The Great Below

The Recruitment: Part 2

Without being told to, Octavia returned to her seat on the bench. Victor and Nick climbed aboard while a few straggling fans outside were returning to their cars. Either no one had noticed the punch thrown or no one cared; fighting wasn't unheard of outside a boxing club. Alex handed Nick a fresh cable tie before slamming the rear doors.

As the van moved again, Nick secured Octavia's seat belt and sat next to her. He replaced the tie around her ankles.

Victor said, "You thought I was bad? I never tied your feet together."

"Did you burn her hands?" Alex asked from the driver's seat.

"I've learned, like you did tonight, that she doesn't take instruction well."

"And you think that's an acceptable response. Burning her hands is, what, tough love?" Alex stopped the van at a red light, pressing tenderly at his mouth.

"If she hadn't burned dinner, her hands would be fine. If she had stayed where you told her to, you wouldn't have to use ties." The searing light of his gaze fell fully onto her. "I hope you're listening."

Nick shook his head, incredulous. "Here I thought you'd be unhappy to see her."

"She's supposed to be here."

"Is she?" Alex asked. "I was under the impression that this was a last-minute decision."

"No. I was very clear with your boss."

Alex glanced over his shoulder into the back. "Why on earth would you want her to come with you? You've put her in a lot of danger."

There was a quiet stretch of road where the strip malls melted away and then thickened with rows of half-naked trees. The night grew darker around them, save for the glowing console at the front of the van. Victor was clenching his fists, wiggling his fingers against the protective tape still layered there. He began to pick at one end.

"Why did you have to hit me?" Alex asked.

Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he peeled the tape back. His seat belt lay limp on the bench next to him. "When you fell," he said, "you put your hands on her. I don't touch your things, you don't touch mine."

"Things?" Nick asked.

"And what if I was just protecting her from a nasty fall?"

"Then I should tell you that she's stronger than she looks."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Nick asked. "What did you want him to do, let your girlfriend take a header into the asphalt? Wreck her face as bad as her hands? Would that have made you happy?"

Octavia leaned back against the wall of the van, trying hard to avoid eye contact with anyone.

"Nick," Alex warned.

"Fiance," Victor said. "Not girlfriend."

"That's even worse – you know that, right? Who treats his future wife like that?" Nick relaxed into his seat and brought one foot up to rest on the opposite knee, but Octavia was not sharing his nonchalance. "Wait until you get to know your new boss. You'll see what a mistake this was."

"Leave it alone," Alex said.

Victor finished unwrapping his first hand and moved to the other.

"She wasn't offered a job, Victor, so why would Dom agree to take her in? Did you mistake him for someone charitable?"

Victor's tape slowly unraveled to the floor. Octavia felt an imaginary heat radiating off of him in waves.

"You could be paying to bring her along, but I doubt it. I'm not even sure Dom would go for that." Nick cocked his head to one side. "Have you considered the possibility that she's been invited along, but...not for you?"

"Nick," Alex reprimanded.

Victor shot across the van, grabbing Nick by fistfuls of his dress jacket. Octavia stabbed at her seat belt release button with both thumbs before crashing to the floor and sliding away. Nick spit a few garbled words, hands locked onto Victor's forearms, but his belt pinned him to the bench and Victor's knuckles were crushing his windpipe. They all went lurching as Alex wrenched the van into the loose gravel at the side of the road.

"Do you know how hard I've worked to get here?" Victor roared. "She is part of the fucking deal!"

Octavia had squeezed herself into a tight corner between the bench and the fence-like divider, where she shielded her face in case Victor came for her next. Alex slammed the gear shift into park, then pulled the gun from his jacket again. His door swung open and shut, there was a burst of frigid air, and he was gone.

Nick was coughing, but she couldn't work up the courage to look. There was something excruciating about the thought of witnessing Victor's violence secondhand. She would float up and out of her own body if she could, just to escape it.

"You're one of us now, you evil prick," Nick sputtered. "Welcome to your new job."

The back doors whipped open and the harsh light of a distant street lamp blared. Victor and Nick struggled in shaky silhouette against the back of the front seats. Beyond them, Alex's form approached with the gun. "Sit down, Victor," he commanded.

Nick must have been getting more air. "We're better equipped than your opponents," he said, "when it comes to fighting back."

"He doesn't have the guts." Victor pulled back his right fist like he was cocking a gun of his own.

Octavia lowered her hands, staring. In a way, this was the best possible solution to her problem. After months of captivity, she had imagined Victor's death several times. In her imagination, she often killed him. But she couldn't help seeing him as the known quantity, the only man in the vehicle whose actions she could predict, and something about that bound them in solidarity. She cringed, watching the gun in Alex's hands with its wooden handle and long barrel. She tried to imagine a new life without Victor. There was an irritating grain of fear in the thought that made her hold her breath. After all, things could always get worse.

Victor's fist flew at the same time the gun fired. Octavia pulled her arms and legs in tight, feeling suddenly that the inside of the van was too bright, too hot. The stress had done something to her hearing, too. The gun was quieter than she had expected. She became loose, light-headed.

Victor was screaming in Spanish. He let loose his grip on Nick's coat and spun on Alex, who quickly fired two more shots. Octavia put her forehead against her kneecaps, heartbeat knocking in her ears. There was more, she supposed – Alex moving in and Nick struggling out of his seat belt – but it was hard to breathe and she couldn't concentrate. Victor had sunk to the floor, the fight going out of him but his fists still clenched. Screaming.

Then darkness washed her away.