Grasp of Darkness

Chapter Three

Mr. Dimitri Colombo had always insisted upon calling her his wife, even when she was not married to him. Everyone addressed her as Mrs. Phoebe Colombo, and if anyone had ever so much as breathed her maiden name, Jacobson, their head would be put on a spike. She had missed her maiden name for so long; Colombo felt foreign on her tongue and brought a parasite into her stomach.

She could not allow herself to become Mrs. Colombo again, and she couldn't leave Angela to that fate either, nor Caty. Panic raced through her veins; as the door closed, she lunged for the phone next to her, dialing Angela's cell phone.

"Hello?" Angela said, a babbling Caty in the background. "Who is this?"

"It's me, it's Phoebe. Listen, pack the baby's things and leave. I got into an accident; they're coming. You need to leave right now, we don't have much time," Phoebe rattled on, assessing her situation. She stood, walking toward the window and gazing upon the street. It all looked normal, nothing suspicious. That didn't matter; while Dimitri undoubtedly had a flair for the dramatic, he could be inconspicuous when he desired.

"Shit." A noise was heard in the background. Angela sighed, "Caty, don't say shit, okay? That's a word for Mommy and Auntie Phoebe."

"Don't get distracted, Angela; take the money under the mattress and pack up the baby's things. Now. I'll meet you at the bus station no matter what, I swear. Wait for me there." Phoebe hung up abruptly, scouring the room for her clothes. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit."

She opened the door a crack, peeking down the hallway. Her heart lurched. Four men in black suits stood at the front desk, a woman arguing back and forth with them. They were clearly not family, but they were from Dimitri. She rolled her eyes before closing the door again, taking the ponytail on her wrist and wrapping up her hair in a ponytail. Opening the window, she looked down upon the streets below. There was a fire escape below her window, luckily; all she had to do was jump down onto the platform and climb down the ladder.

Before she jumped, she ran back to the door, lowering the shade and locking the door. A moment's hesitation could end her freedom, but even a few more seconds would be worth it. Hesitation would be worth it, in the end at least.

Banging resounded behind her, the doorknob jiggling. "Mrs. Colombo?" shouts rang. "Mrs. Colombo, open the door now."

"Tell Colombo to suck on my ass-cheeks, motherfuckers!" she shouted back, jumping from her window as a bullet flew through the window. She collapsed onto her knees on the landing, heads poked out from the window above her as she scrambled for the ladder. There would be more men in the streets, and they would of course be looking for a woman in a hospital gown, complete with rainbows and unicorns around the papery material. That didn't matter, she thought, as she sprinted down the street, raising her arms above her head as a cab drove by. "Taxi! Taxi!"

She was surprised when the car stopped, but she didn't care as she threw the door open and dove inside, slamming it shut behind her. "Drive," she commanded. When the man's face paled, confused, she continued, more urgently this time, "Drive. Bus station. Now; go!"

...

"Are you alright, miss?" the driver asked hesitantly, his brows furrowed in the rear-view mirror. She looked at him, and then at the price that was ramping up on the meter.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," she smiled, her knee bouncing and her fingers wringing as she looked over her shoulder again, fully prepared to find a line of black cars following her.

"Right, of course. It was just that I saw you jump out of a window in a hospital gown–"

"I have a career in bungee jumping out of hospital windows without a cord. I make really good money off of it."

"In a hospital gown?"

"It gets me into character."

"Right."

The rest of the ride was silent as the bus station fast approached, an isolated place where Angela and Caty would no doubt be inside, waiting for her with three tickets to their next world, another life they'd have to build and break down again when people caught onto their scent again. Disappointment filled her as she reflected on her time in California; they were doing so well, hanging on for a few months. It was the longest they'd gone without having to pack up, even though they'd only done it once before. Her mistake had almost cost them their lives–the mistake to fight, to defend a stupid store instead of her identity.

"Here we are," the driver said. When Angela and Caty came out, money in hand, greeting her, he held up a hand. "You look like you've been through the ringer. This one is on me, Sweetheart. Have a good one."

"Thank you," Phoebe whispered, patting the top of the car before grabbing onto Angela's hand, walking into the bus station, the promise of a new life in the air.

...

Their knees bounced as they waited in silence for their bus to arrive. Their eyes continued traveling out the window, all but preparing to reach for the gun tucked into Angela's boot and shooting whoever walked through the door.

Caty was sound asleep in Angela's arms. "If they show up," Angela said, "I want you to take Caty into the bathroom. He can find me, but he can never find her. Never." She turned to Phoebe. "Do you promise me?"

"It won't come to that," Phoebe assured, but stared at the sleeping child, tucked safely from the horrors of the world. "Our bus will be here in–" her eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, illuminated by fluorescent lights and the sun setting outside of the window "--forty minutes. That's not that bad."

"We've been under worse constraints, but it's still a long time. Long enough for them to figure it all out."

"But they won't."

"We can't know that for sure."

"They won't. I'm calling it right here. I'll put money down on it." Any attempt to lighten the mood between them was appreciated, even Angela poking fun at her current attire was better than letting the darkness take over and suffocate them both.

"How much?"

"One hundred."

"Deal."

Thirty-five minutes came and went, the sky growing dark and their hopes as well as anxiety reaching a peak. Even Caty began to stir in her sleep, sensing her mother's erratic heartbeat.

The bus pulled into the front, and the three of them left the station, picking up the single suitcase they had packed with their belongings. As soon as their feet crossed the threshold, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief. Safe, Angela and Phoebe thought. Safe.

Getting seated was no issue; Caty was not quite old enough to have her own seat, and they were used to taking turns holding her while the other slept. Phoebe put the child on her hip as Angela tucked the bag in the overhead cabin, sitting down next to her, hidden behind rows upon rows.

The wheels began to roll, pulling away from the station, away from California. After handing Caty back to Angela, Phoebe dared close her eyes, just for a second before the bus stopped abruptly, her eyes flying open.

"Grab the gun," Angela whispered. "Right now. Right fucking now."

"Fuck," Phoebe hissed, dipping to the ground. Footsteps sounded down the aisle of the bus. She couldn't find the gun, but Angela's leg stiffening was unmistakable.

"Fuck," Angela said.

Phoebe shot up, meeting the eyes of the man who had held her captive in the cage of his arms for far too long. "Fuck."

"Fuck!" Caty shouted, a bright grin on her face, looking to her mother, waiting for the smile of encouragement she usually sought out, and was surprised to find nothing but fear painted on her mother's lovely face.

Ironically, it was because her own father was standing four feet away from her.

Phoebe wished she had stayed in the hospital and taken her chances instead of paying for three useless tickets to a place no one would be seeing that night.