Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 45: Cataclysm

October 30th

Ana

I barely realize what's going on as Ryan shoves me to the ground, cradling my head to protect me from the fall. He throws his body over mine, holding me tight and pressing me against the floor.

It's only when I hear the gunshots that I realize he's being a human shield to stop me from being hurt. I cry out when he suddenly tenses and groans quietly at the same time as a gun goes off. Was he shot? Oh God, please not this again!

Ryan maintains his position, shielding me from the barrage as best he can. I feel tears in my eyes. He can't die! I just got him back.

I start to move, wanting to shield Ryan instead. He tightens his grip and bends his head down to my ear.

"Don't move," he says.

Suddenly he is ripped away from me. I look up to see two men hauling him off and a red stain spreading on Ryan's chest. I gasp in horror and begin to cry.

I scramble to my feet and fight the overwhelming instinct to cower and hide. "Don't hurt him!" I say. I throw my hands up in surrender, prepared to sacrifice myself for Ryan's life.

"No, Ana, run!" he shouts, fighting against the arms dragging him away.

The men turn on him, one punching him in the gut while the other kicks him in the knee. I scream and try to rush at them when I am grabbed by more arms. Ryan crumples, his bad leg giving out and his sprained ankle following suit. 

I struggle fruitlessly against the arms clamped around me like a vice. I'm screaming so loud that I don't realize someone is trying to speak to me until a hand cracks against my cheek.

"Shut up!"

I look up at the man standing in front of me. My blood runs cold. It's the man from my nightmares. How is he here? Am I dreaming?

He slaps me across the face again and I realize this isn't a dream. This is all too real. 

"I said, where is the money?" he demands.

"What?" I stare at him, completely at a loss. "What are you talking about?"

"The money your mother took from us, where is it?"

"I - I don't know."

He looks over at the men holding Ryan and one of them raises a fist. Ryan jerks out of the way and the first man's fist collides with the second's face, knocking him out cold. Now free, Ryan crouches in a fighting stance. But I know he can't win. He's got a bad leg, his dominant arm is crippled, his ankle is still giving him trouble and he's still recovering from a week-long state of unconsciousness. I freeze in terror as the bigger man approaches. Ryan grabs an end table and slams it into the man's head, stunning him. I see his eyes dart to the gun cabinet. If he could get his hands on that Beretta of his, I've no doubt he could drop all these guys before they could flinch. But the gun is locked in the cabinet. There's no time.

Ryan takes the risk anyway, racing over to the cabinet with a speed I didn't know he possessed. He throws his elbow into the glass of the cabinet, shattering it. He reaches inside and pulls out the Beretta with his right hand and a full clip with his left. He jams the clip in and levels the gun at the man who punched him in the gut, firing off two shots in quick succession. The man falls to the floor with a dull thud. Next he turns on the man holding me.

But there's another guy creeping up on Ryan's blind side. I didn't notice him until now.

"Ryan, look out!" I scream, but it's too late. Using the broken table, the man knocks the gun from Ryan's hands, then punches at his face. Ryan ducks and dives for the gun, but the other man tackles him and holds him down. Another retrieves the gun from the floor and points it at Ryan. He freezes instantly.

"Stop!" I scream.

"Tell me what I want to know or they'll kill him," says the man from my nightmares.

Words begin to tumble out of me. "I don't know where your money is, I promise. I don't. I don't have it. I don't have any money at all. You have to believe me."

The man nods at the two subduing Ryan. The one with the gun steps back and the one pinning Ryan to the floor hauls him up before slamming a fist into his gut. Ryan doubles over and makes a horrible gasping noise.

I cry out in horror.

"You're trying my patience, little girl. One more chance. Tell me where the money is, or your soldier boy here dies."

"No, no please! I promise, I've never heard anything about any money since the night that... since you killed them. I'd never heard anything about it before or since. Mama worked at a bank, can't you find something there?"

"You of all people should know how well that story worked out for your mother."

"Please, I promise I don't know anything. I didn't live at home. Mama wouldn't have told me about clients' finances anyway. It was all confidential. The police went over every inch of the house. They didn't find anything. After Mama died, there was no one to tell me anything about any stolen money. You have to believe me. I don't know anything about your money."

He stares at me with narrowed eyes. I can see the moment he realizes I'm telling the truth. 

"Well then. If you don't have anything to give us, then we don't need him anymore," the man says, looking over at Ryan. 

"No, wait!" I shout. 

The man turns back to me expectantly. My mind whirls as I try to think of something, anything, that will get me and Ryan out of this alive. I seize an idea and make it up as I go along.

"I have inheritance money! I don't know how much, but I've got money coming to me. You killed Julie, so I was the sole beneficiary of my parents' estate and finances. But I was in witness protection because of you, so I never saw a penny of it. They had life insurance policies, 401(k) plans, the house... I don't know how much money you think my mother stole or how much I'm supposed to inherit, but it's something, right?"

The man raises an eyebrow in speculation and turns his gaze to the others in the room. 

"Please," I whisper in desperation. I look over at Ryan, who is no longer standing under his own power, but being held up by the man who'd tackled him.

The boss turns back to me with an expression of resolution. "You'll have to come with us then, Miss Heiress."

He extends a hand toward the man holding Ryan's Beretta. The lackey hands the boss the pistol. He points it at me and nods to the man holding me still. He lets go of my arms and the two men advance on Ryan while the boss holds the gun on me still. 

"Xavier!" he calls to the splintered door.

"Wait, what about Ryan?" I ask.

"Kill him," the boss says in a voice devoid of inflection. 

"No!" I scream and burst forward toward Ryan, but the boss grabs me by the hair. I scream and claw at him while I hear muffled groans from Ryan as the men begin to beat him.

Another man, Xavier, I suppose, drags me away from the boss, who looks rather annoyed at my outburst. This man makes the first seem gentle. He holds me tightly against him and claps a rag with a sweet odor over my mouth and nose.

Chloroform, I think as I try not to breathe in. I hold my breath for as long as I possibly can, until my chest begins to spasm as my body screams for oxygen. Finally I can't hold out any longer and breathe in, the sweet smell invading my lungs. 

In TV and the movies, chloroform knocks people out in seconds. Apparently, that's not how it works in real life, because several minutes tick by as I struggle in vain, my head growing fuzzier as the drug begins to take effect. Ryan is on the floor now, the men around him kicking his battered body. I struggle harder, but the drug makes my limbs feel heavy and immovable. I wish the chloroform could render me unconscious after a single breath, because then I wouldn't have to see these men beating Ryan to death.

The last thing I see before I finally lose consciousness is the men stepping back from Ryan's body, revealing him lying on the floor in a blood-soaked shirt with bruises and contusions already forming on his battered limbs.

He isn't breathing.