“In here,” said Elijah. He tried the locked door I’d tried earlier. When it didn’t open, he stepped back and kicked.
I heard the crack of wood, but the door was still closed. Elijah kicked again, and the door burst open.
I entered right behind Elijah.
Gwen was on the floor, a towel stuffed in her mouth, her hands tied behind her back.
“Gwen!” Elijah exclaimed. “Gwen. You’re all right. It’s over, now.”
He knelt beside her and took the towel out of her mouth.
“Axel! Elijah! Thank God,” she said.
I knelt in front of her, reached around and untied her hands.
“How did you find me?” she said.
Elijah and I, we each took her by an arm and helped her up.
“We looked,” I said.
She flashed a smile. I winked back.
For a moment, seeing Gwen on the floor, gagged and bound, I thought I had frozen; I stood perfectly still while the Earth continued to spin. I’d heard about people in traumatic situations talk about how everything slows down, how time seems to stand still.
For me, at that moment, it was the complete opposite of that. I felt the speed of our world whipping through space. I thought it would whip right by me, that I would be left with no ground to stand on. The moment was so fast that its speed affected all the other moments leading up to it. A second ago I was getting dressed for my first day of school and then I took a step and Elijah was removing a gag from Gwen’s mouth.
I put a hand to my chest to reassure myself I hadn’t forgotten how to breathe.
Gwen kept telling us she was all right. “I just need to get out of here.” She touched her cheek as if it were sore. She looked disoriented. “I’m fine,” she said to Nolan. “I’m fine, really,” she said to J.P.
We escorted Gwen out of the room.
Santiago had dragged Michael out of the entranceway. He now sat on the kitchen floor curled up against the wall holding his broken arm, rocking slowly back and forth and cursing under his breath.
“We’re going to have to call the police,” I said.
“Really?” said Santiago. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”
I pointed to Michael. “We’re not going to let him get away with this.”
Michael turned to me with hurt and rage in his eyes. “You broke my arm.”
“Accidents happen,” I said. I looked at Gwen, but her eyes were focused on Michael. She breathed heavily through her nose and ground her teeth.
“The police?” Santiago said to me. “You know, we shouldn’t be here. We should be at the base.”
I rubbed my chin.
“Yeah,” said Gwen. “Why are you guys here?” Her eyes swept from Santiago to J.P. then to me. When our eyes met, she quickly darted her glance back to the floor.
“We came to find you,” said J.P.
“Thank goodness we did,” said Elijah. He put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder.
She turned from him, shrugging off his touch. “I need my phone.” She perused the kitchen counters quickly then addressed Michael. “Where’s my phone.”
He didn’t answer. He simply grimaced and rocked against the wall.
Santiago nudged him with his foot. “The lady asked you a question.”
“It’s in the car,” said Michael, defeatedly.
Santiago grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off the floor. “Stop with this ‘it’s in the car’ shit!” He shook him and pinned him against the wall.
“No. Wait,” said Gwen. “He’s right. I remember. I lost it in the car when—” She stopped herself and exhaled deeply. “When he grabbed me and...”
She didn’t finish her sentence.
I touched her on the arm but she moved away from me.
“Where’s your car, Michael?” she asked.
Michael looked from her to Santiago, who had his collar balled up in his fist and his thick forearm pressed hard against his chest, then back to Gwen. He answered her question, in detail, and quickly.
21
Elijah
The kitchen in Michael’s apartment was too small: too small to hold nine hyper-vigilant Marines, a recently rescued victim and a blubbering aggressor. I had already kicked down one door, and I was about ready to start knocking down walls.
“The keys,” Santiago said. He stuck out his hand, cupped palm up.
Michael motioned with his head to Taylor then to Tristan.
Travis rattled the keys in his hand.
Santiago motioned with his head to the front door. “Go with Gwen. Go get her phone.” He looked back at Michael. “We’ll see what we’re going to do with this scum.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said to Travis. I didn’t know what Santiago had in mind, but I knew I didn’t want to be there to find out. Plus, I had to get out of that kitchen before I punched a hole in the wall.
We walked down the two flights of stairs without saying a word, Travis in the lead, Gwen trailing behind us.
The parking garage lit up automatically as soon as Travis entered. I held the door open for Gwen, but she stopped, frozen, at the threshold. She put one arm around her waist, her other arm crossed her chest and she clutched her shoulder. With wide eyes she scanned the garage.