian spit in his face.

Frantically, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Vivian grasped the spokes of the chair, stood, and spun around. In her mind, she’d hoped to knock Stromsky down, but the chair barely struck him. From behind, somebody tackled her. She crashed to the floor. Pain shot through her shoulder.

“Don’t move,” a man shouted and pushed down on her head.

Trapped on her side, three more sets of black boots danced sideways around her face. Were they the police? Or the second team that Stromsky had been talking about?

“Where is he?” the same voice shouted. “Where’s Jarod?”

“The little weasel has locked himself in the safe room,” Stromsky said.

“Secure.” Another man aimed a machine gun at Erika.

“We have this covered.” A soldier with slits for eyes handed Stromsky back his gun. “Mrs. Carmichael is waiting for your call.”

For a moment, she had hoped for some way through this mess. These men weren’t going to help her. They worked for the same people who’d hired that psychopath to kidnap her baby. At least Cody was safe inside the panic room. Stromsky looked furious.

“You have two choices,” the voice above her said. “Give us the code now, or we shoot you and blow open the doors.” He cocked a gun and pressed the barrel to her cheek. “You have five seconds to decide.”

***

L
eon clawed himself
along the rubber mats. His ribs were broken, his face on fire from the gunshot. As he breathed, blood and drool leaked down his chin. Somewhere, a child cried. It had to be Cody, but he couldn’t worry about him now.

He latched onto the center console. It took all of his strength just to pull himself up. In the shattered monitor, four men secured the library outside. Christ, thank you Lord. The police had arrived.

The five feet to the door release might as well have been a thousand, but he would reach it. Never before had he wanted to see Nina so badly. He began inching along. He would give her that ring. Take her to Vegas in the morning if he had to. Tonight, he was going to live.