Fleeting Moments Page 3

  “Let me go,” I scream. “Let me go. No. No.”

  “Lucy.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Look at me,” he roars and I flinch, taking a trembling step backwards and jerking my arm to my chest. My eyes find his, only barely in the darkness. “You’re okay. You’re going to get out of here. I’m going to get you out. Do you understand me?”

  “They just, they k-k-k-k-killed those p-p-p-people and then you . . .”

  “Hey,” he says, stepping up close, his eyes flicking to the door before focusing back on me. “I didn’t have much choice. Better I get rid of them than allow them to hurt you. Do you trust me?”

  “I don’t know you a-a-a-and . . .”

  “Lucy, do you trust me?”

  I swallow my sob and nod.

  “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “I don’t want to die,” I squeak, my entire body trembling.

  “You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

  He puts an arm around my waist again, and he’s so big, so strong, he just seems to hold me against him with absolutely no effort on his part. He feels comforting. He feels safe. “One foot after another, Lucy honey,” he murmurs.

  One foot after another.

  Just one foot after another.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hunter holds me up. He just hangs onto me as we move through the dark halls beneath the stadium. The sounds behind us eventually fade out, and we find ourselves at another entrance. It’s a simple door, just the same as the one we entered in. I don’t know what this space back here is, or where we’ve ended up. Lights aren’t exactly an option. I can only pray this door takes us out of this nightmare.

  Hunter looks behind him, then he uses his gun to shoot the door open. It flings wide and cool, fresh air comes rushing in, tickling my face. I gasp and we step out into a small fenced area. Equipment sheds line one side of the fence and the back of the stadium can be seen towering over us. The fence is tall, barbed, and locked. Lights can be seen flashing to our left. Police.

  We’re out.

  “Come on,” Hunter murmurs, his eyes frantically scanning the perimeter. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He pulls me towards the gate, which is padlocked closed. He rattles it, then twists and looks up at the back of the stadium. “I don’t want to risk firing this gun out here. It’ll cause chaos, and I promised I’d get you out. I swore I would and I’m going to. I’m going to make a call; come over here.”

  He pulls me next to one of the equipment sheds and tucks us both in beside it where we can’t be seen from the stadium. The cool metal presses against my back, and I focus on trying to keep my knees from giving out. My body is so full of pain, aches, and fear that I feel as though I’m constantly fighting against it to stay upright.

  “I’m out. Got a girl here; she needs a doctor. To your left, in the equipment yard.”

  He hangs up and turns to me, surprising me by reaching down and cupping my jaw, tilting my head back, and studying me. “I promised I’d get you out and I never break a promise. You’re going to be okay, Lucy girl.”

  Lucy girl.

  Tears run down my cheeks, and he swipes them away with his thumb. This stranger. This man. This person who swooped into my life and risked everything to take care of me. I don’t know a single thing about him except for the fact that he stood by me in my moment of need, holding me up, both hands keeping me afloat. I owe him more than my life. I owe him everything.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my body going weak.

  Relief has a funny way of doing that to you. It has its very own way of stripping you down, taking away everything you’ve been holding onto and just tossing it aside, leaving you with a nothingness that spreads deep, so deep your body just slumps, everything disappearing and leaving you empty.

  Blissfully empty.

  The gate rattles, and Hunter steps out and looks over, then he gently wraps an arm around me and pulls me out. There are seven men standing near the gate, two in suits, three police officers, and two EMT officers. Hunter leads me over and the gate is quickly opened with a pair of cutters. The two men in suits make eye contact with Hunter, and he nods.

  “Ma’am, my name is Byron and this is my partner, Joel. We’re going to have a look at you now, is that okay?” a handsome, young EMT officer says, taking me from Hunter’s arms.

  I don’t want to be taken from his arms, and my tiny hand clutches his big one, squeezing. Beautiful silver eyes find mine, and he smiles. “You’re okay now, Lucy girl. Let them help you.”

  “But—”

  He steps forward, cupping my jaw. “Let them help. Go home. Be safe.”

  I open my mouth to answer, but he turns and looks at the two men in suits. “I’m going back in.”

  What?

  What did he say?

  “The situation is spiraling out of control,” a man with dark hair and equally as dark eyes says, his voice low. “The plan still remains. Get what we need. Get out.”

  Hunter nods.

  “What?” I cry, struggling as Byron tries to get me to go with him. “You’re going back in?”

  Hunter studies me. “It’s okay. Let Byron help you.”

  “No,” I shriek. “Please. You can’t go back in there. You can’t. You’ll die and . . . no,” I whimper, my legs turning to jelly again.

  Hunter makes eye contact with someone in the crowd around us. I keep struggling.

  He steps forward, running the back of his hand over my cheek so softly my body craves more. I just want to be back in his arms, where it was warm and safe. I’m so afraid. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Lucy girl. Take care of yourself and stay just the way you are.”

  I open my mouth to protest but something stabs into my arm and my body goes warm.

  Then my world goes dark.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Lucy, sweetheart, wake up.”

  Hunter?

  “Come on, please wake up.”

  My eyes flutter open, and I’m momentarily blinded by a bright light. A few seconds later it goes out and I can focus on the man leaning over me, his eyes red and glassy, his hair disheveled. Gerard. Not Hunter. My chest tightens, and my heart pounds heavily against my ribcage. Where’s Hunter? Where is he? Is he alive? Is he dead? Oh god. What happened to him?

  “H-h-h-Hunter,” I croak.

  “No, honey, it’s Gerard. I’m here. You’re okay.”

  “Where am—”

  “You’re in the hospital.” A tear runs down his cheek. “Oh god, I was so scared. I could do nothing . . .” His voice hitches, and I focus on him.

  “Gerard,” I whisper. “The baby?”

  He looks away and more tears run down his face.

  No.

  “No,” I cry, my voice pained. “No.”

  “I’m so sorry. It was too late when you arrived at the hospital.”

  I jerk upright. “Those people. All those people.”

  “It’s all over, Luc. They got them all out.”

  Not all of them.

  My heart aches, a deep, painful ache that I know will probably never leave. Yesterday morning, I woke with happiness; today, I wake with darkness. How quickly life can change.

  “I need . . . I need to talk to an officer, please.”

  I need to know if he lived. I need to know if he made it out.

  “They’ll question you when you’re feeling better,” Gerard says, stroking a piece of hair from my face.

  “No,” I say, my voice harder than it’s ever been. Gerard jerks back slightly, flinching. “No, I need to talk to them now.”

  “Lucy . . .”

  “Please,” I beg. “Please. I need this.”

  I need to know he’s okay.

  “Okay, all right, I’ll get someone.”

  He studies me with a worried look in his eyes, then turns and walks out. My heart races as I look around the room, reliving every minute. Hunter saved my life. Hunter held me up. Hunter kept me bre
athing. Then he went back in. His last words ring through my head and desperation clutches my heart. I need to see him again. I just . . . need to.

  “Ma’am.”

  I turn and glance at an officer standing at the door with Gerard. He’s the same officer who was there when we got out. I start rambling before he even takes a step into my room. “I need to know if he’s okay. Can you please tell me if he made it out?”

  “Who, ma’am?” he asks, coming in and stepping up to my bed.

  “Hunter!” I cry. “He went back in and—”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  I blink at him. What does he mean he doesn’t know who I’m talking about? He was there; he spoke to Hunter—of course he knows who I’m talking about. I squeeze my eyes closed. Maybe it isn’t the same officer. I try to remember but it’s all a crazy, horrific blur. I focus on him again. It is him. It is.

  “You . . . he got me out. He was right there. You spoke to him. He went back in.”

  The officer shakes his head, eyes shifting back and forth in confusion. “Ma’am, I’m afraid you were out there alone. There was nobody with you.”

  “There was!” I scream. “He was right there. He sat beside me. He saved me. He got me out. He was there.”

  “You’ve experienced an extremely difficult time. Perhaps it’s best if you rest and we’ll talk to you when you’re feeling well again.”

  “No,” I shriek. “No. I need to see him. He was there.”

  “Lucy,” Gerard says, reaching for my hand. I jerk it back.

  He looks hurt. “If the officer says he wasn’t there, perhaps you’ve gotten confused. Sometimes that happens in traumatic situations.”

  “No,” I yell. “No, I was not confused. Go, look on the cameras, check the tickets. He was there. He saved me.”

  “I’ll get a doctor,” the officer says, leaving the room.

  “No,” I cry, trying to get out of the bed.

  Gerard’s hands find my shoulders, and he pushes me back. “Lucy, calm down. You’re freaking out. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

  Squirming, I try to shove him off. “No. Let me go. You don’t understand.”

  “Lucy, calm down.”

  “No!” I scream so loudly he rears back startled.

  A doctor appears, studying me, and then barking an order to the nurse. I fight against my husband, shoving desperate. They’re lying to me. Why are they lying to me? Tears soak my cheeks as I desperately try to force my way past Gerard.

  A needle hits my arm and warmth once again spreads through me.

  “Hunter,” I whisper as my body slumps backwards.

  Where did you go?

  CHAPTER 4

  “Five people were killed and twenty injured in the deadliest attack the city has seen in its history. The baseball stadium was ambushed by what is believed to be a religious group after a request to take the land for their own was refused by the mayor.”

  I stare at the television screen, my body numb. A religious group. Five dead. Twenty injured. Was one of those people Hunter? Did he get killed? Is he injured? Is he in this hospital? I lift the remote and turn the television off; I can’t watch it anymore. I can’t relive the horror for a second longer. It hurts, digging deep into my chest until I can’t feel or breathe anything but the pain.

  “You need to stop watching that. It’ll only upset you more,” Gerard says, rising from the chair beside me and handing me a glass of water. “Have some water. You’re pale.”

  I stare into his pleading eyes. “I’m not thirsty,” I say, my voice weak and scratchy.

  “You need to keep your fluids up.”

  “For what?” I mumble. “There’s no baby to take care of anymore.”

  His face scrunches in pain, his eyes narrowing, his lips tightening. “No, there isn’t right now, but there might be again soon if you don’t—”

  I roll to my side. “I’m tired, Gerard.”

  “Lucy, I know you’re struggling. I know, but—”

  “You don’t know,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “You have no idea.”

  “I saw the news,” he argues weakly. “I saw it all. I had to wait, I had to watch, I—”

  I roll and face him. “Did you see them get shot? Did they show you that on the news? Did you hear their screams? Did you feel their fear? No, you did not. I’m tired. Please leave.”

  “Lucy, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s only been two days but it’ll get better, it will . . .”

  No, it won’t.

  I lost my baby. I’m being treated as if I’m losing my mind.

  The man who saved me has fallen off the face of the Earth.

  It will not be okay, and I’m tired of hearing it will.

  “Lucy?”

  My dad’s soft voice fills the room, and I peer around Gerard to see him standing at the door with two coffees in his hand. He raises them a little. “I got your favorite.”

  Dad is the only one even trying to understand, to listen.

  Gerard sighs and leans down, kissing my head. “I’ll go home, have a shower, and then I’ll coming back. I love you.”

  I meet his eyes.

  I do love him, but the words just won’t come out of my mouth. The Lucy I was three days ago just isn’t the same girl laying in this bed. I’ve changed; I don’t know how deep that runs but I can never go back to being the way I was. I can never unsee what I’ve seen. I can never save my baby. I can never see Hunter again.

  I look away. I can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes because I don’t respond.

  He leaves, and my dad moves closer. I look to him, studying him. My dad and I look the same—every single piece of me is made up of him. My mom always told me I got nothing from her. She was right. My blond hair is the same shade as his—soft like honey with a touch of gold. My eyes are the same shade of emerald green, and my skin the same creamy white.

  He’s not very tall, and neither am I. For me, it makes me appear cute and petite; for him, he’s just short. He has a dimple when he smiles, just one in his left cheek. I have the same dimple. My dad is gentle, loving, and sweet. He raised me to be the same way. He raised me well, with love and compassion, and he gave me everything a dad should give his daughter. Granted, I’m an only child and so I got a lot of the good stuff, but all the same, he never let me be spoilt or rude.

  “How are you feeling today, princess?”

  I shrug, taking the coffee he hands me. It’s warm against my palm. “Thanks.”

  “Your mom said she’ll be in later; she had to go into work.”

  I nod.

  “Lucy,” he says carefully, sitting on my bed and facing me. “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t know what to say anymore, Dad. Nobody believes me.”

  “I believe you.”

  I meet his eyes, and I know he’s telling the truth. “He saved me. He got me out of there.”

  Dad nods, sipping his coffee and pausing for a second before answering, “Maybe he’s working in a case where his identity can’t be known. It happens.”

  It does?

  My heart skips a beat. “Do you think that could be true?”

  “From what you’ve told me about him being overly calm, talking to people like he was on a mission—yeah, it’s quite possible.”

  “Then how am I supposed to find him?”

  His face drops. “The problem is you’re not supposed to. It’s likely he gave you a fake name. Lucy, honey, maybe you need to accept that he saved your life and be grateful for that, but let it go.”

  I can’t. I can’t let it go. Nobody understands what Hunter, if that’s even his real name, gave me in that stadium. He was more than a rock; he protected me, comforted me, held me up when I wanted to fall. He made sure I survived.

  “He saved my life, but it was more than that. He kept me afloat. He stopped me from losing it and probably getting shot.” My voice breaks on the last part and I look away.

  “I can�
�t even begin to imagine what you went through, Lucy. I don’t even want to. I’m grateful to that man for helping you. Honestly, if I could thank him I would, but he isn’t here for a reason. You know who is here? Who is scared? Who is desperate for you to be okay?”

  I look back to him.

  “Gerard. He loves you, honey. Please don’t push him away. Let him take your hand and get you through this.”

  Guilt stabs my chest, and I look down at the coffee cup in my hands. “I’m not trying to push him away. I just . . . I can’t sleep, Daddy,” I whisper and a sob breaks free. “Every time I close my eyes they’re there.”

  “My sweet girl,” he says, taking the cup from my hands. A few seconds later he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. He smells like peppermint, and coffee, and my dad. I cry harder. “We’re going to get you through this, I promise you that. I won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will Gerard.”

  I just hang onto him, sobbing for the millionth time in days, trying to ease the blinding pressure in my chest. Trying to erase the memories. Trying to forget the sounds. But mostly, trying to forget him.

  Hunter.

  ~*~*~*~

  “We’ve given you some painkillers and a sleeping tablet, Lucy,” the nurse says, checking my temperature. “They should help the cramping and let you get some rest.”

  It’s late, possibly around midnight, and I’ve called for some pain medication. I’m still suffering some cramping and bleeding from my miscarriage. The doctor said if it doesn’t ease, they’ll have to put me under to clean out anything remaining just in case my body isn’t doing its job. Clean. Like my baby was just a mess they need to clear up.

  “Thank you,” I mutter, shifting in the uncomfortable bed.

  “Call out if you need anything else.”

  I nod and she leaves, closing the door behind her. I got a private room, thanks to my parents and Gerard. I’m grateful, because it means nobody else can hear me cry myself to sleep. Because I do. Most nights I just lie here sobbing until exhaustion takes me. I try to remove all the thoughts from my mind, to shut down, to switch off, but I can’t.

  They won’t leave my head. All those people.

  Those gunmen.

  My baby.