He took another couple of steps, still curious about this woman. He didn’t know how getting any closer to her would help him learn anything, but he continued. Had she done something herself, or was she a victim of someone else’s misdeeds? Who was this girl? Who was worried about her? In the end, what would happen to her?
He knew he shouldn’t think that way. He was already humanizing her, letting himself realize she had friends and a family and a life and he was, in a way, a small part of the threat to those things. It would be much easier if he thought of her the way Chops had referred to her – as the “package”.
Back away. But he felt compelled to see more. When he got to within a yard of her, she must have heard him, as she thrashed against the ropes again. He saw slightly curly red hair fly back and forth from underneath the back of the hood. He started in surprise but approached closer, studying her closely until his vision locked on a tiny dark beauty mark just above her upper lip. It quivered in the most curious way as she grunted into and chewed on her gag. He felt drawn to it, almost welcomed by it, until reality smacked him across his figurative cheek.
No. No fucking way.
He crouched down on one knee right next to her. The movements, the color of her skin, the sound of her protests – they all fit, but still Carson couldn’t be certain. It could be anybody. You’re just assuming the worst. His reassurances sounded hollow to him, but he stuck with them, continuing to stare as if the answer would present itself.
It did, but not visually. With all of her moving and struggling, the scents of her body, clothes, and hair drifted through the room, Carson was still staring at her intently when a wisp of those odors reached his nose. In that instant, he knew.
He stood and bolted from the room, running away from the inaudible roar that was probably a plea for assistance, knowing only that he needed to get away, to get clear for at least a minute. He ran out of the house and into the darkness, stopping when he reached a tree. He held himself up with an arm, feeling the icy fingers of shock wind through his body, stealing all of his energy and stamina and, more importantly, his ability to think and reason. Carson felt his body shutting down and tried to take deep, steady breaths, but the beckoning darkness encroached on his vision. He had to do something to stay alert and awake. He pushed himself away from the tree, only to collapse in a heap on the ground.
He could feel his pulse in the tips of his fingers, in his ears, and even in his lips as each contraction of his heart pounded his body like shockwaves from a nuclear detonation. He could not keep a thought in his head. Even though the house was in his field of vision as he lay there, it remained little more than a fuzzy outline with small slits of light. Entrapped in a miasma of confusion, he did nothing more than pant. His thoughts became as jumbled and fuzzy as his vision, and he felt paralyzed. His mind drifted.
Minutes – perhaps hours – passed with Carson in an awake but coma-like state. He felt nothing – no pain, no fear, no worry. He took to it instinctively, as if on some level he knew stepping out of this blissful bubble was to re-introduce sorrow and torment on a scale he could not fathom.
Eventually, though, the fuel driving his fugue was exhausted, and he started coming back to reality. Pain was the first to arrive. His head and body ached, both from the fall and from the anxiety. Fear and worry were right on pain’s heels, and he remembered why he was on the ground, outside of a ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere, hearing distressed noises from his girlfriend. Strength returned to his legs, slowly at first, but intensifying rapidly until he felt as if he could retake command of his limbs.
Finally, he felt able to stand. He gathered himself and staggered inside. Katie began a fresh fit of struggles and muffled complaints. Carson stared at the barely-open door as if the bumps and growls were being made by Lucifer himself.
He took a deep breath, then another. Having survived the initial explosion of this particular bombshell, his mind was slowly catching up to the situation, and realized he needed some sort of plan. He didn’t even know what he was going to try to accomplish. Would she even listen to him, or would she curse his name the second she saw him?
For a second he thought about running, just getting in the car and getting as far away as he could get. But that was the coward’s way out, and he’d done enough cowardly deeds recently to last the rest of his life. He knew his conscious couldn’t handle another one.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on generating the courage to walk through that door and do what he had to do. He’d never been so scared, not even during his first insertion as a junior member of his SEAL team many years ago, when the whine of live bullets being fired at him had frightened him so deeply he’d had to scream at himself to move his fucking feet! and get to cover. At least then his actions had helped him survive. He was sure what he was about to do would lead to his demise, and
