The Golden Key

Twenty One

The Kia, whom Ben had named Scratches, hurtled down the silent country road. Ben sits behind the wheel, his knuckles white and his posture straight. Beside him, Danny lolls in his sleep.

In the back of the car, Hannah  sits pressed up against the window with Princess and Chickpea curled up together on her lap. Felix has his chin on her thigh, and curled up almost on top of the dog is Ronan.

He isn't asleep, letting out faint hiccuping sobs every few minutes. When Hannah finally picks up the courage to look over at him, she's met with eyes as wide and vulnerable as a small child's. She looks away hastily.

"It's quiet. Ronan, any idea where we're going?" Ben calls softly. Ronan opens one eye, then shuts again in his silent grief. Danny tosses in his seat with a loud sigh, his tan fingers trailing Hannah's leg. She twitches uncomfortably and swats him away.

Ben keeps driving in the silence, ignoring the sun as it sets below the horizon and the road ahead is plunged into darkness. Hannah sighs slightly and sneaks a glance at Ronan; his eyes were closed and his breathing was even. Sleeping. Good.

"What did you even see?" Hannah asks in a low voice, leaning forward to rest her head on Ben's shoulder. He shudders, and Scratches reacts to his movement by twitching left a and right for a few seconds.

"Tara, just lying against the wall. I tried to help her, I really did, but she just.... Died." He keeps driving, hands tensed on the wheel. Hannah sighs deeply, then something occurs to her.

"Logan, did you see Logan?"

Ben looks startled, his driving becoming erratic for a few seconds. "Logan. I saw no sign of Logan... Maybe he lived?"

"Maybe." Hannah agrees. She doesn't
sound very sure though. It's unlikely the gunmen let Logan survive, but she could see Ben was blaming himself for not being able to save Tara.

The headlights blink on as the darkness stretches ahead. With no other cars on the road, Ben keeps the lights on full so he can see properly. Hannah strokes all three animals in one movement, her eyelids drooping slightly.

"Here, turn here." Ronan sits up abruptly, seeming to have forgotten where he is. His head smacks into the back of the passenger seat and Danny yells loud expletives in Spanish as he wakes. Ronan runs his head. "Turn off, go right."

"There's no road for miles-" Ben started to argue, but Ronan cuts him off.

"Just turn!" Danny screams something in Spanish, seeming unable to switch to English. Ben spins the wheel and car roars off the hard road as onto the grass and dirt. Felix and Princess start barking frantically and Chickpea tries to burrow under Hannah's arm.

"Tree!" Danny explodes. Ben whirls the steering wheel and just dodges it. Hannah lets out something that's a cross between a scream and a cheer. Scratches hurtles along the dry grassy countryside, smashing through wooden fences and scattering flocks of birds in the night.

Hannah's eyes are bright as she whoops and yells, but the boys seem horrified. Danny twists in his seat to look at Ronan, eyes wide and slightly horrified. "Do you even know where we're going?" For a minute there's no answer, but then Ronan meets his eyes with a grim determination.

"I have a pretty good idea."

-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-

My hands are spasming uncontrollably. I look down at them emotionlessly, a plaintive cry ringing around my head. Perhaps it's my own. I strain against the chains, letting out a dark groan.

It's been hours since they left me alone in the room, an the blood still hasn't stopped coming. It costs my shirt like a bib, dripping down my shaking body and gushing like a river from my torn throat. I know, completely and absolutely, that I'm going to die. Why else would they keep me here until after dark, instead of giving me back to Rose?

Rose. I cry her name, my fingers twitching against the chains, fingernails clicking against the metal. The door slides open and Soren comes in, looking highly annoyed. "Stop your screaming."

I do as I'm told, my mouth closing with a snap. The blood keeps coming, blanketing my clothes in scarlet. Soren kneels down beside me, glaring through glinting black eyes. "Listen up. I don't agree with this torture business."

"You don't say." I croak. Dying or not, I'll never give in. Sarcasm is my best defence.

Soren squints at me. "I believe killing you is bad. I've disabled the alarms of this place, perhaps half an hour before someone notices. Nobody trusts me here.... They'll kill me on the spot, understand?"

"What are you telling me?" I snarl, leaning back into the chair.

"I know they're coming. Jackson saw them, in a car. I hacked his phone and disabled it so he can't warn the others. They're coming for you. I've disabled the alarms to make it easier for them, but that's all I can do. If you get caught I won't help you."

With this, he turns and leaves. Not another word, no help with the chains or my messy state. My heart soars. Ronan, coming to rescue me and Rose? And Jackson saw them? Why hasn't he killed them yet? But of course, his first instinct would be to get her phone and call Thomas.

Which, if Soren was telling the truth, was impossible. He'd have wasted valuable time trying to work out the problem.

A smile spreads over my features, as wide as the gleaming grin across my neck. I feel weird. Like the world is spinning. Blood loss, perhaps? It's about time that kicked in. Adrenaline's probably been keeping me alive for-

Something crashes outside my little windowless room. I jerk upright, watching the door in pure anticipation. People are screaming. I can hear glass exploding, wood splintering, gunshots. Loud swearing, Spanish expletives for some reason.

Something slams on the door. I stiffen, straining against the chains. The door smashes again, and swings open, the doorknob clanging against the wall with a ring that explodes through my ears. I wince.

And there stands Ronan, a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, blood splattered down his arms and coating his hands like blood. We lock eyes, him standing there like a res demon armed to the teeth, me in my dress of blood, chained to a chair.

I want to scream, burst into tears, ask about Hannah and Rose. Instead, my sarcastic, stoic self pops out with something I'll probably regret as long as I live.

"What the hell took you so long? It's about bloody time."