“Something’s wrong,” Andrew said as he placed the cell phone back in his pocket. “She knew we were coming. She wouldn’t have just left.” He had already attempted to reach her twice, once on the road and once in front of her building.
After a cursory scan of the area, they decided to investigate. Marcus went upstairs to her apartment while Andrew went to ask Alexei if he had seen or heard anything. They met back on the landing that led up the stairs.
“She’s not in her apartment. No signs of a struggle,” Marcus said as he came down the stairs. “Did the baker know any …” His words trailed off when he saw the look on Andrew’s face. She’s dead. I’ve failed everyone. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.
His knees felt weak. His heart pounded, and the air in his lungs grew heavy. The act of breathing became a chore instead of a reflex.
“What’s wrong?” he said and tried to steel himself for the response.
Andrew wouldn’t meet his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, Andrew said, “Ackerman’s been here.”
He didn’t wait for another syllable to be uttered. He pushed past Andrew and ran into the bakery. Visions of Maureen Hill flashed into his mind, only now he saw Maggie in her place. He couldn’t shake the thought of Maggie nailed to the wall and tortured—her lifeless husk trapped in an eternal scream, torment forever carved onto her face.
It was no way to die. He held to the belief of what a warrior from the past would have called “dying a good death.” His father said it was “dying with your boots on.” He simply thought of it as a death with meaning. It was almost as important as a life with meaning. But the atrocities left in the wake of Ackerman’s rage were senseless and pointless tragedies that only served the purpose of quenching a madman’s thirst for blood.
He pushed his way into the bakery’s back room. From somewhere far away, he heard Andrew asking him to wait, but he pressed forward anyway. He had to see for himself.
It only took a moment for him to find the mutilated body of the baker, Alexei. He searched the rest of the kitchen but saw no sign of Maggie.
“She’s gone,” Andrew said from the doorway.
A wave of relief passed over Marcus, but he felt guilty for the emotion. He hadn’t found Maggie lying there in a pool of blood, but there was still an innocent man dead on the floor whose only crime was being in Ackerman’s way. And it was my fault. He had allowed Ackerman to escape in the first place. He cursed himself for feeling relief in the wake of such tragedy. Plus, there was still no sign of Maggie, and if Ackerman had taken her, the chances of a happy ending would be about the same as winning the lottery without buying a ticket.
He leaned over one of the tables to keep from falling to his knees. He wanted to drop to the ground and weep, but he didn’t have time to cry. Now was a time for action. He turned to Andrew and said, “I’m going to get her back.”
The words gave him strength. He stood straight again, and a look of determination filled his eyes. “I’m going to save her … and put an end to this.”
Just then, what sounded like an explosion pierced the night. It came from somewhere close, no more than a couple of blocks away. He and Andrew glanced at each other and didn’t have to say a word. Within seconds, they were both out of Maggie’s building in pursuit of whatever had caused the sound.
His determination grew with every step. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain that Ackerman had caused the noise. They were on a collision course. All of his inhibitions and reservations were gone. He would save Maggie, no matter what the cost.