Dark Museum

Erica

Even if she wanted to sleep, there was nowhere for her to do it.

Josh was still unconscious on the sofa and Demetri was in the bedroom "resting" while everyone else devised a plan.

Rather, Sean and Nasir did; after having fruitlessly search the woods all night for their other three targets, Erica was done planning.

So she slouched against the cabin wall, trying not to look at Josh, or remember the last time she saw him back in the 80s, or marvel about how much of a baby he still looked. She was younger than him by four years and at the moment felt every bit of her fifty-five. Josh had to be close to sixty, but only one or two gray hairs glinted against the cabin's lamplight. No wrinkles enclosed his eyes and mouth. Just a thirty-year-old with massive bruising and a blood-soaked shirt.

She'd been the one to open the bedroom door, putting a stop to Demetri's tirade — knocking the door against Josh's head in the process. Sure, all his damage wasn't her fault, but she'd put a mighty fine finish on it. The knot on his forehead was swollen like a golf ball.

Demetri had stood before her with a bloody knife in his hand and a tent in his pants.

"Jesus," she'd whispered. Before giving herself time to think, she'd grabbed Josh under the arms and pulled him to the main room. Since he was heavier than she anticipated, this hurt her back and she couldn't move with any speed.

She expected a full flare of pain in the morning, her back was already stiffening.

They all scuffled while she'd cradled Josh's head, protected him like her own child. She was responsible for him in a different way. Josh lay against her, oblivious, blood draining in a trickle from his mouth; bruises darkened around his neck and wrists while the men screamed about having wanted information. What good was he like this?

"You said he did this to me," Demetri said. "He wouldn't tell me anything and I couldn't help myself."

Demetri stared at the form on the ground, shaking. His knuckles were split and angry. His shoulder bled through his shirt. His erection was gone.

While Demetri pushed past them and had his bullshit storm-of-conscience vomit outside, the rest of them regrouped.

"We can't call for help out here," Sean said. "We're in the middle of the fucking woods. Even carrying him to the car is gonna be a trek."

"It's too dark anyway," Nasir said.

"Dark or not," Sean said, "we have to let Blair know we have these guys before she thinks we're not doing our job."

"Why did you tell that guy Josh was responsible?"

"Erica, we're gonna get nowhere if you coddle him," Sean retorted. "We don't have any idea what Blair's gonna do with them, and I think you'll agree not following through isn't an option for us."

"I didn't think I was going to know one of them."

"How do you think I feel? My one is the guy who's gonna take us all out if we don't come up with a plan."

Demetri heaved again.

"Great thinking on that last plan," Nasir said, pacing the room. "As long as we're going outside in the dead-ass night to get a phone signal, we better see if we can find the other ones we missed."

"What do we do about—" Erica nodded toward the cabin door, outside which Demetri was still coughing.

Sean kicked the sofa, sending it about a foot across the wooden floor. "How'd we get messed up in this? Why is it now our responsibility to make sure they don't fucking kill each other — or us — just because of something I may or may not have done thirty years ago?"