Page 158 of Unexpected

“You still don’t get it, Bear. I knew you wouldn’t believe my words.” Her voice was pleading and panicked, but she gave Josh the opportunity to make some noise without her noticing. She was too focused on making me understand. She lowered the gun still trained on Hazel a few inches and took another step toward me. “So, I had to show you with my actions. And how do you know someone truly loves you? What’s the most romantic and brave gesture of that love? Spilling someone’s blood.Killingsomeone for them.”

I almost didn’t register Valerie’s words as I watched Josh push the door open the rest of the way and step into the room on nearly silent feet.

What happened next wasn’t like it’s portrayed in the movies. When chaos erupts and a million things happen at once, the editors slow down the speed of the film so the viewer doesn’t miss a single bit of the action. They cut from one viewpoint to the other.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Valerie spun away from me and raised the gun toward Hazel once more. In the same breath, Josh stepped farther into the room and raised his own weapon aimed at Valerie. Both of them fired as I leaped for Valerie’s arm, hoping Josh’s aim was true and I wouldn’t get caught in the cross fire.

Then there was a bang. Then blood and sirens and screaming.

Josh was gripping a Taser that had hit Valerie on the back of the thigh with the live prongs. But he was a fraction of a second too late. The moment Josh tased Valerie, she pulled the trigger, missing Hazel’s head, which seemed to be the original target, but hitting her left shoulder before she collapsed to the floor.

Valerie twitched and groaned on the ground as Josh continued tasing her, never letting up on the voltage whipping through her body.

Hazel was screaming, but every other sound in the room was muffled by the sound of blood pumping wildly in my ears. I jumped over Valerie and immediately began untying Hazel’s wrists. My hands were shaking, and the rope kept slipping through my fingers, but I managed to get her free. I worked quickly untying her ankles and cursed when I saw the raw skin beneath her jeans.

I reached to remove the duct tape on her mouth, but between the tears and the blood, the tape over her mouth peeled back.

The screaming had stopped—she’d lost consciousness—and the lack of sound coming from her was so much worse.

Her entire body had gone limp and there was blood pouring from the bullet wound on her shoulder and soaking the green material of her sweater. There was so much blood. Being a vet, I saw blood every day, but there was something different about seeing the blood of the person you love. It seemed thicker and harder to stop. The smell was noxious, like I could taste it.

As gently as I could manage, I lifted Hazel out of the chair and grabbed the gun that I slid underneath it. I stepped over Valerie, who was being held at gunpoint by Josh. The murderous look in his eyes was one I had never seen before and could go my whole life without seeing again. In his right hand, Josh held the gun steadily pointed at Valerie’s head, while in his left, he still gripped the Taser and shocked her each time she tried to move at all.

The sun was gone, and it was too dark in the upstairs of the bar to perform any sort of first aid on Hazel.

“You got this?” I asked Josh while carrying Hazel through the doorway and into the hallway.

“Yes, take care of Hazel.” He didn’t tear his eyes away from Valerie, who was watching me with wide, surprised eyes. She attempted to move, so Josh hit her again with the Taser. “Stay the fuck down, you psycho bitch!”

The sirens were close. They had to be close because I didn’t know how much blood Hazel had lost or what else Valerie had done to her. The narrow stairway was even more difficult to descend with Hazel in my arms, but I tucked her close and barreled down. All the while, I told her that it would be okay.

I told her that she would make it because she didn’t survive years of abuse at the hands of Michael to leave the world so soon after she’d gotten her life back.

As I ran through the empty bar, I told her that the world was a better place with her light in it.

I kicked the front door open, and I told her again that she had to hang on.

The police pulled into the parking lot first with their sirens at full volume as soon as we hit the cold winter air. I turned to protect Hazel from the gravel shooting in every direction. The cars stopped in front of the bar but left enough room for the ambulance that had just turned the corner.

The stupid sign at the top of the door mocked me as they came to a stop. And my relief was short lived at seeing the ambulance as I glanced down at Hazel after I directed the cops upstairs and told them it was the woman on the ground that had kidnapped and tortured Hazel. And that the man wielding the gun was my brother and helped me save her. She was growing paler by the second, and her breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps.

Both of us were covered in her blood, and I couldn’t tell which one of us was shaking.

The ambulance stopped in the spot the police had left, and when the doors swung open, I hopped up and placed her on the gurney. Over the noise of the sirens, I explained to them all of the injuries I knew of to the best of my ability.

“Are you hurt, too?” one of the paramedics asked. I shook my head. “If you’re riding with us, get up front so we can take care of her.”

Helplessly, I jogged around to the front and slipped into the seat as they tended to her. The paramedic that spoke to me before alerted the driver that we were ready to go. He sped out of the parking lot and narrowly missed a car that refused to yield.

Through the small window between the front cabin and the back, I heard them talking and discussing Hazel’s condition. I peeked back, and it didn’t look like the oxygen mask did much to help her breathing. In the few seconds we’d been on the road, they’d already cut off her sweater, exposing her skin to the cool air.

I lifted a hand to wipe the sweat collecting on my brow but stopped. My hands were covered in Hazel’s blood. It was already drying, and it was the smell that reminded me of my parents’ bedroom—finding my mother on the bathroom floor, it smelled the same. And I fended off the panic again, just barely.

“Five minutes out,” the driver said, wailing on his horn as we sped through a red light.

Without anything else to do and willing to try anything, I began to pray for the second time in so many hours.

I hoped that God, or whoever was listening, could hear the desperation in my prayer and would have mercy on me—on Hazel. We hadn’t had enough time together, and I already knew I couldn’t live without her. I was powerless. I’d gotten her in that situation, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to get her out.

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