We took turns guarding the door, neither of us sleeping very much. Ricky looked nervous, and suddenly I felt bad about getting him involved. I shouldn’t have gotten him this job. He wasn’t even qualified. Another sucker punch of guilt hit me. And that’s why Santos is dead. Because I fudged the records. And for what? A hiring finders fee?
“J-Jim? Do you think, Lisa made it?” Ricky’s voice quivered out.
The words hung in the air, cold and taunting. I forced myself to swallow, my throat painfully dry.
“Sure man. Why wouldn’t she? You know she’s a fighter.” I nudge Ricky playfully with my booted foot.
The lack of smile on his face drains me of my own.
“When morning comes, we’ll go looking for her, for the others. We’ll find a way out of this man, I swear it.”
If I can keep you alive.
Even his own sister Lisa knew not to bring him on. My face contorted recalling the shouting match we got into when she found out. She should have ratted me out. Maybe she could have stopped this then?
A metallic crash clattered down in the distance. Ricky’s wide eyes met my own. My grip on the AK-47 tightened. I inwardly grimaced at the handle’s red stickiness. Those soulless eyes haunting my thoughts. This gun hadn’t saved him, how on earth would it save us? Skittering rushed across the ceiling overhead. Ricky and I held our breath.
Just pass by – I prayed – Please, just pass by!