Nick Stephenson - Eight the Hard Way

“I’m telling you...” June started.

Clinton leaned down to her level. “You’re telling us nothin’,” he said into her ear. “We make the decisions around here, not you.”

“Suit yourself,” June muttered.

“What’s A-S-A-P mean then?” Clinton asked.

“Alert, send all police.”

The three men looked at each other for a moment, until Reagan broke into a grin.

“Just send it, Georgie.”

He sent the ASAP text. George took the phone to where Reagan sat in his chair, both waiting for a reply. When none came, Georgie wandered off.

June looked at Reagan. “Look, the girls need lunch. May I make them something, please?” She was barely able to mask the hostility in her voice as she feigned courtesy.

“If you can cook with your hands tied. Otherwise, forget it.”

“Then one of you knuckleheads is going to have to make something. One way or another, those girls aren’t going hungry.”

Reagan laughed. “Clinton, you know how to make a roast beef? What about you, Georgie? Want to fire up the barbecue and grill steaks for us?”

“I ain’t no chef,” Clinton said.

“And we don’t eat meat,” June said back.

Georgie sat on the couch and worked with the phone. The girls huddled together, still sniffling, the silly antics of cartoon characters on the TV barely holding their interest. They had curled up with each other as far from Georgie at the opposite end of the couch as they could get.

He finally tossed the phone aside. “I still can’t find a number for the woman. Maybe I should go get a pizza?”

“What is this, a pajama party?” Reagan asked. He asked Georgie for the phone and it was tossed to him. He began scrolling through numbers, June watching him.

“Just let me go in the kitchen to make sandwiches for them,” June offered. “It won’t take any more than five minutes, and then you can tie me up again.”

Clinton snorted a sharp laugh out his nose. “Sure, so you can get a gun you have hid in there? Or a knife?” He laughed again. “ That ain’t gonna happen.”

“Okay, you can come and watch. Since you’re so helpless, I’ll even teach you how to make a sandwich. You wouldn’t even have to undo the zip ties on me.”

“She’s up to something, Clinton,” Reagan said from the living room easy chair. “Don’t trust her.”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you Clinton?” she said to him. “I bet a strong guy like you gets hungry a lot.”

“I’m a little hungry too,” Georgie said.

“Fine. We’ll get a pizza for all you ladies, just so y’all don’t start cryin’. Is there someplace around here that delivers?” Reagan finally said.

“Not here in the hills,” said June back to him. “There’s a place down the road at the base of the canyon that has take out. One of your clowns can go pick it up. I’ll even pay.”

Clinton took a handful of her hair and twisted it around, wrenching her head sideways. “You’re in no position to do any name callin’, understand?”

“Just trying to get you something to eat...” she said, grimacing.

“Knock it off, Clinton.” Reagan tossed the phone down on the table again. “I don’t want either of you being away for that long to pick up a pizza from town.”

Clinton let loose of her hair and tossed her down again.

“I saw a minimart down the road a few blocks,” Georgie offered. “I could swing down there and be back in just a few minutes.”

June craned her head up to look in Georgie’s direction. She had to keep her agenda moving forward. “Get money from my purse. They have sandwiches there. And get some juice also.”

“Can I, Reagan?” asked Georgie.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Just don’t drag your feet. As soon as we get that combination, you and I are out of here.”

Georgie went to the things dumped from June’s purse on the desk, and got her wallet. June watched him, not at his hands picking though her money, but in fear that he might find Amy’s new phone number written on the desk pad of paper. He stayed focused on her money, and took only what he might need, even returning the rest to her wallet.

Reagan picked up the phone and began scrolling again. June watched Georgie reach for the front door knob.

“I wouldn’t open that door if I were you...” June called from across the room.

Reagan looked up. Georgie froze and turned. “Why?”

June had to think fast, only hatching the idea that moment. The biggest problem in getting her idea to work was to make it sound plausible. “When you came into the house through the door and then closed it, it activated the alarm system.”

“So?” Reagan asked.

“So, see that little red light on the alarm system control box?” All their eyes went to the alarm box mounted on the wall next to the front door. “That means the system wasn’t set properly, and will send a message to the authorities if the door is opened again. Now, if you let me have use of a hand, I can reset it.”

“Nice try...” Clinton muttered from his position leaning against the wall.

“But what if there’s a fire and you’re just running out the door? How does it know which authorities to send the message?”

“The alarm has a carbon monoxide monitor and smoke alarm built in. If it doesn’t sense smoke and the door opens, the message is sent to a security agency, and then to the police. You’d get out of the house but not down the hill before the cops were coming up.”

“Yeah, but how do we know it wasn’t set correctly? You could be lying to us,” Clinton said.

“Have I lied to you yet? Every step of the way I’ve cooperated, right? Anyway, if it was set properly with the right code number, a little green light would show.”

Georgie inspected the control box. “Hey, there is another little light on here. It looks like it would be green also, if it were lit up.”

“What is it with you women? Codes and safes and everything locked up tight,” said Reagan before turning his attention back to the Disney movie that had started on the TV. “Just give George the code number.”

“Needs a thumb on that touch pad, the correct thumb.” She looked at Georgie, the most gullible of the group. “Flip open that front cover on the alarm box. See that shiny black square inside? That’s the touch pad.”

June could see Georgie’s eyes flit from her face to her hand secured at her waist. He looked at the box again, trying to figure out the logistics of getting her hand up to the box without cutting her arm loose. She couldn’t let him figure it out.

“But we can go out the back garden gate with less trouble. You just have to take me along.”

“Why?”

“At the gate, the control panel is low on the wall, so you don’t even have to untie me for it. That’s the only way it’ll work,” June explained. “It really was a mistake closing the door like that.”

The deal was okayed by Reagan, the man in charge, also the one least at ease. She could tell he was trying to hide it, but he showed all the earmarks of losing his nerves. It meant he was most likely to use his gun, but was also most easily tricked with confusion. June had to rely on that.

Georgie helped June to a standing position. She eyed him close up and saw he wasn’t any bigger than her, and probably not as strong.

He took his pistol out of his pocket and pushed her toward the back door.

“Kids, stay on the couch,” she said over her shoulder. “No talking.”

She waddled as she led him out the patio door and around the side of the house, turning the corner in silence. With Georgie right behind her, he couldn’t see her work a hand loose from the zip ties, freeing up one hand. When they got to the gate with the old potting shed next to it, she stopped and turned toward Georgie.