Follow the Rules Ch. 04

"My god, Rachel. My god," Zachary whispered, his face a mask of horror. His hands traced over me as he knelt down in front of me, over my face and my body, but didn't touch. "Which one of them did this to you?"

I shook my head, though I wasn't sure it was discernable from my violent trembling. The pain and the fear and, most of all, the relief when Zachary had come for me exploded inside me, leaving me weak and disoriented. Just one look at his face, and I knew that I hadn't misjudged him. He was on my side. I still didn't know the details of why he was running with the gang, maybe he was still undercover? But the horror on his face at seeing me hurt was unmistakable. Thank god.

"It had to be Jose," said the black man. "That's who brung her to the room and Alan was busy with the explosives."

Zachary shut his eyes tightly, but his voice was quiet. "Thank you."

"Yeah, that's right. But consider us even now, you hear? I brung her here and didn't fuck her when I could have. So we're square, you and me."

"All right," Zachary said, his voice so low I could barely make it out. "But not a word."

"Nah. I ain't no tattle." I didn't think his word on that was very reliable, seeing as he'd just ratted out Jose. But he seemed to be on our side, sort of, and we also appeared to be short on friends.

The black man left, leaving Zachary and I alone. Zachary didn't turn back to me right away, but instead hung his head with his eyes closed. I was still shaky and, if I was honest, still nervous about Zachary's true colors, so I stayed silent. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned to me.

"How?" The softness of his voice contrasted sharply with his flashing eyes and labored breathing.

"They came to my apartment." My voice shook, as if I were shivering, cold -- but I felt nothing. The numbness, no matter how temporary, was welcomed. "You said not to open the door, but they were...they were cops. I thought you'd sent them."

His eyes burned with intensity, and I longed to step back, but I could hardly move from my spot on the floor. He must have seen my fear, though, because he gentled his expression. "It's okay. It'll be okay. Let me see how bad it is."

He reached his hand out to my torn clothing, but I shrunk back into the floor, clutching the pieces together. His hand froze in the air. "I won't hurt you. Please."

But I couldn't. It wasn't about fearing him, or maybe it was, just a little. But mostly I couldn't be seen like this.

His hand dropped, and so did his head. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. You have no idea. I'll get you out of this, I swear it."

"Okay," I said. I didn't know how he'd do it, but getting out sounded good. Damn good. I wanted to get out, with him, and be back at my apartment. I wanted it to be like before this had happened. Could I ever be normal? I didn't really see how, but that's because I was here, in this hell. Once he got me out, I could figure it out.

Hope. It does spring eternal, apparently.

"How bad did...Did he..." Zachary swallowed, apparently unable to continue the sentence.

But I knew the question. And that made me think of the answer. My gaze fell to Zachary's waistline -- his belt. His eyes followed mine, and then widened.

"He used a belt on you? My god..." Zachary broke off. His hands tightened into fists and I flinched away. "No, baby. Don't be afraid of me. I'm sorry. I'm just angry at him. Furious. But not at you. I'll never hurt you."

Maybe not, but he hadn't touched me, either. He'd tried to, just to look at my bruises, but not to hold me or comfort me.

Maybe he didn't want me anymore. I must look disgusting, all puffy from the bruises and from crying. And I'd been touched by another man, beaten and raped to be specific. Would Zachary want me after that? Wet tears rolled down my cheeks, stinging the open cuts.

"Ah, god, baby. I'm so sorry. God." His voice cut off abruptly, hoarse and rough, but I couldn't see his face through my own tears. I could hear him though, taking a series of rapid breaths. Upset. He was upset. But still, he didn't touch me.

"Listen. Sweetheart. I want to...god, it doesn't matter what I want. I just wish it could be different right now, but we have to focus now, for us to get out of this. We're in real deep, and it's not going to be easy getting out. We need to act fast. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I didn't, not really. Zachary was a cop, so why couldn't he get us out? Why couldn't he call up the cops and give them our location? "Why?"

"Some really bad shit is going down right now. That's why they sent me in. I'm supposed to be out there stopping it but I just tipped them off and they'll have to handle it. I need to get you out of this."

I focused on his face as my tears dried. He looked almost pleading, but for what?

"I know I let you down. I picked my job over you the first time. And then I left you today, that's how you got into this. But now I am with you 100%. I'm getting you out of this."

"Hey, your job involves saving people's lives. And I haven't lost mine, yet." I tried for a joke, but clearly failed as his face darkened.

"You won't," he said sharply. "You're going to get out of this."

He rested his forehead against mine and breathed heavily. Then he pulled back, his face encased in an emotionless mask.

"Come." He reached his hand down and pulled me up. I swayed gently and he steadied me with his hand at my elbow. I longed for more, for an embrace of comfort, but that's not what he was offering.

He pulled a gun from his waist that I hadn't noticed before and glanced out of the door. Then he pulled me out and down the hallway back toward the way I had been brought in. A shout warned us that someone was coming, but we had no time to hide or to run back to the room. He grabbed me and held me in front of him, the gun pressed to my temple, just as a man rounded the corner in front of us.

The man, who I didn't recognize, but was dressed just as scarily as all the others, flicked his gaze between us. He said to Zachary, "We got to hurry, yo."

"I know," Zachary said. "Why do you think I'm taking her out of here?"

The other man's looked me up and down my body, and a leer darkened his face. "I can get rid of her for you."

"No," Zachary said sharply. "She's mine."

The man put his hands up, the leer still firmly in place. "Okay, man. I get it. All yours." And then he turned and continued down the hallway at a brisk pace.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, but cast a wary glance at Zachary, who was watching him go. I had every reason to believe that Zachary was on my side. He was law enforcement, clearly trusted by them. And I'd only ever see him protect me. But he played the bad guy so convincingly. What if he really was taking me somewhere to get rid of me? It seemed unlikely, and there'd be no need to keep up the charade if he was. After all, he had a gun. I had to do what he said regardless of whether I thought he was a good guy or not. Still, I was nervous. I resolved that once we got out of here, I'd try to split from Zachary. If I could get out of this mess, out of immediate danger, then things would clear up for me. I could check out Zachary's story, maybe talk to the police or something -- not that I was looking forward to that. But the first step was to get out of here, and Zachary was doing that for me.

He'd taken my hand again and pulled me down another hallway. We stopped in front of a door, and Zachary turned to me.

"Okay, listen." He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to get in the black Explorer in there. Start the engine and get into drive, but hold the brake. When the garage door opens, you need to floor it out of there and off this land. If you follow this farm road east 20 miles and then -- "

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "You're not coming with me?"

"There's guys all over this place. I've got to distract them so that you can get out."

"Then how will you get out?"

He just shook his head.

What did that mean? Could it possibly mean that he was on their side after all and that's why he wanted to stay? But if they saw him fighting them, they would hardly accept him back into their folds. "Zachary?"

"It's the only way. I'm going to try to follow if I can swing it. But the important thing is that you get to the police station. They'll keep you safe."

"And I'm just supposed to leave you here to die? Are you insane?"

"Christ, Rachael. I need to get you out of here and I'm running out of time." When I cringed, he added. "I'll follow after, okay? Once I see you on the road, I'm going to grab one of the other cars and go."

With that, he pushed me into the garage. My footsteps echoed as I half-ran to the Explorer. It felt huge as I climbed in. New, too, with all sorts of controls they hadn't had the last time I'd driven a car. Which, admittedly, had been awhile. I could hardly afford one on my pay at the bar, and I didn't really need one with city transportation. But I put the keys in the ignition and the car purred to a start. Drive, drive, where the gear shift? Finally, I was waiting with my foot on the brake, fingers clutching the steering wheel, staring at a closed garage door.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, the garage door jerked and then rumbled upwards. It sounded abnormally loud in the previous quiet of the garage. Sunlight filled the garage and as at it reached my eyes, I moved my foot onto the gas and pressed down hard. The driveway was long and curvy, but the car roared under my command. It went a bit too fast, even, and I almost swerved into tree.

Even through the thick car doors, I heard shouts behind me, and then gunfire.

Shit.

Zachary was still back there. This was a horrible idea. I never should have agreed to leave without him, but it was too late now. Going back would be suicide for the both of us. I had to hope that he could find a way out, but with a sinking feeling, I remembered his words and the look in his eyes as he'd said them. This was already a suicide mission. His.

He'd known he wouldn't be able to come after me. He'd done this anyways because it was the only way to get me out. But still, even knowing that, even hating myself for it, I couldn't turn back. Not when he'd already made this sacrifice. I had to make it worth something by getting free. And maybe. Maybe there was hope for him. He was resourceful and smart and he'd gotten himself out of bad scrapes before, hadn't he? Against the odds, he could do it again. I had to believe that.

Careening through the twisted path, the giant car bounced in over bumps. The road ahead cleared and I could see the turn off onto the paved farm road Zachary had told me about. East, he'd said. Fuck, if only I knew which way that was. Something about the sun and it setting. Shit, which way.

And as I was frantically trying to figure out the sun setting patterns, I heard the rev of an engine from behind me. I glanced back to find one of the other cars gaining on me. Yes! Zachary had made it.

Reaching the end of the road, I started to make the turn left. Almost in slow motion, I glanced back to see if Zachary would follow, and saw instead a hand coming out of the passenger side window. No. No one should be with him. And the glint of metal. A gun was in his hand. Bang! A blast sounded in my ears at the same time as the car popped up into the air, halfway through its turn. A shudder and a skid, and then the car was still turning. Too far. It was rolling over onto the street. A sharp pain blasted the side of my face, and then everything went dark.

* * *

The first thing I knew was that my mouth tasted bitter.

I struggled to open my eyes, but it was fuzzy. Slowly, fuzzy shapes firmed up: a leather sofa, a microwave, Zachary with his hands behind his back and his head hanging down. Oh god.

Where were we? This didn't feel like the house anymore. The carpeting against my legs felt rough and thin, more appropriate for an office than a house. And there were all sorts of paperwork posted on the wall. I squinted my eyes to try and make them out.

"Report child abuse," one posted proclaimed. What the hell?

"Labor Laws." Okay, some sort of office. The police station, maybe? That would be great, except she doubted she'd be stuck in an office with her -- yep, she couldn't move her hands -- with her hands tied and Zachary tied up with her.

"Stomp Out Bullying" and "Earth Day". Oh shit. This was the school. It had to be the one they were targeted, which meant they were about to be blown up.

This room didn't have windows, I guessed it to be some sort of teacher's lounge now, but it had to be nighttime already. It had already been late afternoon when I'd driven out of that house, something she'd confirmed with her ultimately useless sun setting in the east calculations. But even that information didn't really matter since she didn't know the schedule for the bomb. Zachary had been on the planning, though. He might know.

"Zachary," she whispered.

He didn't move.

"Zachary," I said in a low, urgent voice.

Still nothing.

A cloud still dimmed her senses, probably a linger result of the head injury I'd sustained. But there wasn't time to linger. I didn't know if the men were returning or if the bomb was about to go off. I just knew I had to get us out of there.

I began to struggle against the ropes. But after a few minutes, all I'd succeeded in doing was cutting into my wrists.

Perhaps I should focus more on waking Zachary.

"Zachary, please!"

I scooted toward him like an overlarge inchworm. My feet were closer to him, and as soon as they were within range, I tapped his feet with my own. He stirred. Thank god, he was alive.

But his head didn't lift.

I kicked again, harder this time, apologizing in my head as I did it.

This time he groaned.

"Zachary. You have to wake up."

"Rachel?" he mumbled.

"Yes, it's me. We're both tied up in the school."

That did it. He looked up at me, and -- oh god, one of his eyes was blackened, the rest of his face scratched up and dirtied -- and said, "no, no. You got away."

The disbelief in his eyes crushed me. "I'm so sorry. It didn't work. They shot the car, maybe the tires and I blacked out. I only woke up here."

He shut his eyes, slumped, defeated. I had done that to him.

Then he shook his head as if to clear it. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. There's not a clock in here, and the microwave's facing the other way."

He shook his head. "It can't be morning yet, or people would already be arriving. It's probably not even that late. I don't think I was out for that long."

I eyed his torn clothing. "What did... I mean, how were you..."

"Just a few bruises. No worse than you." He laughed bitterly.

Though I doubted it was meant to be an insult to me, it stung. "Please," I whispered. Please don't be angry. Please stay with me.

"Ah, god, Rachel." He leaned his head back to the wall. "I don't know what I'm doing here. How am I supposed to protect anyone if I can't even protect the woman..."

"I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" His voice was odd. Detached. As if this was a curiosity, not something he was truly invested in.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I shouldn't have opened the doors for them, no matter what."

"You couldn't have known, Rachel. They were dressed as cops, how could you know?"

"I don't know. I should have listened to you. And then the escape -- I ruined it. I couldn't drive that car very well and I just..."

"No," he said flatly. "It wasn't your fault. It was theirs and mine, but not yours."

But his empty tone was hardly convincing. It was a platitude, I thought, something you had to say to someone who'd been beaten and raped because you weren't allowed to call her an idiot. But I knew better. I deserved this. And worse, I'd gotten him into this. The fact that he hadn't even mentioned escape, or attempted in the past few minutes spoke volumes about how screwed we both were.

But escape attempts went out the window when we heard footsteps thudding down the hallway.

"Let me talk, okay? I don't know how ... I mean, I can't... Jesus. I'm going to do what I can. If there's any way that I can get you out of this, I will." But the bleakness in his voice made it clear. We were both dead. I felt so guilty for ever doubting him. How could I have been questioning his loyalties when he'd risked his career, his very life, repeatedly for me.

The door swung open, revealing the guy who had raped me earlier. He came in before the other man, but the way he stepped aside for him made it clear that guy was above him in the feeding chain. He was older than most of these guys, with greying hair. He was still formidable, though, and scarier, in a way, than the others. He had a hard look in his eyes that said he had no compunction about killing. Probably enjoyed it. Something to look forward to, then, for the both of us.

The older man walked straight to Zachary and punched him in the gut. I cringed, but stayed silent, the sounds of Zachary's choked breaths filling the room as he recovered.

"It is a sad day when I cannot even trust la familia, eh?" he said. He looked over at me, noticing my expression. "You did not know, senorita? This is my sister's son. She married a gringo, but it shouldn't have mattered. He still has the blood of my family, and this is what he does." Just as Zachary had begun to sit relatively straight again, the man punched him in the stomach again. Zachary doubled over, gasping for breath, and ended up lying on the floor, his hands still tied behind his back.

"I am Carlos Garcia. Ah, I see you have heard of me. This is good. I enjoy my infamy. And I know you are already acquainted with cousin, Juan. He has told me about you. He says you are most pleasing."

Julio walked over to me, and I cringed back, but was unable to really move away. He trailed a finger along my cheek. "Would you like to please me?"

"Never," I said between my teeth, together to keep them from shaking.

He smiled, showing me surprisingly white teeth. "I like it when they don't break so easy. You will please me, after all."

"Get away from her," Zachary managed to ground out.

Carlos didn't even bother turning away from me. "You've had her, too, then? She will be the family whore."

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Zachary said.

"Strong words for a man about to die. You are lucky I want her. I could turn her over to the men, make her camp whore. She could get fucked to death by thirty men."

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to find some last dregs of strength inside me to survive this. I found none. I wanted to beg, to cry, to plead, but none of it would matter. If I had to die, if I had to get raped, then the least I could do was do it with dignity.

But dignity was one thing this man wanted from me. He stripped me quickly, cutting the clothes off my body around the rope at my wrists. With a signal from Carlos, Juan took up a stance right next to Zachary, a gun to his head.

"Now, whore. You will do as I say, or Zachary will get hurt. You will get hurt either way. But I have seen the way you look at him, and I am not often wrong about people. You will suffer it for him."

"No," Zachary choked out. Juan kicked him viciously, causing Zachary to gasp for air.

Carlos sat in one of the leather chairs, leaning back, totally relaxed. "Come and suck my dick."

Oh god. And he was right, wasn't he? Even if we were going to die at the end, painful deaths, I'd do everything in my power to keep Zachary from getting hurt until then.

I knelt, and then stumbled back onto the floor. I was dizzy from the pain, and maybe lack of food or water, and my hands tied behind my back were throwing my balance. But eventually I caught myself and shuffled on my knees over to Carlos. He'd watched me the whole time with amusement on his eyes. This was entertainment for him, he the cat, and I the mouse.