The Deadly Series

Chapter 4

Isabella could hear Megan's muffled screams, her kicks against the floor as she was pulled across the room. She stood unable to think of something she could do to help, the pounding of her heart in her chest deafening in her ears.

Suddenly, without a plan in mind, except to come to the aid of Megan, she sprinted after them and jumped on Joe's back when she caught up to him. Hitting, biting and scratching anywhere she could find skin. Surely, between the two of them, they would be able to fight him off and escape.

While holding Megan around her waist with one arm, Joe loosened his hand on her mouth long enough to take a swipe at Isabella. She grasped hold of his lower side as his solid fist hit her on the side of the head. She lost her hold and fell to the floor in a dazed heap.

I didn't see that one coming!

"Run, run, get away, get help, Isabella. Go! Go! Run!" Megan screamed.

Hearing Megan's cries sent a shot of renewed energy through Isabella. Her heart lurched in her chest and sweat beaded on her upper lip. She ran ahead of them, out the door, across the porch, down the stairs into the street, and came to a screeching halt. What to do? Which way to go?

She looked up and down both sides of the street. Each looked the same, rows of tall narrow houses, similar in size and shape, color being the only main difference. Long skinny alleyways three to four feet wide separated the houses. Large oak trees spanned the street from yard to yard, making a canopy covering the street.

She glanced behind her. Amanda, not Joe, was now struggling with Megan, dragging her kicking and screaming to the van parked nearby.

Isabella made a quick U-turn running through the alleyway toward the back of the house. Her knees weakened and breathing became more strained as she ran down the lengthy passageway. She stumbled and fell on the loose stones covering the ground. With the gravel embedded in the scratches, she didn't risk taking time to brush them off. She crawled for a few feet, then got back up and resumed running. Limping, with her knees bleeding, she slowed down in hope of catching her breath. She took a chance to look behind her. Good, no one followed.

She stopped and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees while she tried to catch her breath. When she turned her head around and squinted upward, she gaped straight at Joe's bull-like face.

Without a word, he grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her back the way she had come. He continued to tow her over the gravel, even after she fell to her knees. Since she only wore a T-shirt and running shorts, the loose stones and pebbles scraped skin off her arms, knees, legs, and ankles.

She screamed out as pain tore through her, "Let me go! Help! Somebody, please help me! Stop, you're hurting me."

He covered her mouth with his other stinking hand, muffling her words. Reaching down, putting a tight hold around her waist, he picked her up. She squirmed, trying to wrest herself free, trying to pull his fingers from her waist and mouth.

As soon as he got her inside the apartment, he slapped her across the face knocking her to the floor. She felt something hot, stinging at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue automatically flicked the spot and she tasted blood mixed with salt. She shook her head to clear it while touching her mouth. When she took her hand away, it was covered in blood. Tears of pain, anger, and frustration ran down her cheeks.

She turned her eyes on Joe. "I'll make you pay for this, you son of a b***h!"

He lifted his hand to hit her again. She flinched and rolled into a ball to protect her face from the next punishing blow. It never came.

Instead, she heard Amanda yell, "Stop it, Joe, right now. Boss'll really be mad and won't pay us, 'specially if we deliver damaged goods. We need the money, man. We need this job."

Amanda helped Isabella off the floor, none too gently, and pushed her onto a bed. She felt a pinprick sensation in her arm, followed instantly by that old familiar woozy feeling. Isabella drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * * *

Isabella sat up, shook the cobwebs from her head, and looked around. Everything appeared muddled, obscured, her mind bewildered. She turned her head to one side. Joe stood beside the bed with some clothes and a pair of sandals in his hands. He threw them at her.

"Get up and shower," he ordered crisply, "and then put these on. Right now. We gotta get a move-on."

She stood, staggered, and paused to steady herself. "I said, get moving," he bellowed. "Now! We got things to do, and remember what I tol' you."

She stumbled into the bathroom, not because he told her to but because showering and washing her dirty body and matted hair would make her feel better. The cuts on her body weren't serious, but they stung like the dickens when the water hit them. She dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and sandals, and towel-dried her hair. She walked out of the bathroom refreshed, more human, and ready to do battle if necessary. With a clearer head, she felt more confident than she had in quite a while.

Eagerly, she focused on her dilemma, concentrated on finding a solution. She had to get away from this hellhole. Get away and put this horrific experience behind her. Get away before she spent the rest of her life sleepwalking.

Isabella struggled as Joe held her left arm. The two of them went through the open door, crossed the front porch, and went down a few steps. She took a fleeting glance around, looking for anyone. She had to get someone's attention. She had to find someone, anyone, to give some kind of signal to for help. Getting away, far away, from Joe and Amanda stayed foremost on her mind.

As if he read her thoughts, Joe put his hand into his jacket pocket. A sharp pain slammed into her side as he pushed a hard, blunt object into her ribs. She yelped, jumping away from him.

He jerked her arm brutally back toward him and pulled her close against his side. He shook her. "Look at me. Look at me, girl, and keep your mouth shut or this gun will go off." His eyes were dark, his lips stiff, as he thrust the gun against her ribs.

She swung her head around coming to an abrupt halt in front of his face.

"If you think I'm bluffin', just try me," he snapped at her. "I've been itchin' to take you out anyway. Remember, keep your eyes on me, no lookin' round. You understand? First time I find you lookin' somewhere else, I'm takin' you out. Right here. Right now. You got that? We're gonna take a little walk in this beautiful park." He growled low in his throat as he jabbed her, hard in the ribs, again with the gun, to make sure she understood.

She winced, nodding in understanding. She crinkled up her face, tried to breath in air away from his putrid exhaled breath. She trembled and her knees wobbled as Joe pushed and pulled her along. Where is he taking me? What is he going to do with me?