Hostage

Here the sonofabitch had begged to surrender, and now that Dennis was ready, the wimpy puss wasn't around.

'Mars!'

The voice from the other side of the kitchen startled him.

'What are you doing, Dennis?'

Dennis wheeled around like a tall ship under sail, squinting into the shadows.

'Where's Kevin?'

'He's not here.'

'Where is he? I need to see him.'

Dennis wanted to get things straight with Kevin before telling Mars. Part of him was afraid that Mars might try to stop him.

Mars took shape in the light. Dennis thought he must have been in the pantry, or maybe the garage.

'Kevin left.'

Dennis grew irritated, not understanding.

'That doesn't help me, Mars. Is he in the security room, the office, what? I've got to talk to him.'

'He didn't want to stay here anymore. He left.'

Dennis stared at Mars, understanding, but not believing it, telling himself that Kevin could not have deserted him.

'Wait a minute. Are you telling me that he left, as in went out the door and surrendered to the cops?'

'I overheard him talking to the girl.'

'SHIT! That FUCK!'

'I'm sorry, Dennis. I came down to find you.'

Dennis felt sick. If Kevin had surrendered and taken the kids with him, he had taken Dennis's last chance to cut a deal with Talley.

'Did he take those kids with him?'

'I don't know.'

'Jesus, Mars! Get upstairs and see! If he took those kids, we're fucked!'

Mars went for the stairs without another word, and Dennis raged at the top of his lungs.

'KEVIN!! You ASSHOLE!'

Dennis threw the vodka bottle at the Sub-Zero so hard that his shoulder flashed with pain. He stalked back to the den for a fresh bottle. Even when he wanted to surrender, things got fucked up.

THOMAS

Thomas heard Dennis and Kevin fighting through the air-conditioning vent. Kevin wanted them to give up, but Dennis wouldn't. Thomas knew what that meant: If Dennis wouldn't give up, the three turds might stay here for days, and one of them might try to do something to his sister. Thomas had seen the way Mars watched her.

The shouting died quickly. Thomas waited for someone to come upstairs, but the hall remained silent. He decided that they were trying to sleep.

Thomas slipped back into his closet and returned to the crawl space. He thought about stopping in Jennifer's room to tell her what he was doing, but he knew she didn't want him to mess with the gun. He worked his way across the house, stopping at the air vents to listen, but all he heard was the television playing in the den. The rest of the house was silent.

Thomas let himself down through the ceiling hatch into the laundry room, climbing down from the hot-water heater to the washer to the floor. It was dark, lit only by some slight dim light filtering from the kitchen through the pantry. He had to use his flashlight.

Just as he reached the floor he heard Dennis shouting for Kevin and Mars. Dennis was close, just on the other side of the kitchen or maybe in the family room. Thomas panicked. He started climbing back to the ceiling, but then Mars answered Dennis, and Thomas stopped. They were talking. Thomas was still scared, but he was so close to the gun that he didn't want to once more leave without it. He strained to listen. Dennis was cursing Kevin; they weren't coming this way, they weren't looking for him.

Thomas hurried into the utility room. He cupped his hand over the flashlight and flicked it on again, just long enough to mark the spot in his mind where the gun box waited on the highest shelf. He rested the flashlight on the bench, then climbed onto the bench.

He went up onto his toes, stretching as tall as he could, but the box was still out of reach. He flicked on the light again, and spotted a gallon metal paint can at the edge of the bench. He pulled it into position, put one foot on it, and stepped up. The paint can creaked, but held. He stretched high again, and this time his hands found the gun box. He had it! Thomas pulled the box from the shelf, then lowered himself from the can and climbed down from the bench. His heart pounded with excitement. The box was a lot heavier than he had imagined! It felt as if a cannon were inside!

Thomas opened the box and lifted out the gun. It felt as heavy as a brick, way too big for his hand. Thomas didn't know its caliber or anything about it, even though his father had let him fire it once when they had gone to the pistol range. It had kicked so hard that his hand stung!

Thomas would need his hands free to climb, so he pushed it into his pants. The gun made him feel powerful, but scared at the same time; he was buoyant with confidence that he could protect himself and Jennifer, and that now they could get out, but he didn't want to hurt anyone. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.