Untaken (32 page)

Terry dropped the box on the kitchen table, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, already a third gone. His big face was red with the drink and the cold.

“Man, this is the good stuff. You’re a real smart kid!”

I snorted. I’d thought of some great words for what Brandon was over the time I’d known him. Smart had never been one of them. I had a few I’d like to use now.

“A celebration?” said Doc. He stared at Brandon as if trying to decide something.

“An apology, I guess. I shouldn’t have run off like that. It was just, she got me real mad.” He turned to me. “I think we should stick with these guys. If they’re right about Jake, then they’ll be able to take care of him. We’re in the dark on our own.”

“I can’t believe you’re such a chickenshit!” I ran out of the room. If I had to bust down the door, I’d get Jake out somehow. The doorknob rattled in my fist, locked just as tight as ever. I slammed a palm against the chipped white wood. Behind the door the dog barked, but there was no sound from Jake. I gave the door a kick, but it didn’t budge.

“If you want to scare the shit out of him, you’re going about it just right,” said Terry, behind me. I spun around to see the army guys ambling towards me, a mean grin plastered over his flushed, stupid face.

Brandon pushed ahead of him and grabbed at my arm.

“Just listen to me, okay?”

“Let go of me, Brandon. If you won’t help him, I will.”

Terry laughed, and even Doc cracked a smile.

“Watch out, bro, she’s gonna mess you up if you don’t do what she says. I don’t know about you, but I’m real scared.” There was something empty about his wide eyes and grinning mouth, like a leering Jack O’ Lantern that I ached to put my fist through. He’d hurt me, I knew it, but it would be worth it to see the dumb smirk wiped off his face. I tried to twist my arm free of Brandon’s hand, but he hung on.

“Terry, maybe it would be best if the young lady cooled off on her own for a while,” said Doc. “Until she feels like behaving in a civilized fashion.”

Still chuckling, Terry shoved Brandon aside and made a grab for me. I tried to dodge him, but Terry was fast as well as strong. He caught the hood of my coat and dragged me, half choking, along the corridor.

My fists flailed. My knuckles bounced off the side of his stubbly head, and I yelped in spite of myself.

“I bet that hurt you more ‘n it did me,” he remarked. I kicked at his legs, but it only made him chuckle more.

I looked for Brandon, but he stared down at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest. Doc patted him on the shoulder, muttered something in his ear.

I no longer wanted to punch Brandon.

I wanted to kill him.

Gracie

hoped for a second that Terry would shut me in with Jake, but he shoved me into the room next to his. My feet tangled together and I sprawled over onto the rug. Terry’s knee was in the small of my back, pinning me down before I could even start to scramble away.

“Just in case you get any ideas about climbing out the window…” He used his belt to cinch my wrists together behind me. He stunk of bourbon, and it was hard for me to breathe under his weight. His hand snaked around my leg, squeezing, moving higher and I tried to squirm away.

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Just…leave me alone!” I was trying hard not to let him see how scared I was. “Just go get drunk and leave me alone.”

Terry clambered to his feet, swaying a bit, and I gulped in air.

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe I’ll be back t’ visit you later. I bet your boyfriend won’t mind none.” He staggered to the door and fumbled for a minute with the handle.

“That’s the good stuff, okay. Should try some yourself. Get that stick out your ass. You’d be cute if you weren’t such a bitch.” His voice sounded wet and slurry.

If Terry was this drunk, I couldn’t imagine what Brandon would be like by morning. I hoped it would make him sick. I hoped he would drop dead.

I struggled with the belt, but even drunk off his ass, Terry had done a good job binding my arms. Figured. I rocked on my back like a turtle and managed to get onto my knees. From there, taking it real slowly, I managed to stand up. When I pressed my ear to the door, I could hear them laughing, Terry, Brandon, and even Doc.

I tried the door handle, not because I really thought it would do any good, but because I had to try something. It wouldn’t turn. The lock on the window was too high for me to reach without wrenching my arms out of the sockets.

The room was a guest bedroom, by the looks of it, just a banged-up dresser and a bed with a fussy green cover. Nothing I could have used as a weapon, if my hands hadn’t been tied. I sank onto the bed. My legs shook, and my arms were all pins and needles. My hands felt stiff and chilly, and I flexed my fingers. Were they going to leave me tied up like this all night? Maybe better if they did, the crazy way Terry had been acting. I tried not to think about what might happen when the army guys’ friends came. The snow was still falling fast, and I willed it to keep on going. Things seemed pretty hopeless, but maybe with more time, I’d figure something out.

I had no clue what.

Hours later, a key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open slowly.

The room was cold, and I shivered under the green blanket. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I guessed I must have. I wished again that I had something to throw, or something sharp, anything to use as a weapon, but my arms were so numb now, I didn’t think I’d be able to hold on to anything anyway. I rolled over and pulled my legs free of the ugly green quilt. At least I could still kick, and my snow boots were good and heavy.

Terry would be much improved with a broken nose. “If you come near me, I’ll make you sorry.”

“Gracie? Keep it down! It’s me.”

“Brandon?” But was Brandon really much better than Terry?

“Gracie, we got to hurry.”

“Don’t you talk to me.”

“Jeez, Gracie, there isn’t time for this, if we want to get out of here, we need to go now, before it starts snowing again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know I screwed up, I’ll explain later. Jake’s in the car. That dumb dog, too. We got to go. I think I gave them too much. Not for nothing, but I don’t know if they’re gonna wake up at all. We can’t risk it though.”

He took a step toward the bed, and I scooted back against the wall.

“I know you’re mad with me, and I guess I deserve it, but we have to go now.”

I stared at him. I wanted to trust him.

“You’re really telling me that we’re getting out of here? That they’re drunk or something?”

“I got them more than drunk. There was a shit-ton of Tramadol ground up in that bourbon.”

I gaped at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Then untie my arms, you idiot!”

When the belt came off, the pins and needles came back worse than ever. My arms felt like two floppy noodles.

“Wriggle your fingers around,” said Brandon.

“I’m trying!”

He grabbed my hands in his own and started to rub them briskly, but I yanked them back.

“I can do it myself!” Was I blushing? Of all the dumb times!

“Have it your way,” said Brandon. “Let’s get going.”

“Not yet.”

“Are you crazy?”

“You’re sure they’re really out cold?” I asked.

“Damn sure.”

“Then we have time for this. It’s important.”

Doc and Terry were passed out all right. Terry leaned all the way back in his chair, his breath coming out in ragged hitches. Doc was face down on the table, not seeming to move at all.

“He didn’t want to drink at first. It’s lucky for me Terry started ragging him for not taking a shot. He’s a tricky son of a bitch.”

“We could shoot them.” I said. “Stop them chasing after us.”

Brandon looked uncomfortable. “Really? I guess it would be the smart thing to do.”

“I guess,” I said.

I met Brandon’s gaze.

“I don’t think I can,” he said. “They could die anyway. It kind of serves them right, but I still hope that they don’t.” His face was white where it hadn’t been scoured red by the cold, his eyes ringed with dark circles and already taking on that glassy look they got when his headaches were bad. I felt just the tiniest bit bad for him. But only a tiny bit. Just because he’d finally done something smart for once, didn’t mean he was off the hook.

“If I gave them too much Tramadol by mistake, that’s one thing,” continued Brandon.

“But just shooting them is different,” I finished.

“Yeah.”

“Forget it, then. If it snows again, maybe it’ll cover our tracks anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“Help me get Doc’s keys. I want to get inside his office.”

“Why?”

“His work stuff is in there. I want to see what they were doing. I want to see what they have on us.”

“That’s what’s so important?” sighed Brandon.

“Of course it is. Because they might come after us. If they…get better. Everything they know that we don’t makes it easier for them. Plus, if we fuck up their stuff, it’ll stop them getting through to their buddies and setting them on us the minute they wake up.”

“I never heard you say ‘fuck’ before.” He grinned.

“You’ll hear me say it again if you don’t start helping me. He’s all scooched over and I can’t get to them.”

Together we pulled Doc’s chair back from the table. He didn’t even stir, but his back rose and fell softly as he breathed, and I was surprised to find I was glad that Brandon hadn’t murdered him after all. The key to the office was in Doc’s pants pocket. The key to the busted army truck was there too. Good. We could ditch that in the snow on the way out of here.

I paused at the office door, wondering what I was going to find inside. My mind went back to the story of Bluebeard again, to the secret room with all the dead women, but when I opened the door, there was nothing back there but a normal home office. One wall was covered with maps of the area, dotted with colored pins and Post-Its covered with Doc’s scrawly writing. The desk was adrift with folders and files. I had to sift through a bunch of them until I found the one with Jake’s drawings.

“Are we taking all this?” asked Brandon. “It’ll take forever to carry it all out to the car, and I don’t know how much time we have.”