Chapter 14 - Saving Grace

Deira ran. This was the first day she had had to herself in weeks, and she was going to spend it doing exactly as she pleased. She could see the path a few yards away but had no intention of using it. Might as well be a treadmill. She smiled at the thought as she leapt, pushing off a tree with her right foot. This was her second circuit around the man-made pond. They called it a lake, but she wouldn't.

She knew the path curved ahead. She hoped no one was sitting on it. People tended to get spooked by folks racing out of the woods. She pressed her hands against the two sides of a forked tree and swung her feet forward, arching to get the most distance. She landed well and kept running. There was no one on the bench. She headed full tilt towards it. She only had to use one hand to push off and got good height on the vault, turning her body mid-air and landing on the path. Everything she had held wrapped up tight seemed to unfurl with the impact. For the first time in months, she felt free.

She raced down the path. There was a metal gate blocking a footpath ahead, a futile barricade designed to keep people from riding their bikes down it. She grabbed the top bar and flipped over it, landing on the balls of her feet so she could take off again. Free running was like flying – or as close to it as she was likely to come.

This was what she needed, what she could not explain to Gage or even to Nicky. He was invested in teaching her how to get away. She knew how to run away. She had done it all her life. At least Nicky understood that what Deira needed was to know how to stand and fight. The lessons were going well, but after a couple of weeks she had felt like all of her muscles were tied up. Running was the only way to restore her balance.

The trees on either side were a blur. The footpath was clear for a full out run. She let herself go, lost in the pounding, aware of her breathing. Control was the key. The dirt path would lead to the area behind the playground. It was just about dinner time, so it was unlikely there would be anyone on the equipment. The whole park was her playground now.

She vaulted the bench where mothers would sit chatting, landing in the sandbox. That was tricky, but she managed not to stumble on the uneven surface. She leapt for the fort-like structure, fingers grasping the edge. There was no wall to push off of, so she had to use her arms alone to haul her up. A year ago, she wouldn't have made it. She paused for a moment, savoring the small victory.

She measured the distance to the low wall around the sandbox before flinging herself off the fort, landing in a squat position and holding for a second, then pushing off towards the path. She was almost back to the park entrance, just a quarter of the lake path left. She decided to use that distance to cool down, slowing her pace and deepening her breath. It had been a good run. She was looking forward to soaking in the tub when she got home.

She was almost to the end of the path when she saw a man. He wasn't doing anything threatening, wasn't even looking at her. Alarm bells went off in her head anyway. There was no one else in sight.

She kept her pace as she drew nearer. There was probably no need for her paranoia. Gage would have disagreed, but he was always paranoid. There's a reason for that. His voice in her head was not what she needed, so she shoved it aside.

She could see the street through the archway. There was steady traffic there, so if she made it out of the park, she should be fine. If the man planned to attack her, he would not want witnesses. He had not moved, so maybe she was jumping at shadows.

He called out to her. She couldn't hear what he said. She smiled, hoping it signaled a lack of concern. He smiled back. Oops, wrong tactic. She dropped the smile instantly. So did he. Second mistake; shit. She picked up speed, but not much. She was almost parallel to him. She veered a little bit, ostensibly to give him room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second man rush towards her. He was bigger than the first guy. Third strike, you're out.

She put on a burst of speed and almost made it to the archway before the second guy grabbed her left arm. She used his hold on her to pivot so he was between her and the first guy, then she slammed her foot into his stomach. Nicky would have liked that side kick. They had worked on it for days. The impact made the guy let go of her arm, wrenching it in the process. He stumbled back, gasping.

She measured the distance to the archway, but she was to the left of it now. The smaller guy was between her and the freedom of the street, and he was closing fast. She realized he wasn't that much smaller. Shit, shit, shit. She dropped into a crouch. He was wary after seeing her kick his buddy, but the look on his face was more annoyed than worried. Anger replaced her fear. Fuck this.

She stepped into his approach and hit him with an uppercut to the chin. His head snapped back for a second, but he didn't go down. She used the opportunity to circle closer to the entrance. He swung at her head. She ducked, but his fist grazed her temple, causing an instant burst of pain. She blinked away the tears, stumbling backwards.

Think. The voice in her head was not hers. This time, she listened to it. She opened her eyes wide and waved her arms.

"Over here!" she yelled, focusing on a point over his shoulder.

He glanced behind him. The only person there was his partner.

It was the second she needed. She raced for the street, knowing she would not make it.

She was just at the archway when one of the men wrapped his arm around her neck. Not again. She bent her knees, dropped her shoulder and twisted sideways, dropping him onto the pavement. In front of her. It was not nearly as smooth a move as in practice, but at least she could breathe again. She sidestepped his grab for her ankle, kicked him in the face, and pivoted to look for the second guy.

The punch landed squarely on her jaw, snapping her head sideways. She stumbled back against the arch, unable to focus clearly through the pain. The second punch landed on her ribs. She kicked out blindly and made contact with something. She thought it was his leg. He swore and came at her again. She braced her hands on the wall and pushed off at an angle, turning at the last minute and shoving him sideways. He was caught off balance and stumbled. She kicked his ribs. Payback, asshole.

The smaller guy grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the ground. She slammed an elbow into his head, and he dropped her. She jumped away from him. She was that much closer to the street but knew better than to turn her back on them. They approached her. She backpedaled quickly, hoping she wouldn't step too far and fall off the curb. She could hear cars whizzing past behind her, but she knew it was unlikely anyone would stop.

She flicked the catch on the wrist knife and shook it into her hand, wishing she had brought both. She hid the knife in the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She was not going down without a fight. When the big guy swung at her, she dodged, slicing his arm as she danced past him. The cut wasn't deep enough to take him out. This was familiar. Gage was not here to save her, so she doubted it would end as well as the last time. Or maybe her recently acquired skills meant she wouldn't need him.

The smaller guy was back up. He grabbed for her again and managed to get a handful of sweatshirt. He pulled her closer to him and tried to trip her. He wasn't as good at it as Gage. She switched her hold on the knife and slammed it into his side. He let go of her sweatshirt and grabbed her wrist with both hands. Gage had only needed one. Blood covered the side of his shirt. In a few minutes, he would pass out, but he didn't seem aware of that.

The slap across her face made her see stars. She tasted blood and glared at the bigger guy.

"That was for kicking me, you bitch," he hissed.

"My pleasure," she spat.

His eyes narrowed. He hit her again, this time in the stomach. If the other guy hadn't been holding onto her, she would have doubled over. She wished she could because it was very hard to breathe. She suddenly went limp and dropped to the pavement, pulling the smaller guy down with her. He landed half on top of her, their legs tangled. She locked her legs, rolled, and threw him off. She had learned something from Gage after all. He didn't go as far as she would have liked, but the fact that she had managed it without practice gave her confidence.

The kick to her ribs doubled her over. Strangely, the position didn't help her breathe better at all. She curled into a ball, protecting her stomach and chest, so the next kick landed on her arm. She managed to keep a grip on her knife. If she could cut him, she had a chance of getting away.

"Fucking bitch!" The big guy snarled. Deira wondered if the smaller one was mute.

The next kick landed on her back. She waited for the one to the head. That should finish her.

"Ease off, Danny. He said not too damaged." The smaller guy did have a voice.

"She pays before we drop her off," Danny snarled.

"Okay, but she has to be alive." The smaller guy paused, "And able to talk."

Deira was aware of their conversation, but she still couldn't move. If she could get enough air into her lungs, she might try to get up. They would probably just kick her back to the ground, but it was worth trying. Her head swam with the possible meanings of 'she pays'. If she didn't do something, things were going to turn very, very bad. She had the image of her body, cold, blue, ruined like Kara's had been. She struggled to stand.

The big guy hauled her to her feet but her legs weren't working properly so she fell against him. He slapped her. She tried to get a good hold on her knife, but her hand wasn't working properly. He must have hit a nerve when he kicked her. When the feeling came back, she would kill him.

"Hey!" The voice came from a distance. It was not the voice she wanted to hear. "You boys stop that right now!"

The two men laughed. Deira turned her head. A small man in an old suit was crossing the street, waving his arms.

"Back off, old man. This is none of your business."

"You don't hit a woman!" The old man was incensed. Deira wondered if he had seen her fighting and whether that would matter.

She let her legs fold and twisted sideways, breaking free of her attacker. Pain shot through her back. It was nauseating. She dropped to the ground, rolling away from him.

"Don't think this is over, bitch." Danny had a limited vocabulary.

Deira curled into a ball again, trying desperately to get control of her body. The old man was a distraction for them, but she wasn't sure he would keep their attention long enough for her to get back on her feet.

"Get back in your car and drive away, if you know what's good for you." That was the smaller guy.

"Jacob has called the police. They are on their way. And there are five people on that bus," he gestured behind him, "reaching for their cameras so they can take your picture."

Deira tried to focus on the old bus across the street. She couldn't read the words. What she could see was four younger men, also in suits, running across the street. Two of them were almost as big as the guys who had attacked her.

One of the young men raced to stand over her. She could just see the hem of his pants. She really hoped she didn't throw up on him. The other three took off into the park, chasing away the bad guys. She silently hoped the boys would turn around before they got hurt. She closed her eyes and cried.

"They're gone, dear." The old man was crouched down beside her.

Deira sobbed as she uncurled. The young man beside her helped her up. It was excruciating. She clutched her ribs.

"Did you really call the police?" she asked. Her voice sounded thin. She wiped her eyes. Even that small gesture hurt.

"We don't have cellular phones," the old man said. "Or cameras. But there is a pay phone nearby. You just wait here and we'll get help." He nodded to one of the young men. They had all returned unscathed.

"No!" Deira gasped, shaking her head. They looked at her as if she was crazy.

"I have a phone. I just want my husband." Something about the men in suits made it seem the right thing to say. She had no idea why.

"You need medical treatment," one of the boys protested.

"He'll take me," Deira said. The old man looked skeptical. "Police officer at every hospital for this. Won't have to wait." She hoped they accepted that explanation. It barely made sense to her.

She had her phone out. She couldn't see well so she hit the only speed dial number in it. Nicky picked up after two rings.

"Miss me that much, girl?" she teased.

"Nicky," Deira gasped. "I need help." The tears were back.

"What happened? No, fuck that. Where are you?"

"Langer Park. By the entrance."

"You gonna be okay until we get there?"

"Think so. People helped me."

"This isn't a set up, is it?"

"No, no. They're," she broke off, looking at the bus full of neatly dressed people, "Jehovah's Witnesses."

"Okay then, we'll be right there." Nicky hung up.

"Thank you," Deira said to the old man. He was looking at her with concern and pity.

"That didn't sound like your husband," he said softly.

Deira almost laughed.

"No." And then it hit her that Nicky had said 'we.' Twice. She paled.

"We'll stay with you until your friend arrives," the old man said.

"My husband will be with her." Deira wondered why she felt the need to reassure him.

"That's good." The old man looked at her. "You should sit down, dear. You look terrible."

Deira laughed, but it came out as a wrenching cough. She grabbed her ribs again.

"I'll bet." She lowered herself to the curb with a groan.

The old man nodded to the group of young men, and they returned to the bus. He sat on the curb and waited with her. She could tell he was praying.