A Catch in Time Read online

  At the end of her third deep breath, Laura had steadied a bit.

  “Better,” Mohammed said.

  Laura nodded. “I never said thank you. You’re doing what my own brother wouldn’t do.”

  “It is Allah’s will. For years I called upon Him to let me know if my little sister had returned to him. For years I knew only that the path home was gone. Allah answered my prayers. He led me to you and you answered my question. You had felt the emergence of your parents and brother on the other side during the long minutes of the epiphany. I know now, Aida is safe. It is my obligation to help you save your Lily.”

  Laura slowly shook her head. “You’re not obligated. And the path back is broken now. I’ll risk it, myself, to save Lily, but you—I have no right to ask you.”

  “It is time,” said Mohammed. He pulled the brim of his hat lower and stepped off the curb. Laura followed him.

  The building in which Mack waited had once housed a theater where plays were performed. Looking at its façade, Laura realized she’d once attended a performance there. The theater had been on an upper floor, the stairway old and cramped. Mohammed swung the door open.

  She entered before him and they stood just inside the doorway, facing the empty lobby, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom as the door slowly clicked shut behind them. There was a long stairway at the far end of the lobby. A lit candle guttered atop the lower newel post, casting a feeble glow on the bottom steps.

  Laura held her breath and clutched Mohammed’s arm as she peered into the dark silence at the top of the stairs.

  As they crept across the dim lobby, Mohammed grabbed the fat candle and held it in front of them. They started up the uncarpeted, wooden steps that creaked under their weight, the noise echoing in the stairwell. Laura’s heart pounded faster with every step, knowing it announced them. She imagined Mack listening in the darkness above.

  Struggling to remember the layout of the building, she quickened her pace. Mohammed kept up with her and the candle he held sputtered and died. He tossed it behind him, its thump swallowed by the noise of their climb.

  There would be a landing, she remembered, a turn, more stairs, another turn, and then a few more steps to the upper hallway. They made the first turn, their vision impeded by darkness. She couldn’t remember if the door to the theater would be to the left or the right once they reached the hallway. The small theater had few seats, she knew, tiered in semi-circles, just a section of balcony overlooking a small stage.

  In the upper hallway, they saw the open door on their right. Two fat candles flickered on the floor on either side of the opening. Hazy, gray light came in from a dirty window at the end of the hall behind them.

  Laura moved slowly toward the darkness framed by the doorway. She gripped the gun in her pocket. Mohammed abruptly grabbed her arm and she gasped and stopped. He pulled her to the wall, a few feet from the doorway.

  “Call him,” he whispered.

  Laura pressed the side of her face against the wall, and called, “Mack? We’re here.”

  He answered, his disembodied voice ominous, angry. “You’re late.”

  “No,” said Laura. “You said today.” He hadn’t specified a time.

  “You’re LATE!” he roared. It sounded as though he stood right inside the doorway.

  It’s the acoustics, Laura told herself. He must be down on the stage.

  Mack laughed harshly … and applauded. Now, Laura, MOVE. She slid through the opening and into the dark theater. She saw the blurred outlines of the closest chairs, dimly lit by the flickering candles on the floor in the doorway. Her back against the wall, she groped deeper into the theater, behind the last row of chairs, straining to see the blacked-out stage below. She heard Mohammed’s breath, felt a tug on her jacket as he tried to stay close.

  “CONRAD!” Mack shouted.

  Laura and Mohammed bumped together. She wondered, in the unexpected darkness—what they should do if they couldn’t see Mack—or whether they should go directly to Plan B. How would Mack react, his demand thwarted at the outset? The darkness and the acoustics made it impossible to know his position. They couldn’t observe his reaction. There would be no instant in which his movement would cue a counteraction. And where was Lily? Was she even in the room? Laura felt intense, fierce hatred for the man—the thing—who imprisoned her daughter.

  She shouted into the black pit. “Where’s Lily? You won’t get Conrad until I have Lily!”

  “DARE MAKE NO DEMANDS UPON ME!” Mack thundered. “I will slit her open and rip out her heart!”

  Laura crouched and moved as Mack shouted, creeping down the center aisle with Mohammed following closely. She drew the gun with her right hand as she stretched her left before her, finding the balcony railing. Clutching the cold rail, she crouched against the short wall it topped. Mohammed crouched beside her.

  “You think I don’t see you?” Mack said, his voice suddenly a soft, whispering caress. “Who’s with you, hmm? Is that you, Conrad?” Wild laughter skittered from him and reverberated through the theater.

  Houselights brightly erupted, then dimmed.

  Laura saw the stage, empty but for Lucas, who was standing center stage in a spotlight. Her gaze froze on him for an instant, then darted around the theater. Empty. No movement. The darkness yawned blackly beyond the coned spotlight.

  “Hello, Laura,” Lucas said.

  Where was Mack? Laura’s finger twitched on the trigger of her gun. She couldn’t stop staring at Lucas, the monster who had led Mack to Lily. Mouth dry, she raised her gun, cocked it.

  “What are you doing?” Mohammed hissed.

  Laura ignored him. Where was Mack? Still, she couldn’t tear her gaze from Lucas. “You,” she spat. “Kate was right about you.”

  “You should have seen what Mack did to Samuel,” Lucas said as though she hadn’t spoken. His child voice filled the theater. “There was so much blood. Remember those weird sounds Samuel used to make? You should’ve heard him when he got gutted. You should’ve heard him, Laura. You should think about how Lily’s going to sound.”

  Blood pounded in Laura’s ears. Oh, God, where’s Lily? WHERE’S MACK?

  “Conrad,” Mack said, behind her.

  She whirled, heart in her mouth. Mohammed gaped at Mack. There was a moment of complete stillness as Mack stared blankly at Mohammed, and then Laura saw recognition flare in his eyes.

  “Ali!” Mack exploded. The gun in his hand wavered.

  Laura didn’t think. She raised her gun and fired. Her grip was too tense, and the gun bucked in her hand, twisting to the side and kicking her arm back. Her elbow cracked against the rail and pain zinged through her arm. The gun fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Her shot had gone wild.

  Mack aimed his gun at her.

  Lucas had been careful not to give away Mack’s position while he kept Laura’s attention on himself. Talking about Samuel had been a stroke of genius, he bragged to himself as he hurried off the stage. Now was his chance, finally. He heard Mack yell, “Ali!” and paused, wondering who that could be. He almost turned back. But no, it didn’t matter.

  He had to hurry. Lily was his now. All his, and he couldn’t wait to try some of his ideas on her, things Mack hadn’t let him do. He was angry at Mack for that, for stopping him from hurting Lily. It had been almost more than he could take, having Lily there, helpless, and not being able to do anything about it. And it wasn’t as though Mack was protecting her. No, the only reason Mack had stopped him was because he liked frustrating him. He shouldn’t have let Mack know how much he wanted Lily. As soon as Mack saw that, saw that need, he started jerking him around. Asshole.

  His hand was on the doorknob of the backstage dressing room, where they’d left Lily, when he heard a gun go off. Good. He hoped they all killed each other. Hurrying into the room, he saw Lily right where Mack had left her, gagged and bound to a chair. She was his. He knelt at her feet, fumbling at the knots as he looked into her face. The cloth gag was tight
over her mouth, her eyes big and terrified. Thrilled by her fear, inspiration hit him.

  “Did you hear that shot, Lily?” he asked her. Her eyes got bigger. “Mack just killed your mother. She’s dead, Lily.” Immediate tears spilled down her cheeks. His heart pumped faster. Oh shit, oh shit, this is great.

  He heard a loud clank, then a creak. Now what? Quietly, he moved to the door, careful to keep himself hidden behind the frame. A shaft of daylight came from the back door of the theater, which exited into the alley behind the building. A figure slipped through and paused, momentarily outlined in the light.

  Kate! What was she doing here? A surge of hatred shook him and he pressed himself flatter against the doorframe. A montage of images flooded his mind, tortures he’d devised for Kate. He’d fantasized them so often, the images were crisp and detailed.

  The exit door, weighted to shut automatically, was closing, shrinking the shafted angle of daylight. Kate stood against the far wall, her figure fading in the diminishing light. Lucas squinted. She was moving away now, deeper into the theater.

  Hurryhurryhurry. He rushed back to Lily and worked on the binding knots. There! Her legs were free. Now the hands, behind her. She was crying, snuffling behind the gag.

  “Shut up!” he hissed. “We’re getting out of here before Mack comes back. Shut up or he’ll hear you.”

  There! Her hands were free. He snatched one and yanked her out of the chair, leaving her gag in place. She fumbled at it with her free hand as he pulled her, stumbling, to the door. Two shots rang out, loud, echoing. Perfect! Tightening his grip on Lily’s hand, Lucas ran to the exit door, jerked it open, and dragged her through. He was free.

  “Lucas! Lily!” John Thomas cried out, and he snatched off his wig when he stepped from behind the trash Dumpster where Kate had left him.

  Startled, feeling a crushing disappointment, Lucas turned to his brother.

  Lily moaned, straining toward John Thomas as she tugged to get her arm free of Lucas, her other hand pulling at the tight gag. Her little chest was heaving, trying to get air, her nose too stuffed with crying, the gag too thick to breathe through. Then John Thomas was there, kneeling before her, wrenching it off her mouth. Gasping lungfuls of air, she flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her face against his throat, sobbing.

  John Thomas hugged her close, then lifted her up as he stood, staring from Lucas to the back door of the theater. “What’s going on?” He freed one arm and hugged Lucas briefly, stroked his head, then wrapped the arm back around Lily. “Are you all right, Lucas? I heard shots. Where’s—”

  “Mommmmy!” Lily cried waveringly, then tightened her arms around his neck and sobbed harder, loud, gasping wails.

  “Quiet,” Lucas commanded through clenched teeth. “Come on. We gotta go. Hurry. Before he comes.” He moved down the alley, pulling at one of John Thomas’s arms, both of which were crooked around Lily.

  Nerves already taut from his endless wait, and now, having seen Lily gagged and hearing Lucas’s warning, John Thomas’s anxiety skyrocketed. He let himself be urged onward, but questions crowded his mind. What about Katie? Those shots? Was Laura all right? And Mohammed? Had Catherine and Josiah gone in, too?

  “What’s happening?” he asked as they broke into a trot. Even as they moved away from the building in which his people were dangerously confronting Mack, John Thomas knew he had no choice. He had Lily and Lucas. By some miracle, his brother, and Lily, who was as close to a sister as he would ever have, were with him. He had to keep them safe. Above all, he had to keep them safe. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t fail again. Lucas was running now. John Thomas abandoned his questions and ran after him, saving his breath for the sprint with his clinging, sobbing burden.

  Lucas led them up one street and down another, through two alleys and around several corners. Finally, John Thomas could no longer keep up the pace. Gasping for air, he faltered, legs rubbery, arms aching from holding Lily. He tried to muster enough breath to call out to Lucas, but Lucas, twenty paces ahead, turned to check on him.

  John Thomas leaned against a brick building. His arms were shaking. He would drop Lily if he didn’t put her down. He loosened his grip to let her slide to the ground, but she immediately tightened her arms and legs around him. Chest heaving, John Thomas panted, “Lily, I can’t breathe.”

  He felt her reluctance as she allowed herself to be set down. The instant her feet touched the ground, she pushed against him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Lucas hurried back. “Come on, we’ve got to keep going. He’ll find us!”

  Lily whimpered, pressing her face against John Thomas and shrinking away from Lucas.

  “Give me a chance to catch my breath,” John Thomas pleaded. He glanced back at the last corner they had turned, fearful of seeing Mack. Lucas was right, they had to keep going. John Thomas examined the unfamiliar surroundings.

  They were deep in the heart of downtown San Francisco, in a section that had been assaulted by earthquakes and fires. There were small cracks in the sidewalk and street and a long one in the foundation of a nearby building, a three-story stone structure that listed as though shifted off its foundation. Down the block, empty windows gaped in blackened buildings.

  Then John Thomas became aware of activity around them. It had been there, in the background, all the while but, until now, he’d hardly registered the people, cars, and bicycles they’d been dodging. And the noise! A cacophony of horns, voices, engines, and bicycle bells now assaulted his ears, as though he’d just removed earplugs. He hadn’t stood amongst this many people, been in the midst of so much noise, in years.

  “Come on, John Thomas,” Lucas demanded. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Where?” he asked desperately, unable to ignore the confusion around him. “If we go much farther, we’ll never find our way back. We might already be lost.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lucas said. He stared at Lily, careful to keep the lust from his expression. The freedom he’d had, when restraint had no longer been necessary, when he could look exactly as he felt, had been intoxicating. Anger spiked through him; again, he had to wear the hateful mask of a putrid, pukey, Goddamn goody-goody. He grimaced, turned away from John Thomas and struggled for control.

  Suddenly, he smiled. Of course. He didn’t need to argue with John Thomas. He’d forgotten how easy John Thomas was to handle. Without comment, Lucas strode off.

  “Lucas, wait!” John Thomas yelled.

  Lucas quickened his pace.

  “Lucas!” John Thomas bent to pick Lily up, then reconsidered and plucked one of her hands from its grip on his jacket. “Come on, Lily. Can you walk for a while?” He was already moving after Lucas.

  Lily planted her feet and tugged back against his hand. “No, no, no, NO, NO.”

  John Thomas quickly dropped to one knee and glanced hastily around. “Shh. Okay, okay, I’ll carry you. But you have to be quiet, Lily-o. There’s too many people and—and you’re a big girl, but—but you’re still little.” He fumbled his explanation, not knowing how to tell Lily that she had to be extra careful.

  He’d been told the importance of placing Lily’s public birth date prior to the blackout. He knew about Shaitan and Shaitan babies. He knew Lily wasn’t Shaitan even if she was born after the blackout. But Lily didn’t know anything. She didn’t know she was really six and not seven. She didn’t know other people might be dangerous if they knew. Until this very minute, he hadn’t thought of it himself. He’d never been in public with Lily. None of them had.

  Neck prickling, he glanced furtively at the bustling street. He had to be careful not to draw attention. They’d been here too long. Mack could be nearby. He picked Lily up, then scanned the block for Lucas. There. Lucas was waiting for them at the corner. Hugging Lily close, he forced himself to walk at an easy pace. No more dashing through the streets. They had to be careful.

  Lily laid her head on his shoulder. Peeking through slitted eyes, she saw Lucas.
She burrowed her face against John Thomas and moaned, “No, no, no,” over and over. John Thomas murmured everything was going to be all right, he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Nearing Lucas, he said, “No more running, Lucas. Let’s stop somewhere and figure out what to do.”

  “Soon,” Lucas said after a pause. “A few more blocks first.”

  John Thomas nodded, his nerves wracked by fear of Mack. They crossed the street and headed up a hill.

  “What’s going on? What happened?” John Thomas asked urgently.

  Lucas had his answer ready. “Laura’s dead,” he said.

  Shock and grief ravaged John Thomas’s face. His eyes flooded with tears, and he stumbled. Lily started crying again.

  “Keep going,” Lucas hissed. He walked alongside John Thomas, who held Lily tightly and gulped convulsively as he tried to deal with the blow. At the top of the hill, they turned right, John Thomas sniffing back his tears. Lucas, gleefully riding the emotional surges of John Thomas’s pain, wanted more. He added, maliciously, “Kate, too. She got most of the way in, then he shot her.”

  John Thomas stopped. His entire body numbed. He shook his head, slow arcs of disbelief. “No,” he murmured. “No, she can’t be dead.” It was too much. Reina, Eli, Laura, and—no, not Katie. She couldn’t be dead. She might be hurt, but she wasn’t dead. “No,” he said, staring blindly at Lucas. “Katie has to be okay.” His arms tightened around Lily and he spun around. “We have to go back.”

  “No!” Lucas protested, grabbing his arm. John Thomas continued to walk and Lucas found himself being pulled in his wake. “Listen!” he shouted, thinking frantically. He ran in front of John Thomas. “You go, but leave Lily with me. You’re right, Kate might be okay and she’ll need your help. But you can’t take Lily back in there!”

  Lily tightened her arms around John Thomas’s neck and wailed in his ear. He flinched, bumping into a woman who was hurrying by. She sidestepped him with a frown. Despite his turmoil, he remembered the need to keep from drawing attention.

  He pressed Lily’s head against him. “Hush, Lily. It’s okay.” There was a deep doorway in the building on his left. He ducked in, hurried to a far corner next to the door, and sat cross-legged on the cold tile, holding Lily close. Lucas followed.