Ryan looks toward me. “I imagine it slows the bullets. Besides, I’m not sure it matters much up here in the middle of nowhere.” He pulls down the wood section of flooring and locks the padlock behind him before we collapse on the wood bench below.
It’s a small carved out space that reminds me of a root cellar. There are a few shelves lined with canned goods, a few gallons of water, and a blanket folded neatly in a clear plastic bag. To the far end of the small room, there is a doorway with no door, like an old mining trail. That must be the tunnel that leads to the keys and the tree. Viktor has thought of everything. I wonder how many times he’s had to use this place, how many times his life has been in danger like this.
I think back to what he told me about his childhood. I can’t imagine being thrust into a life of crime like this so young. It’s all he knows, all he’s ever seen. The same goes for Max, really.
“What do you think is happening?” I’m shaking as I look toward Ryan, my heart racing.
“Viktor’s got this. He’s where he is because he knows what he’s doing. And Max is a tough guy. He didn’t steal eight million dollars because he was dumb. We just have to have faith.”
Faith.I bet I could argue that concept for hours in a philosophy class. To start, faith is an unquestioning belief. And at this point in my life, I’d say that’s just about as magical as reality gets.
“Did the gunshots stop?” I look toward Ryan, my teeth chattering. I’m not cold. It’s some new side effect from being insanely scared.
“When I was young,” Ryan says, brushing his hand down over my shoulder, “I used to be scared of everything. My own shadow was a big one, but you know we grew up in rural Tennessee and one night a terrible storm blew through. I’m talking hail, wind, rain, tornado kind of storm. I was terrified. We sat in our basement huddled together just like this listening to the battery radio waiting for the all clear. I was eight at the time and I was convinced that the tornado was going to rip through the walls and toss us up with it. I was shaking, I was crying, it was a mess. Believe me, looking back, my poor mother had her work cut out for her, but she said something to me that really made a difference. She told me to pick a new ending. She told me to recreate the story I’d told myself, to write a new one, and to say it out loud.”
I look up toward Ryan. “What did you say?”
He smiles a little. “I said, the tornado is going to move into our house and clean up my room. Then, it’s going to lift up the house and move it to Disney World where we’ll land safely on the ground, inside the gates so we can ride the rides when no one else is around. We’ll live there, be happy, never go to school again, and every meal we eat will be Mickey bars and popcorn.”
I can’t help but smile softly. “Did it help?”
He nods. “It did. By the time I’d finished my story, the tornado warning was over and we were all laughing about what it would be like to plant a house in the center of Disney World.” He sighs. “You try it. Change the ending.”
The gun shots are muted down here, but my limbs are still shaky. “I don’t know if it’ll he—”
“Try? For me?” He’s so cute when he asks that I feel bad saying no.
I suck in a deep breath, humoring him. “Okay, well… I guess Viktor and Max will have killed the bad guys, and they’ll meet us at the end of the tunnel. We’ll all escape off this mountain to some place warm… like Costa Rica where we have a little tree house deep in the jungle. Lucy will still visit, and we’ll get Ruthie back too. But other than that, it’s just the four of us, making love, having babies, growing papayas, warm in the sun.” I close my eyes and revel in the moment, imagining the warm sun on my shoulders, the sticky humidity wetting my skin. “It’s—”
A creak sounds as the wood hatch pulls up.
I glance toward Ryan for less than a second before he grips my hand and we run, his gun aimed backward toward the opening. I didn’t even know he had a gun.
A man in all black hops into the bunker, his small black weapon pointed toward me, the barrel aimed at my head. “If you want her to die, keep moving.”
Ryan stops and steps in front of me, his own gun aimed, his hand shaking. It’s clear that he’s used to the computer end of things versus the shooting people thing. He’s still brave though, standing in front of me, shielding me from whoever the hell this is.
The man in black laughs and aims his gun at Ryan, stepping closer until the barrel of the gun is against his head.
“Please don’t kill him,” I say, my voice shaking. “Is it me that you want? Did you come for me?” I try to step from behind Ryan, but he forces me back again.
“Let the lady talk,” the Russian says with a heavy accent. “She’s got something to say.” The man shoves Ryan to the side and grips my arm in one swift motion that leaves Ryan helpless. “Say it,” the man laughs. “Tell me how you’re so important I should want you.”
“No. I’m not saying that. I… I thought… I thought you were here for me because I was with Max and I thought… I…” Tears stream down my face in quick succession, my body trembling as the man grips my arm harder.
He laughs a deep hardy laugh, then lifts a hand to pull off the ski mask he’s been wearing. I’m surprised to see he’s older, maybe in his sixties with dark gray hair, and a large bulbus nose. The eyebrows are out of control too, wildly spraying haphazardly in a unibrow across the bridge of his nose. “You’re not special, child. You’re a slut, like all the other sluts, and you’re going to tell me what it is you know.”
“What I know?” I gulp down a breath. “I don’t know anything. I—”
“The eight million dollars… don’t play dumb. Where is it?” He’s nearly spitting the words in my face.
“I don’t know where it is.” My voice is shaking and tears fall so fast and hard that I’m not sure I’m saying any actual words, though I try anyway. “It’s in a bank account. I have the account number. I can—”
“Father!” a man’s voice roars. It’s coming from behind.
The man in black turns swiftly, his gun drawn. “Ah, Viktor, my son. The man who didn’t do his job. I should’ve killed you first. Though, I guess it’s a special treat for me that I get to kill this trash in front of you.” The man grips my arm tight and pulls me forward, his gun aimed at my head, but he doesn’t move fast enough. A bullet shoots like fire from the barrel of Viktor’s gun and lands square in the man’s head, dropping him to the ground slowly.
Ryan rushes in, spinning me into his chest as to shield me from seeing the rest of the awful scene, but it’s already been done.
