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Dangerous: Chapter Three

By Kiara Caudle

March 26, 2018

My eyes flutter open. I feel cold arms around me. I look up to see my husband. His eyes are closed. I look around slowly, feeling pain in my head, groaning softly. I look around and see the men, huddled in a corner talking. I remember that I have a phone in my purse. I don’t dare sit up, but I tap my husband gently.

“Evelyn?” My husband whispers, opening his eyes.

“Yes. I’m alive.” I smile up at him, taking a glance at the guys. “I-I need my phone. We can get help that way.”

“Babe, where is it?” he asks, glancing up.

“I dropped it in the hallway running from the guy,” I croak out, trying not to cough and make noise.

“Okay, they said, that if we needed to use the bathroom, they’d let us go. I have five minutes to go and get back before they come looking,” Charles says, slowly moving from under me.

Charles gets up and exchanges a few words with the group of men, then he leaves. I pray as I watch the men out of the corner of my eye the best I can, hoping that my husband can get us help.

I look at the clock, getting worried as the time is almost two minutes. I look slightly around, noticing one of the guys going around checking on the kids, giving them crackers. I finally notice that they split up the kids from the grown ups.

It nears four minutes when I glance through the clock. When my husband comes back in the gym. He gives me a thumbs up. I relax waiting for everything to be okay. My husband sits by me and slowly helps me sit up into his arms.

I look sigh, frustrated I am only able to see through my left eye, my worst eye out of both. I hear police sirens in the distant feeling relieved. I breathe out slowly. The guys look around in panic, then they look towards us.

“You!” the guy that hurt me yells at my husband. “You got us caught.”

“No, you got your own self caught.” My husband stands up, the guy comes over to us. I start to pull on my husband’s pants.

“Babe, this isn’t necessary,” I plead, hearing the voices of policemen.

The guy pulls out a gun just as he reaches Charles and I, grabbing Charles, putting the gun to his head, holding him in a headlock just as FBI burst through the doors, shouting. I try to stand up, feeling dizzy.

“Let my husband go,” I say, getting angry.

“If anyone comes closer to us, I will shoot,” the guy yells.

“Then shoot since you’re about it,” I challenge. My husband looks at me in alarm.

“I said, if any of you get closer…” the guy says, through his teeth.

“Real shooters would have done it already,” I say, taking a step closer as the guy backs up.

I lunge at my husband and the guy, the gun goes off, making me drop to my knees again. I gulp, feeling blood in my mouth. I look down slowly, seeing the blood stain my shirt, I slowly cover the wound, falling back on the ground.

Bombs of gas go off around me. Police men rush in, ushering the kids out as gunshots ring through the air. My husband runs over to me when the guys runs off after letting go of my husband, I look at him, gripping his arm.

Charles puts pressure to my wound. I cough a little, blood not stopping as it drips from my mouth, into my hair. “I love you,” I whisper.

“Don’t say that, you’re not dying,” Charles says, whispering close to me.

“I think this is it, my love,” I croak out.

“Please don’t say that. Evelyn Kalani Brown-Croaks, you are not dying,” Charles says, running his hand through my hair.

My vision becomes blurred once again. Soon, I can hear Charles’ faint screams for help. I feel more arms, lift me up onto a bed, but everything seems to go in slow motion. In and out, I hear Charles and a paramedic telling me not to close my eyes.

I can’t help but to close my eyes. I feel my body being lifted and moved around. Soon, I doze off and I drown in blackness.

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