Chapter Fifteen
The sound of the key turning in the lock set Paige's nerves on edge, not
unlike fingernails on a chalkboard. Quickly, she stuffed her still bound
hands under the blanket. Walter was asleep. He had told her stories of his
childhood until he grew too weary to continue; funny yet sad tales of a young
boy who saw the world much differently than everyone else did. A little boy
who was very much like her own son.
The door opened, throwing a beam of light into the room, and she could hear
voices just outside. "We shouldn't be doing this," a man's voice whispered.
He sounded young and uncertain.
"If we don't do it now, you know we'll never get a turn," said another man.
He sounded older and bitter. Two silhouettes appeared at the entrance, then
the door shut, making the room dark again.
Beside her, Walter shifted in his sleep, murmuring something she couldn't
quite catch, then coughed. Something he had started doing when he had been
talking to her. It might be just a sore throat, but she knew deep down it
wasn't.
Suddenly a hand groped her leg and she opened her mouth to scream. A large
hand was clamped across her face, muffling the noise. The smell of sour breath
filled her nostrils, causing her to gag.
"You're gonna be nice to us like ya were to this fella." She knew it was
the older man who was murmuring into her ear. "You sure showed him a good
time."
Oh God, no. They must have watched the camera feed and now. . . She struggled
to get away from him but then something cold and sharp was pressed against
her jaw. She stopped moving.
"Paige?"
Walter's voice startled her, causing the knife to bite her skin. Tears started
streaming down her cheeks.
"Paige? What's wrong?"
Please be quiet, she begged him silently. Just let them take what they wanted
and leave. She was more afraid of them killing him than anything they could
do to her.
She heard a sharp intake of breath then listened worriedly as Walter coughed.
"What's wrong with him?" asked the younger guy.
"Does it matter? Unless he's more your type?" The other man snickered. He
spoke to Paige once more. "Are ya gonna scream?" She shook her head, wincing
as the knife cut into her skin. "Because if you do, we'll kill lover boy
here. Are ya gonna let us have what you gave him?"
Never. She had given Walter her love. They would never have that.
The blade dug deeper "Well?" She closed her eyes and nodded.
He removed his hand as the knife was lifted away. The blanket was shoved
aside then the cords around her ankles abruptly went slack.
"Paige, no." Walter's quiet plea was followed by another cough, which seemed
much worse than the one a few moments earlier. "Don't. . ."
"Greater good." She saw her whispered phrase's impact on him as he stared
at her with terrified eyes. He had invoked it so many times himself, always
to save others. He thought she wouldn't do the same to save him?
A long second passed between them, then he closed his eyes and nodded. "Use
your hands," he said cryptically.
Use her hands for what? She didn't have a chance to ask as a thud and a grunt
of pain came from his side of the mattress. "Walter?"
"Shut up, both of ya." Their tormentor came around the end of the mattress
and loomed over her. Her hands. What did Walter want her to do with her hands?
She glanced down at them. They were still tied together, the insides of her
wrists pressed against each other. She curled her fingers and suddenly she
knew.
She waited until the older man leaned down, grabbing at her waist. With all
her strength, she brought her hands upward, hitting him on the chin like
she was bumping a volleyball. Her blow knocked the man backward, causing
him to trip over his own feet and crash to the floor.
The younger man ran to the door, only to have it hit him in the face as it
was thrown open. "What the hell is going on in here?" a woman's voice yelled
as he staggered back, holding his nose. The room was then filled with light
as someone waved around a flashlight.
"Gray, Talbot, what's the meaning of this?" It was the woman from before,
standing with a rifle trained on the two intruders.
Paige watched as the two would-be rapists were dealt with, feeling oddly
detached from the whirlwind of activity around her. Walter. Oh, God, what
had they done to him? She crawled over to where he was lying on his side.
He was conscious and he was staring at her and he was smiling. Why was he
smiling? He had to be delirious.
The woman approached them with a knife, and Paige used her body to shield
Walter's. "It's all right," she said. "I'm just going to cut you both loose."
She did so with swift accuracy. Paige rubbed her wrists, as pins and needles
raced through them.
"Help me with him. Grab the blanket." Paige obeyed the woman's instructions,
as they lifted Walter so he was sitting upright again, bolstered by the blanket
stuffed behind his back. Once that task was complete, the woman turned to
go.
"Wait." The woman stopped. "Please, his ribs are broken, his lung. . ." Paige
began before her throat caught and she had to take a deep breath. "He needs
medical attention. He's going to die." Tears filled her eyes again. "Please.
. ."
The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've done too much already.
A man who loves you as much as he does. . ." She nodded her head toward Walter.
"He's not going to want to watch what's going to happen to you in a few hours.
It's better this way." With that, she spun on her heel and left. The key
turned in the lock once more.
Something inside Paige snapped, unleashing rage and sorrow and helplessness,
all fighting to consume her. "Walter, don't listen to her," she sobbed, reaching
out and touching his face. "We're going to get out of here. We can't give
up. Please. . .'
"Paige." Her heart tore even more as she heard how weak he sounded. She pressed
her hand to his forehead. It was hot, much too hot. There was a trickle of
blood on the left side of his mouth. His breathing was labored and had a
developed a rattle
"She's right," he said, the ghost of a smile still on his face..
"No, she's not," Paige insisted, denying the obvious. "We can't give up.
. ." It was then she saw the resignation on his face. "No. . ."
"She's right about how I feel." He swallowed convulsively. "I. . .I love
you, Paige." His words were barely audible, almost as if they were having
trouble passing his lips.
"Oh God, Walter." She couldn't process this. It was just too much to handle.
But she had to process it, had to handle it. He may have given up, but she
hadn't. "You don't have to say it if you don't mean it."
"I don't say things I don't mean, remember?" Walter chuckled feebly, then
coughed violently. "I love you," he said when he could speak again, his words
coming in gasps. "I don't have. . . much time left." Paige shook her head,
biting her lip. "Yes. You have to escape. If not for yourself, then for Ralph.
Remember Ralph, Paige. After I'm. . . You have to be strong, for him. Promise
me. . . Please." She nodded.
His vision was growing dimmer and he knew he was about to lose consciousness
again, possibly for the last time. Blinking his eyes, he stared at her. She
was a mess. Her face was covered with blood and bruises, tears stained her
cheeks, her hair wild and untamed. . .
She was resilient and resourceful and kind and generous. She was the most
beautiful person he had ever known. And he was glad she and her son had been
a part of his life, even if it had been for such a short time.
"Thank you," he whispered as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Walter? Walter!" Paige looked on in horror as his eyes rolled back into
his head. "No!" She placed her fingers on his neck. There was still a pulse,
barely.
She sat there, gazing upon him for several minutes, watching each shallow
rise and fall of his chest. She didn't want to leave him, didn't want to
think of anyone but him, despite her promise. She took a deep breath. But
she had to fulfill his dying wish.
"I know you want me to go," she said, brushing the blood on his lips with
her thumb before leaning in to kiss him gently. "But I can't. Not as long
as you're still here with me." She curled up against his good side, lifting
his limp arm and draping it across her shoulders.
She placed her left hand over his heart. As long as it was still beating,
she would stay.