How I ran away

How I cheated

Dan Van Zyl.

                “Killing Holly?” he asked Rough, “that’s my job.”

                Rough didn’t even have time to react. Dan stabbed him in the back. In one fluid motion. He got no blood anywhere except the knife. Smooth. He pulled it from Rough’s back. Rough swayed for a moment. Then he fell. Like a marionette with its strings cut.

                Then he looked at me.

                “Holly, I’m going to kill you now,” he informed.

                “What? No!”

                “You chose to make an enemy of me,” he says coldly. He holds up the dagger in front of his eyes. “no, I won’t stab you,” he mutters and wipes the tip against Rough’s shirt. He straightens up. puts the knife in his pocket and looks at me.

                “Please,” I whisper. Staring death in the eye causes that word to come out. Even though I made it my business to never ask for that. Never ask for help.

                “You chose to make an enemy of me Holly.” Van Zyl says again, “Now I’m going to kill you.”He takes out a gun from his pocket.

                “Why?” I ask. One last attempt at life. Stalling until I can't anymore “Why are you doing this?”

                “Money,” he says simply.

                That sparks an idea, “how much?”

                “What?”

                “How much money are you getting?”

                His eyes narrow. He knows he should kill me now. But still he asks: “Why?”

                “I’ll pay double,” I say. “Triple.” I am desperate.

                “Of ten thousand dollars?”

                Ten thousand? Am I only worth that much? Could I pay him all that? “Yes.”

                “So that I shouldn’t kill you?”

                “So that you should get me out of here alive. And Twelve.” I added.

                He looks over at Twelve and then nods. I dig my hand into my pocket and pull out a few thousand dollars. Money I stole from Twelve earlier. Back at his house. I give it to him.

                “This isn’t twenty thousand,” he says pocketing it.

                “Get us out of here and I’ll give you the rest.” I say. Twelve better be as rich as his house suggests.

                Who paid to have me killed? Em? Yes. She wanted me killed before. I just don’t know why. and why would Dan Van Zyl agree to kill for just ten thousand? Unless he wanted to do her a favor. Unless he liked her enough. Unless it was love. Yes. That makes since. Both ruthless. Both cold. Both killers.

                “By the way,” I say, “who paid to have me killed?”

                He looks at me, “Em.” He confirms.        

                “How much would I have to pay you to kill her?” I ask. Not entirely sure it is just out of curiosity.

                He shakes his head. He won’t kill Em. Why? He loves her. Simple as that. What is not simple is that a man like him can love. Maybe it is not love. Maybe they made a deal. I shouldn’t really care. Em and Dan. I hate them both.

                I pull myself over to Twelve. My leg is killing. Burning. I shake him awake. Whispering his name into his ear. “Twelve, get up”

                “Ugh,” he groans and squints his eyes open. He wakes to my face. Suddenly he is more awake. “Holly?” he asks.

                “Get up Twelve, we’re busting out of this place.”

                “How?”

                I move aside so that he could see Van Zyl. His eyes widen . “You’re here to kill us?” he asks.        “I was here to kill Holly,” he corrects, “but now I’m here to get you guys out.”

                Twelve just nods.

                “Okay, just follow my lead, Twelve carry Holly if she can't walk,” he turns to leave without waiting for us. Twelve softly lifts me into his arms. He holds me tightly against his chest. Cradling me. again I feel helpless. Useless. I’m slowing everything down.

                “I can walk,” I say and push his arms.

                He looks like he wants to argue. Thinks better of it and sets me down. I stagger and grab onto his arm to steady myself. He’s watching me. I smile at him, drape my arm over his shoulder so that I’m leaning most my weight on him. And then I hop forward, using him as support.

                Van Zyl is by the door. He starts walking when he sees us. Making no noise on the stone floor.

                “Step where I step,” he says. He knows the blind spots in the cameras. If there are any hidden alarms. We follow close behind.

                Down the narrow hall. The one that’s stuffy and reeks of mold. The air feels wet. Dan Van Zyl takes careful steps. He makes no sounds. I ignore the pain in my leg and hop on. If Twelve objects to me using him as a crutch he doesn’t say anything.

                We walk for another moment.

                Up a set of steps. Up to the ground floor. It has the same feeling as the basement. The same dim lights.

                We turn a corner and I see it. A door. Bright daylight shines through the cracks. I’m not the only one that gets exited. Twelve speeds his steady walk.  

                A rock. Twelve stubbles. Just a bit. I fall a little.

                We stop for a moment. Listen. Nothing. Dan continues walking.

                We start moving after him.

                A few steps—

                The alarm goes off.