Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 158

Three more men joined them, as the one in the hat led Vivian and Jacques to a nondescript utility van. “Get in,” he instructed after opening the doors on the back.

As she stepped up to comply, Vivian was stopped by one of the three men. There was something familiar about him, now that she saw him up close, but couldn’t put her finger on why. “Arms out,” he ordered, which she hesitantly obliged, after getting a nod from Jacques. The man gave her a quick pat down, finding her phone and what little cash was left in a pocket.

Next he gave Jacques the same treatment. The runner’s expression didn’t change when they located his handgun, or the knife sheathed near his ankle. They also took away his phone, wallet, and a receipt they’d found stuffed in one of his pockets.

The one with the hat took possession of their things, walking over to a trash can where he proceeded to drop everything inside. “C’mon, man,” Jacques complained. “My license was in there; I hate going to the DMV…”

No one paid him any attention, only motioning that they could now get in the van.

Vivian climbed in first, with some help from Jacques as the first step was a bit high. He followed seconds later without issue. They were told to sit on the floor, backs against the side of the vehicle, as the man with the hat settled down across from them. Two of the other men took the front seats, while the third shut the back door without getting in. Two knocks on the side of the van came, signalling they were good to go.

The ride was silent. None of the men spoke, and Vivian wasn’t keen on starting a conversation with them either. Jacques, for his part, looked unbothered by what was going on. Whether losing his gun and knife bothered him, it was difficult to tell, as he sat with his legs out, ankles crossed, looking relaxed. He caught her watching him and smiled, draping one of his arms over her shoulder and giving her a little jostle.

As much as she disliked physical contact — her body tended to react as though any contact would cause her harm — his arm on her shoulders brought Vivian a sense of comfort. She wasn’t in this alone.

They drove around for some time, most likely longer than necessary, before the van came to a stop. The back doors opened, revealing a man in a white tank top and torn jeans. His muscles were *huge*, with veins bulging like angry lines under his skin. “Out,” he ordered.

Jacques stepped out first, turning around to help Vivian down that one step. When both her feet were on the ground, he hooked his thumbs in his pant pockets and glanced around, looking bored.

It looked like they were in an underground parking lot or garage, only there were no other cars around. Graffiti covered most of the walls and trash had piled up in the corners, making Vivian wonder if they’d had to clear vagrants out of the place so there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

The man with the hat motioned for them to follow, and after a rude push from the muscle-man, Vivian did as requested. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the stillness, making her feel more nervous than before. She glanced at Jacques and noted he still looked unbothered, and drew some strength from that. If he wasn’t worried then she shouldn’t be either.

They went through a door, one that looked like it would fall off its hinges at any second, and down a dimly lit corridor. There were doors on the right, but none of the left as they continued. Vivian wondered what sort of place this was supposed to be.

At the end of the corridor a pair of double doors stood waiting but, at the last door on the right, hat-man stopped and knocked three times. A second later, it opened. Hat-man nodded to whoever was on the other side before taking a step back. Muscle-man gave Vivian another shove, and both she and Jacques entered the room.

The first thing Vivian saw upon stepping foot inside was Samuel; he was sitting against the far wall. His clothes were torn and bloodied, his head hanging as he sat motionless. Unable to stop herself, she was halfway across the room, heart hammering, before Jacques stepped in front of her, blocking her father from view.

“Jacques,” she began, but trailed off when she noted his focus was on something else. Following his gaze, Vivian remembered someone had opened the door within, something she’d forgotten about after catching sight of Samuel.

There was a man sitting on a chair, watching them from behind a white and red kabuki mask. He wore a well tailored, black suit and shiny black shoes. Vivian regarded him with a sharp eye, and wondered if this was supposed to be the Curator she’d heard about.

“Don’t let me disturb your heartfelt reunion,” the man said, voice sounding odd — like he was using some kind of voice modifier. “By all means, check to see if he’s alive.”

Jacques gave a small nod and Vivian was around him in a second. Crouching in front of her father, she tried to keep her hand steady as she reached out to press two fingers against his neck. What if he wasn’t alive? Maybe she should have gotten him out first, instead of Gabriel.

There was a pulse; though faint, it was steady. He was alive.

Next she took stock of his injuries. One of Samuel’s eyes was swollen shut, and there was dried blood coming from his nose and mouth. Cuts and bruises littered what skin she could see, making her heart ache all the more. “Hey,” she called out, keeping her voice soft as she carefully put her hands on either side of his face. “Hey, you need to wake up.” It was like playing with a rag doll, his head like a deadweight in her hands.

Panic began to well in the pit of her stomach when he wouldn’t wake up. She didn’t know what to do, how to take care of someone in his state. How were they going to get him out of here if he couldn’t walk? Could Jacques carry him out somehow?

Vivian began tapping her palm against his cheek, not wanting to cause him more pain, but needing him to wake up. “Hey. I need you to wake up.” She hesitated, pursing her lips for a second before saying, “Dad… I need you to wake up. Please.”

“That’s enough,” the man with the mask called out as he stood, but Vivian ignored him.

“Please, Dad. You need to wake up.”

“Viv…vian…?” Samuel murmured, his one good eye opening a crack. She could have cried with relief, but didn’t allow herself that moment; there wasn’t time for that.

“Hey, glad you could join us,” she told him, trying to smile, but unsure if she managed it.

Samuel reached a trembling hand up and pressed it against the back of her head, bringing her so close that their foreheads touched. “You need to… get out of here,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Run. Get… get out. I’ll be…”

“No,” she replied, voice sharp as she met his gaze and shook her head. “I’m not going to run this time. I’m going to keep *you* safe.” He was too weak to stop her from leaning away, his hand falling back down. Turning her head, she glared at the masked man, who had stopped coming at her when Jacques stepped in his way. “We kept our end, now it’s time you do the same.”