Heather Woodhaven - Texas Takedown

In late afternoon at the end of August, the temperature and humidity seemed to keep everyone indoors. She scanned her surroundings and saw only trees, park benches and several other paths. Even a street would have been welcome at this point, but she had no idea which direction would lead her to one without taking time to look at a map.

The Mexican Cultural Institute to her left sported a Closed sign, or she’d have darted in there. The area opened slightly, but she was surrounded by more closed buildings on each side except for the stairs leading down, presumably to the River Walk.

She glanced over her shoulder. The men were side by side, walking behind her. They knew each other? Their eyes locked on hers as if homing in on a target.

She pushed off her toes and started to run. They followed suit. She was trapped inside her worst nightmare.

The memory of her dad’s countless air-force lectures moved to the forefront of her mind. “You’ve crashed in enemy territory,” he’d drill. “What’s the first thing you do?”

“Establish and maintain communication with friendly forces, sir,” she’d respond.

Isabelle held down the button on her phone until it vibrated, ready for her command. “Call the police,” she shouted. Her fingers, slick with sweat, tightened around the phone as she pumped her arms.

Her hard-soled flats tapped on the steps. The thin guardrails lined the rock walls on either side of the curved staircase. It sounded like a stampede coming her way as the men’s footsteps echoed off the rock.

She jumped the final three steps onto a thin sidewalk that curved along the water. Except this wasn’t like the rest of the River Walk. It was an artificial cave formation. Stones the size of basketballs were placed strategically throughout the underground pedestrian area.

She sprinted along the canal, pressing the phone against her ear. “Hello?” She hadn’t taken the time to press the speaker function. It didn’t seem worth the two seconds of focus it would’ve taken her to find the right button.

A ringing hit her ears. “Pick up, pick up.”

“What is your emergency?”

“Two men are after me.” She panted.

“What’s your location?”

The area resembled an empty cement cave that opened a short distance ahead. About a block away, another set of curved stairs led to a bridge and what looked like a hotel. “I don’t know. A grotto-looking thing near the River Walk. It’s behind a shiny skyscraper.”

Her lungs hurt from the effort of sprinting and talking. She chanced a look. The men had split up. One man was on the opposite side of the water while the other was behind her. Up ahead, the two sidewalks converged. The truth hit her in the gut. If the man on the other side sped up, he’d be able to trap her. “They’re gaining on me. Can’t you use GPS?”

“Yes, ma’am, but the accuracy—”

Isabelle didn’t take the time to listen. She dropped the phone into the front pocket of her bag but left it on. She couldn’t keep up her speed without using both of her arms.

A few doors and glass windows lined the rock walls. She sprinted to one door, but it was locked. The rest of the windows were dark. All empty. She’d been told this was the slow season, but she’d had no idea it’d be deserted. Her throat burned as she pushed her legs to go faster. The man on the opposite side would beat her at this rate. Her flats barely stayed on her feet as her soles slapped against the concrete.

She rounded the corner and gasped. The sidewalks didn’t simply merge as she thought she’d seen. She would be forced to cross a path surrounded by water to get to the other side, but she had no choice or the man behind her would catch her.

She ran into the middle of the path and froze. One man stood, hands out, ready to grab her, on the other end. The other approached from behind. And on either side of her there was nothing but water.

She was trapped.

The first assailant rattled off a couple of sentences to the other one in a language she didn’t recognize. Her breath caught. What were they planning to do with her? The man in front of her pulled out a shiny knife. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine.

The memory of her dad sitting at the dinner table counting on his fingers played in the back of her mind. “Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape,” he’d rattle off over and over. “Understood, Isabelle?”

She curled her hands into fists and widened her stance. She inhaled and pulled in her core muscles. The reality was, she couldn’t fight two men at once. She glanced at the water. Diving without knowing the depth could be equally dangerous, but what worried her more was the laptop in her bag.

The flash drive doubling as a two-sided jeweled heart around her neck would likely survive with an overnight stay in a bowl of rice, but her laptop wouldn’t fare nearly as well. She’d have come all this way for nothing when Uncle Hank was counting on her.

Her only other choice would be to leap diagonally to the tower of river rocks that held up the ceiling. Around the base of the tower, a rim of cement looked just big enough to get a foothold. If she made it to the tower, she could bypass the intersection of paths and keep going. She inhaled. Even if she made the jump, there was a chance her head would bump into the tower, a painful but not deadly possibility.

She sank her hand into the front pocket of her bag and twisted sideways so she could see both men at once. “Don’t take another step.” Her voice shook, but she could see the uncertainty of whether she had a weapon cross their faces. They remained on either end of the bridged path.

She took advantage of their momentary hesitation and backed up. It was now or never. She needed to soar like a ballerina over the water to the rock pillar. After three steps, she shoved off with her back foot.

Isabelle arched her back and stretched her right leg out. Her foot touched the edge of the cement rim. If she stopped now, her head would slam into the pillar, or she’d slip into the water. She twisted her hips and her left foot made contact for the briefest of seconds, pressing her into another diagonal leap onto the sidewalk.

Her ankle rolled underneath the awkward jump. The messenger bag hit the concrete with a decided crunch. She cried out and dared a look behind her. The men were both past the bridge behind her and were almost at arm’s reach. Small rocks pressed into her hands as she pushed herself upright and sprinted, despite the lightning bolts of pain shooting up her leg.

Escape. She had to escape.

She screamed through the pain. “Help!” Her arms flailed as she pushed her stinging quadriceps to go faster, to keep up with the desire for speed. The sidewalk curved around another brick tower and then the ceiling disappeared. She squinted into the sudden sunlight. There...there in the distance, a boat with its motor running sat in the water.

A bearded man wore a pair of olive-colored overalls—a uniform of some sort. He looked up at her, confusion on his face.

“Help me!” She passed a trash can and flung it down behind her as she kept running. She doubted it would slow the men much, but every second counted. Would she make it to the barge in time? And would it matter?

* * *

Matt McGuire’s heart jumped to his throat. The frazzled woman ran like her life depended on it. She was either mentally challenged or seriously in danger. Either way, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try to help.

He boosted the motor and closed the distance between them. She glanced behind her and took a flying leap to the barge. She collapsed in a heap. “Drive,” she cried.

At the sight of two men rounding the corner—one brandishing a long knife—he didn’t need to be told twice. He reversed and sped away, pushing the barge to a speed he’d yet to try. He steered it at a sharp curve into the main River Walk loop. A police boat or officers on bicycles had to be somewhere for him to flag down.