The Schwarzschild Radius (48 page)

Rachel clamped one of his fingers in her teeth. The more violently he pulled the hand away, the harder she bit. She could hear her molars penetrating the skin, then cutting through the thin muscles.

A shot to Rachel’s stomach made her curl up in fetal position. Had they injected him with enough insulin to disable him, and would it take effect before he killed them?

The onset time of Lispro insulin was four minutes. But it was normally administered intramuscularly in a dosage of one-hundred units. This quantity, injected intravenously into a person without insulin deficiency, was lethal. There was no telling how long before it would take effect, but they had to survive until then.

The killer stood over her. “What was that?” he said in a measured tone that had reserves of force behind it. When she didn’t respond, he reached down and picked her up with one arm. “
What the fuck did you shoot into me
?”

As long as she didn’t answer, he might let her live
, thought Rachel. He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.

“
Run
!” she yelled to her sister.

Fists came down on Rachel like cinderblocks and she curled up into a ball.
Make his heart pump as fast as possible.
When he tried to grab her throat, she clamped his knuckle in her mouth. A hammerhand came down on her head and she let go. She rolled over and staggered to her feet. She ran a few yards toward her sister, then he tackled her.

Brazos assumed it was insulin that they had shot into him. But what if it was something else? He felt no ill effects. He decided to haul them back to his lair and make his money with their deaths. The truth would come out then. The cattle prod never failed in bringing out the truth. Brazos grabbed Rachel by the hair and pulled her along in a forced march. The other one was stumbling up ahead ready to drop.

He grabbed Olivia under his right arm and dragged them back toward the death chamber.

They walked a hundred yards, but Rachel couldn’t feel his pace or his grip weakening. She had used one of the needles she had found on the ground and now wondered if she had plunged the dull point deep enough into Brazos’ neck. There was no telling if Olivia was able to empty hers in the right spot in her condition. He had Rachel by the waist and she picked up her feet as he dragged her, making him expend more energy. His grip was vise-like, even with a load of over two hundred pounds. At some point the drug would wear off. There were hundreds of yards of track before them. She glanced at her sister. She was only semi-conscious, both from the blows and from lack of insulin, which she hadn’t taken in order to have this weapon of last resort.

They passed Sonia’s dead body. No one would ever know she was here.

Rachel could see a broken Coke bottle coming closer. She extended her hand at the last moment, reaching for it, but it was too far. Another bottle. This time she was able to grab it on the fly.

He stopped, adjusted both girls under his arms, and continued. Then he stopped again. It began to happen with greater frequency. In the last five minutes, they covered half the ground than in the previous five.

Then she felt it. She had felt it a few moments before, but thought it might be her imagination. Now there was no doubt. Ever so slightly, his grip had let up. She dared not make her move yet. Rachel wanted to be absolutely certain he was incapacitated. The last thing she needed was for his adrenaline to kick in, reviving him.

Brazos laid both girls on the ground with his arms still around them and he kneeled. His breathing was halting, irregular. His hands were sweaty. Rested, he rose again with his burden. He let them fall to the ground and dragged them by their wrists through the broken glass and concrete. Rachel had hidden the bottle with her body and he grabbed the extended arm, her right arm. Now she briefly looked up for the first time to see his face. The look was blank like an automaton. Anger seemed to have left him, replaced by a primitive instinct like that of a plant turning itself toward the light.

Rachel’s wrist slipped out of his hand. He went to regrip it.

Now.

Rachel sprang up and slammed the bottle into his head, breaking it, then she stabbed at the hand that held her. His hand didn’t withdraw; he seemed confused. She ripped her arm away, freeing herself. He stepped back, feebly reached out to grab her and released Olivia in the process. Unable to gauge his state, Rachel grabbed her sister and ran. He took a few steps in pursuit, then fell, rose and fell again.

He got up and began to close the gap in awkward, staggered strides. He was slowing, but Rachel had the added burden of Olivia, who was now nearly dead weight. The last few hours had sapped her of any reserves of energy and running for her life didn’t change that. Then, she tripped over a railroad tie, falling. Brazos seemed to be recovering. He closed the distance quickly. He caught them.

He was gasping for air when he threw Rachel up against the track wall. He then leaned on her to rest, sweat dripping down on her from his chin. Ninety-five degrees in the tunnel. But this was more than thirty yards worth of perspiration. He was more than winded.

It begins with sweating, a racing heartbeat, and subtle shaking. As he pressed on her now with his chest against her back, she could feel all of these. Then there was the tell-tale sign. He yawned. As soon as he pulled his weight off her, she tried to run again, but her strength had left her. Brazos threw a punch that missed.

Now the insulin descended with crushing force. His knees bent and he yawned again and again. He drew the gun and aimed it at her head. When he pulled the trigger, he seemed to recall that he had run out of bullets some time ago. He swatted at Rachel with the weapon, but she ducked. He swung the pistol again, striking the concrete wall. Rachel suddenly rose and thrust her knee into his groin. They both fell and she bit his hand again. He released her, only to grab her with the other, then rolled on top of her.

“
Run
!” Rachel screamed. “Olivia―get out of here!”

He started to get up and she wrapped her arms around his neck like a yoke, pulling him down.

“
Get on the platform and run
!”

Olivia backed away, still facing Brazos. He got up again, this time with Rachel clinging to his neck.

“Go!”

Olivia stumbled down the tunnel toward the station, turning back every few seconds to look at her sister. Brazos was on his feet again, fading fast into the darkness as he dragged Rachel back to the execution chamber.

Olivia needed insulin or she would die within two hours. She was exhausted, but told herself not to lie down or she would never wake up.

Her feet were a bloody mess and walking was agony. Even worse―where was she going? The homeless man they had passed. He would know how to get out. She sat down on the tracks, took off her skirt and ripped it in two, then wrapped the rags around her feet.

Using the tunnel wall to balance herself, she made it back to the station platform and looked for the homeless man. She struggled to climb onto the platform. He was lying on the blanket with the flashlight on. It took a few more seconds to see why he wasn’t moving. Nausea made her lean against the wall.

Olivia grabbed her stomach; the abdominal pain made her buckle over. She urinated in this position and before she took her weight off the wall, she did so again. Stress hormones had blocked the assimilation of her last injection and her blood sugar was critically high. Within half an hour, she would be unconscious. She picked up the flashlight.

There was the sound of water, but she couldn’t locate it. Was it raining outside and dripping in? That might mean an opening to the outside. As she walked, she became aware of a definite downward grade. She was going deeper into this. There was a pile of something ahead. Clothes. It was a campsite with some spare possessions and the stench of urine. She put on a stinking sweatshirt.

Then she thought she heard a baby crying. Yes, there was no doubt.

“Hello!” she yelled. “Hello!” The crying stopped and she couldn’t get a bearing on it.

“If there’s someone there, please answer me.
Hello!
”

It was getting harder to steer around the used condoms and needles on the ground. It would be the supreme irony to get out of this alive only to die of AIDS later. But it meant that this place was inhabited.

“
Somebody answer me
!”

She heard the crying again and she tried to run toward it. This time, she got the direction. Olivia approached a doorless utility closet. In it was a woman of about thirty-five holding a hatchet. Behind her was a six-month-old child on a pad.

Before Olivia could say anything, the woman rushed to the edge of the doorframe brandishing the weapon. Olivia fell to the ground.

“I just need the way out. How do I get out of―”

The woman spoke only Spanish and cared not at all for company. The area smelled like airplane glue and her eyes were bloodshot. There was no one behind those eyes. Olivia lifted her hand up to placate the woman, then slowly got up and backed away.

In this echoing landscape, the screams of the child sounded like the steel brakes of a train. Olivia would have to find other help. She stumbled away without direction as lost here as she would be in the middle of the ocean. Then, she vomited.

Thirst was taking her over. Ketoacidosis was setting in. When insulin levels in the body go very low, the body can’t burn glucose―the system’s first choice for fuel. It then begins to burn fat, producing high levels of ketones and acidity in the blood. When this was combined with dehydration, death followed shortly afterward.

Olivia stepped onto the steel steps and held herself up by the handrails. Slowly, she descended. When she got to the bottom, she spotted a puddle in the distance. The pain from her feet was finding its way to her brain now without the anesthetic benefit of adrenaline. There were empty wooden skids on the wet ground. This was a storage area at one time. As she limped through the puddle, her feet created clouds of blood.

She stopped at a doorway. There was a breeze blowing on her bloody face. A broken door leading to another staircase. She could hear what sounded like traffic above, faint.

Olivia climbed three flights of steps and arrived at another abandoned station. More light came from above. The air was more breathable and cooler. She moved faster now toward the turnstile. It was broken and led to another staircase. She ascended the endless flight of steel steps on all fours, relieving the weight from her feet. There were street sounds and they were getting louder. She had to make it to the top. She got on her back and grabbed the handrail, thrusting with her feet and pulling herself up hand over hand. Her grip slipped and she dropped straight down on the edges of the steel treads. Her eyes closed for a moment and she instantly felt herself drifting into sleep, into death. Olivia shook her head and took a deep breath, then, summoning all her strength, flung herself at the handrail and began to climb. Now there was a lot of light. Freedom was approaching. A gate came into view. She righted herself and parted her hair away from her face. There was a padlocked gate at street level.