Her eyes closed, Amanda crawled over the body of the man who had been sitting to her right. Unable to resist the temptation, she lifted an eyelid and saw the bloody remains of a man’s face that was not a face anymore. She turned away, Gross, and slithered around the last stool. The gunfire behind her had ceased. Her head felt like a balloon ready to burst. Her right ear, the one that had been closest to Jock’s gun, had a high-pitched tone, drowning out other noises.
Amanda army crawled out of the dining area and into a short hallway. Rising to her feet, she bent over and put hands on knees. She shook her head, but the ringing remained. After a glance toward the direction from which she had come, she staggered forward a few steps. Throwing out her arms, she steadied her gait. She looked up and saw a rusted door, a horizontal bar bisecting her escape route. Just need to get to the bus stop.
Amanda put both hands on the bar and flexed her muscles. Her mind, however, prevented them from acting. Tiny hairs rose on her neck. Sweat beads formed on her forehead. Her face felt flushed. What are you waiting for? Safety, a new life, is just on the other side of this door. Get out. Now! She drew in a breath, recoiled slightly and propelled her body forward, only to have something latch on to her collar.
… … … … …
Jock grabbed Amanda by her shirt collar. “Don’t go out there.” He pulled her back and stood between her and the door.
The wiry teen lifted a leg and sent a black high-top tennis shoe toward the man’s groin.
Jock backed away and crossed his forearms over the attacker’s shin. He blocked a hand coming toward his face before he wrapped his meaty paws around the girl’s skinny upper arms. “Amanda, I’m here to help. I’m not going to hurt you.” She struggled, but he held firm. “You’re in a lot of trouble.” He pointed his forehead toward the dining area. “Those men were here to kill you.”
Amanda squinted at the stranger. His words sounded far away and did not match his moving lips. Wincing, she slammed shut her eyes and put a hand to her right ear. A second later, she covered both ears and shook her head.
“Don’t worry. Your hearing will come back. Just give it some time.” He let go of her arms, but kept his body coiled to fend off another assault. Retrieving his gun, he swapped out the partially spent magazine for a full one.
Noticing the black steel in the man’s hand, her eyes bulging, Amanda retreated, until she hit the wall.
Jock saw the look of terror on the teen’s face. He pumped a hand at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He holstered the 1911. “I promise.”
“How do you,” she swallowed, “how do you know who I am?”
“I know a lot about you, Amanda. It’s my job to find out everything I can about the ones I’m protecting.”
The girl cocked her head. Protecting. The word had a soothing tone. She gave the man another once-over, stopping at his gray eyes, which were silver in this light. They’re like…sparkling or something. After blinking several times, she gaped at him. “How can I trust you?”
He dipped his forehead toward the area beyond her shoulder. “You saw what I did back there.”
The image of the dead man’s half a face flashed across Amanda’s mind. Her stomach churned.
“Trust me. I’m not here to do that to you. I’ll sooner forfeit my life than let anyone lay a finger on you.” A low siren wailed in the distance. “The police are going to be here any minute.”
She regarded the man and heard his words in her mind…the ones I’m protecting…“Isn’t that what we want…the police?”
Jock shook his head. “I’m afraid in the long run they won’t be able to save you. If you come with me, I can make sure your problems don’t follow you wherever you go.” He paused. “I can help you start a new life.”
Hearing the sirens—they were growing louder—Amanda gawked at the door. A new life…is that even possible? She glanced over her shoulder, toward the noise, the arriving police…they won’t be able to save you. She came back to the man and squinted at his handsome face…I’ll sooner forfeit my life than let anyone lay a finger on you.
“So how about it?” Jock smiled. “Some say I have the face of an angel.”
Amanda grinned before she could stop herself. “I’ve heard the same thing said about sociopaths.”
Chuckling, Jock glimpsed the floor. “Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy.” A moment later, he went deadpan. “The truth is, when your back’s against the wall, sometimes you just have to have a little faith,” he waited a beat, “and trust someone.”
“And that someone’s supposed to be you? I don’t even know your name.”
He held out a hand. “St. Christopher,” he paused, “My name’s Jacob St. Christopher. It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Amanda Applegate.”
Amanda went back and forth from the outstretched hand to the man’s face. “Saint Christopher,” slowly, she lifted an arm. “Like the Catholic…” the two clasped hands, “the one who’s on the medal?”
He smiled. “The name’s the same, but,” he glanced away, shaking his head, “I’m no saint, Amanda.” He eyed the girl, whose safety rested in his hands, and flashed a smile. “Please call me Jacob.”
She smiled back. “Mandy.”
He nodded and put a hand to the horizontal bar on the door. “Stay here, Mandy. I’m going to make sure it’s safe out there.” He pointed. “Don’t open this door, until I pound on it, okay?”
She stood straight, adjusted the backpack on her shoulders and nodded her head.
Jacob stuck a hand inside his jacket and leaned into the door.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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