Page 60 of Tear Me Down
“You got a silencer?”
“No?” he replies like I asked him if he had a pet unicorn. I know the MC doesn’t normally do things like this, but going in loud and blazing isn’t the answer here.
“Okay, then knives only. You see the opening to the cellar?” He nods. “We’re going to have to use that as cover, as well as the steps on the other sideof the house. We need to be quiet with this. Traffickers get easily spooked and will either run with the girls or kill them before they’re caught.”
“Well, I can stab a mother fucker.”
I groan in agitation.
“I saidquietly, Grease. You'll have twenty seconds to take care of one and hide him before their rotation. If we draw their attention, they might kill the women.” He nods more confidently, sensing my seriousness, and pulls out a knife. “You take the cellar entrance, there’s more cover. Follow the tree line,soundlessly, and make your way over. Hide behind that old feed container for cover. In between the next rotation, get into position.” He nods and we part. Once I observe my side, I wait behind the trees until their next rotation, then move to an abandoned car for the duration of that alternation, only to move to the staircase during the next.
As the first man rounds the corner, I step out, harshly grasping his mouth and running the edge of my blade across his throat. I allow the contact to thrust me into momentum, and immediately throw me into my comfortable, murderous mindset. Everything around me comes into focus, and I know the game is on. There’s nothing playful about this scenario, though. It’s calculated and methodical, a step into enemy territory where the ultimate reward is saving lives.
The moment the contact seizes, I plunge my knife into his left lung twice in quick, short pumps. That way, his lungs can’t pull air and give him the chance to give me away. I drag his lifeless body back beside the stairs and wait for the next, only to be startled by the side door opening. A young girl runs out, sprinting for the tree line and crying while three men follow closely behind her.
“Get back here, you little bitch!” one of the men shouts as the two others tackle her to the ground, and the moment they touch her naked body, that calm, strategic part of me disappears. I mutter to myself as I run up and stab the man standing behind the others, only to pull my silenced pistol and shoot the other two as they stand, reacting to the commotion.
“What’s going on?” a man calls from around the corner, but not in my direction, thankfully, and seems to be onto Grease instead.
“Call for back up!” Masculine screams ring from the other side of the house, and I hear gunshots from an obvious altercation. Fucking Grease should’ve just stayed hidden, but there was no way that he could’ve known what was happening on this side of the house, and I imagine that this woman’s attempted escape set off some alarms. I grab the girl’s arm and start to run with her back towards the house, trying not to hurt her, but needing her to comply.
“Stay down!” I tell her as I place her next to the stairs and aim at the man rounding the corner, pulling my trigger simultaneously and watching him drop to the ground before I grab her arm and run with her inside the house. Now that our presence is out in the open, we need to move quickly, and her best chance is with us rather than trying to maneuver around whatever backup the traffickers have coming. I keep my gun pointed as we enter and carefully lookaround for the figures I saw before, but they’re nowhere to be found—which is both relieving and concerning. “Grease?” I yell out
“Here, D!” He runs up to us with blood covering his vest and t-shirt, showing the struggle he’s had in the past few minutes. The moment he sees the girl, he grabs her on the shoulders and shakes her, borderline violently. “Maria? Where’s Maria?”
“Who?” The girl’s voice shakes, she’s so scared, and she looks up at him with wide, terrified eyes. I push him back and keep a respectable distance, sensing she needs the space.
“The other women here, where are they?” I ask with a gentler tone and hover my hand next to her arm, not touching her, but trying to give some sort of comfort while keeping eye contact.
“Upstairs,” she says a little more confidently, and Grease wastes no time turning and running up the stairs in frantic movements. I turn the girl back to me as she anxiously looks around the main floor.
“What’s your name?”
“Harper,” she quietly replies.
“How old are you, Harper?” I say as I quickly lift my shirt over my head and take a moment to put it on her, wanting her to get comfortable until Zeke, Dani, and Lauren arrive with the blankets and clothes.
“Eighteen...”
“Where are you from?”
“Oklahoma.”
“Okay, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you home.” She nods with me, even though her eyes continue to dart around in an adrenaline induced panic.
“D! Get up here!” Grease yells hysterically. I grab her by the wrist and pull her up the stairs with me, keeping her close so we can keep all of the women together. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I look in the open doors to see the other women naked and chained up, ranging from any age between eighteen and thirty. Some look dirty and much too thin to be healthy. They’re not badly beaten or bruised, at least that I can see, but that’s because they have to be preserved for auction, and the thought makes me so sick that I have to fight the urge to vomit onto the disgusting, dirt ridden floor.
“How did you get out of your chains?” I turn around and ask Harper.
“The key is in my lock.”
“Which room?” She points to the end of the hallway, and I make my way inside to see a man lying dead on the floor. A pen is stuck in his neck and blood coats the floor near the now empty chains.
“D? Zeke, the men, and the girls are en route, but you’ve got two passenger vans heading your way, and they’re not ours. You’re going to have to hold them off until the others get there,” Carter warns.
“Fuck!” I grab the key and start unlocking the girls. “Grease we got to get them out!” It only seems to take us a matter of minutes to get them unlocked before we’re sprinting down the stairs. Carter’s voice crackles through my ear-com again with a more worried tone.
“D?! We’ve got a fucking problem! Viking’s on his way to the spot too!” he screams, sounding half out of breath.
