This time it was Judith who paused at the windowed door and surveyed the scene on the other side. The only motion she detected was the start-and-stop dash of a squirrel. Laying hand to doorknob, Judith wondered if Terri was praying for her. The thought flashed like a strobe in her mind and even though it lasted only a moment, it brought a measure of satisfaction and hope. She wondered if she started praying now if God would know who she was. Terri would tell her, “Of course.” Judith hoped her assistant was right.
The coolness of the knob seeped into her skin. Again, her senses had gone on hyper-alert. She could feel the blood streaming through veins and arteries. Her breathing became shallow. She forced deep inhalations, and then held her breath as she pulled the door open. Thankfully, no squeaky hinges. That settled it. Terri had to be praying.
Judith slipped outside, glanced around again, then made her way down the steps, across the ground and up similar steps to a porch on the next building. Luke moved so quietly, Judith had to turn to see if he was still with her.
This was the building she assumed to be the dining hall. The door on this structure was the same as the bunkhouse but it also had a screen, probably to keep flying insects out of the cooking area. A screen meant another source of possible noise, another set of hinges that could groan with movement and give away their position.
As Luke had done before her, Judith took a quick look through the windowed door then moved back. She had spent less than a second glancing inside. No people were apparent, just a kitchen. She slipped her hand into the screen door’s handle and moved it one inch. No noise. She moved it another —
BAM.
Judith would have screamed if her lungs held enough air. Instead, she closed her eyes and bit her lip. The noise sounded like a gun going off and images of a dead child rushed into her unprotected mind. Then she heard a voice, somewhat distant.
Luke patted her shoulder and breathed in her ear, “Screen door slamming.”
Judith’s bones seemed to melt. Her knees shook and her heart no longer beat, it rolled like a ball within her. All at the same time, she wanted to swear, pray, weep, and scream. There was no logic to it, just a pure, raw emotion looking for escape.
Luke moved back down the stairs like a mime in slow motion. Judith gave him a questioning look. He held two fingers to his eyes and pointed at the corners. He planned to look around the edge of the building. He did then returned. “Pennington. Just him.”
They had found the right place, but it brought her no comfort. For a while, she could tell herself that no one was here; that they had come to the wrong place; that they were still safe and secure.
That thought shattered.
Judith pulled the screen door open halfway and reached for the doorknob. The door opened easily and both stepped inside the kitchen. Luke feathered the door closed behind them. Moving across the wood floor they came to a pair of double metal doors like those in a restaurant. Judith stepped to the side of one door and Luke took the other.
One look told her what she wanted to know: the children were there, sitting on benches at long tables, quiet, almost stone still. One man, smaller than that Pennington character but with a look that made Judith uncomfortable, paced in the room. The children watched him as if he were a television show.
Judith telegraphed a questioning glance at Luke who just shrugged. Luke motioned her to the back door. “I’m going in. The guy’s pacing like an expectant father.”
“More like a tiger in a cage.”
“We can argue metaphors later. Like I said, I’m going to slip in when his back is turned and see if I can’t subdue him one way or another. If I can, I’ll have a better chance of stalling Pennington while you get the kids out.”
“And what do I do with them?”
“Slip into the forest and hide, unless — can you drive a bus?”
Judith shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding. I drive an automatic transmission for a reason. Are you sure you can take this guy? When was the last time you were in a fight?”
“You know that. You were there last night.”
“I was there. That wasn’t a fight. It was a beating. I mean, when was the last time you exchanged blows with another person?”
He looked down. “Third grade.”
“Tell me you won.”
“No. She beat me.”
Judith rubbed her forehead. “If we weren’t in such danger, I’d find that hilarious.”
“I’m open to ideas. What have you got in that business head of yours? Maybe you could subdue him with a discussion of midcentury modern architecture.”
“I don’t have any ideas.”
“Look, Judith. I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m doing my best to keep from running into the woods screaming like a preschooler, but something has to be done and I don’t see any other options.”
Luke started for the double doors when Judith took his arm. He stopped. For an eternal second they stared at each other, then Judith stepped forward and gave him a hug, burying her face in his chest. “Be careful.”
The door to the eating hall moved only enough for Luke to sneak through. Every brain cell in his head screamed about the stupid course of action he had chosen to follow. It was too late now. There would be no turning back.
Staying in a crouch, Luke moved to the end of the closest table. The table was empty, and the children were being grouped at the other end of the hall. At this distance, the table provided enough cover but Luke felt exposed. Once he left this perch, he would be in full view of the man guarding the kids.
If he was going to act he would have to do so soon. Pennington could return at any moment and Luke knew he couldn’t handle both men. Pennington didn’t seem the kind of man to let bygones be bygones.
He lifted his head above the top edge of the table and saw his target staring out the window, no doubt watching Pennington talk on the phone. Luke wished for a weapon, but the best he could see was a plastic knife. He doubted he could deliver more than a stinging scratch with it. He needed something more, something creative. With his mind snapping back and forth from idea to idea, Luke finally settled on the only thing he felt might be advantageous — a pepper shaker, one of the many remnants left behind by the owners. The shaker, a thick glass cylinder, lay on its side just within reach. After another quick check to be certain he wasn’t being observed, Luke rose, seized the shaker, and resumed his crouch behind the table.
He fumbled with it and noticed his hands were shaking. It took three attempts, but Luke separated the top from the body of the shaker. Relief gave him a half-moment of joy before terror reassumed the throne.
Luke filled his left hand with black granules and held the glass shaker in his right. This is crazy. This is stupid. I’ve lost my mind.
He stood. He set his eyes on the man he planned to attack. He started forward.
In unison, the children turned to face him. Not one spoke; not one pointed.
Moving as fast as he could and stepping as quietly as possible, Luke sped forward.
When just a foot away, the man turned. “What — ?”
Luke threw the pepper in the man’s face. His aim proved on target. The pepper filled both eyes. The victim raised his hands and started to let out a scream, but Luke cut it off with a blow to the belly. He could hear the air rush from the man’s lungs. Luke landed one more blow, this time to the back of the neck. The man dropped like a tree.
Luke’s heart pumped his blood at racetrack speed. A sense of accomplishment rose in the darkness of fear, but he paid it no mind. It was no time to gloat.
“Come on, kids. That way.” He kept his voice low and pointed to the back of the hall, back to the kitchen. “Hurry.”
Judith opened the doors and motioned the children to her. “Come this way, children. Follow me. This way. Hurry … Luke!”
The warning came a half second too late. The door behind him swung open and slammed the wall. Luke spun and saw Pennington, his face frozen in fury. He looked down at his unconscious partner then back at Luke. His fists clinched into balls of iron.
Luke, who prided himself on his mind, his logic, his ability to reason through any problem, stopped thinking. Long buried instinct kicked in. Judith needed time. Luke would give it to her.
He charged.
He swung with a fist still clutching the glass shaker. It was a punch capable of dropping a heavyweight boxer, if it landed. It didn’t. Pennington shifted to the side and Luke’s swing missed its mark by two feet.
Pennington’s punch didn’t.
As Luke caught his balance, a fist caught him square on the nose. The pain blinded him, water flooded his eyes, and he staggered back a step. Something warm and thick flowed across his lips. He raised his hands to his face. Another blow landed on the back of his hands sending pain racing through his arms like lightning.
“No more of you, pal,” Pennington said. “I have had my fill of your meddling.”
Something hit Luke in the ribs. It felt like a demolition ball but he knew it was the fist of the man beating him. Something cracked and fire blazed just below the skin. Luke dropped to his knees. A second later, he rose and faced Pennington, raising his hands like a boxer — displaying the courage of the desperate.
Stall him. Give Judith a chance. Stall him for just a few minutes.
Like a man before a firing squad who refuses a blindfold, Luke faced his attacker, took a step forward, and threw the best punch his body would allow. It landed on nothing.
The next thing Luke felt was his feet leave the floor and his body flying over his head. Pennington had grabbed his extended arm and threw him over his shoulder. The floor took the last ounce of fight out of Luke.
He couldn’t move. He could only stare at the ceiling.
Pennington stood over him. He grinned.
Judith began her sprint before Luke hit the floor. Leaving her shoes behind, she moved faster than she had since high school gym class. She let out a scream just as she leapt on Pennington, who still gazed down at his fallen prey.
She hit him with all her weight, sending both of them tumbling to the floor. The impact jarred Judith and the pain of it startled her but she had no time to think of it. She balled her hands into fists and began to pummel whatever part of Pennington’s body she could find. The fact that she had somehow ended on top of him, straddling his abdomen, surprised her. Several of her blows landed on his face but the attack didn’t last long. He reached up, seized a fistful of hair, and yanked hard to the side. Judith’s head and body followed. Her scalp blazed with pain but she continued to throw punches.
A fist came out of nowhere and caught her on the side of the head. The room began to spin and sparkles of pain that delivered glittery drops filled her eyes. She raised a hand to throw another punch but her arms ceased cooperating.
Another yank on her hair and she crumpled to the floor beside Pennington.
He rose, brushed himself off, then reached beneath his coat and removed a dark object. The tears in her eyes slowed her recognition but two blinks later she saw a black gun in his hand. He aimed it at her, paused, then pointed the muzzle toward the still-unmoving Luke.
“No,” she said. She had tried to shout it, but only a threadbare whisper emerged.
“I could make you beg for his life, but it would be a waste of time. I’d kill him anyway. Why pretend?”
Judith tried to rise, but the blow to the side of her head kept her down and kept the room spinning. “Pl … please.”
Pennington laughed. “I see. You think a polite request will work better.”
A movement caught Judith’s attention. A small form stepped between the business end of the gun and Luke.
A child. A little girl.
Judith started to warn her away but words would not come. Another child stepped to her side, then another and another. The best Judith could tell, every one of the children stood between Pennington and Luke. Some moved by her.
“Get out of the way, kids. They started it. I’m going to finish it.”
The children didn’t move.
Pennington swore, reached forward, and pushed the closest child to the side. Immediately another child took her place.
“Don’t make me angry, kids. Do what I say.”
No one moved.
“Move! NOW!”
They stood their ground.
The young girl who made the first move looked at Pennington. “Mister, there’s lots more evil on you. Lots more.”
“Lots more,” the children said in unison. “Lots more … lots more … lots more.”
Judith’s grip on consciousness slipped.