Shattered

Chapter 30 Mark

"It doesn't take a lot of strength to hang on. It takes a lot of strength to let go." J.C. Watts

Bradley was having some sort of post-traumatic stress breakdown. She had been so strong the last few days after almost losing her life that it was inevitable all of it would become too much to deal with and eventually hit her. But, the timing couldn't have been worse. They were in the fight of their lives and she could hardly stand on her own.

Phil was plastered against the front door peering out the side window, holding a golf club in his hand. "Emma, when I open this door, you run straight for my Jeep. Understand?"

"What about Tommy?" she shook her head.

"He'll find us," promised Mark nudging her closer to Phil.

"But..." she lost her words when Phil grabbed her wrist.

"Ready?" he asked Mark. Mark nodded. "Emma, run!"

The door flung open and Phil pulled Emma out behind him in a fury. Mark wasn't as quick with Bradley slung over his shoulder but he crossed the porch only steps behind Phil and Emma. The car was only fifty feet from the porch, on the other side of the Mustang but progress seemed impossible.

Emma rounded the front of the Jeep towards the passenger side and let out a blood curdling scream. Mark froze tightening his grip around Bradley, still hanging limp over his shoulder. Phil stopped, as well, one hand on the driver's door handle, the other clutching the eight iron. He slowly turned towards his best friend and motioned for Mark to continue to the Jeep. But, Mark couldn't find his feet.

Emma was still standing like a deer in headlights. Phil slowly made his way towards Emma and immediately dropped the golf club when he reached her side. Mark still couldn't see who or what was there, but he heard the voice, one he didn't recognize.

"Move, Catalano," the husky thick southern accent commanded. "Stand next to Harber."

Mark started to step backwards towards the house when he suddenly felt something hard press into his back. "Don't move, Boy Wonder," another man in a thick southern accent commanded. "Put her down."

"She's...not...well," he managed to say.

Phil and Emma backed up towards Mark, another man in black clothing trailing behind them. He was wearing a white plastic mask. Mark noticed the silver gun in his hand and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled tight around his face.

"I told you to put her down," the man behind him said jabbing him in the back again.

Mark slowly guided Bradley to the grass. "Don't move," he whispered before slowly backing away, putting his hands up mirroring Phil and Emma.

"What the hell do you want?" asked Phil.

"Get inside the house!" the man in front of them waved the gun. Mark purposely left Bradley where she was, hoping they'd leave her outside and then she could make a run for it. They quietly followed the command. To his dismay, the other man, Evil 2, also wearing a matching mask, was now picking Bradley off the ground.

Mark was at a loss. There is no training that can prepare the average person to deal with this type of crisis and come out on top. He shuffled his feet forward trying to focus on every detail imaginable. It was impossible, they didn't even know who they were dealing with.

Once in the family room, the lights remained off. Bradley was dropped on the couch and Mark was able to make eye contact with her. She slightly nodded, giving him reassurance that she was aware of what was going on. He noticed her hand was clenched tightly and hoped it was the car keys she was clinging to with all her might.