everything goes dark.
Chapter Fifteen
The first thing I become aware of is the smell of gasoline. Raw. Suffocating. The taste trickles down my throat. Maybe I’ve died and this is hell. Certainly, I imagine, hell smells like gasoline.
I crack open one eye. Pain and light explode in front of me. I tentatively roll my head. This is hell. There’s a fire somewhere nearby, and I’m still in the car. It takes everything I have to open the car door and crawl out.
My lungs are hungry for the fresh air outside the car, and I inhale in gulps. But I have to get away from the car. I don’t know if it’s going to blow up or if that only happens in the movies.
In front of me is the strange lady’s car, and I think I see something moving inside. I half walk, half crawl to the door. I have a faint memory of a gun, but maybe that was a dream.
I reach the door and pull myself up so I can see inside. She’s been shot. There’s a horrific wound in her shoulder that looks too close to her heart. She turns her head to look at me and moans.
I try to open the door, but it was damaged in the crash and won’t budge.
“Help... me...” the lady says.
“I’m trying. It’s stuck.”
I give it a hard jerk, and though it feels like my arm’s going to be ripped out of its socket, I get it open. She’s already undone her seatbelt somehow, so I ease my arms around her and help her out as best I can.
My strength is shot, and I barely get her out before we both fall to the ground. I grit my teeth and move her into a more comfortable position, but I know I’m not doing any good. The blood from her wound has already pooled in the dirt, and I can’t comprehend how she’s still alive.
Her soft moan proves she is, though. At least for now.
I fall to my knees beside her. I’d thought I could do something, anything to help her, but there’s nothing I can do. She’s alive for the moment, however, even someone with my lack of medical knowledge knows she won’t be for long.
I take her hand, delicate, fragile in my own, and softly stroke her skin. Black soot and red blood swirls together.
“It hurts,” she whispers. “So much.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears rolls down my cheeks, fall, and mix with the sludge covering her as I cry for this woman I don’t know. I brush my fingers across her forehead. She’s ice. “Just hang on. It’ll be okay.”
We both know it’s a lie.
“Help will be here soon.” Surely someone has spotted the fire and called someone.
The fire from my car burns steadily. It’s inching toward us, but I can’t move her.
I whisper nonsensical words to her instead. I murmur little phrases of nothing in particular. I want to somehow take away the pain and hurt, but I know I fail completely.
Her body jerks upwards and she gasps.
“I’m sorry,” I stroke her hand once more. “So sorry.”
“Oh.”
I glance to her face and her eyes blaze with a clarity that wasn’t there seconds before. She’s focused on something behind me.
I fear it’s the person who shot her, but I look over my should and there’s no one there. “Are you okay?” A stupid question, but the only one I can form.
“He’s coming.”
I pat her hand. “I’m sure they’re on their way.”
“Him.”
“Yes.” I don’t seem to be able to disagree with her. Maybe I should look for her cell phone. I glance around, maybe it’s in her purse. Nothing.
“Let me call someone,” I offer. “Just need to find your phone.”
“He’s coming.”
I don’t see a purse anywhere. Either it’s still in the hump of scrambled metal that’s now the remains of her car, or it had been thrown out during the crash.
“I don’t know where your phone is. I can’t call anyone. I’m sure the police are coming.” I’m such a failure. “I don’t know anything.”
Her lips curl into a calm and joyous smile. “Not the police.”
Her chest rises, but doesn’t fall.
Sirens sound in the distance.
***
I don’t see her again. While I’m in the emergency room, I try asking the nurses around me about her, but they don’t say anything. I’m not too surprised; in the controlled chaos of the environment, there’s really not much time for them to sit around and chit chat. Not to mention, I’m sure it’s against the law for them to divulge any of that information to me.
I’m stuck in the ER for hours. I tell anyone who comes by that I’m fine and I want to leave, but I’m told I have to stay overnight for observation. My protests that there’s nothing wrong with me falls on deaf ears. I try not to think about how much the stay in the hospital is going to cost. Hopefully, the administration has some plan in place for those of us without insurance.
I don’t like being in the hospital. I know no one likes it, but for me, I feel exposed. There’s security in place, but for the most part, anyone who wants to can come in. I hope beyond hope Mike doesn’t find out I’m here. I’ll be an easy target until I get out.
It’s only when I’m finally in my room and the nurse’s aide is checking my blood pressure that I finally get answers.
“The lady I was brought in with,” I say then stop. I don’t know her name. I don’t know anything about her other than what Harris told me, and I’m not certain he was being honest.
“Jane Doe?” the aide asks. “Poor thing. You don't know her do you?”
I shake my head.
“I heard the police are trying to find out who she is. She didn’t have any identification on her.”
That doesn’t make sense. I think back to the food court. I know she had a purse. She dug into it to find her keys.
“What about her purse?” I ask.
“They didn’t find one. Or at least that’s what I heard.”
My head was already hurting, and now it’s pounding. I can’t tell her she had a purse in the food court because that’ll give away the fact I was following her. My memories of the crash are too fuzzy, I can’t remember exactly what happened.
My entire body suddenly freezes.
“Ma’am,” the aid says. “Are you okay?”
“They were there,” I mumble.
“Honey you need to calm down. Your pulse is racing, and your blood pressure’s climbing.”
Whoever shot her came back to the scene and took her purse. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Which means they know who I am.
She’s adjusting the cuff on my arm to take another reading, but stop her. “I have to leave.”
“Not until they release you.”
“No, I have to leave now.”
“Calm down. You need to rest.”
I’m too weak to struggle with her, and she’s not listening to me. My repetitive, “Please” isn’t doing any good. In fact, it appears to have the opposite effect. She’s concerned with my blood pressure reading, but in all honesty, all her repetitions of “Calm down” over and over again are just making my discomfort grow. She’s not listening, and those men who killed that woman and tried to kill me are out there, and so is Mike.
My eyelids grow heavy and I glare at the aid. “What did you give me?”
“Something to help you rest.”
“Don’t want to,” I start, but the drugs take over and I’m out before I finish the sentence.
***
It’s dark when I wake up. The room is still, but something’s off, I sense it as soon as I open my eyes. I close them again, because I know what it is. Someone’s in the room with me.
“I know you’re awake.”
Harris.
At least it’s him and not Mike. “Why didn’t you kill me when I was asleep? Will waiting until I’m awake give you some sort of thrill?” It’s big talk for someone hooked up to an IV and wearing a backless gown.
“I wanted to make sure you were safe.” His voice is expressionless when he talks.
I don’t say anything else. The pieces are starting to fall into place. Harris found me at the food court. He set up the lunch between the two women, and when the one left, he called the one he said was Isaiah’s wife. The crash was arranged, because he knew I’d follow her.
In the dark, his presence grows stronger. He was in the car. That’s why he wore a mask, so I wouldn’t recognize him. And after the crash, while I was still out, he stole the lady’s purse. Because he knew she wasn’t Isaiah’s wife.
“Get out of my room,” I say.
“Athena, listen.”
“Don’t listen me. I know what you’re doing. You’re keeping guard until Mike gets back. I’m not going back to him.”
“I’m not —”
“You’ve been stalking me for days. How else would you know I’m here?’
“I’m your only chance to get out of this alive.”
“Why would you want to keep me alive? Because I’m worth more to Mike that way? Screw you. Get out of my room.”
“What do I have to do to get you to believe me?”
“There’s nothing you can do. I’m never going to believe you. That woman wasn’t Isaiah’s wife. They’re calling her Jane Doe.”
“Because they took her ID.”
It’s so close to what I’d imagined, my blood runs cold. “Get out. Or I call for help.”
“Damn it, Athena.”
“Now.”
He doesn’t argue further. I hear the chair moan as he stands up. For a second, I think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. His footsteps echo softly as he walks out.
My head is still fuzzy from the drugs they gave me, yet even with all that, there is one clear thought running through my head. Get out. Get out now.
I’m not connected to the IV any longer; they must have taken that out while I was out of it. Can I simply get out of bed and walk out the door? Possibly, but I don’t have any clothes. I’m going to have to find some though, it’s imperative I leave the hospital tonight. I know that if I’m still here in the morning, I’m as good as dead.
And I need to warn Vicki. I’m not sure what she tried to tell me before I went to Theo’s room, but she knew something. I need to tell her she was right. Maybe, just maybe, she has some money, and we can run away together. It’ll be safer with two people.
The downside is I’ll have to go back to our apartment complex, and Mike or one of his henchmen might be there. That’s another reason I need to leave tonight. If he thinks I’m still in the hospital, maybe he won’t be waiting for me.
I doubt there are any spare clothes in the room I’m in, and if I were to bet, the ones I had on in the crash were discarded. Damn it. I refuse to let a little thing like a lack of clothes keep me from leaving.
I sit up, fighting the dizzy feeling that tries to overtake me when I do so. Ever so slowly, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and for a few seconds I stay there.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
Eventually it becomes:
You have to do this. You have to do this. You have to do this.
My legs wobble when I slide off the bed, but I hold on to the rail long enough to steady myself. Damn it all. I can barely stand, how do I think I’m going to leave without drawing attention to myself?
I grit my teeth, scoop up my shoes, and shuffle toward the door. Easing it open, just a crack, I peek into the corridor. It’s empty. Not only that, but there’s a laundry cart across the hall from me. Housekeeping is cleaning out a recently vacated room. All I have to do is find something clean to wear.
I hear someone humming from inside the room, and I decide I’m good as long as the sound doesn't come any closer. My heart pounds as I slide toward the cart. There’s a stack of scrubs folded on a shelf. I snatch them and duck into a nearby ladies room.
The restroom is deserted this time of night and I close the door and lean against it, catching my breath. The accident took more out of me than I thought. But to survive, I must get out of Vegas.
When I feel strong enough, I switch clothes and throw the hospital gown in the trash. Maybe no one will see it before I’m able to leave. I bend over to slip my shoes on and something is sticking out. It’s two twenty-dollar bills and a handful of ones. There’s also a note.
Sorry, it’s all I had.
The only person it could have been was Harris, and my mind tries to wrap itself around that. I don’t want to take his money, but it’ll pay for cab fare to Vicki’s. I count out the ones. I need an accurate total so I can pay him back.
It’s easier than I would have thought possible to leave the hospital. With the scrubs on, I blend in, and no one looks twice at me. Once I hail a cab, I lean back into the seat, but I can’t rejoice in my freedom just yet. Maybe when I get out of this God-awful city.
The apartment complex appears quiet as we approach. I tell the cab driver to stop before we get to it and let me out. On the off chance someone’s watching, I don’t want them to see the cab.
My heart pounds so hard when I step out of the cab, I’m surprised I can’t hear the sound echoing. Otherwise, it’s eerily quiet. Both my apartment and Vicki’s are dark. Even so, I plan to look over everything before going inside.
Once I’m in the parking lot, I hide between the cars, scoping out the next set I plan to hide between and looking around for any signs of movement or people waiting inside cars. My eyes have adjusted to the low light, and I dart between an SUV and pick-up truck. After scanning the empty area between me and Vicki’s door, I move as quickly as my legs will let me.
Seconds before I reach her door, something jumps out of the shadows. I’m barely able to muffle my scream, but I manage to do it, and I breath a sigh of relief it’s only a cat.
I lean against her door and wait for my heart to slow. Fortunately, everything appears calm and normal.
I have no way of knowing what time it is. It’s dark inside her apartment. I don’t know if she’s out or if she’s asleep. If she’s out, I’m not sticking around. Each minute I’m here is a risk and though I want to warn her, it’s not a risk I’ll allow myself to take twice.
I take a deep breath and knock softly. “Vicki,” I whisper. “It’s me. Open up.”
I put my ear against the door, but I don’t hear anything. Damn it. I really wanted her to be home. I knock harder this time. Maybe she’s sleeping. “Vicki.”
This time I hear footsteps and I exhale a shaky breath. Yes.
The door opens and before I can scream, Harris has his arms around me with his hand over my mouth and he’s whispering in my ear. “Shut up and keep it down.”
It’s sad how little effort he has to exert to pick me up and bring me inside. He puts me on my feet and turns on the light.
“Welcome back home, Athena.”
Mike is sitting in Vicki’s living room.
Chapter Sixteen
I want to call Harris a fucking traitor, but I’m so shaken at seeing both men in Vicki’s apartment, I can’t find the words. Behind me, Harris’s grip is strong and keeps me from running.
“Harris didn’t think you’d come back,” Mike says. “Why that is, I’m not sure. I told him you may not go to your place, but I figured you’d stop by to see Vicki and we just needed to be patient.”