Page 59 of Saving Bonnie

I reach down, dragging him from the doorway. His gun clatters to the floor.

“Dude,” Conrado wails.

“You’re going to tell me where Bonnie is,” I tell Rick.

“She’s... She’s…”

“He said she had to die,” Conrado rasps. He’s crying now.

“No.” Rick shakes his head. “He took her. He took her.”

“Iz-Iz-Izzy,” Conrado sobs. “But Rick said…”

I go down on one knee, settling on Rick’s forearm.

“I’m sorry.” Rick’s eyes are huge.

I’ve heard those words before. Always when it’s too late.

“No, man.” Rick’s body is rocking, his head hitting the floor each time. “Fuck my life. It’s his bitch mother who forced me to work with him.”

I pull my knife and bring it to his throat.

“I just wanted to make some money,” Rick continues.

The tip bites in enough to cut the skin. I watch the hollow of his throat fill with blood.

“Ahhh!” Rick’s scream fills the air.

“Ahhh!” Conrado joins in from where he is. “No, dude. No.”

The side door opens, and an army of footsteps echoes through the building. Dante. I’d recognize those footfalls anywhere.

“He’s over here.” I let the blade bite deeper. His mouth opens, and his head flails like a fish out of water.

“Kassy’s been calling you,” Dante says as he walks past. “She found Bunny.”

His words sink in, offering relief. I clean off my blade as Dante empties a magazine into Conrado.

*****

Bunny

The car darkens as we stop at an underpass. I’ve lost track of where we are and how long we’ve been driving. Facedown on the floorboard, with my hands tied behind me, I’m stuck. All I can see is the food wrappers and bottle cap under the passenger’s seat.

“Izzy, listen to me,” I say in the calmest voice I can manage. “You don’t have to do this,” I tell him for the umpteenth time. I get the same silence as earlier. Damn, why didn’t he leave my hands tied in front of me. I’d have a better chance of getting loose.

“I’m screwed, Bonnie,” he says in a hollow voice. “This isn’t what I planned.”

“You haven’t done anything,” I remind him. “Walk away and leave all this behind.”

“No.”

Inhaling the stale smell of the carpet under my cheek, I search for another avenue. How can I change his mind? It’s hard to concentrate when my stomach is threatening to empty what little it may be carrying.

“I haven’t killed anyone,” he says, more to himself than to me.

I go still, embracing every word. I have to keep him talking. There might be something I can use to convince him to let me live.

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