“Keep an eye on the boyfrienduntil I’m ready for him,” the man tells the woman. He looks at Tad and then at thestairwell. “Come on,” he says.
I still the impulse to lash out athim.
Why haven’t they shot us yet? Withthe other two victims, they were shot immediately. Why not do the same withTad?
Tad gazes into my eyes, and itfeels as though this might be the last time I ever see him—the last time I everget to look into those beautiful eyes. I just want him to know how much I careabout him. How much our time together has meant to me. And that I’m so fuckingsorry that I couldn’t shield him from these sick fucks.
“I said come on,” the man iteratesin a severe tone. Tad pulls his gaze from mine and heads to the stairwell.
My thoughts are consumed withimages of what these bastards might do to Tad. I don’t give a shit what they doto me, but the idea that they’re going to hurt him, tear him apart, maybe evenlike those guys did to Kiernan’s brother, fills me with grief. Agony.
I can’t let my pessimism takeover, though. Not now. Not as long as there’s a chance we can still both makeit out of this. And as long as I’m alive, there’s at least a chance of thathappening.
As they reach halfway up thestairs, Tad turns and looks at me, sadness in his eyes. Is this how it ends? Isthis really the last time I’ll ever see him again?
I was so willing to step out ofthis world. So willing to give it all up on one dark night, and now I’vefinally found something that’s truly worth living for. To think that soon thatvery thing will be taken from me pains me.
And soon, the heel of Tad’s shoeis the last I see of him before he disappears onto the second story. The manfollows quickly behind him.
I turn to the woman, who stares atme. In the darkness, I can’t make out her eye color. They just appear to be twoenormous pupils, like something out of one of the horror movies Tad and I onceenjoyed together.
“Over here,” the woman says,stepping toward me. “In this desk.” She nods to one that’s separate from themass piled along the wall.
Finally, an opportunity. I makelike I’m taking a seat, then kick her feet out from under her.
As she falls back, she fires thepistol, which sends a blast echoing through the room, one that I’m certain willact as a call signal to her partner in crime.
Fifty-Nine
Tad
The sound of the gunshot distracted my kidnapper just longenough that I use the opportunity to grab his arm and bash it into the walluntil he releases the gun.
I’m not driven by a desire forself-preservation, but for vengeance, because I fear that the sound was therealization of the horrible fear I’ve had that these fuckers would do somethingto hurt Bryce. Now he’s gone and without so much as a goodbye.
My rage forced me to lash outagainst this asshole.
He’d brought me into a room with abookshelf stuffed with an inordinate amount of Bibles. I suspect this place wassome sort of religious academy or at the very least a church before it shutdown. A streetlight just outside the window floods the room with light, castingsharp shadows across the various debris—pieces of furniture, stacks of emptyand broken-down crates, and stray sheets of paper—from the days when thebuilding was in use. I’d thought this was going to be the place where I died,especially as the man closed and locked the door, but now, I’m sure I have achance.
The man squats down for his gun,but I kick it across the room so it’s out of his reach. Just as soon, heretrieves something from his pocket—a knife—and digs it into my leg. I curse asa pressure in my leg forces me onto the floor. Lying on my side, I turn to seethe man pull the knife from my shin.
“You fucking faggot,” the man saysas he crawls over me. He grabs my hair and bashes my face against the floor.
He’s strong. So fucking strongthat the blow disorients me. Fortunately, I’m used to being able to functionafter intense head trauma. I roll back and punch him across his face, knockinghim onto a stack of crates beside us. I crawl to my feet, heading for the gun,which is a few feet away. But the man is quick to recover, and he dives for me,slicing his blade before him.
I retreat toward the window on theother side of the room.
Sixty
Bryce
The woman’s gun lies just a few feet away from me. As Istumble to my feet, I dash for it.
A force hits me from behind like abag of cement. It propels my body across the room. I throw my arms out in frontof me, and they slam into the wall beside the stairwell.
The woman wraps her arms around mythroat. I spin around and thrust my weight back so that she slams against thewall. She cries out, and as she releases me, she presses her feet against myback and kicks so that I go flying across the room.
As I hit the floor, she dashes upthe steps, to the next floor.
