Mixed Messages
Chapter 17
Departures and arrivals
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Amanda's mind wandered out the window, into the darkness, past the white moving truck parked across the street, the utility vans lined up next door, and the four men with hard hats peering at the transformer. She turned and stared at her door, then at the floor.
She hadn't said more than a few words all week, and frankly, she didn't have any to say. She didn't feel like eating, or training, or doing anything. Every time she closed her eyes, Miriam's face begged her, fearful, and screaming. She watched punches slamming into her best friend's mouth, cheeks, and eyes. She slumped onto the floor, dragged her comforter over her body, drew her knees into her chest, and sobbed.
Rapping on the door frame broke into her grief. She glanced at her mother, Misty, in the doorway.
"Honey? You ok?"
She simply hunched back down into a ball and cried.
Misty exhaled a deep sigh, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and said, "Mandy, what's wrong, honey."
She started to pull herself under her bed, but finally sobbed out, "It's all my fault."
"What's all your fault?"
Mandy paused and shuffled under her bed, silently weeping, and finally said, "nothing."
"Honey, you aren't making any sense. Is this about that Lauren mess?"
Amanda rocked, fidgeted, pulled the comforter under her bed, and sniffed out, "It's not her fault."
"Amanda, she should never have taken you there. That's completely unacceptable. We aren't going to allow people to drag you into danger like that. You're fourteen!"
"No! Mom!"
"I don't want any argument about this! No!"
Amanda gritted her teeth, and before she could stop herself, blurted out, "Lauren wasn't even there!"
"What! What are you talking about?"
"I'm not supposed to..."
Amanda shoved herself all the way into the darkness against the wall, and cried.
Misty poked her head under the bed, and said, "Amanda? What do you mean she wasn't there? What aren't you supposed to tell me?"
"No! I can't!"
"What are you talking about, you're not making any sense."
"They will come after us."
"Who?"
The doorbell's welcoming bell filtered up the stairs.
"Them!"
"Who?"
"The people who kidnapped..."
The sound of the front door clicking open filtered up the stairs, then a crash, Sandra screaming, and loud stomping footsteps rushing in. Misty shot to her feet.
Amanda yelped, "No!"
Four men burst in the door and grabbed Misty.
"Where is the girl?"
Misty said "No!"
A loud slap split the quiet and Misty's body piled onto the floor. A square hand reached down, lifted her back up, and pounded another open palm across her face, leaving her bleeding and mumbling incoherently on the floor.
The metallic clatter of a pump shotgun sliced through the silence.
"I'm only going to say this once! Amanda! Come out, or we'll kill your mother!"
Amanda stared out at four pairs of legs, sighed, and said, "Don't kill her. It's my fault."
She shuffled out from under the bed, shoulders fallen, looked at the masked men, and then at her mother's broken lip and bleeding nose, and said, "Please. Don't hurt my mom."
A dozen men surrounded Misty, Sandra, and Amanda in the living room, pointing shotguns at them. Sandra's eyes flashed bright yellow, and she said, "I'm going to hunt you down and kill every of you!"
The tallest man said, "This is real simple. You're coming with us. Try anything and we'll make you watch while we shoot your daughter, and your wife, or whatever she is, before we kill you. Same for all of you." He pointed the shotgun at Amanda, and said, "Even you. Try anything and we'll kill your mom, and, uh, her, and make you watch."
He continued, "If any of you escape, we'll kill the others. Understand? Now get in the vans."
"What's going on!" Sandra hissed.
"It's all my fault." Amanda said, and started crying.
Sandra jumped at the first man, but the man behind her slammed the butt of a shotgun into her head, and she slumped to the ground. Amanda jumped towards her mother, but the man shoved the muzzle of the shotgun against Sandra's head, and said, "No!"
She looked at the shotguns pointed at her, Misty, and her mother, dropped her shoulders, stared at the ground, and trudged into the dark towards the first van. She sobbed as they stuffed her mother and Misty into two separate vans. A black bag covered her head, zip ties cinched her hands, and the van bumped and rumbled off.
She heard men speaking in a foreign language and the word Grimm. She asked, "Where are we going?"
She heard shuffling and talking, then felt a sting in her neck. Wooziness and sleep washed over her, and the world went black.
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The world swirled up and down. Amanda's eyes fluttered, and she saw a dark row of seats in dusky darkness. Her eyes opened again she saw a small window. Her stomach growled, and she thought, I'm so hungry. How many days has it been? Maybe three? Four?
Her eyes opened again and saw the seat back in front of her. She listened, and heard a loud, high pitched whine and slow, regular, heavy breathing next to her. She looked out the small, round window. Clouds below a wing with a light on the tip? Darkness? The moon? Am I in an airplane? At night?
She slowly inhaled and the scent brought Miriam's Face flashing through her mind. Hundjager!
The fog inside her brain flashed clear and she was instantly aware. She transformed and gnawed through the zip ties on her wrists. The man next to her snored and flopped his head against her face. She pushed his head back over, he snorted, twitched, and his eyes fluttered. Before she knew what happened, she silently snarled and he exhaled a slow wheeze as her claws retracted out of the base of his skull. She pushed his limp head back, closed his eyes, and listened.
Oh no! What did you do? They're going to kill Mom and Misty! She stilled herself and focused on the sounds of heavy breathing and light snoring in the airplane cabin. Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth.
She focused, listened, and smelled. How many? Four? Five? Six? Are Mom or Misty here?
She pushed herself up and counted. Seven. All men, and he's got a gun. Mom and Misty aren't here.
She transformed back to normal and closed her eyes. She wanted to start crying, but instead gritted her teeth. She listened and focused. How many are asleep?
She visualized the inside of the airplane, the position of the men, walked through her plan in her mind, and gritted her teeth. I have no choice, I have to kill them all!
She rummaged through his pockets and found an automatic knife and a small pistol. She hefted the knife and tested it's blade, then stared at the pistol, rubbed the healed blisters on her neck, and grimaced. I've seen these in movies, but the last time didn't really go like I thought. It's better than nothing, I guess. I wonder if it has any bullets?
She looked it over and found a round button. She pressed it and felt the magazine pop loose. She pulled it out and looked at the bullets. She pulled the slide back a little and inspected the empty barrel. She put the magazine back in and slid the gun into her pocket.
She peeked into the seat in front of her and saw the man leaned forward, snoring. She glanced around, shoved the knife into the base of his skull, cranked it back and forth, then pulled his head back against the seat.
She looked around, silently lifted herself over the man beside her, crouched low, and slinked to the back. She cleared her mind, and started moving, back to front, stabbing two more men from behind.
She stared at the men in front of her. One, then two next to each other. She reached up between the seats and he grabbed her hand and jerked. He yelled in a foreign language. Two more men shook and jumped. She transformed and slashed across his face. He yelled and shot to his feet, slamming into the overhead compartment. Stunned, he paused, and she raked claws across his neck.
Two men ran at her and lunged, but she ducked behind a seat, then jumped over. A man swung, slamming a fist into her face, but she hooked claws deep into his arm. He jumped and jerked back, dragging her straight back into him. She reached out and slashed him across the face and ripped his neck. The scent of hundjager filled her nose. She flew into a white hot frenzy of laser focus. The world stopped moving and she dodged, slashed, and clawed through every living thing around her, until she stood alone, soaked and sticky. She snarled and stared at the door to the front, but exhaled, and transformed back to normal. She rifled through their belongings and pocketed all the money, knives, and small guns.
She looked around, ambled back, and found the bathroom door. She gingerly pulled on the door. Locked. She waited, beside the door, and heard a flush. She crouched in the back seat, transformed herself, and waited.
A dark haired woman dressed in black came out, tugging ear buds stuffed deep into her ears. She sniffed the air, and Amanda pounced, hooking claws into her head and chest, and slammed her on the floor.
The woman transformed into a hundjager, and started smashing elbows into Amanda's head. Amanda got on top of her and rained punches into her until she fell limp. The woman finally gasped and whispered, "Ein Grimm!" and mumbled in a foreign language.
"Who hired you?"
The woman mumbled something she couldn't understand.
"Name?"
She started repeating something long and confusing that sounded like a man's name, and then started begging again. We'll kill your mother, echoed through her head, she sliced the knife deep into the woman's neck, and watched her slump.
She pushed the woman up into the back seat then washed in the tiny sink. She found a duffel bag of clothing that looked like it should fit, and changed out of her sticky, red clothes.
She sat in a chair in the last row, stared at the inside of the airplane, then out the window, and waited. Ok, Now what? They'll kill Mom and Misty if they find out it was me!
A knot formed in the pit of Amanda's stomach when the airplane started to descend. She marched up the small aisle and opened each beige overhead compartment. She turned, paced, then turned again.
She put her hands into an overhead and started to climb onto one of the chairs, then stopped and stared towards the front of the airplane. She hurried and opened each cabinet, inspecting inside, then turned back towards the overhead compartments, then back to the bathroom.
Her foot tapped and fingers drummed. She sat down then shot back up to her feet. She paced up the gray carpeting, turned, and paced back down past the double rows of seats and the open mouthed bodies.
She pushed her face into her hands and sobbed while she stared into her mother's face, bleeding, from the butt of a shotgun, and Misty, so terrified. The stench of blood and death filled her nostrils. She mouthed, "No, no, no! Mom! Misty! It's all my fault!" and she paced.
She stopped, stared out into the darkness, gritted her teeth, and said, "Maximillian, Prince Maximillian something or another."
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Two nights later, three white vans parked outside the Prentice house in Seattle. Six men quickly piled out, broke through the door, and marched through the empty house with guns drawn and flashlights blazing.
A white haired man walked through the empty house and sauntered into a girl's bedroom. He knelt and touched a dried blood stain in the beige carpet. He walked back down stairs, signaled to his men, waved them back to the vans, and left.
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2.1k 1/9/21 r1