3.1.70: It Hits the Fan

 

Warning: disturbing imagery

     "Aunt Em?"

Emily

     No no no! What are they doing here?

     I've made my way to Hilldale, my heart breaking and every muscle in my body shaking, to try and free Brent when suddenly standing before me are two cops, one of whom is Brent's step-father!

     "Please, you can't be here," I whine. Drake will kill the poor baby if he sees any cops! He'll think I called them!

     The man in black starts toward me. I think I remember him from when Mikey was abducted. "Would you mind explaining why you're here?" His eyebrows are raised. Great. He probably suspects I'm an accomplice.

     I look at both of them. They need to leave. Now.

     "If he spots you, he'll kill him."

     Darrin's face falls. The other man scowls. "You still haven't answered my question."

     My eyes turn to him. "Drake contacted me."

     "And why didn't you call us?" Does he think I'm lying? I guess this does look suspicious.

     "Because he made it abundantly clear he wanted no police, no anything. Just me." Plum, this does look suspicious. My lower lip trembles. "Please. You have to go."

     "Do you think that's the first time a kidnapper has made that demand? Don't you think we'd know how to handle it?"

     "But this is Drake! He has nothing but a black hole where his heart should be. He'll do it."

     The man pauses, looking like he's thinking how to word something. "If he did, what leverage would he have then?"

     "Um... But just let me do this! I can get him out."

     The man puts a smile on his face, probably trying to calm me down before I start really freaking out.

     "Mrs. Goth, you're incredibly brave for coming out here alone, but you don't need to be." He's probably also thinking how I'm incredibly stupid for coming out here alone. "Let us help you. We'll be your backup."

     My eyes look from him to Darrin and back. Darrin looks like he wants to make a run for Drake's hideout, to hell with everything else. This other guy, ?Marcus?, has his work cut out for him, keeping two people calm who love this poor captive boy more than their own lives.

     "Fine. But I go in first. I've got to make sure he's okay and keep Drake from suspecting anything." I pause. "There are traps. I don't quite know what they are, but I've been told how to avoid them."

     "As have we." We quickly trade information, which matches.

      "Give me ten, no, twenty minutes. That should be long enough for him to stop suspecting." I hope. "I'll do what I can to get Brent safely away from him. I'll figure it out."

      Darrin finally speaks. "Em, why don't you just let us take him by surprise?"

      "Because for all I know, he has cameras. Plum, he could even be watching us now! But also, I could use his obsession over me as an... angle... or something." As every second ticks by, my resolve gets weaker. But, in a way, I'm glad they're here. At any rate, there is no way Drake is leaving the country with us. There is, somehow, a glimmer of hope.

      The other guy gives me a hard look. "I want your word that you will leave if your life is in danger."

      My life is in danger, and they both know it. All of ours are. "Fine. You have it. If I'm able to, I'll get out." That's not a promise, something else they both know. "The timer starts when I'm out of sight," I say with a sense of finality, and I make my way to the crashed plane.

     The zigzag path I have to take feels ridiculous, but I follow Drake's instructions: go here, kick the cactus (oh, there was a lever), go to this rock, stand on the rock (it moves down an inch), walk in a straight line to the broken wing of the plane nearest me, wait ten or so seconds, now move to the cabin of the plane. The floor drops away and reveals a staircase, and my stomach drops away along with it. I can't shake the sickening feeling I've just entered my own tomb.

    At the bottom of the stairs is a small hallway, and upon seeing me, Drake immediately puts his gun away and dashes over.

    He was ready to kill if it wasn't me. Who knows what he could see that I was unaware of.

      "Emily," he breathes and gets way too close. He reaches up to caress my cheek, and my knee-jerk reaction is to want to push him away. He notices and roughly grabs my wrist. I stop acting like I'm going to fight him, and his expression softens. "Thank you for coming."

      I work to keep the loathing from my voice. "Well, of course I did." You gave me no choice! 

      "You're terrified. Plum, I hate that."

     "No, I'm... I'm fine." He's too close! My stomach churns.

     "Don't lie. It's unbecoming. No, you're so terrified that you might be sick."

     I whisper, "Please, Drake, don't mention it."

     "Okay. Sorry. But it's all going to be okay, all right? I'm not going to hurt you. I want a real chance to win you back, and I will--because I love you enough for both of us."

     I'm cracking up! I can't do this! He's too close! I want to claw his face off, bite at him, anything to make him stop touching me!

     "Plum, Emily! Your face right now. It's killing me. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You're safe."

     I'm crying. I have to pull myself together! I have to get Brent out!

     Drake engulfs me in his arms, in what he probably sees as a comforting hug. My head spins, and I can't breathe. "What can I do to ease your fear, my love?"

     Breathe, Emily! "I want to see Brent."

     "Who? Oh. The boy. Of course you do." He pulls back and gently kisses my forehead. "Come this way." He pulls me through another door, and I start to wonder just how big this place is.

     After telling me to wait in a nasty kitchen, he comes back with the precious child.

     "Em-em!" Brent dashes over to me and hugs me tightly.

     "It'll be okay. Em-em's here," I croon to him, petting his hair and holding him just as tightly.

     "Atticus, this is Mommy."

     For a moment, I'd let myself forget Mr. Insane was standing behind me. I just have to hold Brent, keep him away from Drake, until Darrin and the other guy can get down here.

     But Drake has other plans. "Okay, that's enough. Time for your nap." He grabs the child from me.

     "Drake!" I reach for the baby while he kicks and cries.

     "No, Daddy! No nap!" Sh*t, the bastard has him calling him Daddy. 

     "Yes, nap. Be good so you can see Mommy again."

     "Mommy now!"

     I'm not Mommy! Oh, Maker, I've descended into hell.

     I hear a door close before banging starts up on the other side of it. Brent is having a tantrum as Drake walks back into the kitchen.

    "Kids." Drake playfully rolls his eyes. "He needs to learn some manners."

    FINALLY, I regain my inner strength. Seeing Brent helped loads, and my resolve to be the one to kill Drake if it comes to that returns like a tidal wave of fortitude. If little Brent can fight, so can I.

     Oh, I'm still afraid, but I'm using it.

     I stand up. "You should let me handle him."

     Drake blinks a few times. "I will. Once we leave Eden."

     I cock my hip and shoot him with a playful glare. "You sneaky, devious little devil. You're going to keep using him as bait until I'm well and truly caught, aren't you?" I'm outside myself. This isn't me. But at the same time, who better to manage a Goth mind?

     His mouth drops. He wasn't prepared for this turnaround in my attitude. Then he smiles. "Of course you know my plan."

    "All that trouble just for me?" I step closer.

    His voice sounds huskier. "You're worth it. You know you're worth it."

    Surely it's been twenty minutes. I put my arms on his shoulders and tease like I'm going to kiss him, but I don't.

    He does.

     That's it. I'll distract Drake. Brent is making so much noise that the boys upstairs will be able to find him.

     Drake moans and starts backing me up to the desk. My skin crawls at the implication, but I shove the reaction aside and be as convincing as I can as I kiss him back.

     When my bum hits the edge of the desk, I break the kiss and ask, "Isn't there somewhere more comfortable we can go for this little reunion?" I run my fingernail down his cheek.

     "Oh, f--k, Emily, I've missed you." He kisses me hard now, spinning me around and backing towards another door--away from the direction Brent came from. Good. 

     However, the mood gets shattered when an alarm starts sounding. Drake yanks back and looks down at me with storm clouds in his eyes. "What did you DO?"

     Sh*t! "Drake, wait!"

     He pushes me away from him, and I hear what must be the stairwell lowering. "Who's up there?!"

     "I don't know!"

     He backhands me across the face, knocking me sideways. "B*tch! I told you no cops!" He turns to Brent's room.

     "No!" I grab his arm, but he shoves me backwards. I land hard on my ass on the filthy floor.

    Before I can rise, Drake already has Brent, pulling him by his hair into the other room. He has a gun in his other hand!

    "Drop it!" I hear Darrin yelling.

    "Back off, faggot, or the kid gets it!"

    I scramble into the room, screaming at Drake.

Darrin

    Em's screaming takes me by surprise, and I watch as if in slow motion how Drake takes the handle of the gun and clocks her over the head with it. She drops like a sack of flour.

     "Put the gun down, Drake!" Marco warns.

      Drake's voice sounds like the Angel of Death himself. "No. I strongly suggest you two put your weapons down and kick them over to me if you don't want to see the little brat's brains splattered all over the floor."

     Brent's crying and yelling, "Papi! Papi!" over and over again. I see in my peripheral how Marco has drawn his weapon back, looking like he's about to comply.

     Comply? With him? What will that accomplish? He'll win! He'll leave! He can't take Emily with how she's conked out, but there's a big likelihood he could taunt her back out again with an even stronger plan involving Brent.

     I take a breath and focus with deadly clarity. Drake's hand tightens on the trigger, and I fire.

     Once more, slow motion returns as I watch Drake's forehead first implode inward as the bullet hits him, then the reverse shock wave bursts more out the front. His body flops down like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut.

      Brent's screaming and shaking and clinging to me. I put my gun on the floor and hold him, shaking as well.

      "It's okay, buddy. Papi's here. No one's going to hurt you."

     Marco dashes over to Aunt Em and checks her pulse. "She's alive. And breathing." He doesn't move her and immediately radios for an ambulance. As he does, I realize I'm in deep sh*t. I broke the rules. So many rules. I don't care.

     Brent is safe. I pray Emily is the same.

     And Drake Goth is dead.