“Dad?”
“Not now, Calix.”
Down the hall, he plodded. The muscles in Sula’s back began to ache from the tension. She stood and started to follow.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Calix stood too.
“We can’t let him hurt her.”
“He’s more likely to hurt himself.” Calix moved toward the hallway as the shouting began. “Let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll listen to me.”
Sula stopped and let her sister move ahead of her. From the bedroom, their mother cried out. “Jake, no. Don’t do this. Think of the girls.”
Calix began to run. Sula followed.
The bedroom door was open. Their mother stood by the dresser in her underclothes, clutching a towel. Their father was a few feet away, the gun pointed at his own head. He didn’t take his eyes from his wife as they entered.
“I can’t live like this, Rose. I used to just hate myself, but now I’ve made you miserable for so long, I hate you too.” He turned to look at his daughters. “I’m sorry, girls. I love you.” He turned away and closed his eyes.
“No!” Calix lunged for their dad’s arm just before the gun went off. She knocked him askew as the blast echoed around the room. Sula covered her ears, but she should have covered her eyes. At the edge of her vision, she saw her mother fly back against the wall. Her slender body slid to the floor and a hole opened in her chest. Blood, the color of summer berries, poured out of her.
Time and motion ceased to exist. The three of them were frozen, mouths open, as a dull hum filled the room. Their father broke free. With an anguished cry, he rushed to his wife. Sula edged in behind him. If she did not see the destruction, it would not be as real.
Her father was no savior. He could only weep as blood flowed from her mother’s body. She tried to speak and a trickle of blood oozed down her chin. Her eyes closed and she slumped over.
Calix knelt down beside her body and wailed. “I killed my mother!”
Dad pulled Calix away. Grabbing both arms, he lifted her to her feet. The movements seemed slow and choppy, like an old reel film.
“It’s not your fault.” He shook Calix as he cried. Sula could see by his expression that he was shouting, but his voice seemed far away.
Calix would not be calmed. Sobbing hysterically, she jerked free and backed away. “You bastard.”
Her father’s face went slack. “Tell them I did it.” He looked at both of them for compliance.
Sula was too numb to process what he meant or anticipate his next action.
He spun around and grabbed the revolver off the bed where he’d dropped it in his rush to his wife’s side. He put the gun to his head again. “Tell the cops I killed her, you hear me? I don’t want Calix blamed for this.”
He pulled the trigger.
Sula was still on her knees holding her dead mother’s hand when she saw her father’s brains spray into the room and fall to the white bedspread. She looked at her sister, as if to confirm it was really happening. Calix’s face went deathly pale and her mouth fell open.
Sula felt numb, as if her brain had been injected with anesthetic.
Calix screamed. “Look at what I’ve done! I’ve killed them both.” She pulled her own hair and began to keen, a never-ending sound that didn’t seem human.
Sula wanted to comfort her, to say the right thing. Their parents had been headed for this tragic outcome as long as she could remember. Her father had craved death and her mother had no respect for life. When Sula envisioned her future, they were never there. Yet her mouth would not open; her body would not move.
Calix was alone in her guilt and it was more than she could bear.
All at once the wailing stopped. Before Sula could process why that scared her more than anything, Calix lunged to their father’s body and pulled the gun from his dead hand. She shoved the weapon into her mouth, looked at Sula with eyes that begged forgiveness, and pulled the trigger.
The blast sent the room into a spin and Sula’s mind went dark.
Chapter 38
For a few minutes, Sula’s mind floated in darkness, unwilling to re-enter either her present reality or the anguish of her past. Finally, the searing pain in her head and arms pulled her, trembling and cold, into full consciousness-where she was bound and gagged in the middle of an open dirt field with a madman nearby digging her grave.
For a moment, she lingered on that fateful day in her fifteenth year. Part of her had wanted to die as well, to join her family in their exodus rather than live with the grief of losing them. Yet she hadn’t even picked up the gun, nor had she managed to kill herself later with drugs and alcohol. She had clung to life, in all its anguish, again and again.
Sula listened for Rudker’s activity. The digging sound had slowed and lost its steady rhythm. She kicked violently against the tape around her ankles. It gave a little bit. She realized the new strip on her mouth must have come from her leg binding, leaving it less secure. She kicked again. And again. She also began to inch away from Rudker, pushing with her feet and shoulders.
She kicked and pushed until she ran out of oxygen. A tremendous effort for such a small gain. With her mouth taped, she could only breathe through her nose, limiting her air supply and making her weak. Sula rested for a moment and listened for Rudker. She heard nothing except the wind in the poplar trees up the hill. In that instant, she knew where she was. She’d heard that musical sound many times while having lunch in the Prolabs courtyard. She figured she was in the open construction site adjacent to the factory. Fortunately, she had been inching herself in the direction of the road.
Rudker sat on his pile of dirt and took long slow breaths. His heart pounded in his ears and he felt dizzy. He needed to lie down. Staring into the two-foot by six-foot crevice, he wondered what it would feel like to lay in a grave.
Do it. Get in there. Feel the terror. or peace. Death can be a release. See if you like it.
This voice was new and soft, perhaps even female. Rudker was surprised by its presence, but compelled to obey its hypnotic suggestion.
He eased himself into the hole and lay down. He didn’t quite fit, so he kept his knees bent. Gazing up at the stars, he listened to his heart pound and felt the cool comfort of the dirt around him. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have it tossed on top of him, shovelful at a time. What would it be like to finally stop fighting? He had lost Tara and he’d lost his position of power with JB Pharma. Even with Sula out of the picture, how long would it take him to get back on top?
He could not imagine his life without the struggle to be better than those around him, the need to make more money than he could spend, the craving for admiration and fear from others.
Death can be a release.
Rudker sat up and shook the new voice out of his head. He was not ready to give in or let go. He would fight his way back to the top. It was time to wrap this up and stop thinking about Sula Moreno forever.
The silence was disturbing. Where was Rudker? What was he doing? With a surge of adrenaline, Sula started kicking again. A small ripping sound pierced the night as her legs pulled free of the duct tape. A sob of relief rose in her throat. Arms still taped behind her back, Sula struggled to her knees.
The night air filled with the sound of his thundering footsteps. He’d heard the tape give away! Sula lunged to her feet and ran. Without the use of her arms, it was awkward and sluggish, and he would catch her soon. She scanned the area, searching in the dark for a place to hide.
The builders had leveled everything on the site, save for a few trees near the creek at the back of the property. For a moment, she regretted her direction. She should have run for the trees.
It was too late now. She kept running, with Rudker’s footsteps gaining on her.
As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, Sula realized she was down inside the massive footprint of where the
