Nine Marines' Shared Property - Nicole Casey Page 0,51

and forth, scanning each of our faces, scanning the corridor and the front door.

J.P. looked at Santiago and nodded. “OK, Santiago, break the left one.”

“Wait!” Michael put his hands up, palms out. “OK. OK. She’s in the car, in the garage.”

Santiago grabbed him and, with one swift motion, pulled his arm behind his back and dropped an elbow that ended with the unmistakable crack of bones.

Michael started a scream that Santiago stifled with a hand over his mouth.

Michael tried to crumple to the floor, but Santiago held him up.

“Your car keys,” said Santiago.

Travis was on him and rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a set of keys. “Are these your car keys?”

Michael didn’t answer. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Where’s the garage, Michael?” said Travis.

No answer.

“Fuck it,” said Travis. He opened the door and he stepped out with Tristan and Taylor following close behind.

“Wait!” said Elijah.

He stepped cautiously into the corridor. He turned to us and put an index finger vertically to his lips.

Michael started to yell again, but Santiago clapped his hand tight over his mouth muffling any sound he was trying to make.

Elijah heard it then I heard it then all of us heard it; there were muffled sounds, muffled calls coming from somewhere down the corridor.

“In here,” said Elijah. He tried the locked door I’d tried earlier. When it didn’t open, he stepped back and kicked.

I heard the crack of wood, but the door was still closed. Elijah kicked again, and the door burst open.

I entered right behind Elijah.

Gwen was on the floor, a towel stuffed in her mouth, her hands tied behind her back.

“Gwen!” Elijah exclaimed. “Gwen. You’re all right. It’s over, now.”

He knelt beside her and took the towel out of her mouth.

“Axel! Elijah! Thank God,” she said.

I knelt in front of her, reached around and untied her hands.

“How did you find me?” she said.

Elijah and I, we each took her by an arm and helped her up.

“We looked,” I said.

She flashed a smile. I winked back.

For a moment, seeing Gwen on the floor, gagged and bound, I thought I had frozen; I stood perfectly still while the Earth continued to spin. I’d heard about people in traumatic situations talk about how everything slows down, how time seems to stand still.

For me, at that moment, it was the complete opposite of that. I felt the speed of our world whipping through space. I thought it would whip right by me, that I would be left with no ground to stand on. The moment was so fast that its speed affected all the other moments leading up to it. A second ago I was getting dressed for my first day of school and then I took a step and Elijah was removing a gag from Gwen’s mouth.

I put a hand to my chest to reassure myself I hadn’t forgotten how to breathe.

Gwen kept telling us she was all right. “I just need to get out of here.” She touched her cheek as if it were sore. She looked disoriented. “I’m fine,” she said to Nolan. “I’m fine, really,” she said to J.P.

We escorted Gwen out of the room.

Santiago had dragged Michael out of the entranceway. He now sat on the kitchen floor curled up against the wall holding his broken arm, rocking slowly back and forth and cursing under his breath.

“We’re going to have to call the police,” I said.

“Really?” said Santiago. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

I pointed to Michael. “We’re not going to let him get away with this.”

Michael turned to me with hurt and rage in his eyes. “You broke my arm.”

“Accidents happen,” I said. I looked at Gwen, but her eyes were focused on Michael. She breathed heavily through her nose and ground her teeth.

“The police?” Santiago said to me. “You know, we shouldn’t be here. We should be at the base.”

I rubbed my chin.

“Yeah,” said Gwen. “Why are you guys here?” Her eyes swept from Santiago to J.P. then to me. When our eyes met, she quickly darted her glance back to the floor.

“We came to find you,” said J.P.

“Thank goodness we did,” said Elijah. He put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder.

She turned from him, shrugging off his touch. “I need my phone.” She perused the kitchen counters quickly then addressed Michael. “Where’s my phone.”

He didn’t answer. He simply grimaced and rocked against the wall.

Santiago nudged him with his foot. “The lady asked you a question.”

“It’s in the car,” said Michael, defeatedly.

Santiago grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off the