I want to fucking scream with rage. I drive faster, pushing the limits of what’s safe. Thirteen minutes. Twelve minutes. Then: “I hear them walking around outside.” She’s whispering now, barely audible. “They’re talking loudly. Laughing. If they see the broken back window—”
“They won’t.” I drive faster, heart racing. Eleven minutes. I tear through a stop sign, blow a red light, pass a minivan where I’ve got no right passing anyone at all. I nearly get into a head-on collision with a truck and he honks like the horn might stab me in the throat, but I keep on going. Faster and faster. Ten minutes.
“Nolan.” Her voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away. “They’re in the back yard.”
“Hold on,” I growl.
“Oh, god, oh, fucking god, oh, god, no.”
“Cora. Cora, what’s happening?”
Something muffled on the other end. I can’t make it out. Yelling? Crying? “Kady’s freaking out, but it’s okay, we’re being quiet.”
“Where are they?”
“I think they found the back door. I think they’re coming inside.”
“Fuck,” I say and drive faster, swerving around traffic. I catch a sign for the lake nearby and the GPS tells me to turn left. There’s a red light but I roll through it, blaring my horn, and peel out. Nine minutes. Eight minutes.
“They’re inside,” she says, whispering. “Oh, god, Nolan.”
“Hold on. I’m almost there. Just hold on. Hide, god damn it, Cora. Hide.” I push down the gas and roar through a quiet little town. I can see the lake now, light glittering off the waves. It’s beautiful, the kind of place I could imagine retiring to one day.
“Nolan,” Cora says and she’s crying. “They’re trying the door. We’re under the bed. I can’t talk anymore. I’m sorry.” I hear her put the phone down and something loud bangs. It must be the door opening, getting kicked in. Six minutes. Five minutes. Muffled noises, like two people talking a few feet away. The sound of the floorboards creaking as someone walks around the room. Ugly, vicious laughter.
Then, clear as day, “I know you’re in here, you little bitches. Just come out and make this shit easy.”
Craig’s voice.
Talking to Cora and Kady.
I blow down a quiet lane. Gravel paths lead out to other houses and cabins nearby. Four minutes.
Then my blood goes cold.
“Gotcha.” The voice is loud and clear.
And Cora screams. “Help! Get off of me, get off, get off!”
More screams and struggling. I shout her name over and over, driving in a blind and wild rage. Three minutes. Turn after turn along a winding path and I’m going recklessly fast, right on the edge of losing control. The screaming goes quieter as the girls are dragged from the room and the phone gets left behind. They have her, they have my Cora, and I’m going to murder them all if they hurt her. Two minutes. I have to slow down to make sure I don’t miss the gravel driveway, but I find it wedged between a huge oak tree and a long row of bushes. I pull down and hit the gas again, kicking up rocks all over.
One minute. Thirty seconds. I roar up the path like a madman until the cabin comes into view. It’s small, back shutters, red door.
Cora’s on her knees out in front next to Kady, both of them sideways to me facing the lake.
Craig is standing behind them, along with two guys I don’t recognize. He’s holding his gun against Cora’s head and saying something. I don’t know what. I don’t slow down as the Rover clears the short hill and all three guys stare at me with wild surprise. I angle the car toward Craig and he moves at the last second, diving out of the way and slamming into the girls. I turn the wheel, skidding out of control, and spin into the motorcycles and the two goons, knocking one over with my rear fender and making the other sprint away to avoid getting run over.
I hit the brakes, turn the wheel, and come to a halt with my door already open.
I leap out and hit the ground in a roll. I come up shooting and hit the first goon, lighting him up before he can pull himself up from the ground. I find the other up in the trees and shoot him twice in the chest. He drops and I want to go make sure he’s dead, but I don’t have time.
I turn and face Craig.
He’s on his feet unsteadily, his gun raised.
“Drop it,” I shout at him, approaching slowly, breathing hard. “Drop the gun.”
“How the fuck are you here?” He’s staring at me with wild panic in his eyes. “Nolan? How the fuck are you here?”
“Drop the gun, Craig, or I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
“Motherfucker—” He whips the gun toward Cora but I squeeze off two rounds. Both strike him, one in the shoulder, the other in the neck. Blood sprays everywhere, but it’s enough to knock him off balance. He staggers, shoots, misses, and tumbles sideways to the ground. I run over and put a boot on his wrist to make sure he can’t get another shot off and put a round in his skull, ending him.