Page 58 of Dead Rockstar

“Yeah, I KNOW, and no thanks to you, since you made it a thousand times worse. She was bound, dude. It’s bad enough that you hit her, then you had to go and give her the drugs too-”

Drugs? What drugs? That would explain the throbbing behind my eyes.

I could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Just one set, from the sound of it. I retreated further into the dark room. I couldn't see anything, but it had the open feel of a bedroom. I fled backward, stumbling and almost falling over a bed. I fell to my knees and tried to crouch underneath, but there was no room. Stumbling, insane with fear, I found a door handle and yanked it open. A closet. I retreated inside, closing the door behind me, and crouched in the corner behind what felt like a coat.

I heard a door open and shut. Then a stream of curses. It was Lee.

The footsteps were back in the hallway, harder this time. “Where is she?”

“What? Who?”

Now there were two sets of feet in the hall. I began to shake.

“Stormy, you fucking idiot. She's gone!” He sounded furious. “Did you lock the door when you left last time?”

“I did, I told you I did!” If I hadn't been so terrified, I would have smiled. He definitely had not locked the door.

“So she just came to after being drugged and hit over the head, picked the lock and went...where?”

“She's here somewhere. She couldn't’ve gone far. We been here the whole time.”

I clenched my teeth in terror. If either of them had to find me, I'd rather it be Lee. He was scary, but Shank was violent. At least I knew Lee wouldn't hurt me physically – though maybe he would now, considering how angry he sounded.

I heard another door slam.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I patted my pockets to see if my cell phone was still there. I couldn't text Phillip's burner phone in case someone intercepted it, but I could try to text Sloan. Maybe even dial 911 if I hurried. The phone wasn't there. They'd taken it. I started to silently cry.

The footsteps were still sounding all over the house, along with the occasional slamming door and expletive. It sounded like they were methodically searching every room. Whether it would be Lee or Shank, I didn't know, but one of them would find me any minute. I tried to stop shaking and couldn't. There was no way to escape.

Silence fell. I didn't hear the footsteps anymore or any slamming doors. Were they searching outside? I retreated further into the corner, hoping the coat covered me. It seemed like hours passed, but it was probably only minutes. The silence was so loud, the walls of the closet seemed to be closing in, and I began to panic. Oh crap, what if I started hyperventilating? Silence and more silence. I sat like a statue, the only sign of life the trembling in my limbs. Time seemed to suspend itself as I waited, afraid to breathe.

Without warning, the closet door was wrenched open and I shrank back in fear, pulling the coat down from the hanger and exposing myself to the figure standing in the doorway. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, pressed a button, and held it up to let the light expose me. It was my phone; I recognized the familiar turquoise Bloomer Demons case and began to laugh despite myself, the ridiculousness of the situation I was in overriding my terror. I was in shock, I was out of my mind. I cowered, obliterated by the light in front of him, unable to tell who it was, the only thing visible his large, hulking shoulders and what looked like dark hair. I threw an arm up over my eyes and waited for the inevitable violence, biting my lip to try and stop the mad laughter that wouldn’t stop coming.

After a moment, I heard a voice, quiet in the darkness. “Stormy, come on out. It's me.” Lee. Startled, I blinked in front of me, realizing that what I thought had been Shank's dark hair was a black beanie, pulled down low over Lee's light-blonde head. His expression was anxious.

I blinked again, unsure. My head was still pounding; I couldn't think straight.

He reached into the closet and pulled me out by my jacket, bracing me as I tried to stand. My legs were shaky. “You fucked things up,” he said. “I was planning on letting you go just as soon as I could get Shank out of here, but then you had to try and escape. Now it's going to be harder. You need to be quick and do exactly as I say.”

I nodded dumbly, a strange mix of sludgy drugs and pure adrenaline coursing through my veins. I thought I might lean over and yak on the carpet at any moment.

“Buck up. Now listen.” He pointed at the door. “When you go out of here, take a right and go down the hallway and right out the front door. If you stay to the edge of the yard and run straight down the driveway till you get to the wooded area then head straight for the trees, you might have a chance of getting away while Shank’s around back. You're only about a mile away from the road. If you hurry, you might make it. From there you're on your own. I'll try to detain him, but he knows he can't trust me.” He shook me a little. “Got it? Can you remember?”

I cleared my throat and glared at him. “Down the hallway, out the front door, head for the trees. Even full of drugs and with a head wound, I'm not a fucking idiot.”

“Go, then,” he said, pushing me toward the door.

I hesitated, looking at his slight frame and short stature. He really didn't look a day over twenty, even as winded and sweaty as he was. How was he mixed up in all this and why? His every pore seemed to scream resistance. “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said, an expression of irritation briefly flashing on his freckled cheeks. “Go now and don't look back.” As I reached the door, he called after me, “And for the love of hell, pack up your shit and go home.”

My legs felt like Jell-O but I managed to scurry down the dark hallway, past the kitchen and living room and out the front door, which thankfully was not locked. The rickety wrap-around porch creaked under my weight as I made my way down the stairs and I hoped that Shank was nowhere within earshot. The yard was an expanse of perfectly coifed grass and flowers, but not many trees to provide cover. I could see, as I rushed toward the edge of the yard, where the graveled driveway began, why Lee was worried I'd be seen. Anyone coming around the side of the house would spot me in a second. Luckily, it was very dark, with a milky sheen of light cloud cover that didn't fully cover the bright stars, like a puff of smoke. The crescent moon overhead gave off just enough light to cast shadows around the yard – just enough light to see by, if you squinted. I needed to hurry. I crouched down low as I reached the driveway, carefully staying off to the side as instructed, as much to avoid the sound of my feet on the gravel as to avoid being spotted. As I ran, my foot went into a mudhole and my ankle rolled. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to not cry out in pain. Pulling myself back up, I hobbled down the driveway, forcing myself not to look back. If Shank was behind me, it wouldn't matter anyway. I picked up my pace as I saw the little grove of trees that gave way to a larger forest of pines up ahead on my right.

As I reached the end of the driveway a thick pillow of cloud drifted over the moon, blocking what little light there was. I kept running blindly. I was almost at the end of the driveway and into the trees when a figure came out of the woods and crashed into me, hard. I was knocked down to the gravel.

I fought immediately, bringing up my arms and driving them into the hard chest. “Let me go! I'll fucking kill you!” I screamed, my eyes shut tight with fear. I brought my hands up, my fingers forming into claws, ready to tear at skin, draw blood, inflict pain. I would fight to the death if I had to.

“Stormy. Stormy, stop. It's me.” The voice was breathless, but unmistakable. Phillip.

I opened my eyes, still struggling against him. He seemed to realize he was holding me down and let me up instantly, helping me to my feet. I was out of breath and panting. For a moment he just looked at me, then he grabbed my arm and propelled me forward. “Let's go.”

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