Body Parts (Rye & Claire 1) (22 page)

“We escaped from the mine
through an air vent. We were half way up when the blast hit. It blew us
out like we were shot from a cannon.”

Rye braced himself up on his
arms and looked over at the EMTs as they loaded Claire on a gurney. Paul
saw the concern on Rye’s face as he started to get up. He put his arm
on Rye’s shoulder. “You stay put. I’ll find out how she’s doing.”

Rye reluctantly settled back
down and looked around for Bobby and Phil. He spotted them talking with
one of the NSA agents. A deep voice from behind startled him.

“Ryeland Anderson?”

He rolled onto the opposite hip and came face to face with an NSA agent squatting down next to him.

“I’d like to ask you some questions”

Rye smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. What can I tell you?”

“For starters, what was in that mine?”

“The only thing I found was
my wife and the woman she was rescuing. You can ask her, but you’ll have
to wait until she regains consciousness.”

The agent followed Rye’s gaze to the ambulance.

“Sorry about your wife, is she going to be alright?”

“I think so.” Rye watched Paul turn from the ambulance as it drove off. “I’ll know in a minute”

The agent sat in silence as Paul described Claire’s condition as scrapes, a broken finger and possible concussion.

He reached across Rye, extending his hand to Paul. “I’m agent Gray. I took the phone call from Bobby Panther.”

Paul shook the agent’s hand. “He’s over there,” Paul indicated with a nod of his head, “if you need to talk to him.”

“I think we have the Panthers covered. Everything else will come from Mr. Anderson here and his wife.”

Rye watched the ambulance as it took Claire away. “I’ve got to go,” he said.

Paul and the agent looked at each other in surprise as Rye struggled to his feet.

“I need your car.”

Paul was on his feet, limping to catch up with him. “Don’t you think you should wait for the medics to give you the once over?”

Rye never slowed his pace. “I need to be with Claire.”

The NSA agent ran to the side of Paul’s car. “If you have no objections,” he said, “I’ll ride along.”

“None here,” Paul said looking at Rye.

During the four and a half
hours back to Medford, he and Paul filled in agent Gray on Lewd and
Lascivious and the black market organ sales. Rye was careful to let
agent Gray know that the Panthers had no involvement in any of it.

Paul pulled into the circle
drive that passed in front of the hospital and let agent Gray and Rye
out. “I’ll meet you inside,” Paul said.

Rye was stiff from the ride
and still limping as he passed through the sliding double doors into the
foyer with agent Gray at his side. He didn’t recognize the woman at the
information desk. But before he could speak, agent Gray leaned across
the counter and flashed his identification. “We need the room number for
Claire Anderson?”

The desk clerk consulted a
clipboard. “Oh, she just came in. No, wait, that’s Clarice Combs.” She
looked up at Rye. “Same person?”

“That’s her,” Rye said.

“She was taken directly to the intensive care unit, go to the end of the hall, and then right, just follow the signs.”

Claire was rocked a little
from side to side as the orderly guided the gurney down the hall. The
motion took her back to a small box plummeting down a mineshaft. Down
the Starr Mine, the deepest shaft in North America—8,500 feet.
Thirteen-year-old Clarice had escaped her young pursuers only to fall
victim to their vicious prank.

For thirty-five years,
Claire had shuddered and grown pale with fear when confronted with
small, tight, confining spaces. But why had she been running to the
mine, what protection had she sought? For most of her adult life, some
fact about the event had evaded her. Claire knew she needed to remember
to be able to free herself of her phobia. Claustrophobia and selective
memory, they’d told her. She’d stopped getting counseling in her
thirties, convinced that she would suffer for the rest of her life.

Curled into a ball with her
eyes squeezed shut, little Clarice retreated to the darkest uncharted
reaches of her mind, and waited for the sudden stop she was sure would
mean certain death.

The emergency room nurse
joined the orderly in lifting Claire from the gurney to a bed in
intensive care. The ICU nurse examined her scrapes, and attached sensors
that would monitor her blood pressure and heart rate. Finally, they
gave her an IV drip.

Clarice shuddered as the
little dumbwaiter slowed and opened her eyes to the darkness when it
stopped. She couldn’t see the door open, but felt a tiny breeze. Then
the strong hand she recognized as her father’s, touched her. That was
it! Her father was in the mine. She knew that if she could just find him
she’d be safe.

Rye stood next to the ICU nurse watching Claire sleep.

“Why are her eyes moving when her eyelids are closed?” Rye said. He knew the reason but wanted to hear it from the nurse.

“She’s dreaming, what you’re seeing is called REM. Rapid eye movement.”

Reaching down, Rye placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder and gave her a soft shake.

Her eyes opened.

“How are you, Claire?”

“Fine, fine,” she said softly. Everything’s going to be alright now.”

Claire closed her eyes and
was Clarice once again, waiting for her father to help her out of the
dumbwaiter just as she knew he would.

~ THE END ~

Read the first chapter of

RETRIBUTION

Chapter One

Kate Green jolted awake
; a thud somewhere out in the
hall
drove her dreams away. She rolled over and glared at the clock numbers
that glared back, 4:00 am. She was hoping for a lazy Saturday morning.
She rolled onto her back shooting her arm out to give Richard a nudge.
He could investigate. In the old house she knew every creak and squeak,
but this hotel was filled with ghosts. Thud. Odd there it was again.

Now she was really awake.

When her hand found only warm
sheets and an empty pillow, she smiled to herself, Richard was already
up, he must have heard the noise too. She rolled back on her side and
closed her eyes but her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. The noise was
probably coming from the next room. She was awake for sure now. Maybe
when Richard returned they’d make love again. Since he’d gotten the
promotion everything had changed for the better. The move to this
beautiful little town, this wonderful suite and Richard’s promise that
today they would decide on a house. Most importantly, new hours and the
fact that he could now work from home part time. Richard was a new
man—so calm, and easy to be around, yes, definitely a new man.

The third time she heard the
thud it brought her to the edge of the bed, heart pounding. Something
must be wrong. She couldn’t find her slippers and the oak floor was cold
on her feet, the air was cool on her nude body. Leaning back she
reached under the sheets, and fished around, until she found her
nightshirt, still warm from being slept on. She thought she heard a
scraping sound as she pulled it over her head, shooting her hands
through the armholes. She stretched the end of the shirt across her
knees rocking slightly as she listened.

“Richard?” Why was she whispering?

She wobbled when she stood,
then steadied herself on the headboard, and paused before making her way
to the door. She could feel her heart beat. What was she afraid of?
They weren’t the only occupants of this old hotel. “Richard?” A little
louder this time, Kate pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her
chin. “Richard!” Not quite a yell, surly he heard. Maybe he’d had a
heart attack and was pounding on the wall to get her attention. His old
position with the company had been so stressful, this promotion had been
a lifesaver in many ways. She walked briskly down the short hall that
lead to the living room and found it empty, turned and pushed the
swinging door to the kitchen. It hit something and she pushed harder.

Suddenly her feet felt warm
and when she looked down a black ooze was flowing around her toes.
Without thinking Kate slammed her shoulder against the door not taking
her eyes off her feet but it still wouldn’t budge, then she heard that
thud again. “Richard!” This time it was a scream. An arm had fallen
across the opposite side of the door, a glimpse as the door swung in and
she saw a hand, it wore Richard’s class ring. Then she was pushing with
all her strength, and as if someone on the opposite side suddenly let
go, she was through the door, turning, stumbling, and kneeling. Richard
was curled in a fetal position lying in an ever-growing silhouette of
black.

So much blood, she wanted to call someone who’d know what to do, she looked for the phone but remembered it was in the bedroom.

She suddenly felt herself
being urged to her feet by a pair of hands at her armpits. When Kate
turned she heard herself gasp, this was no Good Samaritan, no individual
bent on helping. The black clad figure stood directly in front of her
and reached forward grabbing a handful of shirt raising it until her
breasts were exposed. Her mind screamed rape. In that same moment she
understood it might save her life, yes take my body. I don’t want to
die, not now, not so soon. Not this way.

She never saw the knife but
felt a pain next to her navel, the way you might feel a slice to the
finger while peeling an apple. The tip of the short knife entered just
to the right of the diaphragm and was quickly retracted. Kate fell to
her knees supporting herself with both arms. She forced herself to look
up. Suddenly a wave of relief masked the pain. He was gone. Maybe he’d
been scared off, or never intended to kill her. From the corner of her
eye she saw his feet and her pain returned with a vengeance. She never
got the chance to turn her head and look, but heard a whoosh. Thud.
Kate’s look of surprise was captured forever as her severed head hit the
floor.

* * *

Kit Crumb
is a physical fitness coach, martial arts instructor, former physical therapist and
EMT
living in the Cascade mountains near Ashland Oregon.
BodyParts
is his first published novel.

Kit can be contacted at [email protected]