He smirked. “Now why would I do a stupid thing like that?”
With lightning speed, she rolled away and jumped to her feet.
Sarge sat up, his eyes flashing in anger. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He probably would have lunged at her, but he noticed the glint of metal in her hand. “Oh, my,” he said with a snort. “Mama’s got a gun.”
She aimed the weapon at his chest. “And Mama’s prepared to use it, you fucking bastard.”
He stood slowly, the worm between his legs now miniscule.
“Don’t move!” she shrieked.
The web of scars on Sarge’s face twitched. “If you shoot me, you’ll never know where they are.”
He was right. And they both knew it.
“Put down the gun and I’ll take you to them,” he said.
“If I do that, you’ll kill me… and them.”
He took a step forward. “You’re right.”
She leveled the gun. The gun with one bullet. The gun that wouldn’t fire. “Where are they, Sarge?”
“You won’t do it,” he sneered. “You can’t do it.”
As he stalked toward her, she prayed to God, to Buddha, to the universe, to every higher power that he was wrong. She prayed that this time when she pulled the trigger, the gun would go off.
It did.
34
The shot reverberated in the small cabin, and Sadie stumbled backward from the recoil just as a silver object whizzed past her arm. The fishing knife clattered to the floor behind her. She kicked it past the doorway, then turned to face her tormentor.
Sarge sagged against the wall, clutching his stomach with both hands while a crimson tide rippled between his fingers.
“Don’t move!” she ordered.
He gave her a surprised, almost hurt, look. “You shot me.”
With lightning speed, she grabbed the robe from the closet and shrugged it on to cover her nakedness. A blossom of blood stained the sleeve. She turned to the man by the wall and raised the gun again, even though there were no bullets in it. “Tell me where Sam and Cortnie are.”
Sarge began to quiver and she wondered if he was going into shock. But then she heard his mocking laughter.
“You told me you knew where they were,” she yelled.
“I lied.” He slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood. “They took off on me. It’s Ashley’s fault.”
“Cortnie!” she snapped. “They have names. Their own.”
“She’s too smart for her own good. We’ll have to punish her.”
“Of course,” she said with a fake smile. “But first I’ll have to get them, bring them back. Where are they, Sarge?”
On the floor, he blinked vacantly.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
“I dunno.”
“I’m going to find them,” she said. “And then we’re all going home. Back to Edmonton.”
“But they wanna stay with me,” he whined. “With us. We could be happy, Carrie. We could be a family again. How could you take our children from me? They’re mine.”
Sadie gaped at him. Sarge had completely cracked.
She shook her head. “They’ll never be yours.”
Instantly, Sarge was back with her. “You belong to me too,” he said with a weak smirk. “You’ll never forget me. You’ll think of me every time you fuck someone.”
“You’re a disgusting pig,” she seethed. “I won’t waste a second of my life thinking about you. I hope you rot in prison. When all the children get back to their parents, they’ll make sure you do. None of them want to stay with you. Not Marina or Holland. None of them.”
“What the fuck you talking about?”
“I’m taking them all out of here.”
Sarge laughed. The sound gurgled up from his chest, liquid and abrasive. A bubble of saliva spewed out of the corner of his mouth, followed by bright red blood. He didn’t notice.
“You won’t ever find ’en,” he rasped. “Not before they blow up into itty bitty pieces.” He raised a shaky hand and stared at his watch. “In one hour.”
Sadie’s pulse quickened. “A bomb?”
“And you don’t know the code,” he sneered. “Aw, too bad.”
“What code?”
He stared at her, mute and defiant.
“You’re dying,” she said. “Do something right for a change. Tell me the code.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’ve been there. And back. It’s your turn now. The code!”
He mimicked a zipper sliding across his lips.
“Help me save them,” she pleaded.
“I’ve saved enough lives. In the Forces. Look where that got me.” He coughed up more blood. “Discharged on medical with a measly pension that a dog couldn’t live on. I watched my buddies get blown into bits. They wanted me to stitch ’en back, and when I couldn’t, I had to amputate their legs, their arms. But I saved them. And they hated me for it.”
As Sadie watched him, a bout of intense dizziness gripped her. She held back a moan, then surreptitiously examined her injured arm. The knife had sliced into her skin, maybe half an inch deep. She needed to tie something around it, stop the bleeding.
But she couldn’t leave Sarge. Not until he gave her the code.
“You’d be a hero,” she said, grasping at anything.
“I’m already a hero. I fought overseas for my country. I was in the Gulf War. Iraq. For what—peacekeeping? What a fucking joke!” Another grating cough. “I get home, my wife is ready to leave me and take my kids. She was gonna leave me with nothing. Just bills and this ugly face.” He spit a dark clot of blood on the floor. “That’s a hero’s payment.”
“Come on. What’s the code, Sarge?”
He snickered. “Mi casa… es… su casa.”
The familiar words made her sick to her stomach.
“Give me the code!”
“You can’t get into mi casa,” he taunted.
His head dropped to his chest, a long wheeze of air erupting from his mouth.
“Sarge?” She crept forward and touched his neck.
He had a pulse. A faint one.
She shook him. “Sarge!”
When he lifted his gaze, thick lips beamed a malevolent smile. But he said nothing. He just stared at her, his mouth stretched into a sick grin.
“What’s the fucking code?” she screamed.
She slapped him and his head lolled lifelessly to one side.
Sarge was dead.
A sound behind her made her jump.
The crow waited on the window ledge, its beak pressed against the glass. The bird was so motionless that if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was nothing more than a plastic lawn ornament.
“What the fuck do you want?” she yelled, fists clenched.
She crossed the room, but the bird’s gaze remained fixed.
On Sarge’s body.
She hesitated, finally realizing the bird’s mission.
The crow bobbed its head. Then it flew off with a loud squawk. It had gotten what it had come for.
Grabbing a pair of clean, dry jeans, a sweater and socks, Sadie headed for the bathroom. Before dressing, she scrubbed away every trace of Sarge. No one had to know the disgusting things he had done to her. He had kidnapped her son, then come after her, drugged her and tied her up. Surely that was enough.
She took the belt from her robe, and using her teeth, she secured it around two facecloths padding her arm. She’d lost a lot of blood from the knife wound. But she couldn’t stop now.
“You have to save the children,” she said to her reflection.
Before the bunker explodes.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, she kept her eyes on the main part of the cabin. She was conscious of Sarge’s body in the bedroom, but she didn’t want to think about it. Not now. It would probably take years before she could accept that she had killed a man. And even longer to admit that she had wanted to.