Escape

PART I

Toll pulled on his boots and coat. A light drizzle fell in sheets outside, coating the house’s windows, bathing everything in a layer of dim grey.

Tracy sat by the door, silent as always. Normally he’d bring her, wouldn’t let the old girl leave his side, but he’d gotten used to the isolation here, even enjoying it.

‘Wait here, girl. You’ll come on the next walk.’

The cold hit his cheeks, turned his nose pink, as he stepped outside. He threw on his hood and squinted in the brightness; though the sun couldn’t pierce the thick clouds, his eyes still needed adjustment to the harsh white.

Toll looked out at the hills before him, rolling into each other like giant waves of grey and dark green. Trees dotted, lined, and clumped together, great imposing towers that shrank into timid dots at a greater distance.

He took a path down the hill before leaving the muddy trail to force his own. Better to make your own path, he thought, chuckling to himself. His boots could take the water kicked up from the grass.

When he’d descended the valley and climbed the next hill, his heavy breaths dissipated into vapour; despite the cold, he could feel the damp heat of sweat beneath the raincoat.

He inhaled a deep, satisfying breath of fresh air, cold burning his nostrils. This was why he liked the place. The house on the hill gave him a view in almost every direction, even through the vegetation and fog to the blurred city lights. With only Tracy for company, he still knew civilisation was only an hour away.

A single road lead to the house, also visible from where he stood. It was another thing he liked; knowing from only a short walk if anyone planned to visit.

As he turned to continue his morning hike, he spotted a car approaching down the road. It periodically passed behind hills and trees, obscuring it from view, but Toll stood and watched, wondering. The luxury model was the first car he’d seen in two weeks, excusing his own.

‘Better to be safe,’ he told himself, and ran back for the house.

PART II

He opened the front door, Tracey waiting where he’d left her. He picked her up and sighed. It may be a false alarm, but he hadn’t gotten this far in life taking chances.

Before he could relax, an alarm buzzed down the hall.

He ran into the living room to the television, Tracey still in his arms. He absently ran his hands along her to relax.

On the small box screen, a camera feed from the end of the driveway showed the same expensive car turning into his property. The next camera, further down the driveway, caught them continuing toward the house.

‘Goddamnit,’ Toll whispered. He looked down at Tracey. ‘Looks like you’re going to get that walk after all, girl.’

He ran back through the hallway into one of the spare bedrooms that faced the driveway. The room was only furnished with a large trunk, and one small window let him look outside to wait for the approaching car.

Toll unlatched the trunk and dug through its contents, removing some food for Tracey, placing it in his pocket.

Toll opened the window, a floodgate for cold air to rush in and burn his eyes. It hit him and Tracey as he held her up to the window and waited for the car.

He saw it before he heard it; they were taking care to be quiet.

Before they knew what was happening – that was key – Toll whispered, ‘Okay, Tracey. Your time to shine.’

He pulled back the hammer, lined up the sights over the steering wheel, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet cracked the entire window and splattered red on the inside from the driver’s head. The car slowed to a halt – it was moving too slow to crash – and the doors flew open for the men to climb out. In their clamour, Toll managed to snag the shoulder of the front passenger, who dropped and screamed before being yanked back by another.

The rest of them – four by Toll’s count, all wearing suits; he knew who they were – hid behind the car doors, yelled at each other, at Toll, and returned fire. Toll ducked, firing off a few more stray shots, not bothering to aim. Their bullets wouldn’t breach the brick walls, but as the gunfire swelled like thunder in the rain, the glass above him shattered and the wall across the room exploded into chalky pieces with every shot.

He crawled across the carpet, sleeves protecting him from the glass, to the hallway then ran to the bathroom – also facing the driveway. Toll didn’t like its larger window, but the shooters were still attacking the bedroom. He opened the window a crack, just enough to line up a shot. One of the men, still taking cover from the bedroom, left a sliver of his right side exposed to Toll’s new vantage point.

Tracey’s bullet tore through the man’s ribcage and he dropped, coughing blood that mixed with the rain.

‘Fuckers,’ Toll said, shooting some more random bullets to distract them, before dropping again. This room was too exposed. ‘Three down, three to go.’ He held Tracey against his chest as he crouched and ran across the tiles, footsteps cracking glass.

There was only one room left in the house he could still surprise them from, but first, he returned to the first spare bedroom. Bullets still flew through its window, the men aiming for both rooms, but Toll only needed the trunk to feed Tracey.

He left the room, running at a crouch while reloading a chamber into his girl.

Out the door, something smashed into his head, his vision flashing with pain as he dropped.

After a few dizzying moments, he rolled over to see what had happened. Really, he knew what it was, but he didn’t want to admit it. Couldn’t.

The intruder’s bullet exploded into the carpet next to Toll’s head. He froze.

‘Don’t you dare turn over. Throw that monster of a weapon down the hall.’

Toll’s skin crawled. He knew the icy, relaxed voice immediately. Even in the spray of gunfire outside, Giles barely had to raise his commanding tone.

He’d used the noise to sneak in; Toll cursed himself for being so foolish.

Reluctantly, Toll obeyed, placing Tracey on the ground and sliding her down the hall. She didn’t move far on the carpet. He hadn’t even finished feeding her.

‘Good man.’

Giles smacked the back of Toll’s head with the gun again, dropping him to the carpet with pain and fury, his vision a mixture of red and black.

PART III

By the time he woke, Toll sat in the centre of his living room, handcuffed to the frame of one of his chairs. Three men stood before him; two behind, Giles only a step away.

‘This is what happens when you stay somewhere like this for too long, Toll,’ Giles said. He was a tall man regardless, but towered over Toll confined to the chair. ‘Beautiful, but isolated. You get complacent, forget to lock your doors, check your corners.’ He smiled, barely a twitch in his stone-like features, waving his gun around – a revolver, giant, even in his hand – as he spoke. A patch of Toll’s blood had dried on the stock. ‘I saw you standing on that hill out there as we came up. Guess you didn’t see me get dropped off.’

Giles stepped forward and pressed the revolver against Toll’s forehead. Toll instinctively flinched, but kept his eyes on Giles’ above him.

‘Silent treatment, huh?’ Giles said, his expensive suit covered in dust and debris from the hallway. ‘You at least know why I’m here, don’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I was set up, Giles.’ Toll slightly relaxed when Giles removed the gun and stepped back, laughing once without amusement.

‘I know that. I took care of them already; all of them, every single one. I did to them what they did to me.’ He stepped forward again and crouched down to Toll’s level. ‘I haven’t been sitting around for two weeks twiddling my thumbs. You’re just last on the list.’

‘I didn’t have a choice, Giles. I’m sorry,’ Toll said, tears beginning to burn. He meant it. ‘It was them or me.’

‘Oh? That right there sounds like a choice to me.’

‘What should I have done? Let them kill me?’

‘A man of your talents, Toll? I’m sure you could’ve figured something out. I wish you had – really – but now my hands are tied.’ Giles smiled again, only a slit of his teeth visible, and waved his revolver to the men behind him. ‘Speaking of.’

The two thugs approached Toll and went behind the chair, taking hold of his cuffed wrists. They unlocked them and each held one of Toll’s arms from behind and violently pushed him forward off the chair. The cuffs on his ankles dug into his skin, and Giles smiled down at him, pressing the revolver against his head again.

‘My wife, Toll? I can understand that, really. She’s always been… hot-headed. She’d do anything to take care of her own. That’s why I love her.’ Giles pursed his lips and pressed hard on the barrel, digging into Toll’s skin. ‘Loved her.’

‘Giles, I didn’t…’ Toll began.

‘Shut up,’ Giles said, calm, tapping the barrel on Toll’s forehead light enough not to hurt. A threat.

‘What I cannot understand is… my son?’ Giles, for only a moment, allowed vulnerability, sadness, in his eyes. ‘A sixteen year old boy. Can you explain that?’

‘I was set up,’ Toll said again with more urgency. ‘When I took the contract, they told me it was someone else – some thug – and all my prep told me the same. I would never have gone there if I’d known what it really was.’

Giles slowly pulled back his gun, nodding as if Toll’s words were sufficient. ‘I already know that.’ Without another word, Giles gave his men a single nod and one kicked his boot between Toll’s shoulders. Each one twisted one of Toll’s arms around to his front so his hands leaned on the carpet, and pulled him back up to face Giles.

Giles waited their eyes to meet again before giving another smile, mockingly apologetic.

Without looking away, he fired a bullet from the revolver in quick succession into each of Toll’s hands.

The shock hit Toll before the pain. He looked down at his wrists, the mess of flesh and bone where his hands had been. Some fingers still hung on by threads of skin while spurts of blood pumped from the destroyed stumps of his palms.

‘Just a precaution,’ Giles said. ‘I know you could get out of those cuffs, easy.’

Toll screamed as the pain took over, ears burning.

‘I’m not done with you yet, you understand,’ Giles said, but Toll didn’t hear over his screams, his vision fading until he lost consciousness.

PART IV

Toll murmured awake confined to the chair again. He almost passed out again when he tried to move his hands, the loose flesh and splintered bones pulling against the steel handcuffs.

He struggled to focus, but saw Giles in front and over him again. The two thugs waited behind, their hands on a young man’s shoulders in another chair across from Toll, head drooping.

‘Finally,’ Giles said. ‘Thought I’d done too much damage.’ He peered around Toll’s chair to look at the mess behind, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. ‘Just had to make sure you were out of commission.’

He stepped back and walked over to the young man and lifted his head. Toll hadn’t seen him for a few months, but he immediately recognised the boy.

‘Probably wouldn’t have shot up my car out there if you knew he’d been in the trunk, huh?’ Giles said, slapping the boy’s face. ‘What’s your name, son?’

The boy’s face was red and purple with blood and bruises, tear streaks running down his misshapen cheeks. ‘Ke… Kevin,’ he murmured through swollen and cracked lips.

‘Tell me, Kevin,’ Giles said, holding the boy’s chin and looking at Toll. ‘Do you know who this man is?’

Kevin managed to open one eye – the other too swollen – to meet Toll’s gaze. He shook his head, on the brink of exhaustion.

‘That’s a shame.’ Giles dropped Kevin’s head to flop back down to his chest, whimpering. ‘Because he knows you.’

‘Let him go,’ Toll said; all he could manage through the immense pain burning in his arms, along with a few tears. ‘He’s nineteen. He doesn’t deserve this. I know what I did… Do whatever you want me with me. Let him go.’

Giles looked between both men on the chairs and smiled. ‘Should you tell him why he’s here, Toll, or should I?’

‘Stop!’ The pain of pulling on the handcuffs added to his scream. ‘He’s here because of me. I know that. But please… don’t make the mistake I did, Giles. You have a choice, here.’

Giles slowly nodded with narrowed eyes. ‘Look at him,’ he said. ‘He’s a kid. I’m not going to kill him; I’m not a complete monster.’

Toll relaxed slightly.

‘No; I’m going to give him the same chance you gave mine.’

Giles nodded to the men behind Kevin, and one threw his pistol on the ground between the two chairs. The other yanked Kevin’s chin to look at the gun.

‘Pick it up,’ Giles said to the boy.

‘What?’ Kevin said in a daze.

‘Stop!’ Toll yelled.

‘Shoot me, Kevin,’ Giles said.

‘Stop this bullshit, Giles!’ Toll said.

‘Why…’ Kevin began. His weak voice could only be heard in the ensuing silence. ‘Why are you doing this? Who are you?’

‘Listen to me, Kevin,’ Giles began, crouching in front of Kevin. ‘I want you to shoot me. Shoot me like I just broke into your home with a shotgun capable of tearing a person to pieces with a single shell. Your home where you sleep upstairs, your mother downstairs, where she hears some strange noise. She screams to wake you up, just to tell you there’s danger, so she might get you to safety. Your mother picks up the gun to defend herself – her family – but before she can even turn to look…

‘You hear a gunshot, so you come downstairs with your own gun, the one kept in your father’s safe, only for emergencies. You come to see what all the commotion is, but before you can even process what you’re seeing… well.

‘You play your part, Kevin, and I’ll play mine. Can you do that for me?’

Kevin’s breath quickened before he was pushed to the floor. He began crawling towards the gun, weak, dragging himself across the carpet.

‘Stop, Kevin,’ Toll shouted, but the boy didn’t listen. ‘Please, Giles, he doesn’t even know who I am! Leave him out of this!’

‘Oh, but see,’ Giles said, pointing his revolver at Kevin. ‘You know who he is. That’s all that matters.’

Kevin reached the gun halfway between both chairs. Laying on the ground, barely able to see out of one eye, the boy picked up the weapon, cold and heavy, and tried to aim it at his target. His arm and hand shook uncontrollably while tears squeezed between his heaving breaths.

‘I must say, I did not expect this,’ Giles said, amused.

Kevin pulled the trigger, and the bullet scraped through the flesh of Toll’s right leg. Toll screamed as blood sprayed and poured from the wound, missing the bone but ripping a tunnel through the muscle, burning almost as painful as his wrists.

‘I guess he really doesn’t know who you are,’ Giles said, with the most genuine smile he’d produced.

Kevin’s apologetic features matched the tone in his voice. ‘I thought… if I shot him instead, you’d let me go,’ he said, looking at Giles. ‘Please… He said… said I’m here, because of him. Please, let me go.’

‘Kid, I like your style. Look at him,’ Giles said, pointing his gun at Toll, and the boy met his eyes for the first time. ‘This guy? He’s your brother. He’s been watching you for years… ever since he abandoned you.’ A flicker of recognition flashed in Kevin’s eyes, but Toll knew the boy had been too young to remember anything meaningful; Toll had barely been a kid himself. ‘Now, I understand,’ Giles continued, while the brothers watched each other. ‘He’s an asshole, he left you with your asshole parents, and somehow, you turned out pretty normal.

‘But, deep down, beneath all that, you’re still family. Toll, here, still really cares about you.

‘That’s why I have to do this.’

Blood exploded from the side of Kevin’s head while his eyes, still on Toll, flashed confusion before rolling back into his head. The gunshot fired from Giles’ huge revolver left Toll’s ears ringing as his nineteen-year-old estranged brother collapsed, blood pouring from his nose and mouth and the giant hole in his skull the bullet had left in its wake.

Toll screamed. The pain from his leg, his wrists, blended into the rage overtaking his whole body as he screamed and screamed, everything red.

‘What an exciting turn of events,’ Giles said, yelling to his thugs over Toll’s screams. He stepped towards Toll and smacked him with the revolver again, silencing him into a painful daze. ‘Get him into the car,’ Giles said. ‘I’m not even close to finished with him yet.’ He hit Toll again to send him into unconscious agony.