The car bumps over the worn pavement before rolling to a stop. Marney shuts the engine off, pushes the door open, and pops the trunk.
I climb out, then reach back inside to grab two guns that I shove into the waist of my jeans. Marney's loaded down with guns. We look like we're going into a goddamn zombie apocalypse.
I have no idea what to expect, but I try to prepare myself for how fucked up Tor will most likely be. The images from the video Joe sent me jar to memory, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Leaning my head back, I wipe my palm down my drenched face.
Each step seems to be in slow motion, each breath seems forced, like if I don't remind myself I'll forget to fucking breathe. I'm on high-alert. This is Joe. He should have guards all around this motherfucker. He knows we're coming, and yet... nothing. Just the sound of crickets chirping and leaves crunching underneath our boots.
The only reason no one has shot at us yet is because Joe wants us to get inside. For the first time in my life, I'm afraid I'm actually about to die. It's not the thought of death that bothers me; it's the idea of being killed before I ever get to them.
A metal building comes into view. My nerves tense. My throat tightens. This is fear. My brother and my fucking heart are inside this building, and I know damn well if they aren't dead, they're in a state worse than death could ever fucking be.
We stop in front of a cracked, rusted door. Marney glances back at me, his eyes uncertain. Using the barrel of the gun, I push on the door. The worn hinges groan as it slowly swings open into a large, empty room. To the right, hanging above a doorway is a single bulb barely flickering. It casts a yellow haze over a rickety door. I know Joe has done this to build the suspense. I kick the door open, and it bangs against the wall, the loud crash reverberating into the open ceilings. I wait. Nothing. Dim light bulbs dot the room, and the only sound I hear is water dripping from some old pipe.
"I'll go down this way, you go down the other side," Marney whispers, jerking the rifle to the left side of the room.
I nod at him, and we separate. I tread through the corridors, waiting on someone to come after me, but the place is deserted, eerily quiet. My heart slams violently against the wall of my chest, each loud beat echoing in my ears. Every door I pass is wide open, each room empty. I'm so wound up right now; I can hardly breathe. I round the corner and stop, staring down a long, dark corridor. The thick odor of mildew and stale air washes over my face. I cautiously place one foot in front of the other, my eyes wide as my vision attempts to adjust to the darkness. The further down the hallway I go, the smell begins to change. My pulse is uneven, my stomach churning. This is a distinct scent. This is the stench of a decaying body. I stop dead in my tracks and hang my head. I notice my hand shaking when I go to wipe the sweat from my brow. I trail one hand along the wall to guide me and use the other hand to aim the gun in front of me. Eventually, my fingers brush the cool metal of a doorframe. Unlike all the other doors, this one is closed, and my heart stops.
The creak of the unoiled hinges pierces my ears as I push the door open. The stench from inside wafts out. I instinctively gag on the unmistakable odor of death, and I have to swallow back my urge to vomit. This is why no one is here. They're already dead. My chest rises in deep, uneven swells as my fingers clench into fists. I push the door open wider, and it hits something. The door refuses to budge any further. I drop my gaze to the ground, barely able to make out a pair of worn boots in the dim light. My eyes frantically trail up the body, and my stomach bottoms out. I lean over, resting my hand on my knees as I spit out the saliva pooling in my mouth. I grab both sides of my head and my legs buckle. I slump to the ground in front of my little brother's body. The sound of my pulse echoes in my ears, and I try to force my eyes away from him, but I can't. I slam my fist against the floor. “No! Fucking no!” I shout, my voice shaking.
I don’t know why I do it, but I reach for him, jerking my hand back at the shock of his chilled, damp skin. I hang my chin to my chest. “No, Caleb. God, please fucking no…” I mumble. I drag his lifeless body into my lap and the last part of me with a soul fucking dies. He was the only family I had. Protecting him was my job, and I failed. My brother is fucking gone, slaughtered for no damn reason. This was my wrong doing, this was my fight. Not his.
I sit with his head in my lap, choking on the pain shredding its way through my chest. I clutch his stiff body to mine because I just need to feel like he can forgive me, I want to believe that he knew I loved him, but I never even fucking told him that because I am too damn hard. I give up, and everything inside me crumbles.
I have no idea how long I sit and mourn. I know I should let him go, but I just fucking can’t. I’m can’t even move.
I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Jude,” Marney’s voice is low, vacant. “Ain’t nothing you can do that’ll fix this.”
I gulp back air, fighting the urge to completely break down as I shake my head.
“Come on, son. You tried.” He pats my shoulder and walks across the room. “Awe, shit,” he sighs, then falls silent. “Jude, you’re gonna have to let that go right now, or else we’re gonna be toting two bodies outta here.
I slide Caleb’s body from my lap, pushing myself up. I’m trembling as I stumble toward the dark corner. Marney raises his pistol and aims, the bullet creating a spark when it ricochetes from the metal pipe. He leans down. “Come on little darlin’, let’s get you outta here.”
He turns around, and in the darkness, I can barely make out Tor’s limp body in his arms. I drag in a breath and rush to him, taking her from his arms. “Tor?” I brush a finger over her cheek and she slowly turns her head to my chest. Her dark hair is matted to her cheeks. The side of her face that's visible is covered in blood and bruises. She's naked aside from a ripped and tattered shirt. Dried blood is smeared all over her legs. She never deserved this, no one does. My Tor never deserved any of this!
I can't stop staring at her as I carry her through the room. As much as I expect to have violent anger coursing through me, I don't. I'm too heartbroken to feel anything. I swallow as I pass Caleb's body. I can't manage to glance at him again. Stopping next to Marney, I whisper, "Get him."
He stares at me with his face drowned in pity.
"Get my brother, Marney," I say sternly. "I'm not gonna leave him here like this."
Marney draws in a large breath and kneels to pick up Caleb's body. The entire way back to the exit, we walk in silence. I clutch Tor tighter with each step I take. Once outside, I climb into the backseat and hold her in my lap. I hear the trunk slam shut. I know what Marney just did, but I block that out and focus solely on her.
Tor’s limp body is sprawled across the back seat, her head in my lap. I stroke her hair and try not to think of Caleb. I can’t, because if I do, I feel like I might break, and that is not a fucking option right now.
“How much further?” I ask hoarsely, staring at Tor. She’s not once come to. Every few seconds her breathing stops, and everything inside of me tenses. I need her to live. I need her.
I hear Marney’s phone ring, and his hushed words, but I don’t listen. I stare at her bruised and battered face, the ragged and torn t-shirt that barely covers her broken body. I failed them both.
Five minutes later we’re pulling into the roundabout in front of some backwoods emergency room. I climb out, cradling Tor in my arms, and shut the door. Marney speeds off and I walk toward the sliding glass doors of the emergency room.
As soon as I set foot inside the entrance it seems as though everyone in the waiting room falls silent and stares at us. "Help me, please," I beg.
The nurse in the triage station slowly rises to her feet while another rushes from the room toward me. Everything hits me at once. I'm strong, but I am not strong enough for this shit. My breath catches and my muscles go weak.
"I need a gurney!" the nurse shouts.
I shake my head. "I'll carry her. Just help me. Please!"
My pulse throbs through my temples. The nurse's eyes rise to meet mine, and she swallows, pointing toward the metal doors. I follow her into a room where I lay Tor down. I watch staff swarm around her, pushing me to the back of the room. They don't miss a second, they don't ask any questions. They immediately hook her up to equipment and check her over. I slump against the wall and slide to the floor because I can't stand any longer. Everything fucking hits me at once.
"What happened to her?" someone asks me.
I don't glance up. I keep my eyes trained on the floor as I say, "She was taken. And attacked..."
One nurse scurries out into the hallway shouting for another doctor. I wonder if I should have just killed her when she walked into my office instead of forcing her to endure this fucking nightmare I call life. There's no way she will ever forget what she's been through. And part of me feels it would be best for her not to struggle with the memory of it all for the rest of her life. Sometimes death seems like a gracious option, but selfishly, all I care about is that I have her.
The next morning I startle awake in the hospital chair. Tor’s asleep. She’s still not conscious enough to know I’m here. All night all I could think about was my brother. If I let it, it could easily consume me, and part of me wishes it would. I glance up at Tor, checking the monitor. She survived. The longer I stare at her, sadness turns to anger. My breaths grow harder and deeper. I can either let Caleb’s death kill me, or I can kill the fucker who took his life. I failed Caleb. I cannot fail her.