Dead Running (32 page)

I approached the aid station at mile thirteen. My heart thumped with excitement. I was halfway through. Then reality hit. My legs were tired. This weather bit the big one. I still had no idea how to escape Damon. And I was only halfway through?

The volunteers were in the street calling out, “Gu, gu.”

I grabbed one, ripped the top off and squeezed it into my mouth. I could hardly swallow the lump, but I knew I needed the energy boost.

“Gatorade, Gatorade,” the next table of volunteers called out.

I shook my head and kept going. I wanted water to get this awful sludge out of my mouth. One of the volunteers raced up to my side. “Gatorade,” she said, shoving the cup into my hands.

“No,” I said, trying to push the cup back into her hands.

She encroached upon my personal space. “You need this Gatorade.”

I stared at the tiny, thick-skulled woman. I couldn’t see much from underneath the low-riding baseball cap, but her shape looked like. “Hot Redhead?” I asked.

She glanced up at me then. Her eyes large and intense. “Get away from Damon.”

“I’m trying.”

She pushed me away, nodding in Damon’s direction. “Find a way.”

Clutching the paper cup of Gatorade, I gulped it down then tossed it. I started jogging again. Glancing back through the mist, I saw Elizabeth watching me. How did she know about Damon? What did she expect me to do?

“Did you get a Gu down?” Damon was by my side.

I jumped and let out a little scream.

Damon laughed. “You okay?”

I nodded and started running down the road. Damon stayed right by my side. I turned my iPod up so he wouldn’t try to talk me and mulled over Elizabeth’s warning. Damon was a better runner than me and we were in the middle of a race. The safest thing to do had to be to finish the race or at least make it to my dad. If Damon or Elizabeth were working with Muscle Man they probably wouldn’t try anything with all the other runners around.

“How are you doing?” Damon yelled to be heard over my music.

I took out one of my earbuds. “I thought this marathon was downhill.”

Damon laughed. “It drops in elevation, but there’s still some uphill along the way. You okay?” He took off his hat, shook the rainwater from it, swiped his face clean and replaced the baseball cap.

“Just peachy.” I nodded towards his watch. “Are we on pace?”

“A bit ahead even.”
           
I took a long breath, trying to act normal, trying to forget about Elizabeth’s warning but it just reinforced my dad saying to get away and all the times Jesse had warned me. “I’m going to slow down. You keep going.”

Damon shook his head. “If,” he smiled, “or actually, when you hit the wall, we’re going to need some extra minutes to get through it.”

“The only reason I’m going to hit the wall is because you’re killing me,” I muttered. “Seriously.” I slowed my pace. “You keep going, I need a minute.”

Damon grinned. Taking me by the hand, he pulled me along with him. “I’m not leaving you.”

I retrieved my hand from his grip but kept at the same pace. I could keep forcing him to pull me along, make a scene and hope the FBI came to help, or get to mile twenty-one where my dad was waiting with more FBI help.

We passed the aid station at mile nineteen without much more than a drink of water, but my heart started lightening. The FBI bike riders were still within sight and I’d almost made it to my dad.

Just when I thought I had the marathon licked, my legs stopped responding to my commands to rotate and my vision darkened. Damon grabbed onto my elbow and yelled in my ear, “It’s okay, Cassie. It’s just the wall. Keep moving and you’ll get through it.”

“Can’t,” I muttered.

Through my pain, I felt the buzz of my cell phone. “Phone,” I said. “Get it.”

Damon yanked the phone out to oblige me and flipped it open. “Hello?”

I listened through the haze and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

“The baby’s here? How’s Raquel?” He paused and then, “Oh, that is awesome.”

“Give me.” I reached out for the phone but Damon dodged me.

“Cassie isn’t doing so well. I’ll have her call you at the finish line. Congrats.” Damon closed the phone and jammed it in his own pocket. “Raquel had the baby. The little guy is doing great. Jared says he looks just like him.”

I managed a smile. My nephew was here. He was safe. “Raquel?” I asked.

“She’s doing well. The doctor was excited about the way her body handled the operation. Her brain waves look good. They think she may recover more easily now.”

I felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me. My brain cleared. I saw aid station twenty-one up ahead. My nephew was here. He was doing well and so was Raquel. If they could get through what they’d been dealt. I could get through this dang marathon. I sailed into the aid station, stole a caffeinated Gu, downed it and a cup of water, then started again.

“You’re past the wall,” Damon said, sticking to me like cellulite.

“Thank heavens.” We were on a downhill bend sinking into St. George from the northwest and I could see my dad in the middle of the crowd.

“Cassie!”

I found enough energy to raise my hand and turn his direction. Damon brushed close to me. “Your dad’s in trouble,” he whispered in my ear.

I looked over my dad’s shoulder. Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole were closing in on him. “Dad!”

He took a step towards me, smiling. Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole sandwiched him, lifting him off his feet, and rushing back through the crowd. I screamed, running after them. Damon raced next to me. The FBI got caught in the throng of people at the aid station. They ditched their bikes and struggled through the crowd.
 

I almost tripped on a man lying in the street. I looked down. Blood oozed from his motionless chest. “Damon,” I screamed.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “Worry about your dad.”

Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole shoved my dad into a tan cargo van. Seconds later the van was squealing away.

I raced after them. Damon grabbed my arm. “This way!”

“They’ve got my dad,” I panted.

“I know.” He yanked his keys from a small pocket of his shorts and clicked the unlock button. “My car is right here.”

I stared at him. The FBI were almost through the crowd. Should I wait for them? Did they have a vehicle close by?

Damon pushed me into his car, making the decision for me. I crawled over the console as he leaped in and started the engine. We gunned away from the FBI. I glanced back to see the gray-haired agent shaking his head at me and dialing furiously into his phone.

I turned forward. The cargo van was careening away but Damon floored it, keeping them in sight. I shivered, wet from the rain and my sweat, scared of what was going to happen to my dad.

“Why was your car parked here?”

He shrugged, not looking at me.

I reached for my cell phone then remembered Damon had pocketed it after he’d talked to Jared. “Give me my cell phone so I can call the police.”

Damon careened around a corner. “I don’t have your cell phone.”

“Yes, you do.”

He held up a hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you please let me drive so I don’t lose your dad?”

My questions kept growing but the one thing I didn’t want to do was lose my dad so I shut up and held on. We followed the van around the north side of the bluff and into sandstone hills frequented by bikers and runners. Damon stayed far enough back that I hoped they didn’t notice us.

The van stopped. I prayed for some movement so I could see that my dad was still alive. It didn’t happen. A sinking feeling in my gut got deeper as I glanced at Damon’s face. He didn’t look like himself, his expression a mask of determination and anger. He reached over me and pulled a gun from the glove box. I leaned away from the dull black pistol, my breath coming in short gasps. I sat there panting, my throat so dry I didn’t know if I could verbalize any of the questions I had. Who was Damon and what was he doing?

Damon leaped from his car. I jumped out, following him as he ran around the van and yanked the side door open. Muscle Man sat inside with my dad next to him. He was still alive. I wobbled with relief. Dad’s eyes jumped from me to Damon. “Oh, Cassidy. No!”

Muscle Man grinned. “I don’t think anyone told you sweetheart, but you’re dessert.”

I glanced at Damon. He stared at me with a slight smirk on his face. Was he a part of this?

Greasy Beanpole came around from the driver’s side, brushing against me and bending to unlatch the second door. I shrunk back, revulsion sweeping through me.

Muscle Man stood, shoving my dad from the van. Damon pushed me out of the way and jumped onto Greasy Beanpole. At the same time my dad dove at Muscle Man’s ankles, tripping him.
 

What the heck? Why didn’t anyone tell me about the pre-arranged signal
?

Damon pummeled Greasy Beanpole into the van floor while my father and his huge rival wrestled in the reddish-brown mud for control of the gun in Muscle Man’s hands.

I came at Muscle Man from behind. He easily threw me off and circled my dad’s esophagus with his arm. His shiny black pistol dug into my father’s temple. Dad stopped fighting. Muscle Man whirled to glare at me. “Stop right there, Cassidy.”

“No,
you
stop,” Damon said from the van door. He pushed Greasy Beanpole in front of him, a gun pressed against the smaller man’s neck.

Muscle Man laughed. He stood, dragging my father up with him without moving his finger from the trigger. “You think I care about Terry? Do me a favor and shoot him, save me a million bucks.”
           
“Al,” Greasy Beanpole whined.

“Shut up,” Muscle Man yelled.

“All we’re going to accomplish here is a blood bath,” Damon said, his voice level and reasonable, eons from where I was emotionally. An hour ago I’d tried to ditch him and now he was saving us. I didn’t care who he was as long as he saved my dad. “I shoot your buddy. You shoot Nathan. I shoot you. Either way you end up dead.”

Muscle Man smiled. “You
wish
it would play out like that. Preppy little college boy. You ever shot somebody in your life?” He stared. Damon didn’t look away. Finally Muscle Man shook his head. “I shoot Nathan, then I kill you. You may get a lucky shot off and plug Terry but then I still walk with two million dollars and Cassidy.” He smirked. “Why do you think I let you follow me? I wasn’t going to leave without the girl.”

“No!” my dad screamed. Muscle Man jammed the gun harder into his head.

I clutched myself to try to stop the trembling and the need to vomit. Muscle Man had waited for me. I glanced around, hoping someone would come to our rescue. The van blocked our view of the road but I couldn’t hear any vehicles approaching.

“The girl is kind of a pain. Let me kill her for you.”

The voice came from the back of the van. I spun. Elizabeth strolled casually towards us with a gun extended.

I snapped. “What are you doing? Put that gun away, you psycho!”

“I don’t think so, Cassidy.” Elizabeth was as calm as she was beautiful. She even looked good with her red hair plastered to her skull from rainwater. “I’ve tried to do things the right way, but you,” she jabbed the dull black metal in my direction, “keep getting in the way.”
           
“Okay, crazy woman.” I tried to ignore the deadly weapon pointed at me. My legs were shaking and I couldn’t blame it on the twenty-one miles I’d just run. “What are you going to accomplish shooting me?”

Her eyes met my dad’s and then gestured to Muscle Man. The world stopped rotating. My stomach dropped. Hot Redhead was on our side. Where did that put Damon?

Muscle Man stared at her. “Who are you? How'd you follow us?”

“She’s after me,” I told him, maybe I could at least distract him while Elizabeth and Damon figured out what to do with their guns. “Think about what you’re doing, Elizabeth,” I said. “There are a lot of men looking for a beautiful girl like yourself. Why waste your life shooting me just because Damon thinks I’m cooler than you?”