Page 11

Evan

It’s like a hurricane outside. This storm wasn’t supposed to hit until late tomorrow, but it swept into Seabrooke early. I suppose it’s fitting that it hit now. My life feels like a stormy shit-show after winning the game tonight. Luca was so furious, I honestly thought he might kill me on the spot. Instead, Marco will handle the wet work. He seems pretty enthusiastic about it too.

It’s important to enjoy your job .

The Mercedes’ windshield wipers can’t keep up with the deluge. Every few seconds, the world disappears behind a sheet of water, then reappears in sharp relief when lightning flashes across the sky. Marco hasn’t spoken since we left the city. He’s focused on driving in the storm. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel might concern me if I didn’t know my fate is already sealed.

My wrists burn where the ropes dig into them, hands bound behind my back. If not for the seatbelt cutting into my neck, each hairpin turn would most certainly send me sliding across the leather seat. The mountain road climbs higher, guardrails appearing and disappearing in our headlights like broken teeth.

I won’t lie and pretend I’m not scared. I’m literally petrified. I pray that however Marco plans to kill me, it’s quick. There’s no point in begging for my life, or trying to reason with Marco. It wouldn’t work. I think he’s wanted to get rid of me since before he even met me. I can sense that he doesn’t like Luca’s interest in me. But Marco’s disapproval of me isn’t really personal. He’s just worried for his boss. He wants me gone because I could get Luca hurt. I don’t know anything about Marco, but I can tell he’s very protective of Luca.

Another flash of lightning, closer this time. The thunder that follows is instant, deafening. Through the streaming windows, I catch glimpses of sheer drops into darkness. Has Marco murdered people and dumped their bodies up on this mountain before? Probably. Odds are no bodies would ever be found at the bottom of these ravines. You don’t even have to bother digging a grave. Who would ever find the bodies other than wild animals?

I’m worried about what will happen to Mom with me gone. Matt and Dad can’t afford the Laurel Gardens Memory Care Center. My life insurance will help pay for a while, but not forever. My heart aches thinking of how upset Matt and Dad will be about my death. Mom won’t even know I’m gone. It’s the only time I suspect having Alzheimer’s might be a blessing.

The car vibrates oddly, and I frown. It almost feels like the tremor a car makes when a big truck is passing you on a highway. But there are no other cars on this road. Nobody but us is foolish enough to be up here on this mountain during a raging storm. There’s another low rumbling sound. Is that thunder? I didn’t see a flash of lightening preceding the noise.

Marco slows the car and through the windshield, the headlights illuminate rainwater streaming down the road. The water is muddy and it’s carrying stones and debris. When the water suddenly shifts direction, I notice tree branches and bigger rocks. The rumbling gets much louder, and panic jolts through me.

Tensing, Marco scans the cliffs above us. His thuggish face is illuminated by the orange light of the dashboard. He looks nervous, and that just makes me more worried. I don’t get the impression Marco is easily rattled, but he’s definitely on edge.

“Shit,” he growls as a wall of mud and rocks appear in the road. Marco yanks the wheel hard and the Mercedes fishtails, tires fighting for traction on the wet asphalt. For a moment we’re sideways, then another wall of mud and rock slams into us from above. Glass shatters and metal groans, and we’re spinning. Sliding toward the guardrail. I’m horrified when it doesn’t hold and instead crumples from the weight of our vehicle.

Then we’re falling, tumbling, and I let out a cry of terror. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like a horrible dream. The car rolls once, twice. I’m weightless, then crushed against the seat, then weightless again. Rain and mud pour in through the broken windows. We at last stop with a final bone-jarring crash, the car wedged against something I can’t see in the darkness. The engine dies. Rain hammers the crumpled roof. Somewhere above, the mountain is still moving.

Water is pooling around my feet, mixed with mud and rocks. My shoulders scream from being wrenched against the ropes, but the wetness has made my wrists slick. I’m able to twist and wiggle out of the ropes tied around my wrists. Once my hands are free, I’m able to unhook my seatbelt.

There’s a groan from upfront, and a flash of lightning shows a fleeting glimpse of Marco slumped over the steering wheel. I reach up and flick on the dome light. It’s not much but better than pitch black. I take in the wreckage that is the front seat. The windshield is completely gone, and the steering wheel column has been pushed back toward Marco by the impact. He seems trapped between the wheel and his seat. One of his legs appears to be pinned beneath the dashboard, the angle all wrong. His hands are scratched and bloody, and his breathing jagged.

“Are you okay?” I don’t even know why I ask him that. He was going to murder me. I owe him literally nothing. Yet, I can’t not ask.

He gives another groan when the car shifts slightly, settling deeper into whatever is holding us in place on the side of the mountain. Through the missing windshield, I can see only rain and darkness. I’m afraid to move, but also know I can’t stay where I am. The car might slip down the mountain any second.

I inch up the wet leather seat to the car door. My hands shake as I shove on the crumpled door with all my strength. It takes a few hard shoves, but then, with a horrific scraping shriek, the door hinges give way. A fresh torrent of mud pours through the open door, filling my shoes. I half crawl and half fall out onto the muddy slope.

It’s freezing as the rain pelts me. I can see my breaths hanging in the frigid night air, illuminated by the dim interior light of the car. Marco gives another pitiful groan, and I don’t know what to do. My survival instincts scream to leave him, and try to make my way back up the mountain to the road. I owe Marco nothing. He’s a horrible thug who was going to kill me without a thought. Who would blame me for leaving him here?

I inch around the car and peer into the front seat. Marco’s eyes are open. He looks dazed. Scared. I think that’s what gets to me; his obvious fear. Not that he’d have had any mercy for me. I know in my soul, he wouldn’t have had even a drop of pity for me. But, I’m not Marco. I’m not like Marco. I’m not an unfeeling crook who can take another person’s life without feeling guilt. I’m a regular person who is moved by another person’s terror and pain.

I grab the driver’s door handle and yank. By some miracle, his door opens easier than mine did. The hinges still makes a horrendously awful sound, but the door does open. I can see better now what we’re dealing with. One of his legs is free, between the side of the dash and the door. But the other leg is under the crumpled steering column. Marco gives me a confused glance, and I suspect he forgot I was even in the car.

“Can you move your leg, or is it pinned?” I ask breathlessly. I can’t even call for help because my phone is back in my locker at the arena.

He looks down at his legs. I guess he doesn’t feel good about what he sees because he mumbles, “You should just go.”

He’s not wrong. I should just go. I should leave him to deal with this situation all on his own. But I can’t. I just can’t seem to do it. When the car shifts a tiny bit, we both curse. I grab hold of his arm, but when I tug, trying to pull him out of the car, he howls in pain.

“What are you doing?” he rasps, his eyes glittering with confusion.

“I’m trying to get you out of the car.” My voice is exasperated. “You can’t stay where you are. The car is probably going to fall down the mountain any minute. I have no idea what’s even holding it up.”

He scowls. “Well, you can’t just pull me out. I’m stuck.”

I exhale roughly. “Can you move your legs at all?”

He slaps the leg that’s free. “This one is okay.” He sighs. “The other one is broken.”

Fuck .

“Are you sure?” I don’t know if I can help him even if his leg isn’t broken. But a broken leg definitely lowers the odds of a successful outcome.

His expression is grim. “Yeah. I’ve had a lot of broken bones in my time.”

“Why do I not doubt that?” I mutter, scowling up at the dark sky as the rain starts up again. “Well, even if it is broken, you can’t stay where you are.”

Marco’s answer is a strangled grunt as he tries to move. He shoves against the steering wheel, and I wiggle the seat adjustment. The mechanism is broken, but it does move just enough that his seat slides back a few inches. Gritting his teeth, Marco grabs hold of the thigh of his broken leg and lifts.

I push against the back of his seat, trying to make more room for him to maybe slide his torso out. He wiggles and again lifts his damaged leg, making a sound I’ve never heard another human make. His face is covered with mud, and his bared teeth are white against his grungy face. The car shifts again. A sound like gravel in a garbage disposal comes from somewhere underneath us.

“Shit. We’re running out of time,” I hiss. I wedge myself lower, ignoring the glass digging into my knees. The muddy water and debris is nearly up to Marco’s knee, making it hard to see what I’m doing. My fingers find something solid under his leg, part of the crushed frame has bent up into the space behind his knee.

Between the two of us, we’re able to move his broken leg free. He’s breathing hard and shuddering with agony, but his leg is free of the wreckage. We both fall onto the soaked earth, he ends up face first in the mud. He looks pitiful, lying in the mud, his broken leg at an awkward angle.

A few minutes later, the car makes a horrendous groaning sound and slides further down the mountain. It’s so black, I can’t see where it ends up, but the sounds coming from the darkness below aren’t reassuring. If we were still in that car, we’d probably be dead or as good as.

I stare up toward the top of the mountain. I don’t know how we’re ever going to make it up there. There’s no way Marco can walk with that broken leg. I stand, and the mud sucks at my feet. Trying to walk up that slope with two good legs would be a struggle. No way he can do it.

Marco rolls his body so that he’s half on his back. His breaths are steamy in the wet night. He reaches into his jacket, and for one awful moment, I think maybe he’s going to finish the job of murdering me before he dies. But what he pulls out isn’t a gun, it’s his phone.

He holds it out to me. “See if there’s a signal,” he mumbles, his face a canvas of agony.

I take the phone from him. It’s miraculously intact. The screen casts a pale blue glow over my trembling hands. My heart drops when I see there’s no signal. “I’m going to climb up higher and see if I can get a signal,” I say.

His stare is flat. Jaded. He thinks I’m going to abandon him. It’s written as clear as day on his face. But all he says is, “Sure. Go see if you can catch a signal.”

“I’m going to come back for you.” I frown.

A muscle jerks in his muddy cheek. “Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, kid.”

I narrow my eyes. “Would you abandon me?”

His expression isn’t reassuring. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Jesus, you people are nuts,” I grumble, moving up the slope. “But of course, you’re mobsters so what do you care about human life? You’re fucking animals .”

He blows out a long weary breath, followed by a groan of pain.

Guilt nudges me, but I push it away. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. He’s just lucky I’m not an animal or I would leave him here to die. The climb isn’t easy. I slide down more than I climb up. Thankfully, the rain slows a little at one point and I’m able get a little higher. I hold the phone up to the black sky every few minutes, praying I’ll get a signal. It feels like an hour passes before I finally see two bars.

My hands shake so much I can barely dial the phone. When I actually hear the 911 operators voice, I could cry. I stand perfectly still so I don’t drop the call. Since I have no idea where we are, she tells me they’ll have to triangulate with cell towers. That might slow things down.

She assures me help will be on the way as soon as possible, and because Marco’s phone battery is only half charged, she has me hang up. I’m not sure if I should go back down to where Marco is or not. If she tries to call me back, she won’t be able to reach me down there. Plus, I don’t really want to sit with him. Just because I helped him doesn’t mean I like the guy. I have no idea what is going to happen once we get back to civilization. For all I know, Luca will just send another goon to murder me.

I let out a tired breath. Maybe I should regret helping Marco, but I don’t. Even if Marco had died in that car crash, I wouldn’t be safe from Luca. My fate isn’t tied to Marco. It’s tied to Luca.

The wait for help feels endless. Every rumble from the mountain makes me tense. The rain eventually eases to a steady drizzle, but the mud continues to shift and settle around me. The 911 operator calls me eventually and says the rescue team is only about ten minutes away.

When I hang up with her, I return to Marco. He’s dozing as I kneel beside him, but he jerks awake. He looks shocked to see me, and he even reaches out and pokes at my arm as if he worries I’m a figment of his imagination.

“Help is almost here,” I say.

He mumbles, “I can’t believe you didn’t leave me.”

“Me neither.”

The rescue team arrives, headlights cutting through the misty rain as their four-wheel-drive vehicle grinds to a halt on the road above. I can’t see them clearly, but a flashlight beam slices through the dark.

“I’ve got eyes on them,” a female voice calls out. “Halfway down the slope. Terrain looks unstable, lots of mud and loose rocks. 911 said one subject has a broken leg so we need the stretcher.” There are other voices too, but I can’t make out what they say.

In the movies, help always seems instant. When the rescuers arrive in the TV shows, they’re at the scene immediately, giving lifesaving help. In real life, it’s slow as fuck. The team takes an eternity anchoring ropes, but eventually they begins their careful and very slow descent. The clink of carabiners and the scrape of boots on wet rock blend with the relentless rain.

One rescuer reaches me first, shining the light over me. “Are you injured?” she asks.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think so. The car rolled a few times.” For all I know I have internal injuries, but I can’t tell.

“We’ll check you over.” She glances around. “Where’s the vehicle?”

I swallow hard. “Not sure.” I point down into the black abyss below us. “Down there somewhere.”

“You should help him first.” I gesture toward Marco because his injuries are obvious. “His leg is broken.”

She shines the light on Marco. He looks like a drowned rat, his dark hair plastered to his head. His face is white, and his clenched jaw betrays the pain he’s trying to hide. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

The second rescuer kneels beside Marco, carefully assessing his leg. “Looks like a fracture.” He smiles reassuringly at Marco. “We’re going to get you fixed up and out of here, but it’s going to hurt when we stabilize your leg. Sorry, I don’t want to lie to you.”

Marco grunts, the rain streaking down his face. “Do what you need to do. I just want out of this damn rain.”

The team works quickly, wrapping the broken leg in an inflatable splint to immobilize it. I hate Marco, but have to respect how quiet he is while they deal with his broken leg. I know moving it hurts like hell, but he just clamps his jaw shut and deals with the pain. After his leg is stabilized they put Marco on a stretcher and begin the ascent up the mountain.

Their movements are slow and careful because of the treacherous footing. I follow sluggishly as they begin the cautious ascent back to the road. At one point, the rain intensifies, making the climb even slower and more grueling. The rescuers hoist Marco’s stretcher between them, maneuvering over loose rocks and slick mud.

When we finally reach the top, the paramedics load Marco into the waiting ambulance. They check me for concussion and broken bones, then wrap me in a warm thermal blanket. I get in the same ambulance as Marco. Maybe it’s the pain, exhaustion, or simply knowing he’s safe, but Marco passes out almost the minute he’s in the ambulance. That works for me. It’s awkward riding together down the mountain. Let’s not forget, I’m only on the mountain because Marco brought me here to end my life.

The cold and rain drained me too. I doze on and off, slumped against the ambulance wall. When we pull up to the hospital, the doors open and they take Marco first. I stay where I am for a few moments, trying to work up the energy to follow them inside. I stand on shaky legs and start to get down out of the ambulance.

When Luca appears in front of me, I stumble back into the ambulance. I’m so shocked to see him, I just stare at him. No one else seems to be around, and my throat is too tight to yell for help. When he extends his hand to me, I stare at it like it’s a rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Evan.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You need to come with me.”