Another scream came forward as Mustang moved through the door, his weapon low.A string of curse words came from his mouth as a body tackled him, wrestling him to the floor.Helen raised the paintball gun, firing three in the man’s face, making him yell out.From her pants, she pulled out four zip ties, binding his hands and ankles.A piece of duct tape went over his mouth.She reached for Mustang and helped him to his feet.Helen placed two pats on his shoulder, as he had trained her to do when moving as a team, he understood the pats meant to get going, and just in those few seconds, he was on his feet and they were moving.
“Stairs, three o’clock,” he called out.
Another scream came, and Helen moved to the stairs, only to be kicked in the chest by a large boot, sending her tumbling.She raised the paintball gun, firing three into the man’s crotch.Mustang moved quickly, but not fast enough as a knife appeared, cutting him across the chin.A right hook went into the guy’s face, taking him down, but when he landed, it was on Helen.
Mustang grabbed the man and pulled the dead weight off his wife.She pulled out more zip ties, binding him and taping his mouth as he tried to call out to people up the stairs.
“Weapons up,” Mustang said, feeling the blood drip from his chin.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Can’t touch it; move.”
He started up the stairs, hearing the girl scream again.They entered the room to find two men, tweaking, high out of their minds, cutting away her clothing.
“We should ask for a ransom,” the first one said.
“Naw, we should fuck her.Not often we get a clean sweet one like this,” the second man said.“Look at these cute little tits.Just enough to fit in my mouth.Ouch!”he said, feeling the pain in the back of his head.He turned to find Mustang pointing a weapon at him and a paintball gun at his friend.Mustang silently shook his head no, letting the men know that any move would be the wrong one.
Helen moved quickly, using the zip ties to lock both men’s hands behind their backs.She pulled out her phone and pressed one.
“State your need,” the voice said.
“Located the package, four zipped tied and ready for pickup,” Helen said in the line.“Have them rally on my location.Where do we drop the package?”
“That was fast.Take her home,” the voice said.“Sending coordinates to Bloomington.”
“Cranberry out,” she said, reaching for the girl.“You’re safe.We’ll get you home.”
Her hands were bound and clothing ripped.The men had taken away small pieces of fabric like a sick game, tormenting the young woman.Mustang provided his jacket to cover her ragged clothing.In the background, they heard sirens.
“We need to move,” Mustang said, stepping over the men.
In the car, Helen sat in the back seat comforting the girl as they made the trek to Bloomington to take her anxious parents.Arriving at the home, Helen walked her to the front door, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, then rang the bell, and offered a nod to the worried Senator and crying mother.
“Who are you?”The Senator asked.
“I am The Cranberry,” she said.“I am the protector of the women and children of the state of Indiana.No harm came to her; some simple menacing, and she will need counseling.”
She said nothing more, and she returned the vehicle.A bandage covered Mustang’s chin, and he pointed to her face.A large bruise was on her cheek.
They both laughed.“Damned fax machine.”
