The Gates of Byzantium (Purge of Babylon, Book 2) (53 page)

The woman stopped a few feet from him, then stopped and walked back toward him—then turned at the last second and stepped out of his peripheral vision.

He couldn’t see her without moving, but she was very close, and he heard a soft female voice: “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Sarah.

The single mother with the little girl. The same woman who had recorded the message in the broadcast that lured them to Song Island in the first place. Who, a few hours ago, was fighting back tears as she hugged Gaby in the kitchen. The same woman who had brought out the wineglasses used to drug them.

What the hell was she doing here? And who was she apologizing to?

Josh listened but didn’t hear anything else. He was sure Sarah was still there. He could feel her presence nearby. What was she doing? Crouching next to Gaby? The only way to find out for sure was to turn his head and look, but he was afraid she might feel him moving, just as he could feel her presence behind him.

A few seconds later, he heard the soft rustling of clothes, then footsteps as Sarah stood up and hurried off, back toward the door. Josh counted steps, listening to her getting farther and farther away, and his mind was suddenly in a frenzy.

Options. What options did he have? Not a whole damn lot.

Make a choice!
You’re it! There’s no Will! No Danny!

You’re it!

So make a damn choice already!

“Sarah,” Josh said, and quickly struggled up from the floor into a sitting position.

She whirled around, startled by the sound of his voice. She was wearing the same clothes as last night, and there was shock and horror on her face. “You’re awake.
You shouldn’t be awake
.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You can’t be awake,” she said again, and quickly turned to go.

“Sarah, please wait,” Josh said, putting every ounce of desperation he could summon into his voice. He didn’t have to dig very deep.

She stopped and looked back at him again. He saw it all in her face—uncertainty, fear, and the thing that gave him the most hope—
conflict
. He was counting on that, on her not wanting to do this. Her apologies to Gaby a few seconds ago, her embarrassment when they had thanked her in the kitchen hours ago, all entered into his equation.

God, please don’t let me be wrong about her.

“What’s happening here, Sarah?” he asked, looking around, eyes wide.
Sell the desperation. Sell it!
“Please tell me what’s happening here?”

“You shouldn’t be awake.” Then, quickly, her voice falling a bit, “God, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be awake. I have to tell them.”

“No, please don’t.”

She hesitated. He knew she wanted desperately to go, but something held her back. Something kept her standing there, looking back across the darkened room at him. Probably the same thing that had brought her here in the first place, even knowing Gaby would never know.

“They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” he asked softly, keeping his voice low.

Sound travels these days.

“No,” she said.

“No?”

“No. We don’t…do that.” Her voice drifted off.

Josh lifted himself slightly up on his haunches and slid his zip-tied hands under his butt, then kept going along the length of his legs and finally pulled them free. He was shocked it actually worked.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, even more alarmed than before.

“They’re going to kill me if they see me like this, aren’t they?”

“No, but they might hurt you.”

“Help me, Sarah. Help
us.
”

She glanced over at Gaby, then at the others. “I can’t…”

“I know you don’t want this to happen.”

“I have no choice. Jenny…I have to look out for Jenny first.”

“Please, Sarah, don’t let them do this. I need your help. We all need your help. Gaby needs your help.”

“I have to go.”

This time she turned completely around and walked the short distance to the door.

“Sarah!” he shouted after her, raising his voice. He had no choice. He had to stop her. “Please! We’re going to die unless you help us! Don’t let this happen! You can stop this!”

She shook her head, but didn’t look back, didn’t stop, and before he knew it, she had opened the door and stepped through, closing it sharply behind her.

Wow, that didn’t work.

Josh sighed but didn’t look away from the door. A part of him expected to see it dramatically open back up and for Sarah to rush back inside.

But the door didn’t open.

Defeated, Josh lowered his arms back into his lap and listened to the silence in the ballroom. It was quiet, except for the soft breathing of the others behind him.

Gaby, next to him, soundlessly asleep, peaceful in her heavy, drug-induced slumber. And the girls, Elise and Vera, snoring farther in the back, unaware that the same people who fed them last night, that poured them cold soft drinks, were now plotting their death.

Or something worse than death. He could think of lots of worse things out there right now that didn’t involve dying.

“How long before they show up?”
Marcus had asked.

Soon. Soon…

*

He had no
other choice. Maybe Tom and the others had heard him imploring Sarah and were coming right now to make sure he went back to sleep—and this time stayed that way. Even if they weren’t, something else was coming for them.

Either way, he was still stuck in the same situation—shit out of luck.

He looked over at Gaby, then looked behind him at the others again. They hadn’t stirred, didn’t even look as if they had heard anything or were any closer to swimming up from whatever dreams or nightmares they were mired in at the moment. They certainly looked like sweet dreams, judging by the ghost of a smile on Gaby’s lips.

It had to be some kind of drug. Roofies, maybe. The date-rape drug he had heard about on the news. But he thought those drugs worked right away, not hours later. Something
like
roofies, maybe?

Whatever it was, it was effective. Except on him, because he was the only one who had barely touched his drink during dinner. Josh felt fully alert and wide awake now, and he tried to concentrate on the problem at hand. It was a hell of a problem, too. But he was a smart guy. He could think his way through this. Right? Of course he could.

We are so screwed.

He looked back at Will and Danny. What would they do in his position? Probably try to break the zip ties. How, though? These things were tough bastards. No. Strength wasn’t going to do it here. Will and Danny would know that. So what would they do if they couldn’t break something? How would a pair of ex-Army Rangers get around a problem like this?

God, he wished they would wake up already so he could ask them.

Josh took inventory of the room. It was big, and they had been deposited in the middle. There were no chairs or tables, and the big, expensive-looking chandelier above him wasn’t going to be much help. Most of the walls were still just Sheetrock, with electrical wiring sticking out everywhere.

He concentrated on his hands. His wrists were almost pressing against one another except for a half-inch space between the two loops, which were tightened by pulling the ends along a roller-lock system in the middle. The straps themselves were white, but the middle section, where the ends passed through, was solid black and looked like an ice cube.

He tried pulling at the zip tie, but it didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth and tried again, this time even harder, but gave up after ten seconds of heavy straining. The zip tie hadn’t moved even a little bit. If anything, it felt like the straps had gotten tighter around his wrists. Was that even possible?

Josh stared at them for a moment.

He couldn’t break the straps, so maybe there was a way
around
them.

He stared at the plastic device for the longest time, trying to understand how the zip tie itself worked. Everything passed through the block in the center. That much was obvious. But the roller system meant the end of the straps only went one way, pulling the zip inward and around the wrist, and not the other way, which would loosen the straps. Loosening the straps was the goal. But how to achieve it? The retainer block was the key.

He lifted his hands toward him and eyeballed the retainer block up close. Could he break it? How? He could probably smash it with a hammer. If he had a hammer. But why wish for a hammer when he could wish for scissors and just cut the straps? He didn’t have a hammer or scissors, so what did he have?

Eureka!

Brawn wasn’t going to get him out of this, but brains helped him to see his little sliver of hope. Literally. There was just enough space between the strap and the interior walls of the block that if he had something small enough to insert there, he could loosen the roller and slide the strap back instead of forward. That was the key. Finding something
small enough
to push inside.

Josh glanced around the ballroom again. This time he didn’t think about the things the room didn’t have, but paid attention to what it did offer.

Plenty of debris. There was dirt and chipped wood and dust everywhere along the concrete floor around him.

Debris. That was where salvation lay.

The chipped wood, though small enough, wouldn’t work because the bits weren’t strong enough to affect the roller. So it had to be something small
and
strong.

*

He found it
almost by accident. He rolled onto his right side and there it was. A nail, lying in a small groove along the concrete floor. It was so small he would have missed it if he hadn’t laid his head down just a foot from it. It was brown and rusted over, but nails were nails, and they were usually strong.

Josh scrambled back up to a sitting position and picked up the nail. It was so small it almost slipped from his fingers.

He looked at the nail, then at the retainer block of the zip tie, before cautiously positioning the sharp point between the strap and the interior wall of the retainer block. With the ball of his forefinger, he pushed the nail in and felt both strap and block resisting. He pushed harder and felt pain against his finger. He kept pushing, almost willing the nail through the slot, and was finally rewarded when the nail sank a full quarter of the way down.

From there, it was easier to get the nail down another half inch. Then three quarters. With the nail now firmly lodged between the strap and the retainer block, Josh pushed his right wrist downward against the strap.

The strap didn’t move at first—then slowly but surely, it went down half an inch. That was enough for Josh to slip his right hand free, and he had to restrain himself from shouting out in triumph.

Suck on that, mofos!

He hurriedly pulled the nail out of the retainer block and used it to free his left hand. He did the same to the zip tie around his ankles, then pushed himself to his feet. He did it too fast and stumbled, almost fell, but caught himself on his knees just in time. He got up again, this time more slowly.

Nail in hand, Josh hurried over to Will. He thought about freeing Gaby first, but that was the soft, gooey part of him talking. The tough, hardened part of him knew he needed help. Freed or not, he wasn’t going to be able to take on Tom or Marcus—or hell, even Karen—by himself if they showed up now. Not wearing boxers and armed only with a nail, anyway.

Josh checked the doors again, in case all of his rolling around had attracted attention. Still good to go.

Will was where Josh had last seen him, resting on his side in his boxers, hands zip-tied behind his back. “Will,” Josh said, crouching over him. When that didn’t work, he said louder, “Will, wake up.”

That didn’t work, either.

Josh thought about it, then tapped Will lightly on the cheek. “Will, wake up.”

Nothing. Josh really thought about it this time, then slapped Will across the cheek. He was prepared to jump back if Will woke up and swung at him. But he didn’t have to because the slap did nothing.

Will didn’t even stir.