Saving Grace

51

Three hours after Godric had submerged me in my own subconscious, I awoke in the dark to the screaming of my name. Grace clutched my shirt in her fists, shook me hard. My head smacked against the metal floor, letting out a sickening crack. My eyes snapped open, lungs swelled. I gasped awake.

"Richie," Grace breathed.

I groaned, felt the pain in my skull throb down to my neck.

"God," I moaned. "Grace... Where are we?"

"A paddy wagon," she said. "Your nutter uncle put us in the back of a fucking paddy wagon."

I shifted, felt the pinch of the cool handcuffs locked firmly around my wrists.

"Scott," I said, mind clearing. "How long have we been here?"

"I don't know – couple hours, maybe."

"We need to get out of here."

"Way ahead of you."

Grace stepped over me, knelt in front of the wagon door. I sat up, cracked my neck.

"I'm assuming you've been in one of these a few times," I said.

"Yep. Escaped almost every one I've ever been in."

She shifted. A few metal clicks echoed from the handle.

"How did you do it?"

"A pen, funnily enough. A friend of mine taught me that if you can slide a pen into the little hole in the interior door, you can lift the latch just high enough to open it and escape."

I frowned.

"Does that really work?"

The latch clicked and Grace pushed the door open. The wind swept through the wagon, tangled up in her hair as the sun blinded us both.

"Let's just say, it's a good thing Godric wanted to send you a message."

I smiled, felt the warm sun on my face – then saw how low it was in the auburn sky.

"Grace, we're never going to make it in time."

She sighed.

"Well, you once told me that where there's a will, there's a way." Her devilish smile grew. "And I have both."

© A.G. Travers 2018