Arrived

Chapter 22: The Setback

Even though I was aware that I had a gun, I didn't want to use it right now. Not only that I am dealing with a deranged witch, but only because I am dealing with a kidnapper. And besides, even if I did shoot her in public, it will give me a one way ticket to prison.

I quietly nodded then walked over to Amy, who was taking her sweet time to study me. With a wan smile, she draped her arm around my neck then walked forward. But when I took a peek in her pocket, it was a dark handle of a handgun.

"What do you want from me?" I asked. Amy looked at me in surprise, but didn't answer my question. My eyes were still staring at her gun. There has to be someway that I can reach it.

Her hand gripped on my t-shirt as we walked, making sure that I won't escape. "I know that you took something that Goodman wants," Amy hissed under her breath. I pretended to play dumb.

"Like what?" I asked sharply. "His lousy taste in fashion?" "The will," Amy answered, ignoring my insult. "Where is it?" "It's in the suitcase," I replied coolly. "In the diner that you, Goodman, and your goons destroyed."

I flashed my angry eyes at her, but she didn't meet my stare. "There is nothing in the suitcase," Amy stated firmly. "Only your boss' ideal plans of getting revenge." I shrugged.

Amy looked around to see if no one was watching then pulled me over to an alleyway. Her grip grew tighter on my shirt sleeve. I was worried that she was going to rip it. My feet stepped on a huge puddle, and it squirted dirty water all over my favorite jeans.

Wind blew away the remains of cigarettes, the stench of trash, trashcan lids, and even emaciated animals. We walked in a straight line down the alley and took a left. Annoyed, I asked her where she is taking me.

"Where is the will and the money?" Amy asked, dodging another question. "Like I said," I sighed. "Your boss had something to do with it, not me." Without warning, Amy shoved me against the bricked wall then pressed her palm against my chest.

Amy's calm personality instantly grew cold. Her eyes were stern and annoyed. They were like mine, only a bit scared. "What did you do with the cash?" Amy demanded. "The thirty-thousand dollars?"

For the first time ever, I raised my eyebrow. "Goodman knew that Malcolm hid the will and the cash?" I asked. "After I murdered his wife," Amy explained. "I searched the entire house for Goodman's money and his grandfather's will. As soon as I retrieved it, Senior promised me half of what he owes me."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Goodman planned the attack...this whole time?" I said. That explained why the incident hasn't been broadcast or why he was desperate to find his son. He didn't want him, he just wanted money and power.

"He hired you before all of this has happened?" I asked. Amy nodded then slowly took out her gun. "Tell me where they are," she threatened. "And I will tell you where your parents are."

I didn't want to show her my bag or the teddy bear, but I did want to see my parents again. But what about Malcolm? He is a good man unlike his corrupt father. "No," I answered. "I won't tell you where it is."

Amy let out a long sigh then lifted the gun to my head. "As soon as you die," she promised. "I will find out what is in that bag of yours and show your corpse to your parents."

Unable to hold my anger, I spat at her face. Amy wiped my spit from her cheek then slowly lifted her finger to pull the trigger. Just then, a bullet soared through her shoulder.

She let out a pained shriek then collapsed on the ground. Despite her defeat, her right hand gripped her handle and pointed the weapon. I felt my hand slipping inside the back of my waistband and pulling the revolver.

I shot her two times on the arm, allowing Amy to release her gun and let it skidder across the floor. "Cleo!" a familiar voice shouted. I left Amy to her bleeding arm and followed the sound of the voice. It almost sounded like Mom.

"Mom?" I yelled, lowering the revolver. I felt tears rushing out of my eyes. I ran straight down and felt nothing but the urge to hug her. "Mom!" A young woman with came out of nowhere, lowering her revolver.

Her jet black hair reached down to her shoulder. Her brown eyes were widened in happiness and her blouse was covered in a bulletproof vest. I immediately ran towards Mom and wrapped my arms around her waist.

Smiling maniacally, she squeezed me back tightly. "Are you alright, Cleo?" Mom asked, sweeping away my bangs. "Are really you hurt?" I shook my head furiously kissed her face. "I'm fine, Cole." I whispered. "Where's Amy?" I told her the direction and Mom hastily took it.

Just then, Dad came running up to us with dried blood and sweat covering his face. I handed Mom her gun and ran over to him. Like Mom, he wore his bulletproof vest over his green plaid shirt.

When he looked at me, he smiled happily as he shoved his gun in his waistband and hugged me until I couldn't breathe. "Dad!" I sobbed. "You're okay!" I buried my face in his shirt then inhaled his musty cologne.

"I am," he chuckled. "Thanks for asking." He rubbed his dirty hand on my back then gripped my shirt. "I thought you were dead," I whispered. Dad wiped away my tears then kissed my head.

"Death doesn't scare me," Dad laughed. After we reunited, the police rushed to our aid then captured Amy Luna who was restrained by Mom. A week after being freed, Malcolm told everything to the cops.

Because of the story, Amy, Senior Goodman, and his goons was thrown in a cell and was sentenced to five years in maximum state prison. With his grandfather's luck, Malcolm became the head of his charity organization and El Dorado.

The news about Senior Goodman's arrest spread around the entire world, branding him as a psychotic criminal. Despite that we took matter into our own hands, the police praised us for our deeds.

Unfortunately, we had to stay in the hospital for nearly ten days before we got out. As soon as we head back to the hotel, Mom, Dad, and I decided to spend the rest of the family vacation in Cuba's most amazing  beach.

However, something was still bothering me though: how did my parents and Malcolm escaped their deaths? How did they know where to find me? But as much as I want to ask questions, I was desperate to lay on the hot sand and soak its vibrant rays.

The End