chapter 3
“Hey! Hey, guys! Look! She died from fright!” Polo was laughing again.
I kept my eyes shut and remained as still as I could manage. How long had I been asleep? More importantly, where was I? I had dreamed of dark caves and drowning in water I couldn’t see. I must have awoken while the engine was slowing down, the change in movement jolting me awake. I scolded myself for not keeping track of how far I’d been taken. Why didn’t I think to count the turns or look for exit signs? Tears threatening to well up in my throat, but when the engine shut off, I willed myself to stop. If the SUV stopped, that meant I had an opportunity for escape. And while I couldn’t exactly run away, I could at least try and attract attention to myself, leading to a potential rescue.
Although I couldn’t see them, I could feel sets of eyes on me. The doors slammed again. I prayed I was at another truck stop or anywhere that might be well-populated by human life. Like a rabbit in a trap, my heart was thumping mercilessly. I could hear the shuffling of shoes on gravel and the flare of a lighter being lit, but I still made myself keep my eyes shut. Slowly, as though time was being pushed backward instead of forward, I heard the cargo door beep and felt a breeze of fresh air invade the small space.
I blinked; my eyes stung against the brightness of day. I discovered new levels of self-hatred for sleeping so long. How had I slept for so many hours when I should have been trying to escape? I pushed my way past the man standing in front of me, no longer caring if I harmed him in any way. I only wanted to get as far away as possible. My arms and legs were stiff and my torso felt tingly from being cramped so long, but I managed to thrash past the mystery man and onto the crushed gravel. My shoes were missing. I reached down to rub my feet. Someone swore, and I think Polo started laughing. I straightened up and kept going. Another hop and my ponytail came loose from the tie, my hair cascading around me like a blonde curtain.
The seconds were painfully slow. In reality, I only made it two or three steps away from the SUV before the mystery man’s arms closed around my torso and he effortlessly tossed me over his shoulder.
I flailed my arms, hitting him as best as I could, thinking back to the few times I had attempted to lift free weights with Robbie. If I had stuck with it, I might have been able to defend myself better. Now, every ounce in me fought with what felt like the meaningless efforts of a child. Any remote hope I had of saving myself began to slip away.
“Think you can manage?” I lifted my head. Wallace smiled. Polo was doubled over in laughter. Behind him, I could see nothing but hordes of trees and shrubbery. A new fear grew within me and I began screaming through the gag.
“Knock it off, already.” The grip of his forearm tightened around my knees, making them impossible to move. Steadily, he moved toward my doom. Behind me, I could hear something being stacked and another vehicle pulling into the gravel. I screamed and screamed until I thought the sheer force would make the tape come off my mouth. Maybe someone had seen something and was coming to help—but then I remembered the other SUV and the small truck. My despair spread, seeping into my organs and ceasing their ability to function properly.
Inside, I was yelling at myself. How I could have once thought this degenerate was attractive was beyond me. Whatever happened to female intuition?
The shadow of a building appeared over us. I could feel the mystery man lean his weight then heard the swing of something ancient and wooden bouncing back against itself. We entered some kind of old house or barn. The smell of mold dust was overwhelming. I screamed for my life. Despite my powerlessness, I had to do something.
There was very little light in the house, but when I tried to look past the wave of hair over my face, I could see cobwebs in the corners of misshapen floorboards. Maybe this was where they were going to kill me and dump my body. It would take awhile before someone would think to look inside the closet of an abandoned house for a corpse.
I screamed louder.
“Holy hell, will you stop that?” He carried me up a flight of stairs before he finally put me down on a cold surface. Instantly I sprung up and tried to fling myself from the floor.
“Take it easy there, Vicious.” He pulled my wrists to the side of a large metal object. I strained against him and continued to scream, but it was as though my actions weren’t even registering—they were hardly even an inconvenience against his brawn. Somewhere along the line, he had taken off his denim jacket, and I understood now why he wore it. Underneath he had been wearing a holster with two small-caliber handguns—something I wouldn’t have noticed in the rest stop with the jacket on. Without the collar of the jacket there to obscure it, I could see the lines of a large tattoo on the right side of his neck, something I imagined he was also trying to hide.
Unexpectedly, he reached out a hand toward my face. So here it was. He’d strangle me to death with one hand, or maybe he’d smother me. Maybe it was shock setting in, but, I wasn’t as afraid as I should have been. I tried remembering the steps of grief. Had I bypassed those first four stages and gone straight to acceptance? I closed my eyes and tried to think of something nice, maybe some place far away.
Yet his hand didn’t reach out to hurt me as I predicted. Instead, it brushed the falls of hair from my face, even attempted to place several of the more stubborn strands behind my left ear.
I don’t know why I expected his face to be different. I just did. He was a villain now, after all. He had abducted me against my will and would probably kill me before the hour was through. But still, his face was as ruggedly handsome as it had been when I first saw him. All of the features were the same, even more enhanced now I could examine them at close range with him kneeling next to me. His expression changed as he took off his oversized sunglasses—another gesture I hadn’t expected. I could see very clearly now the fresh bruise forming between his eyes and the slight swell of his nose. Had I done that? Good, I decided. I was glad I’d hurt him—even if it had given me a splitting headache.
We glared at each other for moments that had no end. His stare was making me angry. If he was going to kill me, why not just get it over with? I hardly wanted to be ogled or have a staring contest. Meanwhile, I ran through the inventory list of known colors in my head to try and place the palette of his irises. He reached out once more and again I failed to flinch away, but this time his thumb touched my face, pulling away an eyelash that had been caked on by my tears. Briefly, I wondered if it had been with me since the rest stop.
A voice called out from somewhere in the house, pulling him away from some thought I couldn’t read. He stood up, but only for a second, because when he looked back down at me, he made sure to secure the bungees to what I now recognized as an old radiator.
“Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” His voice was a whisper and he looked over his shoulder as though we were having an intimate conversation he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Just keep quiet.”
I was so angry I would have spit in his face if I could have.
He stepped out of the room with four quick strides. As soon as I was somewhat confident he was gone, I went back to thrashing against the bungees, only now that I had more room to work with, I scooted my legs against the radiator and pushed against them for leverage. I shoved against the cord with everything I had, but only felt the material gnawing against my skin. In frustration, I threw my bound hands against the radiator, instantly regretting it. The metal made my hands ache, and the sudden pain spread all the way up to my elbows. It forced me to refocus and take in my surroundings.
Below me, I felt the grime of the linoleum floor. I imagined it had probably been yellow at one point. Now, however, it was a monotone of brownish-grays, covered in an array of large, male shoe prints. I supposed I was in what used to be a kitchen nook of sorts, although it was difficult to tell, as the plastic sections that used to be pantries had been taken from their hinges and were lying in scattered pieces on broken sections of countertop. Fixtures, and what I guessed were water pipes, hung useless below a small window with a torn lace curtain that was now brown from years of neglect.
Calm, I told myself, remain calm and think it through. I knew I’d fit through the small window, but judging from the consistent lack of use, it would probably be incredibly hard to get open, and even if I did open it, where would I go from there? I closed my eyes and tried to think beyond the forest I had seen in front of the house. Had I heard any other cars? Were there any other houses?
Just outside of the window, I tuned in to the men’s voices from the SUV and the mystery man. It sounded like there were two or three more voices out there, so I strained against the bungee cord and pushed my feet on the radiator again, only this time I turned my head in an attempt to see anything from the new angle. The frustration was building again, and despite my instructions, I screamed inside the tape, hoping the owners of the new voices would bring help. As I did, however, the voices grew louder and more aggressive. One voice in particular raged above the others and seemed to echo in the stillness of the broken, old house.
“What did I tell you? What did I say?” The door slammed and running footsteps trailed behind, getting closer. My hands shook as I pulled at the ropes, the logic of it not lost on me—just misplaced. My brain called out to me and told me to get out. Danger flared my head, commanding me to leave immediately, yet I was stuck. I broke out in a fresh, cold sweat—the new terror strapped to my chest like a paperweight.
Suddenly, a large, muscular man stood before me. Trailing behind him, I caught a brief glimpse of Polo and some others, but my attention was focused on the man’s fist as it hit me.
I flinched at the impending blow and covered my head as best as I could—which was actually only raising my elbows like chicken wings. The pain would come. So far it had mostly just been awkwardness and fear, but now it would get physical. Really, it was almost a relief to know I wouldn’t have to wait anymore for my demise. But it was difficult not to imagine if they would torture me before they killed me.
I didn’t want to think how painful this would be for Dad; how much it would age him.
However, the most remarkable thing stopped the fist just before it connected with my face. And I was completely sure the fist was coming because I even felt the breeze as it moved by.
Then there was a lot of noise and several voices swearing all at once. My insides were shaking again and as I slowly opened my eyes, I realized my body was shaking as well. I was too afraid to turn my head, although I had an idea what I might see.
“I said no.”
Wallace was bent back behind some of the broken countertop, his chest heaving. My abductor was standing in front of me, staring at him with a steadiness in his eye that both frightened and calmed me significantly.
“Charlie’s right, Wallace,” said one of the men from the corner. I noticed how they remained at a respectful distance while my abductor and Wallace had their stare-down. “Let’s just wait to hear what Ben says.”
Polo pushed his way up to the front. “Did I miss something good?”
Wallace smiled and stood up in one fluid motion. His eyes left my abductor’s and fell on mine, and although I wanted to look away, I couldn’t manage it. Briefly, I was reminded of the eyes of road kill or frogs that get dissected in science labs. Like them, his glare towards me was indifferent and empty. I’m not embarrassed to say the lack of human acknowledgement in the moment frightened me more than anything else so far. Killing me would mean nothing to him—a mere inconvenience, like stepping in something that might mess up the bottom of his shoes.
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “All right, then, boys—whatever you say.”
Although his fists remained clenched at his sides, my abductor said nothing as Wallace stood up and brushed some dust from his pants. Standing at full height, I realized he was larger than I had originally thought, being easily over six feet tall. He was also abnormally shaped with muscles that didn’t look fit for the human form. They even seemed to scope into the widow’s peak of his military-style haircut. I gulped and thought of Robbie. Would my big brother have heard by now that I was missing?
As soon as the man left the room, the tension seemed to break, and someone sighed. I cautiously turned and saw someone lighting a cigarette.
“He needs to relax.”
“Really? I think his Charles Bronson impersonation is getting pretty good.”
Now that I could see them easily, I hardly felt comforted by the appearance of any of these strangers. One man who had come from the second SUV was leaning against the door frame. Like Wallace, he was muscular and rigid. But the main thing I noticed were the abstract scars on his forearms and wrists. Like lines on the pavement, they crossed and jagged on his raven skin. Next to him was a lanky-looking man with dark hair and the shadow of facial hair to match.
Although, he might have been average looking, it was difficult not to miss the absence of his left index finger and the tip of his right thumb. In front of them stood Polo, a shorter man with reddish hair and a large smile.
I looked up at my abductor—the one they had called Charlie. His face was flushed with fresh rage. Not understanding the source, the anger frightened me. Yet it was the way the rage so visibly coursed through him: his pupils dilated, his fists clenched. He seemed nearly as monstrous as Wallace. Then all at once, the terror I had felt blooming inside me reached a head when Polo flounced over and waved his hand in my face.
“Hi, my name is Polo. That’s Yuri and Reid!” He gestured to the men in the doorway, but it was difficult to pay attention as I flinched back so hard my wrists hit the radiator again and I cringed as the pain flooded my nerves.
With the same kind of discipline one might show a puppy, Charlie slapped his hand away and glared at him with a stern look that suggested future bodily harm if he continued.
The man with the dark hair, however, laughed. “Bad Polo! That’s a very bad Polo!” he said. He too had some sort of dulled accent I couldn’t quite place.
“What?” Polo asked. He seemed genuinely confused. While the sudden movement had startled me, it gave me a unique moment to take a fleeting look at the bunch and observe them. While the man named Yuri lit another cigarette, the dark-haired man rubbed the space between his brows and tried to ignore Polo, who was all but dancing around him.
“What guys? I don’t get it. Did I miss it again? What did I do?”
My breath came in and out easily now for the first time since I had left the truck stop. Charlie lifted himself onto what was probably the platform for a wood stove and took a phone from his pocket. I saw the bags under his eyes and the distinct look of worry.
“What time is Ben supposed to be here?” Yuri asked.
“Soon enough,” he snapped back.
It occurred to me then … the complete lack of organization with only the anticipation of violence. These men weren’t kidnappers, they were only thieves. Any provocation they might have to hurt me would be directly related to what I had seen—or what I might have seen.
So there was still a possibility I might live through this. But what about Wallace? He could have easily done me in with little effort on his part. And yet this Charlie person had put forth the effort to stop him, and he had also told me I wouldn’t be hurt. But who was he? Why should I believe him? He had taken me against my will!
What if preventing me from getting my block knocked off was all part of some elaborate ruse to gain my trust and get me to develop Stockholm Syndrome or something? I closed my eyes and began rummaging through all the case studies I had read in those abnormal psychology textbooks. My mind even sorted through those terrible made-for-television movies and tried to remember the statistics for human trafficking and…
I counted to ten and then backwards twice more before the thoughts went away. As terrible as it was, the sophistication behind some elaborate trickery like that wouldn’t be very cost effective and would require too much effort for guys like these.
Just then, the squealing of tires broke up my thoughts. The guys jumped out of the room and the door banged once more. Most of them were yelling, swearing profusely about a ‘screw up.’ I was reminded of children on a playground running to a teacher to tattle.
Charlie was the only one who stayed behind.
Silence between us felt strangely comfortable. With just him in the room, I had the feeling I was less likely to be harmed than I was with the rest of them. I stole a brief glance and could see the rage had ebbed away while he smoked. He stared out the small window with such intensity that I thought maybe he was avoiding looking at me. It surprised me when he finally spoke.
“If I take that off, can you keep quiet?”
While I thought about the potential of screaming again and the possibility of rescue, a brief glint of annoyance in his eyes persuaded me that it wouldn’t be wise. As it was, the skin around my mouth was dried and chapped from the maltreatment. I carefully nodded my head twice.
He approached me cautiously, like I was a wounded animal. I flinched when he reached out to remove the tape from my mouth. For a second, I could feel the calluses from his fingertips against the sides of my cheek. I thought maybe his thumb lingered there a moment longer than necessary—I shuddered.
He ripped the tape away quickly enough so the skin didn’t tear from my already chapped lips. Still, I harbored an instant wish for the lip balm in my bag.
There was humor in his voice, but he lacked a smile. “Just like a Band-Aid.”
“Thanks.” My voice surprised me; I sounded just as cracked and dried as my lips felt. I coughed several times in an attempt to regain my voice. As I did so, he backed away abruptly, narrowing his eyes at me dangerously. I actually wondered if I had done something to offend him. But this bothered me too, and I was annoyed with myself that even in a situation like this I would retain so much awkwardness and still worry about what was expected of me.
“Thank you?” Charlie mumbled. His expression had gone back to indifference, and he looked out the window from his seat on the countertop. “That s’posed to be funny?”
I shrugged. The muscles in my shoulders and back were beginning to tense and stiffen up from the lack of movement. I found it incredibly uncomfortable. “There’s no excuse for poor manners.” Hopefully he would realize I wasn’t being sarcastic, just trying to be civilized. I once saw on a talk show that the more likely an abductor is to see you as a human being, the more likely they are to treat you as one—not to mention the fact that you could live through the experience. If all I had to do was show a little decency, then I would be Miss Manners.
We remained in the quiet for quite awhile, which bothered me much more than I expected. Normally, I thrived in the stillness of things, getting some of my best work done in silent afternoons at the library. But the lack of knowing what awaited me next and what was currently happening was making the gears in my brain go haywire. All the potential scenarios of what could happen to me were colliding with my worries and fears for the future. More importantly, however, what about Dad and Robbie? Would Dad remember to take his blood pressure medication? Was he eating? This wouldn’t distract Robbie during his retraining, right?
“What are you going to do with me?” I regretted the words the instant they came out. He had warned me to be quiet. Nevertheless, the buildup was unbearable, and the words just slurred out of me like dirty slush on a sidewalk, unwanted and unavoidable.
My gaze found the floor and stayed there. I tried to mentally prepare myself for the tape again, but it didn’t come. Instead, his voice was calm and steady. “I don’t know.” He threw the filter of his cigarette against the wall. I shivered even though the afternoon heat was already setting in.
Luckily, my imagination didn’t have any wind-up time before someone else walked into the house and interrupted my thoughts. He was someone new, and he carried himself with the attitude of an admiral, extremely stiff and stoic with an obvious air of authority. It seemed almost ironic that he was rather small—classic Napoleon complex. He was also extremely well dressed in what looked like a tailor-made suit. When he walked through the doorway, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled widely. Then he took a moment to look at Charlie and then me before taking out a large pair of bifocals. If I was making a blind guess, I would have said this guy was one of my professors.
“Well,” he said to Charlie. “At least when you find a mess, you find a lovely one, don’t you, Charlie Boy?”
He walked towards me, and although he wasn’t as flamboyant as Polo, the same curiosity was there. “Hello there, my name is Ben Walden. What’s yours?”
I felt very much like a child and hated it in the extreme. My teeth clenched as I repeated his name over in my head. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it anywhere. When I looked back up I realized Charlie was also looking at me, and it made my stomach churn. But still, I kept my eyes on this new stranger when I answered.
“Addie Battes.”
Ben’s smile grew a little wider as he looked back at Charlie. “Of course you are.”
“My family isn’t wealthy,” I blurted out.
“Excuse me?” He stood up and leaned against the door frame. He looked more amused than ever.
“I don’t know anyone or anything, and I don’t even know where I am. You could just blindfold me and drop me off somewhere so neither of us is inconvenienced. There are many options here, gentlemen. I could tell my family I spontaneously went hitchhiking, so there was no crime even committed, no laws broken whatsoever.” I was babbling and I knew it. Even I could hear how pathetic it sounded, how desperate and menial. But at this point, I figured my chances were about fifty-fifty of getting killed, and frankly, I no longer knew if presenting a logical argument would increase or decrease the risk for survival.
Ben looked up at Charlie with some sort of musing on his face. They seemed to be communicating without saying anything. If it wasn’t for their severe differences in appearance, I would have thought they were brothers.
Then without warning, Ben started laughing. It was strange to hear such a high-pitched sound coming from such a serious-looking man. While I waited for the sound to stop, I noticed Charlie was smiling a little bit, too. Seeing him smile did something to my insides again and I had to look away.
Ben sighed and smacked his hands together. “Okay, kids, here is what we’ll do: we’ll attempt to remain with our plan. Then, in a few hours after we’ve gone, we’ll have some friends call the authorities about this lovely little thing.” He pointed in my direction with his thumb and then smacked his hands back and forth together. Again, I was reminded of an instructor wiping the chalk dust from his palms.
Charlie said nothing. He nodded and pulled another cigarette from his pocket and put it to his lips. I noticed his distinct hesitation to light it.
“Okay by you?” his words were oddly stifled by the cigarette.
I looked around me to make sure he was talking to me. I think the expression on my face is what made Ben Walden laugh. Was Charlie actually asking my opinion or was he merely being sarcastic?
“I’d prefer to go home right now.”
Both men laughed.
In all honesty, however, relief flooded through me. These people were talking about letting me go home, about allowing me to leave free and unharmed. I was overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of being back in New Jersey (and how often does one say that?), in my room, in my bed, and above all else, safe. Just as some of these thoughts began to seep into me, another question entered my mind.
“Um, excuse me? Just how long am I going to be here?”
Smoke and murky sunlight filled the tiny once-upon-a-time kitchen. “’Till tomorrow,” Charlie answered.
My sigh was audible. “Okay.”
Ben removed his bifocals and formally placed them in the front pocket of his shirt. “I’ll have a talk with Wallace.”
Charlie scoffed and I saw the glimmer of something dark I had seen earlier. “If you don’t, then I’m gonna.” Although he smiled and saluted Ben jokingly as he walked away, there was nothing playful about his expression. I thought that maybe there was a threat implied somewhere, but knew better than to ask.
He left then, returning only a moment later with several bottles of water and a bag of chips. He sat next to me and crossed his legs, and although I still should have been terrified, I confess that the sight of the water alone reminded me of some of my most basic needs, eradicating the fear from me. When he went to touch the bungees that held my wrists, I didn’t even shy away.
“If you try somethin’, I’ll lock you in a closet.”
It barely took a second for him to untie my hands. I rubbed my sore wrists eagerly. I doubted he had been a Boy Scout, but maybe his knot tying skills were a part of Thieving and Kidnapping 101.
I still smiled at the threat. “Taking a page out of the SLA Handbook?”
“Huh?” The chips popped open and he slid a water bottle towards me.
“Um, the Symbionese Liberation Army?” When he didn’t respond, I continued.
“They kidnapped a girl named Patty Hearst in the seventies. Kept her locked in a closet.” I closed my mouth and kept it that way, remembering how most people didn’t like a know-it-all. I tried to be discreet about checking the water for a torn bottle cap before taking a sip from it. He saw me, though, and scoffed.
“If I wanted to drug you, I woulda done it by now.”
I shrugged and gulped. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He smiled and sipped his own water. “Yeah.”
I reached my hand into the chip bag and helped myself to a handful of the crunchy BBQ. The simple joy of it delighted my senses and made me so happy I almost wanted to cry. I closed my eyes and slowly munched on every chip. I savored each bite like a precious morsel. I should have been dead, but I wasn’t. I had somehow been spared and was also eating these wonderfully mundane chips. I laughed to myself and realized I was experiencing some classic signs of Stockholm Syndrome.
“What’s so funny?”
I opened my eyes and took another sip of water. It was warm, but still incredibly refreshing. “Normally I don’t enjoy Ruffles this much.”
His head tilted to the side. “You’re a strange one, ain’t you?”
I nodded, put another chip in my mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. An idea started nagging at the back of my head and throbbed there at the edge of my reasoning. Although I didn’t want to acknowledge it, it still nudged at me to ask, taunting me with its incessant chanting until I would satisfy it.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He frowned, wiping the residue from his hands on his jeans. “I ain’t.”
“Yes, you are.” Really? Was I really arguing right now with an armed man who stole for a living?
But instead of getting angry like I thought he might, he only pulled another cigarette from a pack and lifted it to his mouth. Briefly, I wondered about that mouth, and if smoking cigarettes so frequently would alter the taste of those lips. I put my hand to my own torn lips but immediately pulled away, feeling the blush spread.
Yikes, Addie, get a grip. I was abominably grateful then that I had been allowed my bag, and again remembered my desire for my lip balm. Unfortunately, however, my abductor didn’t feel the same way, as my sudden movements seem to startle him into grabbing my wrist with one hand while pinning his leg against my torso to effectively prevent me from going anywhere. Although the action wasn’t violent and his grip by no means hurtful, the closeness and the aggression of his act made me catch my breath. Beyond the smell of the clove cigarettes, I could smell aftershave and dull soap. More faded than others, I could see a few scars behind the stubble of his jaw, and one particularly deep mark along his left eyebrow.
It was strange that his chest was moving so rapidly because such a small effort couldn’t have been much for him. But sure enough, he was breathing as though he had been performing some intense exercise. Now I could clearly see what the collar of his jacket had been hiding. It was a rather large tattoo of a serpent, which seemed to dance under the bulge of his pulsing jugular vein.
He pulled away instantly when he realized his mistake, slowly moving to pick up the cigarette that had fallen to the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
My hands were practically shaking when I put the lip balm on, but I was well aware it wasn’t from fear. “That’s okay.”
He laughed and lit the cigarette; the sound filled the kitchenette and made my head spin like a poorly constructed roller coaster. I picked up my water bottle and looked at it, then the bag of chips. No, no. Besides, if I had been drugged, the side effects would probably have been far more different.
I shrugged and tried to get the kinks out. Somehow I picked up our previous conversation against my better judgment. “That’s what I mean, though. A real villain never apologizes.” Insanity, that’s all it was. I was clearly just a crazy person who needed to be locked away in a tiny room somewhere so I could receive professional medical help. “So you can’t be entirely bad.”
His eyebrow went up. “What do you know ‘bout it?”
“Nothing. I just—”
“That’s right.” His finger came out at me, pointing in accusation. “So just keep your damn mouth shut.”
Although he put his hand down, he glared at me for some time. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors as the clouds outside passed over the sun and tinted the indoor light. While his expression was dark, there wasn’t anything angry about it, nothing even within the realm of what I had seen earlier. But I wanted to test the waters, explore this unknown territory. My curiosity gushed from the inside out and gave me a rush.
Yes, I decided. I was definitely crazy.
“Maybe you’re right.” I played with the bottle cap in my hands. “If you were decent, you would let me call my Dad—just to tell him I’m all right.”
“Forget it,” he snapped and put out the cigarette on the edge of his boot.
“It was worth a try,” I mumbled.
“You’re lucky you’re even getting outta here.” He scooted across the floor and rested his back against one of the few cupboards still intact. From below us, I thought I heard the roar of power tools coming to life. Unfortunately, the noise did nothing to distract me and those pesky logical thoughts started creeping up again. I was beginning to hope that Robbie hadn’t heard about my abduction at all. I quickly reasoned there was no way it couldn’t sidetrack him. Even if I was home by this time tomorrow, I didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily. With Dad, however, that was going to be unavoidable.
“What kinda girl goes running ‘round a filling station after she hears gunshots?” He shook his head as though he was exasperated, but he wasn’t even close to being done.
“Is that what those noises were?” I mumbled to myself. Even if I had been asking, it was clear he was too consumed with his ranting to bother with me.
“Nobody minds their own business no more! That’s how folk end up in trouble half the time!” Despite the yelling, I was less afraid and more enthralled by his behavior.
“People can’t just do what their s’posed to do. Just follow directions and listen! Then everybody wonders why everything gets messed up.” He was rambling now, ranting as though he were a lunatic. I frowned—mostly because I only understood about half of what he was talking about, but also because I didn’t understand the source of his anger. He sounded completely bent, his words streaming out of his mouth with only the slightest fragment of sense.
“We shoulda just skipped it and stuck to the schedule. Followed through as usual.” I listened with a keen interest as he talked more to himself than anything. I realized that, just as before when he became enraged with Wallace, his accent became more pronounced. He was even misusing auxiliary verbs.
“I done told them a million times before—a last-minute truck grab ain’t a good idea!”
“Hey…” I tried to pull him from his raving, but I don’t think he paid any attention. In a way it was cute, almost like a toddler having a tantrum. And under a different set of circumstances, I might have laughed, but I was fed-up and annoyed with this entire business. Frankly, the last thing I wanted to do was listen to him harp on. “Hey!”
Finally, he looked at me with wide eyes. It was as though he had forgotten I was in the room.
I scowled so hard I hoped he could feel it. “Maybe you could quit complaining for a minute and forget that you’re not the only one here having a bad day.” I pointed to the bungees still attached to my legs. “Just imagine what my Dad is going through right now.”
At that my voice trailed off. I didn’t want to think about Dad and the horrors that were probably going through his mind. With any luck, he wasn’t being as imaginative as I had been in regard to my welfare. I always thought I got my creativity from Mom. I silently prayed that for the sake of Dad’s sanity, I was right.
“What ‘bout your Ma?” The sound of his voice interrupted my thoughts. I noticed his tone was back to normal, his accent much more diluted.
The mention of my Mom upset me without explanation. Maybe it was the many implications of death throughout the last few hours or just my constant attempts to avoid thinking about how much I missed her. Whatever it was made me angry enough to pick up the bottle cap from the floor and chuck it at him. Naturally it was off by about a foot and a half and bounced off the wall instead—not that it would have done any damage, anyway.
“She’s dead—but thanks for bringing up happy memories.” I sulked helplessly and pulled my knees up as high to my chest as I could get them with tied legs. I remembered my Mom’s passionate dislike of sarcasm and her frequent reminders of it being ‘the lowest form of humor…yada, yada, yada.’ I heard his low chuckle erupt from across the room.
“Are you…laughing?” I mentioned my dead Mother and this person was laughing? I wanted to claw his eyes out. Since that wasn’t an option, I reached around me for something else to throw, but the empty water bottles were just out of reach.
“What were you trying to hit?” His laughter grew louder, bubbling in the room around us and filling the kitchenette once again. It even overpowered the sound of the tools from below us until they shut off altogether.
I huffed and ground my teeth together. “You.”
His laughter increased until he actually had to clutch his stomach to keep from falling over.
I crossed my arms over my chest as best as I could, feeling uncomfortable by both his mocking and the fact that I very much enjoyed the sound of his laughter. It was a rich, fluid sound that was evenly tuned and entirely pleasant to my senses. It occurred to me that I was warped and should be deeply offended, but in reality I was only slightly cross.
“Shut up,” I demanded.
He managed to get ahold of himself long enough to stand up and open the solitary window. It protested with a loud crack and a piece of wood split from the panel. I was glad I hadn’t bothered with it.
His laugh had now devolved into a rumbling chuckle that came in with a warm breeze.
“Now I get that saying ‘throw like a girl.’” His face broke into a grin at my shocked expression. My last piece of patience had evaporated. And while I still wasn’t as disgusted as I should have been, I was no longer willing to shield my anger.
“Who do you think you are?” I spat the words out like sour milk. “You have no right to insult people, let alone kidnap them and worry their parents to death!”
He closed the distance between us and scrunched down, putting his weight on his heels. “I told you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I ain’t a nice guy.”
I smiled and lunged at him, putting as much weight as I could on my confined legs. While it wasn’t going to do any good, it took him by surprise enough to knock him on his backside. He put out his hands to steady himself.
“That might be true.” In all my nervousness, I still tried to laugh. “But you seem harmless enough.”
“You’re vicious.” He sat back down.
I attempted to laugh again. “I try.”
He opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of his name being called in the distance. The noise startled us both, but at least he seemed to understand the source. I could hear firecrackers going off one by one and the voices of the guys shouting loud profanities all at once.
Without explanation, he got up and walked away. Although it grossed me out, my curiosity was insufferable after about twenty seconds, so I lowered my head to the dirt-caked floor, just touching my ear to the surface. I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and the sound of doors slamming before I heard Charlie’s voice again. His voice was too muffled to make out the exact words, but knowing he was close-by gave me a strange sort of comfort. After a couple of seconds, I heard Polo cackling with laughter.
I sat up and tried to listen for more sounds. From the urgency in the voices, I gathered that the men were downstairs doing something that was of relative value. More importantly however, it didn’t sound like it concerned me and I had a unique opportunity to evaluate my physical situation. Since I was alone, I could attempt escape and try to search for help. It was risky, but despite the agreement made, I had no intention of staying in that house for a moment longer than I possibly had to. If there was even the slightest chance I could be home by tonight, then I was going to take it.
With more freedom for my hands, I worked my fingers against the bungees, pulling to get the knots free. It didn’t accomplish much, as my fingers were much too soft against the frayed material, and it stung painfully on both my calves and fingers when I tried to break it. I looked around but saw nothing remotely sharp enough that would slice through. I knew I had nothing in my bag that would be helpful, and I didn’t have to guess if these guys had any useful cutlery in this room as they definitely didn’t appear to be the cooking type.
So I tugged and pried at the heavy knots. In a way it was kind of funny. Robbie or Dad would have probably gotten through this in about a minute. While I could quote Shakespeare, tell you the difference between a Rembrandt and Caravaggio, and speak a little Chinese (I emphasize the word ‘little’), I had no basic knowledge of any survival skills that had the potential to literally save my life at this moment in time.
“Ain’t no point in that.” I had been so distracted by my efforts I had forgotten to listen for anyone coming. At first the realization that I was no longer alone frightened me, but when I looked to the doorway and saw Charlie there, completely covered in soot and ash, I actually felt relieved.
I pinched my nose shut. “What is that terrible smell?” He came over towards me and shooed my hands away from the bungees, answering my question at the same time. I struggled against him, but not being particularly eager to get him angry, I gave up.
“Were you rolling in sulfur?”
He sighed. “No.” His voice was tight.
I started to laugh at the baked-in flakes of ash and something else in his hair. It reminded me of the many years Robbie dressed as a hobo for Halloween because he didn’t want to put any effort into a costume.
Despite everything else, I felt better that he was no longer wearing the holster with the guns. I wondered where they were, but as long as they weren’t near me, I decided it didn’t much matter. Seeing him ridiculously filthy also helped ease my apprehension, which may explain why I reached my hand out to shake the flakes of dirt from his head. I understood now that they were mostly rust and some kind of powder. But it wasn’t this that made me pause; it was my surprise at how soft the texture of his hair really was and how much I enjoyed the feel of it.
He was equally surprised, shooting his head up from securing my bonds to stare his eyes into mine. How quickly his chest seemed to rise and fall. I was beginning to wonder if I made him nervous.
“What were you doing down there?” I pulled my hand away from him like he was a lit flame. He gulped and then shook his head, blinking several times. It was almost as though he were waking from a deep dream.
“Better if you don’t know.” His voice was quiet, sleepy even.
“You smell really bad.”
“I know.”
“I have to use the bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“And my foot is asleep.”
“Okay.”
It amazed me the way he took considerable care not to touch me while he untied the binds around my legs. Unlike when he originally tied my wrists, he took his time, his fingers gingerly working at the bungee cord so he wouldn’t have to make physical contact with me. This couldn’t have been easy for him. I was so excited at the prospect of standing up that I persistently tapped the toes on the foot that was still awake. The second I was free, I sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, completely forgetting about my useless foot and nearly falling over from trying to balance myself. Before my reflexes could even respond, Charlie effortlessly caught me by my elbows and pulled me back to standing.
I laughed. “Thanks. I guess no one could ever accuse me of being graceful.”
He smiled briefly, but then his face went blank and his fists balled at his sides.
“Just up the steps.” He pointed to the door of the kitchenette and then added for good measure, “Don’t do nothin’ stupid.”
“Me? Stupid? Only at rest stops in the middle of the night.”
Although he was walking behind me, I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye.
When I stepped out of the makeshift bathroom, he was waiting for me across the hall with a lit cigarette and a newspaper. The crude bathroom was only a half-bath with a large space where a tub had probably once been next to a filthy sink and toilet. I did find some soap, which was slightly shocking, considering the proprietors of the house. Simply washing my face and hands refreshed me considerably, but it had also brought back some of my more reliable senses. As I stared at Charlie with the newspaper in hand, it occurred to me that I had an opportunity to extract some information.
“Does it, um, say anything in there, um, you know?”
I crossed my arms over myself and tried to focus on the pattern of fading daises from the drooping wallpaper. I just hoped my obvious inquiry wouldn’t anger him somehow and lead to the retraction of our deal.
Charlie looked up at me with a hint of a smile. Through the smog his cigarette created, I could see the dark glimmering in his eyes again. I hugged myself tighter.
“What? ‘Bout you?” he teased.
I shifted my weight to my other hip and tried to hold his stare. “About anything of interest.”
His smile grew as he handed the newspaper to me very slowly and deliberately—even maintaining his grasp when I had it in my hand.
“Only interesting thing is on the front.” His eyes had this primitive refusal to leave mine, and I no longer had to force myself to keep his stare. On the contrary, I had difficulty looking away from his dark gaze. Now that his anger was gone, the colors in his eyes were shining, and the beauty was downright spellbinding. I wanted to shake my head and tell myself I was being much too literal. Yet he was content to keep me hypnotized, controlled with his stare. Finally, his eyes relinquished their hypnotic grip and he stood back. For this, I was both equally disappointed and relieved—a combination I could not totally absorb.
My fingers had to comb through the entire newspaper because it wasn’t folded properly. I was glad it was current, but felt like I was enduring a scavenger hunt that was designed for someone far more patient than myself.
Finally, my frustration came to an end when I found the front page.
“Teenager Kidnapped from Rest Stop”
New York, NY— Adeline Battes, 17, was kidnapped last night from a rest stop just outside of Syracuse, New York on the return journey from Fort Drum, where her brother Pvt. Robert Bates prepares for his second deployment to Iraq. According to local reports, Michael Battes, Adeline’s father, contacted New York State police when he could not locate his daughter and cellular contact with her failed.
Additional details are coming in, but eyewitness testimony from rest stop employees claim a young woman fitting the description of Ms. Battes was seen leaving a rest stop exit approximately eighty yards from where her destroyed cellular telephone was discovered. Several hours later the body of a truck driver, whose name is not being released at this time, was found in the empty cab of his vehicle. At this time police are unsure if the incidents are related…
I sunk to the floor and pushed the paper as far away from me as possible. Nausea ran through my stomach, and I estimated that if I read anymore, considered reading more, or even smelled the printer’s ink, I would be sick. Kidnappings, murders, and any other crime more deviant than going over the speed limit was something I had only ever read about or seen in movies. But here it was, right in the middle of my own little world. This wasn’t the sort of thing I was meant to touch during my lifetime.
“They’re really playing up the cancer thing.”
I had never expected him to be so still next to me, nor the silence so comfortable.
“What?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was tired and worn, flat, like the air had been taken out.
“The other papers keep bringing up how your Ma died and saying that your brother is a war hero—”
I cut him off with my laugh. “Robbie is no war hero. He’s just…” I struggled for the right word, “Robbie.”
He reached out a hand to me, which I stared at before accepting. How strange that his hands had gotten me into this mess and now they were offering me assistance. Once I was back on my feet, I followed him to the kitchenette. It occurred to me to try and look for some means of escape, but all the remaining windows had been boarded up, and the short hallway back to the kitchenette revealed nothing but the smallest shards of broken glass in an array of colors. I mused that if the sun were around to touch them at a good angle, it might look like a stained window. I paused and looked down at my bare feet. I had been avoiding the fragments of glass, garbage, and anything else that I thought might be hazardous to my feet, but now I felt a sharp little pain pricking at my heel. I hopped up on one foot and revealed the culprit to be a shard of brown glass.
I pulled out the glass, chose not to comment about the lack of housekeeping, and continued to limp behind him.
“I’ll get to go home tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You know you really do smell, right?”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
When we got back to the kitchenette, I took the time to stretch in front of the window. I tried to see if I could distinguish any smells in the distance—factories, farms, or anything else the police might want to know. I also tried to identify the plant life that lay scattered and untamed through the forest beyond. When the clouds in the distance finally faded, I thought I saw a mountain top, but decided it was just another cloud and my eyes trying to deceive me.
I stayed there for a lot longer than the average kidnapper probably would have let me. Or really much longer than I had even realized, because when I turned back around, Charlie was sitting on the edge of the countertop with his eyes narrow and his face blank. He was staring at me, very intently, in fact. How long had he been doing that? A row of goosebumps formed on my arms and legs at the idea of him watching me, thinking about me. For a moment I was reminded of the individual I’d temporary lost my head over at the café rest stop. It went away, however, when he spoke.
“Sorry ‘bout this.” His gaze left me and strayed to the floor. “But ah—” He pulled out the bungee cords from behind his back and I didn’t need to hear the rest of what else he was going to say.
“No.”
He smiled sadly. “I ain’t asking.”
I made a run for the door, but got about as far as I did when I tried to run from the SUV before his long arms closed around me for the second time. Naturally, my mouth opened to scream, but his hand once again covered my mouth before I could produce a sound.
“Don’t do this,” he whispered in my ear. His voice was a soft plea, and he seemed so unsure of how to handle himself that it was nearly pathetic. “Please?”
I heard the desperation and tiredness in the word. The demonstration of emotion was enough to make me stop struggling against him. Once I did, the stench of sulfur again overwhelmed my senses and brought me back to life. Why was I being so compliant? He was obviously just trying to manipulate me with some lame show of emotion. I cursed myself for my naiveté. Before I could do anything about it, he overwhelmed me with his strength again.
“I know this sucks.” In one swift motion he picked me up and sat me next to the radiator. Nothing about it was rough or even forceful, although it had become obvious that he was physically capable of making me do anything he wanted.
“I gotta couple things to do.” He shook his head and sighed while he tied me back to the radiator. “When I get back, you can just hang out. Without any of this stuff.” He gestured to the bungees, but refused to make eye contact with me. “Okay?”
I gulped, but couldn’t think of a good argument. My head was beginning to ache, and my brain was fuzzy with anxiety. “You don’t have to do this.”
He paused before he left the room. He wasn’t looking at me, yet seemed to be reading my every thought.
“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna let nobody hurt you.”
His fists clenched at his sides and then he was gone.
After he left me, the panic surged inside of me like when I first saw the bungees reappear. Seeing them again had led me back to the awareness of what was going on. I wanted to believe that Charlie would save me from harm and that I could very well be home by this time tomorrow—probably laughing about what a great college entry essay this experience would make. Except those other logical parts kept screaming that if I stayed there tied to that radiator, I would never see home again.
Footsteps downstairs were moving quickly, and I could hear the loud maneuvering of something heavy below. I felt fortunate when it sounded like the owners of the feet walked out the front door; I was growing increasingly afraid of the decaying house and my own confinement without Charlie’s watchful eyes. I reconsidered the possibility that being surrounded by criminals, who also happened to be male, could lead to terrible and unspeakable things happening to me. Now with Charlie’s strange protectiveness and my own deduction of their entrepreneurial endeavors, I was confident that at least I wasn’t in danger from any sexual assault.
Still, I wanted to remain unseen. The footsteps went up and down the stairs. I quietly tried to work the bungees from around my wrists. A cold sweat broke out across my face and heat enflamed my cheeks. It suddenly occurred to me at the base of my instincts, in my heart of hearts, that I had to get out of there before something very bad happened.
“Hi there!”
I heard myself gasp at the intrusion of noise.
Polo was standing just outside the kitchen window and jumping up and down, trying to get a view of inside the elevated kitchen. The bungees were fairly loose so I could lean forward enough to see him waving his arms up and down, trying to get my attention.
“Hi!” He shouted again.
I slowly waved back. It was looking less likely that these guys were professional criminals and more like a bunch of boys in a fraternity.
“Polo!” A voice called. “Polo! How many damn times…” The dark haired man appeared within my view and grabbed Polo by the collar. He pulled him away from the window.
“Reid! I was just—”
They argued off in the direction of the driveway, their voices becoming mere echoes as I worked at the bungees. I tried to imitate the motions Charlie had used to untie the knot before, but it only made the movement of my fingers more difficult. It was only upon closer examination that I realized this knot was completely different from the knot before. In actuality, it was only the front of the design that looked the same.
Frustrated, I began struggling at the bonds because I simply didn’t know what else to do. I could feel my irritated skin burning and saw a thin flow of blood around my ankles where the flesh had began tearing away. My feeling of foreboding increased as the house grew eerily silent. Outside, there was a variety of sounds that I couldn’t really identify, including Polo laughing and doors slamming, but even after a few minutes, they, too, faded away. I didn’t know if I was terrified or if I wanted to cry. Eventually it was both. I threw my hands against the radiator again, somehow forgetting how they impacted the nerves in my hands, flinching at the pain.
The water swelled in my eyes but I gulped it back as best as I could. I had to think rationally again. Right now my fear was not logical. It was merely a symptom of claustrophobia, stress, and fatigue. In my head I recited the alphabet backwards. And then I drew the periodic table of elements in my mind’s eye just as I had memorized. It did help a little bit. But I confess it might have been more beneficial if most of my attention hadn’t been spent listening for Charlie.
I don’t know how long I had been there alone. It might have been hours—it could have only been a few minutes. But when I saw the shadow of a person cross to the kitchenette entrance, I knew I was in the serious trouble I had been afraid of all along. Before I had time to react, Wallace was there. I had been listening so keenly; why hadn’t I heard him coming?
Instinctively, I opened my mouth to scream, but his large hands were around my throat, prohibiting any sound and air flow. I gasped and clawed at the air, the space between us. Given our differences in size and strength, it wouldn’t have mattered even if I hadn’t been bound to the radiator. I understand now that it was only seconds, but during that time, when the lack of air was so painful the tears fell from my eyes, I saw my lifetime—I saw Mom, Dad, Robbie, and oddly enough, Charlie.
Once the darkness closed in, all I could smell was clove cigarettes and the feel of callused fingers over my own.