Harlan Coben - Shelter

Adrenaline is a funny thing. I’ve read where mothers can lift cars off their children because of it. I don’t know if that’s true. But I know that it kept the pain away. I know that maybe it gave me a little extra strength, maybe another inch on my vertical leap. Whatever.

I ran at Buddy Ray.

He thought that I was going to attack him again, try to tackle him to the ground, so he moved to the side.

That was what I wanted.

I ran right by him. Ashley was right on my back. Yes, this wouldn’t last long. The other men were already closing in. But I didn’t need much time. Just two more steps.

Just to the fire door.

I banged it open with my back, grabbing Ashley with my free arm and flinging her through it. I fell back too, trying to push the door closed, but by now the other men were there. They were trying to get out. I pushed, but I couldn’t hold it. No way.

And then Ema joined me. And Rachel. And Candy.

Other girls too. They pushed on the door, ten of them, maybe fifteen. They pushed on that door and held it firm and there was no way that anyone else was going to follow us out.

“Run!” Candy shouted at us. “We got this!”

“We all run,” I said. “You too.”

But Candy just looked at me and shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, Mickey.”

“What?”

“You can’t save us all.”

There was a strange truth in that. I wondered about Juan, about how he chose to save Ashley and not Candy, but there was no time for that. We had to move.

In the distance I heard police cars. The commotion must have gotten their attention. They’d be here any second. A few girls scattered. I met Rachel’s eye. She was with Ashley. I looked for Ema, but I didn’t see her.

“We all run,” I shouted again to the girls. “All of us at the same time.”

And then a voice-a voice with that horrible little lisp, a voice that chilled me like no other-said, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Everything stopped then. Nobody moved. It was as if the very buildings-this very alley-were suddenly holding their breath. I broke through the paralysis. I let go of the door and swiveled my head to the left.

Buddy Ray had a knife on Ema.

My heart leaped to my throat. The sirens were getting closer.

“Let her go,” I said.

Buddy Ray just smiled at me. If the cracked teeth or blood was bothering him, he didn’t show it. The smile had nothing behind it. No mirth, no joy, no soul. It was the scariest smile I had ever seen.

“The cops are on their way,” I said. “They’ll go easier on you if you let her go.”

Buddy Ray laughed. “Who said I wanted it easier?”

I didn’t know what to say. I was too far away to make a move. He put the knife on Ema’s neck. Ema closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheek. “Please…,” she said.

“You took something that belonged to me,” Buddy Ray said, looking directly at me. “Now I’m going to take something that belongs to you.”

“Don’t,” I said, my voice sounding so weak, so defeated. “If you want to get back at someone, get back at me.” I raised my hands and walked toward him. “Take me instead.”

I risked another step. I was still at least ten yards away. We locked eyes, Buddy Ray and me, and when I saw them, when I really took a good hard look into his eyes, my heart crumbled to dust.

Ema was doomed.

There was no reasoning here. There was no action I could take. It didn’t matter that the cops were bearing down on him. For a moment, there was only him and me-and I had no doubt what he’d do next.

He was going to kill Ema.

He was going to kill her just to see my face when he did it. I couldn’t talk him out of it. I couldn’t reach him in time. I was here, on the edge of victory, and so he would take Ema away from me.

It was like Buddy Ray knew it all already. I had lost my father. I was losing my mother. And now, when I finally found a real friend, I would lose her too.

He moved the knife closer to her throat. Ema squirmed, but he held her firm.

“Say good-bye,” Buddy Ray said.

And then, when all hope seemed lost, with my eyes locked on Buddy Ray’s- boom , a small truck plowed into Buddy Ray.

My mouth dropped open.

One moment Buddy Ray was standing there with a knife in his hand. The next, he was flying across the alley on the hood of a small truck.

A familiar truck.

One I’d seen once before.

A small truck with a crossed mop-head logo on the side.

As the sirens surrounded us, as the cop cars came braking to a halt, the driver’s door opened, and Spoon emerged.

He pushed up his glasses, looked at the still man on the hood of the truck, and said, “Man, I really gotta learn how to drive.”

Ema had called Spoon when she couldn’t reach me.

“I figured maybe he could at least pick us up,” she said.

I hugged her for a very long time. Rachel came over and joined us. Spoon came over too.

Police cars kept pouring in. I saw Tyrell’s father arrive. My uncle Myron was there too. The Ford Taurus, I remembered now, had a GPS unit in it. Myron was able to get the coordinates. He just got them a little too late.

An ambulance came for Buddy Ray. He would live, but the girls were all talking to the police now. There would be charges. He wouldn’t be free for a very long time.

With Rachel on my right and Ema on my left, I looked down the block and spotted Ashley in the distance. She was getting into Juan’s van. Juan held the door open for her. Ashley looked back at me one last time and smiled. I smiled back, but there was no joy in it. Juan nodded at me. Ashley vanished into the back of the van, and as she did, I think that we both realized that we would never see each other again.

At least, that was how it felt.

I looked at Rachel. She nodded at me. Ema gave me a brave smile. Spoon wasn’t sure what to do. We shared looks. My friends, I thought. The only real friends I’ve ever had. And yet, somehow, I knew that they were much more, that this would not be the last time we would stand together like this.

I felt overwhelmed. We all moved closer together in an almost protective cluster, looking out now as one.

“Guess what,” Spoon said to me.

I swallowed hard. “What, Spoon?”

“George Washington was sterile.”

HOURS LATER,after my leg got treated for the bite, after the police were satisfied, Uncle Myron drove me home. I expected a full-fledged grilling or a lecture, but he went easy on me. He seemed somewhat lost in his thoughts.

“You took something of a beating,” he said.

I nodded.

He gripped the wheel tighter. “Is this the first time you’ve been hurt like this?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I went with the truth. “Yes.”

“It will be worse in the morning. A lot worse. I have some painkillers that might help.”

“Thanks.”

Myron made a turn, keeping his eyes on the road. “Basketball tryouts are coming up soon.”

“I know.”

We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I was the one who broke it this time. “The other night, I saw you video-chatting with a woman on the computer.”

Myron cleared his throat. “Oh.”

“Who is she?”

“My fiancée.”

That surprised me.

“She lives far away,” he said. “Overseas.”

“You were supposed to go to her.”

Myron said nothing.

“You stayed behind,” I said, “because of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. It will all work out.”

More silence.

“Can I ask you something else?” I said.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with you and Chief Taylor?”

Myron grinned. “Chief Taylor,” he said, “is a power tool.”