“You were staring.” Lillith scolded him as she preened herself in the visor mirror
“I was talking to her, am I not supposed to look at the people I talk to now?”
Dean struggled to see the lines in the road through the rain, the wipers doing their best to aid him, but they were at least a few months past their prime and left streaks as they squeaked across the windscreen.
Lillith used a tissue to dab the water from her face and hair, primping was her safe place. They were heading home after an embarrassing evening with Dean’s colleagues at the End of Year Faculty Ball. Dean had been conversing with Prof. Betty Jennings, she had just returned from a sabbatical and was telling him about the Scottish Highlands. Dean had found out recently while researching his family tree that his grandfather had come from a town called Fort William in the Highlands, so he was curious about the area.
Betty had visited Fort William was talking about a pub she had visited in the town called The Grog and Gruel when Lillith, who Dean had last seen laughing and talking with the 20-something bartender well into her cups, approached with a jaded look in her eye.
“The pub is amazing!” Betty continued, “if you ever go you must….” but there is where Lillith interrupted.
“Oh, Dean do NOT tell me you are boring someone else with your family tree nonsense! That is all he has been talking about for the past month. No one cares if your great-great grand-whatever was local goat herder in bumfuck Scotland!” Lillith said louder than was necessary for the volume of the room, amplified by one too many gins and cokes.
“Lilly,” Dean stammered a bit to try and bring the conversation back down “Professor Jennings was just telling me about her trip to the Highlands and…”
Before he could continue Lillith continued her rant and said to Betty, gesturing to her lithe form wrapped in a tasteful fitted blouse and skirt, “There is only one Highland Deany is trying to get a look at sweetie, trust me!” Lillith laughed and gestured with her drink towards Betty’s chest.
Betty turned a bright red, looking at all the eyes on them around the room, and quietly excused herself. Dean muttered an apology to her as she passed by him, heading towards the exit.
“Or maybe you were more interested in in her lowlands?” Lillith locked eyes with Dean and finished her drink. Dean managed to get Lillith out the door while apologizing to the few people willing to meet his gaze as they exited the room. Dean retrieved their coats and the umbrella he had thought to grab before calmly leading Lillith out to the car, a hand around her waist that to the casual observer would look loving but it was actually there to steady her and keep her on course to the car.
“I’m sorry if you felt that way Lilly, I swear I was only interested in her trip.” Dean concentrated on the yellow and white lines as a semi drove past and made the glare blinding.
“Every time you take me to one of your faculty functions you end up spending the whole time talking with your coworkers and leaving me hanging.” Lillith finished her primping and slapped the visor closed, casting the interior of the car back into shadow.
“Lilly….” Dean began to say when suddenly there was a large BANG! And the car began to lurch drunkenly about the road. Dean took his foot off the gas pedal and gently eased the car to what he hoped was the side of the road, the lines nearly invisible in the downpour. Slowly the car came to a shuddering halt with the crunch of gravel and the flap of what Dean already knew was the sound of a flat tire.
“Are you okay?” Dean looked to Lillith as he hit the warning flashers button on the dash.
“Yes….I’m okay. Are you? Lilly spoke in a whisper just barely audible over the pouring rain and the squeak of the windshield wipers.
“Might need a change of shorts but yeah I’m fine.” Dean breathed out heavily as he looked in the rear-view mirror. “I’m gonna go check how bad it is, can you call AAA?”
“On it.” Lilly pulled her phone out and began to work it. Dean had time to think that despite their faults, in a crisis, they worked together well.
Dean checked the side mirror one more time for traffic and then opened his door into the downpour. He went to the trunk where he kept his emergency box, always prepared Dean heard in his head from his Boy Scout days and popped it open. He pulled out the poncho, road flares, and his flashlight.
“I don’t have a signal!” Lilly shouted back to him. “Neither do you!” Lilly held up Dean’s phone answering his next question before he could ask it.
“Great!” Dean scratched a flare to life and walked a few paces back from the car to place it in the road. He started towards the passenger side of the car and clicked his flashlight on.
The passenger side rear tire lay in tatters, Dean shined the light around it and it looked like it had been put through a shredder. Glad I paid for the optional full size spare Dean thought as he moved towards Lilly’s window. She cracked it open and asked “How bad?”
“It’s dead Jim.” Dean joked back and despite the previous evening hostilities Lilly laughed. “Need any help out there getting the spare on?”
“No sense in both of us getting wet, you keep trying the phones and I’ll scream if I need help.” Dean joked as he headed towards the front of the car, the headlights barely shining 20-30 feet through the rain with the orange blinking of the flashers joining them. Dean shined the flashlight along the side of the car on the way to set the other flare and felt his heart sink. As the flashlight beam played along the side of the car, he saw the front passenger side tire was also shredded and torn.
Well that is concerning Dean thought mildly with tension now crawling up into his stomach. He continued forward and around the front of the car, his shadow huge in the curtain of rain past the headlights and over to the drivers side. A quick glance showed that both the front and rear tires on his side were also destroyed.
Dean walked back to the passenger side of the car and Lilly cracked her window open again.
“It’s a bit worse than I thought” Dean began to say when he was interrupted by a blinding light from behind the car.
Headlights. 4 of them. And a spotlight that would rival the sun pointed directly at them from a large vehicle 20 feet behind them.
How did they sneak a truck that big up on us Dean though as Lilly swore and shielded her eyes from the sudden assault of light.
“What the fuck?!” Lilly started when Dean interrupted her.
“All the tires are shredded Lilly. Do you have your gun?” Dean spoke softly though the open window. Lilly stammered and spoke back in a whisper “I didn’t think your faculty dinner would turn into a bloodbath.” Jokes, always jokes between them. Dean thought the phrase Gallows Humor before he brought himself back to the task at hand.
“I didn’t hear that truck pull up and we would have seen their lights coming from down the road if they had just been driving. My Spidey-sense is tingling.” Dean held up a hand to block the light so he could see Lilly better. Dean slipped the flashlight through the opening in the window. “Take this, be ready, I love you.” Lilly took the flashlight but before she could say anything Dean was walking towards the source of the light.
“Hi there!” Dean shouted “Boy am I glad you came along! Seems we had a bit of a blow out here!” Dean walked calmly and quickly towards the lights. From behind the lights he heard a door open and close and the crunch of feet on the gravel shoulder of the road. A shadow appeared at the passenger side of the vehicle and a giant shadow moved into the lights.
“That’s far enough.” A huge distorted voice boomed out of the darkness. A voice modulator of some kind, Dean’s stomach knotted but he kept moving.
“I don’t suppose you have a phone I could borrow?” Dean moved towards the shape and kept his hands wrapped around the other road flare he was holding beneath the poncho. He popped the cap off when he was about 10 feet from the lights when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun have a round pumped and chambered.
“I said STOP!” The electronically enhanced voice boomed again, and Dean knew it was now or never. He squinted his eyes as much as he could and scraped the flare to life in his hands, the bright blast of light and fire melting parts of his poncho as he brought the flare up and hopefully into the face of the person wielding the shotgun.
Dean saw a huge man that had been standing only a few feet from Dean when he lit the second flare with what appeared to be night vision goggles on his head scream and drop his gun as he reached to shield his eyes. Then things happened very quickly.
Dean shouted “RUN!” as loud as he could.
Another car door opened and slammed closed somewhere in front of him
Dean lunged for the shotgun and fell on it just as the former owner came to his senses and also tried to retrieve it from the ground at his feet.
Dean felt a set of hands on his shoulders as he fell on the gun trying to pull him up and off it.
Dean rolled over with the shotgun in hand and fired it blindly towards the lights.
The sounds of breaking glass and shouts of pain as some of the lights went out.
Then lightning, all Dean’s muscles ceased up, and then all the lights went out.
Silence, giving way to roaring, the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. No that is not quite it Dean though as he slowly became aware of himself and his surroundings. He was cold, wet, and getting wetter, and blind.
Correction Dean thought as he painfully moved his head blindfolded.
Cold metal on his left side, freezing water pelting his right side. He was hog-tied in the back of that truck no doubt.
Well, here is another fine mess he thought to himself and giggled. Humor to the end it seemed. Not sure if he was being observed, Dean tried to move as little as possible while he tested his constraints. As he wiggled something his head was laying on cut into his cheek a bit and he stifled a yelp in spite of himself.
Working slowly Dean moved so the blindfold lay between his head and where the sharp thing was, and we started working back and forth. It was taking what felt like forever, not like I have anything else to do, he kept his humor as he worked.
After what felt like an eternity the blindfold was slowly worked up onto Dean’s brow, allowing him to further take in his surroundings.
Feeling encouraged that if he ever when blind he may adapt admirably, Dean found he was indeed in the bed of a truck with his hands and feet bound in front of him and pulled tight to keep him in a prone position. He was facing the cab of the truck which was empty. Though the rain he thought he heard voices behind him, but he could not make them out.
I hope she’s okay Dean though and felt his heart sink. Despite their differences he truly did love Lillith and he hoped she felt the same. As he finished that though he heard a scream somewhere behind him and his heart froze.
Lilly
Self-preservation be damned Dean started to wiggle and shift to start to move the ropes that held his hands and feet towards the sharpened metal that had been so helpful in removing his blindfold. After another eternity of wiggling his feet and arching and flexing his back Dean learned an entirely new form of locomotion. Hands and wrists positioned above the jagged metal in the bed of the truck Dean started sawing at the rope holding him.
About 5 minutes into his endless endeavor Dean heard a slam and went completely still. He wiggled his brow to put the blindfold back down a bit as footsteps approached from behind him. With all his effort he relaxed his body and took slow steady breaths to hopefully give the appearance that he was still unconscious.
The footsteps went past him and around the side of the truck bed. Through the sliver of space left open from the blindfold Dean saw the passenger side door of the truck open and the dome light shown on the face of one of their attackers. He was big, bearded, and the very definition of the word grizzly. He rummaged around on the floor of the truck looking for something, muttering to himself. After a few seconds he swore and leaned back out of the truck, slamming the door hard. To Dean’s dismay he moved to the bed of the truck, a scant foot away from where Dean lay, and started looking through some boxes. After a few more terrifying seconds he found what he was looking for and pulled out a bottle of some sort. That was what he was looking for and he turned to head back the way he came. Before he left earshot though Dean did hear him say “This ought to shut that bitch up.”
Footsteps, fading, then a door slam.
Dean immediately started sawing at his bonds again, scared as to what they were doing and hoping he would be in time to do something.
Sawing, wiggling, sweating, swearing, straining to hear anything behind him over the storm, and then finally a snap as the bonds came free. Struggling to remain inconspicuous and hurrying, at the same time Dean rolled over to face what was behind him. Though the rain he could see the dim outline of a trailer with a few squares of light in the gloom.
Gathering himself Dean slipped from the truck bed to the ground and while he wanted to charge straight towards the trailer, he knew that being 5’10” and 130 pounds soaking wet, that it might be a valiant effort, but he would not prevail.
Moving against his instincts Dean moved to the cab of the truck to see what he might find. Maybe they left a bazooka or Samari sword for me to use he thought as he looked through the refuse in the cab. After a few minutes, the best Dean was able to find was another road flare and a walkie-talkie. In the bed of the truck, he found a half empty gas can and a full can of grease. Where’s MacGyver when you need him Dean though as he gathered his findings and courage and headed towards the lights of the trailer.
Remembering his video game training Dean crouch-walked across the mud and knelt beneath the window beside the door straining to hear anything from inside.
Muffled voices. Deep bass tones and one that Dean knew very well. Can of gas in one hand, a road flare in the other, Dean started psyching himself up to go in guns, or in this case flare, blazing when there was movement right above him and a sudden sound of sliding clicking metal. Dean flinched and waited for whatever it might be but all that came was a clearer version of the voices he heard, the first one a man’s voice saying, “There I opened a window, Jesus will you quit bitching?!”
Dean froze and waited, feeling the rain and nothing else as he heard Lillian say “Well what don’t I have to bitch about? Let me see. You fuck up the accident and nearly get me killed, you fuck up the ambush and nearly get yourselves killed, and the only person you were supposed to kill you taze and leave alive?! What part of this whole thing am I not supposed to think of as a total fucking failure?!”
“Then you bring me to a shitty trailer in the middle of nowhere full of cigarette smoke and the cheapest booze money could buy and you want to renegotiate?”
A thick silence filled the room before one of the men coughed and said “Well…me and Rog were thinking that, since this guy is worth a million bucks dead, and we did all the work here that maybe we deserved a bit more than a hundred grand.”
“You DESERVE more? I’m the one who convinced him to purchase the policy 2 years ago. I’m the one who put up with him for 10 years. 10 years of him passing up opportunities so he could stay in his little class, making peanuts when he could be in the private sector and making huge money. But no, he was happy. Well I wasn’t.” Dean heard ice tinkle in a glass but only barely. All the sounds in the world turned down to a low droll and he felt numb.
In Dean’s mind he played back all the conversations he had with Lillith over the course of their marriage. He loved teaching, he loved his students, and he loved his colleagues. While he was not wealthy, he certainly was able to provide for Lillith. They had a lovely home, two cars in the garage, and due to a unfortunate turn of fate they were not able to have children. Dean had mentioned adoption a few times, but Lillith turned to drink instead. After alcohol became paramount in her life Dean stopped talking about adoption and just focused on his work and her. He thought their love would be enough. He was wrong.
“I deserve more. You deserve what I promised you. And HE deserves to die. Now tell me again what you are going to do.” More ice tinkling, Dean could see in his mind’s eye Lillith refilling her glass, and he was moving before he was conscious of doing so.
Dean walked to the truck, no longer ducking just walking like he was taking a stroll. He should have been seen but Lillith and her cronies were busy discussing his demise. Dean walked to the truck and climbed in behind the wheel. Like a robot Dean reached up and pulled the sun visor down, keys tumbled into his lap. Thank God for idiots Dean though and smiled.
Gallows humor
With barely a conscious thought Dean slipped the keys into the ignition and started the truck. The diesel engine roared and belched smoke into the rain. Dean hit the lights and looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see someone open the door of the trailer and another dim shape silhouetted in the light of the window. Quickly Dean threw the truck in reverse, the backup lights glaring in the rain, and Dean stomped on the gas. In a matter of seconds the distance between the truck and the trailer was closed and the truck slammed into the side of the trailer. The shape in the door disappeared and the entire structure started to be pushed backwards. Time slowed down and memory skipped like a needle on a record.
Scraping metal on metal
Screaming
Breaking glass
Jarring
shaking
banging
Then it all went quiet.
Unbeknownst to Dean the trailer was on the edge of a steep hill and the trailer had not traveled well. All that remained was twisted metal and glass. From inside Dean could hear someone screaming. Dean emptied the gas can into the cab of the truck and slathered the grease onto the steering wheel and gearshift. He shifted the truck to neutral and dropped the flare into the cab as it rolled backwards towards the twisted hulk below. The resulting fireball was impressive given the amount of rain falling. There was a subsequent explosion a minute later, Dean imagined it was the propane tank going up as well. He stood and watched for a while, waiting for anyone to escape the inferno, but after a few cries of anguish and a pained scream the world was just awash in the sounds of rain and fire.
The next few days were a blur. Hospitals, police, questions, more questions. He was ready for them though, being a professor of Criminal Justice he knew the hows and the whys he needed and avoided the embellishments that can get you caught. His story was simple and short.
He told them about the flat tire, told them about finding the rest of the tires being flat, told them about the phones, about the bright lights, then about the flare of pain on the back of his neck and falling unconscious. Then waking up next to his car and the truck and his wife were gone. The hospital confirmed the burn mark on the back of his neck as being the mark left by a stun gun. The police officers traced his and his wife’s cell signal to the remains of a burned-out wreck in the woods where they found the remains of four people, two men and two women, in a twisted burned amalgamation of a truck and a trailer home. Dental records show that one of them is his wife Lillith, the two men were brothers and local meth manufacturers, the other female was never identified but they believed she was between 12—15 years old. Dean tried not to think about her, but he failed most of the time.
Dean returned to his life the best he could, his colleagues were supportive and understanding, and his family did what they could to help, and to all concerned he appeared to just be a morning husband. But his grief was only for that unknown lost soul. That was the last thing Lillith managed to take from him. The betrayal was bad, the lie of a life was awful, but the life he inadvertently taken destroyed his soul.
Whatever Hell she was in Dean hoped burned a little hotter when he thought of her.
After all, it is what she deserved.