Chapter Eleven
"...is harder to revive."
In the tiniest fraction of a second, Lisa's eyes snapped wide open and a strange calm came over her. Everyone saw it. Her struggling body between her two captors went rigid and did not move. It was if she was made of cracking glass.
Damion fought tooth and nail against the single man holding him down. Without one leg, it was impossible for him to stand up, but he bit and scratched until the other man's arms bled rivers and finally he was forced to grab the boy in a full-Nelson wrestling position, rendering him completely immobile. This didn't keep Damion from shouting out the worst possible curses he could come up with.
"God damn you, Rippner! God damn you!" he screamed, spraying flecks of blood all over his front. He had internal bleeding now, he was sure. The tendrils of dark crimson came flying up from his lungs, tracing macabre arcs through the air before splattering on the ground.
Rippner hadn't said anything yet. He was still reveling in Lisa's fragile silence, and the tears that were beginning to eke out from the corners of her eyes. He could almost hear her thoughts whispering No, no! in frantic tones, saying what she herself could not manage to articulate.
"Y-you wouldn't…" she finally managed a soft, breathy plead.
He only gave her the coldest stare he could imagine and the cruelest, most twisted smirk anyone could express.
This was the last she could manage. Like the glass statue she'd transformed into, the spider-web of cracks that everyone had seen metaphorically blossoming on and in her finally collapsed and her eyes went blank, shutting off as her body went limp. The men all saw, and no words could express Damion's rage. His face was red (beneath the blood that had started to flow from his old wounds cracking), all his teeth were bared, and he struggled valiantly in his helpless position as Rippner stood there, sadistically triumphant, placing his gun on a small dilapidated desk nearby and sheathing his knife.
With a small nod of the head, he instructed the men holding Lisa to carry her out of the small room and into another of the usable cells. Damion screamed after her, but she was beyond comprehension at this point. She was little more than a rag doll, and all of them knew it.
Before following after them, Rippner turned back to Damion and when the boy fell silent, he gave him a curt nod.
"Didn't think it polite to make you watch."
As he exited, Damion kicked and flailed and did all in his power to get free. God damn the man! Nothing on earth would ever sate his bloodlust for Jackson Rippner's dead body beneath him, and it was a grim deed that Rippner would kill them both, because if left alive Damion swore to skin him alive for his sister's sake.
The musclehead holding him dropped him roughly and went for the door, and Damion clawed after him, dragging himself along the floor as the door began to swing shut.
"You God-forsaken fucking bastard!" he managed to scream before the heavy metal gate swung shut in his face.
"Lisa. Lisa? Are you in there, Leese?"
Jackson waved his hand in front of her face. Nothing. She was empty inside, gone to a place where supposedly nothing could hurt her.
He was alone with her in a cell two rooms down, the door shut and another of the filthy mattresses set upon a rusting bedspring in a corner. She was lying across it where the men had thrown her, unblinking, breathing shallow and completely motionless. Jackson stood over her, hands on his hips, contemplating how much of an effect his carrying out orders would have on her while she was in this state.
Suddenly his phone chirped, and he answered it. The voice in his ear was gruff and spoke in short to-the-point sentences.
"It's called off. Feds are too close. Release them both," the authority demanded, and the connection was severed.
Jackson stood there, the dial tone buzzing in her ear, expressionless for about two full minutes. Finally he slowly dropped the phone, staring at Lisa's inert body lying splayed across the makeshift bed.
It was off.
She and her brother were going to walk.
Jackson slowly put his phone away and looked her over again.
Two Days Later
Joe Reisert was dozing in a pale green chair, a magazine draped over his chest, his glasses askew. The few bouquets of lackluster hospital flowers managed to brighten the room only slightly, and the curtains were drawn against the dawning sun.
Damion lay flat on his pillow, staring brutally at the ceiling. His sister was sitting up in her bed, staring at the opposite taupe wall, her face expressionless.
"Leese," Damion said, causing her to blink but not look over. "You…that test. You-…" Then he fell silent. They both knew what test he was referring to. The one that would determine if she had been or not.
"I know," she responded softly, not wanting to wake their father. Joe didn't know about that part. He only knew that his son was in tatters and his daughter's mental health was hurt but not destroyed.
They lay in silence for a few more moments before suddenly a knock sounded at the door. A doctor entered quietly, not rousing the elder Mr. Reisert but commanding the immediate attention of both Lisa and Damion.
"Well, Mr. Reisert," the man explained, "Your surgery went well and we'll get you the name of a wonderful prosthetist. Unfortunately, those scars are tough to cover up, but we have some tips for you."
"Don't bother," he muttered.
Used to this response, the doctor went on to turn to Lisa. "Miss Reisert, you sustained minimal injuries, just some bruising and minor cuts. If there's anything else…"
He suspected something, clearly, but neither of the were speaking up. Damion knew it was her decision to get checked. And Lisa couldn't seem to muster up the courage.
The doctor continued. "Well, if either of you would like references for therapists, please do ask. It may not seem necessary now, but I assure you that it never hurts to have someone to talk to." And with that, he left them alone.
"Leese?"
She turned; eyes full of unshed tears. He reached his hand out over the gap between their two beds and held it out.
"I don't know why we're still alive or what happened back there to change the plans. But I do know that it happened, and we are still alive. Dad loves you. And I love you."
With the first smile he'd seen from her in awhile, Lisa reached out to take his hand.
Fín
(A/N) I left the ending open for readers to interpret as they will. You may think whatever you like about the gaping resolution, depending on your opinion of this story's interpretation of Jackson Rippner.