Just a Taste Part 23

Ch 23: Elise and Deacon

Isabella 

December 25th, 2024- Abandoned Orphanage- 7:17 PM

Dylan handed me a pair of jeans and a thick winter coat.

“It’s cold as hell outside, so bundle up.” He explained, staring at the embers clinging on the curtains. “Go downstairs and wait for me in the office. It’s across from the kitchen/dining room.”

I nodded in agreement, silently preparing myself for whatever insanity Dylan’s about to do. Because clearly, he had a plan in place for a situation like this.

That was one reason I loved him: he’s always thinking ahead, or preparing for unforeseen circumstances. It’s comforting, considering I never knew what to expect growing up.

Daddy could be an angel with tenderness oozing out of his pores. Caring for me as a loving father should, or a devil with brimstone spewing out of his anus. Demanding perfection and obedience as if I were an underpaid, overworked employee.

My unhinged, yet loving boyfriend’s words broke my train of thought. 

“Isabella, we’re on a deadline.” Dylan reminded me, kissing my cheek. “Please go. I’ll be there soon.”

“Right, sorry.” I muttered, leaving our bedroom behind forever. My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I ran down the hallway. 

Descending the stairs, I glanced at a bloodied corpse that looked like Daddy. Before I could see too much, I covered my eyes. 

Even though his death was well-deserved, I didn’t want to see anymore death. It’s too much to handle mentally. 

Hopefully, after today, neither of us will experience it again.

I waited for Dylan, but not for too long. A minute or two after I arrived at the office, I heard an explosion upstairs, followed by him sprinting like a bat out of hell.

“Get in!” he yelled, shoving me inside the dark, cramped office.

The room smelled like mothballs and old newspapers. I flicked the light switch, but it didn't work. Leaving us stranded in the dark, with a bizarre explosion occurring at our backs.

Dylan shuffled around the room, moving the desk to the side. “Over here, we have little time!”

He’s acting weird. Find out what’s going on!

“Hey, what’s wrong? What was that explosion?” I asked, rushing to his side. “Is someone attacking us again?”

“No,” he said. Urgency laced his tone as he pulled a dark brown rug away from the floor. “I relit the fire and cut the gas line upstairs. This place is about to explode!”

“What!?” I screeched, eyes bulging in disbelief. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Instead of answering me, he opened a metal door attached to the floor, then grabbed my arm and dragged me inside it along with him.

As soon as the door slammed shut and locked, a thunderous rumble shook the space.

Oh God, we were minutes away from death!

“We need to climb down, Isabella.” Dylan grunted, shifting me in his arms. “I can hold you all day, but not while holding onto a ladder.”

“Right, um, I can’t see it…” I mumbled, reaching around, but only feeling Dylan’s hard chest.

He guided my hand to the sturdy wooden planks. “Here. grip it. I’ll guide your legs.”

I obeyed, letting go of Dylan and bracing my body onto the ladder. He moved my legs into position, allowing me to begin my descent into the unknown darkness.

Once we reached the bottom, Dylan clicked on a flashlight and guided me further. We were in a tunnel constructed of concrete and stone. There was a small alcove off to the side, so small that most would miss it upon first glance.

Dylan ducked into it and extracted a metal box with a combination lock on it. "This is what we're after. Come, let's walk and talk."

"What is it? And how'd you know this was down here? I grew up here and I didn't!" I questioned, following his lead.

"Margaret told me about it." He answered somberly. "After my deal was done, she took you to recover. When disposing of the body, she told me where one of his cache of money was. There's also contact information for fake ID's, passports, and such."

"Wait, this is for us? To start over?" I inquired, touching his back.

Clearing his throat, he declared, "Yes, and from this day forward, we're not Dylan and Isabella anymore."

My heart stuttered. What's he talking about?

"Who are we then?" I whispered, tenderly rubbing his back.

"Elise and Deacon Whiscott, a loving married couple on their honeymoon." Dylan murmured, stopping in his tracks. He looked down at me. "I know it's sudden, but it was the best I could come up with."

"Did you just... propose to me?" I giggled, tears teasing my eyes.

"Not really." He chuckled. "The real one will be better than this."

"I see. Well, I'm honored to be your 'wife', Deacon." I replied with a watery smile.

"And I'm honored to be your 'husband', Elise." He responded, kissing my cheek softly.

This decision kick-started our new life together.

Days later…

After escaping the abandoned orphanage, we traveled through the concrete tunnels, which led us to a garage a few miles south of town. The explosion, and the fire that spread soon after to investigate Dylan's disappearance, distracted all the locals.

Hell, they might've thought he died in the fire along with everyone else.

As for me? Everyone thought I was dead already, so I was in the clear.

We took one of the cars, which Dylan informed me were Grandpa's, and drove off into the night.

Never to step foot in South Carolina again.

Our first stop was the 'fake ID' person in Richmond, Virginia. Turns out, he's a former business associate of Daddy's, and 'familiar' with Dylan's world.

Thankfully, he asked only one question:

"Are Johnathan and Jerald dead?"

When we told him yes, he made our paperwork to our specifications, for free, and provided a place to dye our hair for good measure.

Before taking our photos, he offered color contacts. For 'security', he said.

I asked him, "Why're you doing this for us? We're strangers to you."

He chuckled, waving his hand casually. "Jerald and Johnathan kept me busy for years. Hunters needing new identities, forging evidence, you name it. And well-fed, if you get my meaning. Consider this an offering to their deaths, Ms. Montgomery."

Dylan tensed up, wrapping his arms around me protectively. "Very well, but just know this: she's not Isabella Montogomery anymore, and I'm not Dylan Aldridge either. Nor do I bear the title, 'Diablo'. Understand?"

"Even if you run away with a new identity, our world will never forget your deeds." He said with a wicked grin. "You're legendary! Somehow, you will be found. But with my help, it'll make it harder. " He handed Dylan a card with his personal information on it. "For this service, I'll require payment."

"Money isn't an issue." Dylan remarked, shaking his duffel bag. "How can we trust you? You worked with those two for years."

It's true. How do we know if he will keep his mouth shut? For all we know, he could rat us out to the police, or to the local news.

"Well, if you feed me, I have no reason to snitch." He retorted, licking his lips. "I'm not picky. Raw meats of any kind will do. Humans are preferred, but I understand the... risks."

Dylan looked down at me and asked, "Is this acceptable? So that we can be safe?"

Anxiety swirled in my gut as I nodded in agreement. Did we really have a choice? This guy knew enough to bury us essentially at any point, so if we don't comply with his demands, we'll be on the run for the rest of our lives.

"If we send meat to you, will it buy your silence?" Dylan questioned, kissing the top of my head.

He bowed his head. "Indeed. Now, let's take your photos." He stood behind a tripod camera. "Smile, Mr. and Mrs. Whiscott!"

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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