The Six: Complete Series (7 page)

“Get the fuck out of here,” the man from the car shouted to the petrified college students.

Simon forced himself to his feet. He could barely stand, but he knew this was the only way out. Brianna was in the arms of one of the girls, with her head slumped over the girl’s shoulders.

He took a deep breath and began to run towards her. He pulled at the girl’s arm and pulled Brianna free. “What are you doing?” the girl screamed.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and wrenched her away. Brianna stood like a limp doll in his arms. The college kids all looked him with disgust. “What’s wrong with you?” screamed the most coherent of the girls. “Let us clean her up, at least. Stop being such a weirdo.”

He caught the eye of the guy from the car. It wasn’t Eduardo, but an equally daunting muscular man in a black t-shirt. “I have to take her home,” he said.

The girl pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures. “I’m calling the cops. They’ll get you, you sick bastard.”

The muscular man walked over. “We’ve gotta go.”

Photos. There couldn’t be photos. Even if he did this job, he would never be free. The word would get back to his mother that he’d done something so horrible, so unconscionable. How could he, of all people, kidnap someone? It would kill her.

He turned to the muscular man. “Take her.” Within seconds Brianna was on her way to the car and Simon ventured into the lion’s cage. The girl was still taking pictures with the flash bursting every few seconds. He could see her hand shaking as she tried to stand her ground.

Four weeks of Edwin. Four weeks of torture. He knew how to do this. It was like a switch, and he could turn it on if he had to.

Without a word, he walked up to the girl and put out his hand. “Give it to me.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Give it to me.” He punched every word.

Her boyfriend stepped forward, not far but enough to show he was being a man. “Hey buddy, give it up.”

He had nothing to lose. “Fine,” he said with an eerie coolness. He grabbed her wrist and twisted. He didn’t stop until she started to squeal in pain.

“Stop,” she cried.

“Give it to me and I will.”

Her boyfriend went to help, but Simon gave him the glare he saw enough times with his dad. The “don’t even bother” look. No matter how she pleaded, the boyfriend did nothing except fret a few feet away.

“It hurts.”

“I know,” he said. “So give me the phone.”

One of her friends stood in horror. “Katie, just him your phone.”

It would just take a little extra force, and he knew he could snap her wrist. Instead, he held back. It wasn’t much, but just enough to put that fear in her heart. “Okay,” she whimpered.

“Okay, what?”

“Take it.”

She barely gripped the phone in her hand. He snatched it from her quivering fingers before letting her wrist loose.

A hard as he could, Simon threw the phone to the ground. There was a sickening sound of glass cracking against the gravel. He pounded the phone against the ground until the remnants of the screen dug into the bottom of his shoe and circuits were scattered around its body. He grabbed what was left and put it back in his pocket.

Simon walked right up to the girl who still nursed her injured wrist. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face so it met with his. “If I see anything on the Internet or the news—one word—then I will find you, and it won’t be pretty.” He grabbed her face and brought it close enough to kiss her. “Got it?”

There were tears in her eyes. She blinked hard to keep them from falling down her face. “Yes. I understand.”

She was a sweet girl and, in another world, she would have been on his side. Today, she was the enemy. He snapped her face away and ran to the already running car. The moment he jumped inside and slammed the door he let out a little shout. He could still feel her wrist on his fingers.

As Brianna slumped against the door, he felt a sinking sense of accomplishment. Her life, her privileged untouchable life, was in his hands. The power he had over her was unimaginable. This girl’s death would be front page news, and rock the world.

He gripped her slender wrist in his hand and squeezed, just like he’d done with the girl. Her bones bent under her grip. If he squeezed just a little harder they would break. She was his. All his.

The car lurched to a stop, and Brianna stirred. Her hand grew white from his tourniquet. What was he doing? Simon let her go and let her hand fall back in her lap and slowly regain its color.

This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t Edwin. He never would be.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he tried to prop her up to a seated position.

The driver made a hard right turn that sent the both of them tumbling against the side door. “Better you not know,” he said.

He wanted her to look beautiful right now. She was a good person, at least according to bits and pieces he’d gathered from the news. Her dad had been governor for the last seven years, and she was a bright-eyed high schooler at her dad’s inauguration. The reporters made fun of her because she had short, curly hair that puffed out and made her look like a cotton ball. Even as a kid, he thought she was cute. Brianna was always the kind of smart and damaged girl he’d thought he’d end up with someday. A girl that was just like him. Now he had to betray her and ruin everything she had always wanted and worked towards.

Simon felt exhausted. There was a trail of blood trickling down from the side of his head, and a sharp pain in his stomach which made it clear that the frat boy had broken at least a rib or two. “Tell me where we’re going. I want to know.”

The driver made another hard turn, this time for no other reason than to piss off his passenger.

Edwin had touched him every night. At first it was just a pat on the back and a help up from the floor. As the days went on, his moves went further. He’d put his hand down Simon’s shirt while he slept, and unbuttoned his pants when he was too weak to fight back. It never went further than that, though. It was always the anticipation of violation that made it all so much more terrifying.

That’s not what he told the police. The jury got Edwin on molestation, too. It was a scared traumatized teenager versus a psychopath, and the jury felt bad for the nervous kid on the stand. Edwin was in jail for twice the sentence because Simon had lied.

In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. His lawyers were trying to pin something on Edwin that would land him in jail. The kidnapping charge was amorphous, and they were afraid he’d be able to slip out of it. Simon wasn’t a little kid, almost six feet tall at that point, and they felt that the jury might have a hard time understanding why he didn’t escape. The case wasn’t as strong as it could have been and he desperately didn’t want Edwin on the streets. In the heat of the moment, he made up a long story of horrific abuse that was completely fabricated. He cried, he shook in the lawyer’s office and put on an amazing show that convinced even the court-appointed psychologist. After a while, he believed the story himself.

“Eh, kid, take this. For later.” In his hand was a black bag with a simple rope string. Even in the dark of the car he knew what it was. It was a gun. This was real. God damn it. He pulled it out and let it sit cold in his lap like a dead fish. After the trial, his mom took him to the gun range so he could learn to defend himself. His dad was firmly against it but, by then, he was long gone.

It was a life for a life, and he needed to do this. Brianna began to stir in her seat and groan with what he had to assume was a massive headache. He stuffed the gun into his suit pocket.

He grabbed her hand and held it tight in his. “I’m sorry,” he said as the car pulled to a stop.

She slowly raised her head and opened her eyes blearily. “Where am I?”

“You drank too much. We were taking you home.”

“You don’t know where I live,” she whispered. “Did you look at my license or something?”

The driver cranked the parking brake on, and they were here, wherever here was. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

“Let’s go,” the driver said.

“Now?” Simon said.

Brianna perked up and began to sit up. She looked out the window and then back at Simon. “This isn’t my house.”

He shut his eyes and channeled Edwin. Simon needed to die, and Edwin needed to be the one to do this. No more pity and no more mercy. Make it fast and don’t drag it out. “Get out of the car, Brianna.”

She grabbed onto her seatbelt and cowered against the car door. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He crawled over to her so she couldn’t get out his way. She was trapped against her own door. “Don’t put up a fight.” Simon grabbed her arm and began to pull her out from his side of the car. Her heels scratched against his arm as she futilely kicked at him.

“Let me go!” she shrieked as her shoe dug into his shoulder. He pulled her heels off and threw them onto the ground behind him. He grabbed her ankle and slid her down the seat. Brianna grabbed hold of the door handle and held on to it for dear life. It was a valiant attempt. He admired her spirit, but ultimately, he was stronger. He pulled both her legs so hard that her fingers slipped off the handle. She slid across the length of the back seat screaming as loudly as he’d ever heard someone scream.

“Shut up!” he shouted.

The driver stood in front of his door ready for his next order. “Need some help?”

“I’ve got it,” Simon said through gritted teeth. Brianna kicked and pushed her way out of the car. She wasn’t going to make this easy and why should she? He stepped back and let her stand up on her own.

As she got to her feet and looked out to see where she could run, he grabbed the gun and pointed it right at her. “Don’t even think about it.”

Brianna held the side of the car for balance. She still seemed dazed from the drugs and the adrenaline that bounced around her brain like a confused ping pong ball. The gun shook in his hand as he let the moment sink in. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t doing this. Another man, in another world, had his finger on the trigger. He straightened his back and pointed it towards her head.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. Her carefully applied mascara pooled around her bottom eyelid and her cheeks were ruddy and puffy from crying. “Please, don’t.”

“I have to,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. Is it money? My dad has money. He can pay you whatever you want.”

“It’s not about money.”

She clenched her body and covered her head. Her whimpering was the only sound in the abandoned construction site that the driver had dragged them to. The steel girders surrounded them with scattered planks of wood and insulation on half the walls. There wasn’t so much as a street light within eyeshot. No one would hear her scream.

“What is it? Just tell me. I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it. Please, just stop talking.” Her voice was filled with such terror and shock. He couldn’t hear another word.

He cocked the trigger. “No,” she whimpered. “Don’t.”

“Stop talking!” he shouted. There were tears in his voice, and his throat clenched as he spoke.

She stood up straight at the hint of desperation he’d shown. With her arms stretched out like a gentle angel, she took a few tentative steps towards him. “You don’t have to do this. Is someone putting you up to this?”

They were listening. They had to be. This driver, whoever he was, wouldn’t hesitate to report any indiscretions to the people with the kill switch. “No. Now stop talking!”

Brianna took a few steps closer. “Is he?”

The gun felt weak in his hands like the metal was melting through his fingers. “Don’t move. Stay right where you are.”

She took another step. There she stood, just a few feet away. “Give me the gun.” Her voice was soft and soothing, hypnotic. The barrel was still pointed at her forehead, but she didn’t look at the gun. She looked at him.

“I can’t.”

Her gaze shifted to behind him as he heard the crunch of feet against the gravel. The driver had moved from his perch against the car to mere inches behind him. Simon felt the man’s hot breath against his neck as he whispered into his ear, “I’ve got the switch, kid. You’ve got thirty seconds.”

She put out her shaking hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Kneel down.”

She shook her head and stepped closer. Any sheen of calm she had projected now crumbled and tears poured down her face. He placed the gun against her skull, and moved it down. She lowered with it.

“Twenty,” the driver said.

He felt her body heave with each frantic breath that she took. She bent her head down and the gun slid up her forehead, nestling in her hair. He let it prop itself up, gently pressing against his hand as she shook.

“Fifteen.”

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to. It was because he had to. They would understand. His mom would understand that her little boy hadn’t snapped. He was being forced into this. Simon patted the top of Brianna’s head to calm her down like he would a fussy baby.

“Ten.”

She lifted her eyes, and he could barely see them through her bangs. It was pleading and peace all at once. He could see the futility in her eyes.

“Five.”

He pressed the gun in farther until he felt her skull bump against the barrel of the gun.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Two.”

He pulled at the trigger and resisted against the spring inside holding his finger back.

“One.”

Simon shut his eyes as the shot rang out.

When he finally could open his eyes, the driver was already covering the body with a black tarp. Simon’s hands shook, and the gun rattled in his hands. The only part of her that still peeked out from the covering was one foot that lay lifeless against the plastic.

He started to walk towards her, but the driver waved him away. “Get back in the car.”

Simon threw the gun on the ground and kicked it away like a poisonous snake raring to attack. The driver lifted Brianna by her ankles and began to drag her toward the trunk. He couldn’t think, much less act. All he wanted to do was run away, as far away as possible, to get away from this hellhole, but he knew that running away was worthless. The moment the driver noticed he was gone, the remote would click on, and he’d be in the trunk with Brianna.