Braving The Risk Page 7

  Carl had failed.

  Chapter Nine

  Cyrus’s boot stamped the floor close to Carl’s ear. Whitney laughed. “Oh my God! I can’t believe he just did that. Talk about guts! He was actually going to take you over the edge.”

  “Shut up!” Cyrus jerked his head in Whitney’s direction. His tight, angry face made Whitney clam up in an instant. “Next word out of you and I’m tossing your ass over the side.”

  A wisp of a smile crossed Ilario’s lips, but otherwise he said nothing.

  Cyrus then glanced down at Carl’s half-open eyes. “Nice try, Soldier Boy. Hell of a last run. You actually scared me shitless.” His eyes narrowed even more than they already were. “Not a good move.”

  Then Cyrus turned to Whitney. “Gimme the bat!” Still clammed up, Whitney meekly handed Tara’s bat to Cyrus. The brute then stepped back a little. “I’m going to beat every one of your bones into clumps of powder, but I’m going to do it slowly and I’m not going to hit anything too important. I want you to be alive for as long as possible!”

  Cyrus raised his bat.

  All of a sudden, a scream echoed off the nearby walls. Cyrus halted and turned in the screamer’s direction.

  A large yellow trash cart was barreling down the path between the stores and the banister. It was the same cart Carl and Tara had passed when they had arrived on this floor. Then Preston suddenly popped out, holding a hand weight. With a yell, he flung it at Cyrus. The man was too stunned and too close to the approaching Preston to try dodging it. The weight struck him and knocked him flat onto the ground.

  “Holy shit!” Whitney cried.

  As for the cart, it sped past Carl, narrowly missing his legs, and hit the base of the store scaffolding instead. Preston ducked back into the cart just before it struck the scaffolding. Whitney and Ilario fled a few steps, giving Carl and Tara some room.

  “Who the hell is that?” Whitney shouted as she backed up near the store opening.

  At that moment, Ron and Drake emerged from the store, finally having torn the tarp off their bodies. “What’s going on?” Ron shouted.

  Preston suddenly rolled out of the cart and rose to his feet. “Me!” he shouted as he raised both hands. He was holding a can of mace spray in each hand. “Now eat this!”

  He fired streams of mace into Whitney, Ilario, Ron and Drake’s faces. All four of them suddenly were coated in the spray and quickly fell to their knees, choking.

  Carl was stunned at what he was seeing. Preston looked like a special agent wielding those cans of mace in both of his hands. It surprised Carl so much that it brought a smile to his face.

  “Preston!” Carl cried out, “C’mon, you got them! We got to help Tara out of here!”

  Preston halted his barrage and turned to his left. Tara laid on the ground, moaning. Her eyes were fluttering. He quickly jammed the mace under his belt, then ran toward her. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She took a few blows.” Carl knelt down next to her. “Tara? Tara can you hear us? We have to get out of here!”

  Tara coughed. “Carl…God, my head…”

  The two men grabbed Tara by each of her arms and hoisted her up. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Cyrus had disposed of the weight and was back on his feet and looking mighty pissed.

  “I’m going to kill you,” he said with a low growl.

  Preston quickly released Tara and reached for his belt. Carl held Tara steady. Preston’s hand nearly grasped his gun, but instead he reached around back and grabbed one of his mace cans. Cyrus then picked up speed. Preston quickly doused the man’s face with mace.

  Cyrus screamed and spun around. Gritting his teeth, Preston emptied the can’s contents into the big behemoth of a man, then tossed the can against Cyrus’ chest. Cyrus fell to the ground.

  “Preston!” Carl called, “Hurry, let’s get going.”

  Tara nodded her head. “I…I can walk.”

  “Forget walking, we got to run,” Carl said as he turned her around.

  It had taken a few seconds, but Tara managed to jog under her own power. “Hey,” she said tiredly at Preston. “Nice.”

  Wiping her eyes, Whitney cursed loudly as she fled down the mall’s second floor. “Dammit! Dammit!” It was all she could do to see at all. Ilario, running in front of her, acted as a guide. Otherwise, with her blurry vision she might stumble into something or against a nearby banister.

  Ilario turned and headed into an arts and craft store. Whitney followed. Ilario then bounced off a shelf of crayons and markers. He let out a vile string of swear words as he fell to the floor.

  Whitney stopped short of the shelf. “Thanks for taking the fall for me,” she said.

  Ilario groped about on the floor. “How about some help?” he asked.

  Whitney panted. “Help yourself.” She went back to wiping her eyes. “I barely can see a damn thing. That little pencil-necked bastard! I’m going to go find him and pound him until his own mother doesn’t recognize him!”

  Ilario grumbled. “Bitch.”

  Whitney turned to him. “Excuse me?” Ilario didn’t answer. He still was groping about as if blind. Then she rammed the tip of her shoe into his hindquarters, causing him to lose balance and drop to the floor. “Look sweetie, this is every man for himself. I ain’t your babysitter. Of course you probably could use one. You’re not exactly the manliest of the pack, if you get what I’m saying.”

  As Whitney finished her taunt, Ilario grabbed onto a nearby cashier’s counter and used it to hoist himself up. Then he leaned against it as he rubbed his face.

  Whitney looked down one of the aisles. “This place hasn’t been hit. There’s plenty of cool stuff, rope, string, little wooden sticks. Never did give a shit about art.” She laughed. “But I’d like to use this rope to squeeze the life out of that little wimp who maced us.”

  She turned around and walked back toward Ilario, who did not take his eyes off the shelves Whitney was checking out.

  Whitney chuckled. “I can only imagine what Jason’s going to do to Cyrus when he finds out what happened –”

  She never got to finish her sentence, for in that moment Whitney was tackled to the floor. Her hands quickly were seized and bound – with chains.

  Ilario pulled the last bits of rope from the wall. He nodded, with a soft chuckle under his breath. These would do nicely.

  He strolled down the aisle, whistling as he walked. Soon he reached the open door to the store’s backroom. Then he stepped inside. Whitney was waiting for him – unwillingly.

  “Let me go you perverted freak!” Whitney shouted. The woman was bound at her wrists and her legs. Additionally, she was on her knees. A piece of rope was wrapped around her arms and anchored from the nearby wall.

  Ilario dropped his rope and everything else he had found in the store onto the desk. “I like you better like this. Submissive, helpless…” Since Whitney was on her knees, her rear end was bent over and pointed outward. Ilario took in the view with a smile. “…nicer to look at,” he finished as he reached over and caressed her backside.

  Whitney struggled, but the ropes were too binding. She also let out a stream of invectives as Ilario continued groping her. “You bastard! When Cyrus sees what you’ve done…”

  “Cyrus?” Ilario then squatted down next to Whitney’s face. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Cyrus is my buddy from seventh grade. Known each other for more than thirty years. He talks to me about everything. We’re like brothers. You think he gives one shit about you over me? Besides, didn’t you hear the man? There’s only prey and pets. What did you think you were?”

  Whitney’s eyes widened. The woman knew she had messed up big time.

  “Wait!” Whitney cried as she started convulsing. “We can talk. I-I’m sorry for ragging on you too much. Didn’t mean that. Hey, that was all joking!” Ilario stood up. Whitney continued protesting. “Give me a break! John and Scott gave you shit, too! John called you ‘No Balls,’ remember?”r />
  “You laughed along with him,” Ilario replied flatly. Then he started whistling as he walked by Whitney.

  “What do you want? Food? Water? Somebody to kill?” Whitney asked, “This mall’s got tons of people. We saw them in the food court. I’ll get you somebody!”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll find them,” Ilario said calmly as he sorted through his supplies while resuming whistling.

  Tears started forming in Whitney’s eyes. “Dammit, you can’t do this to me! This isn’t fair!”

  Ilario then stopped whistling. Slowly, he turned in Whitney’s direction. “Fair? You want to give me shit about fair?” Then he picked up a small wooden paddle, the smallest he could find. “Try being pantsed in front of a high school cheerleading squad. Try being told that there’s no job out there for you except for flipping hamburgers. Try being dumped six times because you’re too short, don’t have enough money, or look like Quasimodo. Yeah, I’ve had two girls tell me that.”

  Then he hovered over Whitney’s backside with the paddle. “We all got something to cry about,” he said coldly. “It’s just part of life. Nothing personal.” He raised the paddle. “Oh yeah, I heard that a lot, too,” he added.

  Back on the first floor, Carl and Tara tried to keep up with Preston, but it was almost impossible. Their friend had emerged from the battle largely unscathed, while the two of them had taken quite a beating. They tried to run, but instead they hobbled like injured rabbits.

  “Shyanne,” Carl said in a low voice, “Shyanne…”

  Preston raced for a small store about midway inside the mall. It looked like a shoe store, though most of its contents were cleaned out, likely during the mall’s looting. “Don’t worry. I got her stowed away someplace real safe,” Preston said. “You can thank Ricardo for giving me the idea.”

  “Ricardo?” Tara asked.

  “Yeah. He’s a kid I ran into. You should have seen this place. There are other survivors here, Carl! About thirty of them!” Preston answered as he jogged over the store’s threshold.

  “Well, where the hell are they? You’re not talking about the people in the food court, right?” Tara asked.

  “No.” Preston kept jogging until he reached a cashier’s desk in the very back. Then he jumped on top of it. “They’re hidden in Kelly’s Boutique’s second floor.” Then he stood up straight, his head nearly bumping on top of the ceiling.

  “Shyanne! I got Carl and Tara! I’m going to open up the ceiling now!”

  “Okay!” called Shyanne’s voice from the ceiling.

  The store ceiling was made up of wooden tiles resting on a lattice metal framework. Preston pushed up on one of the tiles, then lifted it out of the way. “Shyanne, come this way!”

  Shyanne stuck her head out of the ceiling. “Mister Carl! Miss Tara!”

  “Hey baby!” Tara laughed. “Oh thank God you’re safe. And look at you! You’re in the ceiling?”

  “How in God’s name did you think of this?” Carl asked.

  Preston reached up for Shyanne. “I told you, it was Ricardo’s idea. The lattice in the ceiling probably couldn’t hold a two hundred pound man, but a little girl’s different.” Shyanne’s legs then fished through the opening.

  “I’ll help you.” Carl climbed up onto the desk, though he still was so out of it Tara had to help him. Carl helped Preston slide Shyanne out of the ceiling. Then the girl grabbed Carl and hugged him tight.

  “I was so scared you were gone!” Shyanne cried.

  Carl winced. “Ow. I’m okay. Takes more than a few goons…”

  “Sweetie, maybe you should hug Carl later,” Tara said as she reached for Shyanne.

  The girl released Carl and instead hugged Tara. Tara grunted, but she quickly steadied herself. “Yeah, we’re both kind of banged up.”

  Preston leaped off the desk. “No kidding. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, you two –”

  “I know.” Carl patted Preston on the shoulder. “You saved both of us. You also kept Shyanne safe. Thanks. Really, you came through in a big way.”

  Preston nodded softly. “Thanks,” he said.

  Carl clutched his thighs. He still was bad off. There was no way he could stand up in another fight. “We need to bail out of here. Find the nearest exit and go.”

  “But what about the people Preston was talking about?” Tara asked.

  “He can fill us in later. We’re in no shape to take on Cyrus and his men and we have to get Shyanne to safety,” Carl replied.

  Ron pounded the water fountain with his fist. “C’mon, dammit!” He had been turning the knob on top of the fountain with no success for the past minute, when rage finally got the better of him and he started punching the side of it.

  His younger partner stumbled toward him, rubbing his eyes. “Ron! The damn water doesn’t work anymore! Don’t you remember?”

  Ron raised his head in Drake’s direction. “Piss off.” He panted loudly. He didn’t mention the fountain, likely embarrassed that he had forgotten about the lack of water service. The mace in their faces, however, had driven them batty. “That little son of a bitch…” Ron raised his hands to his face and curled his fingers. “I’m going to tear his head off.”

  “Nobody touches him but me!” Cyrus suddenly approached and shoved Drake onto the floor. “You got that! He’s my prey. Him and Soldier Boy.” Cyrus rubbed his eyes again.

  “They probably cleared out of this mall, Cyrus,” Drake said. “Maybe…maybe we still can catch them if we go now. And hey, didn’t that bunch have a child with them? We saw them when they came in here. They can’t go very fast.”

  Cyrus clutched the side of a wall near a store opening. “I beat the shit out of Soldier Boy pretty good. Yeah, they can’t have gone far.” He turned to Ron and Drake. “Get your shit together. We’re going hunting. I’ll check for Ilario and –”

  “Cyrus.”

  That voice! Cyrus froze. No, not now! Of all times, why did he have to show up right now?

  Soft footsteps cut across the floor. Three men approached from a small mall corridor nearby. Slowly, Cyrus turned around. His worst fears were confirmed on the spot.

  The man who spoke was flanked by two other men, both taller but sporting the same physique as Cyrus. That took nothing away from the man in the middle, for he still was buff for a man of his size, but Jason Malatesta was not feared only for his strength. His cheeks were sharp, giving his already piercing eyes a more menacing visage. A tremor ran down Cyrus’ legs. Quite simply, Jason’s stare seemed demonic. The man seemed otherworldly in his demeanor.

  “Jason,” Cyrus said, “good to see you made it. How was…” Cyrus coughed. “How was the hunt?”

  “Fun, but fleeting.” Jason then took a few steps closer to Cyrus, who was too scared to even walk away a single inch. “Three men, three women. Not very athletic. Not very resourceful, either. They could have made the game a lot more interesting, but I caught them just before noon.” He glanced around. “I was hoping for more fun inside this charming shopping mall. Yet I find you standing here looking as if someone beat the shit out of you.”

  Cyrus’s fear was compounded by Jason’s monotone voice. It was impossible to tell when Jason was pleased or annoyed. “You have a lot to explain,” Jason said.

  Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, sure, sure. I’ll tell you everything.”

  And so Cyrus began his story, not knowing if he would be alive by the time he finished.

  Carl pressed up against the corner of the wall, keeping himself out of sight. Then he peered around the edge. “I don’t see anybody,” he said, “We’re good.”

  He stepped out into the corridor, but pain quickly gripped his sides. “Dammit!” He clutched his throbbing chest.

  “Take it easy.” Tara walked close beside him. “Those guys did a number on you.”

  “Yeah, you’re not Superman,” Preston quipped.

  Carl tried to ignore the pain and push on. “I’ve got to be first. Got to check for trouble…”


  “We’re all doing this together, Carl,” Tara said as she kept pace with Carl.

  Carl nodded. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Tara.” He still couldn’t shake from his mind the last few moments of his battle with Cyrus. He nearly had lost Tara. He would not be able to rest easy until he escorted all of his friends from this hellish place.

  In the end, it was Preston who approached the door first. “Wait.” Carl picked up the pace to reach the door next. “Let me…let me do it.” Then he looked into Preston’s eyes. “You keep Shyanne safe. Just like you’ve been doing.”

  Preston smiled. “Right.”

  Carl then pushed the door open, pouring in so much sunlight that he nearly fell over. As it was, he and the rest of them closed their eyes.

  “Ow! My eyes!” Shyanne called.

  “Shit,” Carl said. Though nearly blind, he still pushed through the open doorway. Once outside, he bowed his head and blinked his eyes to refocus the world. It took about a minute, but soon he could raise his head and look around the outside of the mall.

  Instantly, he wished he hadn’t.

  “Oh my God,” Tara said next to him, sounding as if she had had the wind knocked out of her.

  Chapter Ten

  Carl shook. After all they had been through, why did they have to be confronted with more carnage?

  Two, no, three women laid on the cement. Their throats were red, with the flesh pressed inward in a few places. Their eyes were open. No, worse than that, they bulged from their sockets. Instantly, Carl knew what had happened. These three were strangled to death. He never had seen their faces before. None of them had taken refuge in the food court. They must have been brought here and disposed of.

  “Holy shit,” Tara whispered. The breath had been sucked out of her.

  “Doesn’t this ever end?” Preston asked.