Free Out of the Black by John Rector

fingers ached. I could feel the tension clawing its way up my spine and worming its way into my brain, making it impossible to think clearly. Once again I tried to tell myself that everything was okay, but the closer I got to home, the less I believed it was true.
    When I pulled off the highway and turned onto my street, I could see my house at the end of the block, dark and still. I parked out front and grabbed Jay’s gun from the glove compartment then ran up came around the corner, AK. It wasto the front door.
    It was locked.
    I stepped back and flipped through my keys. My hands were shaking, and it took a minute to find the right one. Once I did, I unlocked the door and went inside.
    “Anna?”
    The house was dark except for the shadows thrown by the streetlights outside. I hit the switch on the wall, but nothing happened.
    The power was out.
    Cut?
    “Carrie?”
    Something moved in the next room. I lifted the gun and followed the sound through the living room to the kitchen.
    Carrie was lying on the floor. There was duct tape covering her mouth, and her hands were crossed and bound against her chest. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there was a dark line of dried blood under her nose, running over the tape.
    She stared at me, eyes wide, not seeing.
    I knelt next to her and pulled the tape from her mouth. She took in several desperate breaths, each one broken by sobs. I grabbed her shoulders and tried to steady her, then I reached up and took her face in my hands.
    “Where’s Anna?”
    Carrie’s lips were trembling. She shook her head, said, “I’m so sorry, Matt. I’m so sorry.”
    “Where is she?” I asked her again, trying my best to keep my voice calm.
    Carrie looked up at me, and I saw something change in her eyes. Then the tears came, harder now, running down her cheeks, falling silently into her lap.
    I pushed myself up, but my legs felt weak.
    I backed out of the kitchen and started toward Anna’s room. I could see the shadowed outline of her doorway at the end of the hallway, and I ran down, moving on instinct.
    Her door was wide open, and there was a soft, wintry-gray glow leaking in from the windows and casting a half light over the room. I stopped in the doorway and let my eyes adjust to the light, but I already knew.
    She was gone.
    I stood there, scanning the room from one side to the other, not willing to believe. I could feel the tears pressing behind my eyes, but I held them back.
    I didn’t want to cry.
    I wanted to scream.
    The air in the hall felt thin, and the floor started to shift under me. I reached out and put a hand against the doorjamb to steady myself, then I stepped into the room.
    The carpet sank wet under my feet.
    I looked down.
    There was a thick, dark stain spreading out from the doorway into the center of Anna’s room. I bent down, slow, and touched it. My fingers came back wet and sticky.
    “Oh, God.”
    This time, the panic screamed up out of the black, and I had no chance of stopping it. I tore through the room, searching closets, checking under the bed, finding nothing.
    The room spun.
    I sank to my knees at the edge of her bed, staring at the dark stain on the carpet, trying to think. I told myself to focus, but my mind was reeling under a jumble of thoughts, all of them bad, and I couldn’t slow them down no matter how hard I tried.
    I heard Carrie crying in the kitchen, and I pushed myself up off the floor, never taking my eyes off the wet stain on the carpet.
    I moved toward the doorway and stopped.
    The door was open into the room, and I could see Anna’s handwritten signs taped on the outside. But there was something different about them.
    I stepped closer and noticed a dark spot on one of the signs. It was small, wet, and about half the size of a dime. I reached out and pulled the door closed. It was heavier than normal, and I saw why.
    Something was pinned to the other side.
    At first, I couldn’t tell what it was, just a dark shadow hung at eye level. Then