by C. L. Stone
The driver leaned out the open window. He had a wide face with a thin line of dark hair along the jaw and chin trimmed into a stylish beard. He was young, my age or somewhere close. He had dark eyes, a short crop of brown hair. I could peer into the window opening. He was a little on the lean side, and from around a Hawaiian shirt and tank underneath that, there was a tattoo peeking out at the chest. It took me a moment to identify it was I Am What I Am in a fancy font. His wide eyes stared at me, blank, most likely stoned. Still, had to respect a man that respected Popeye.
“You pick up?” he asked.
I nodded, and felt like an idiot opening my own door. I had to put the phone in my mouth to do it. Was he new to town? Didn’t he know he had to open doors for girls? But then he was a cab driver and I was a barefoot girl in an abandoned warehouse district out in the middle of nowhere. He probably thought I was high or a hooker. He probably didn’t want an ambush.
Plus, I had bound hands. That probably didn’t do much to impress him.
I fell into the back seat, feeling my bones switch from vibrate to sudden stop since I’d been on edge for so long. I breathed in the musty old car and coughed.
The guy twisted around, looking back at me. He did a visual sweep. “What’s wrong with your wrists?”
“Tied up,” I said. “I was kidnapped. I escaped.”
His eyes widened more. “No shit?” He shook his head. “You okay?”
“Fine. Just don’t want to stick around.”
He checked the outside of the car, leaning over, suddenly alert. “Are they still here? Let’s get going.” He started turning the car around.
He seemed to be handling it pretty well. Most people would have called the cops right off. Good thing about a stoned driver, he didn’t want to call the cops, either. It wouldn’t look good to the taxi company if he got arrested for driving while stoned. “Do you have a knife or something?” I asked.
He stared quietly for a moment, like the question didn’t register with him. Then he leaned forward and presented his bare palm. I was confused, until he flicked his hand and suddenly there was a pocket knife there. “Like this?”
A magic trick. I appreciated the gesture, maybe he meant it as a way to cheer me up. I could appreciate a magician with talented sleight of hand tricks. As a thief, I understood the work and practice it took to achieve the skill. “Open it up for me?” I wasn’t sure I would be able to open it without cutting myself.
He braked and stopped the car in the middle of the street long enough that he could open the knife. There was no one around to block traffic, anyway. He turned and offered it, but then stopped. “Uh, want me to do it?”
I held out my wrists. “Sure. Hurry up. It’s cutting off circulation.”
“Who kidnapped you?” he asked.
“Long story.”
“This one of those trafficking things?” he asked. “That’s fucked up.” He sawed at the bindings. He managed to snap two and that was enough that I could unwind the rest. He pulled back. “Did you need to go somewhere? The hospital? Isn’t that where people go when they’ve been kidnapped?”
I rubbed at my wrists, working out the deep creases in my skin. It felt so good to have the rope off. I hurried and turned off Mack Truck’s cell phone. I didn’t want it tracing me back now that I was on the way to find the guys. “No, actually, can you drive over to the Sergeant Jasper?”
“The apartment building?”
“Is there another one?” I asked.
“There’s another one?” Through the rearview, I caught the slight slope of his mouth as he grinned. He was toying with me. He caught himself. “Sorry. Long night. Uh... sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said, trying not to be too annoyed at his joke, considering it was a very awkward situation. “We need to hurry, though.”
“Why?”
“I want to catch the guys that did this.”
“Are they at that apartment building? Shouldn’t we make an anonymous call to the police or something?”
I leaned forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head but kept his eyes on the road as he drove. “Listen,” I said. “I don’t need the cops on this right now. Don’t say anything.”
“Dude,” he said. “This is big shit.”
“They have a friend of mine,” I said.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. They took him. They’ll kill him if I call the cops, I think. But if I get to my friends, they’ll be able to find him.”
“Him? They’re stealing boys, too, now?”
“Can you just drive, please? You don’t have to get involved.”
“Don’t worry. We’re on the way.” He pointed to street signs. “We’ll be there in a few. We’ll stop these traffickers. I’ve heard of them on the news. Maybe we should be calling the FBI. Isn’t that their job?”
I clamped my mouth shut, trying to bite back the edge in my voice. I shouldn’t snap at him. He was the one helping.
But I considered the FBI option. Wouldn’t the FBI call in the local police and defeat the purpose? If a policeman was involved, would the FBI keep things on the down low? It was a risk. I needed Marc or someone else to help me figure out what to do.
He set out on the road. For a while he was quiet, but he kept looking at me in the back. About the fifth time he diverted his eyes when I caught him staring, I’d finally had enough.
“What?” I snapped. I really wasn’t in the mood.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mary,” I said, dropping the lie off so quickly, I even surprised myself. Why did he need to know?
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. You just look like this girl I knew once.”
“Who?”
“Kayli,” he said. “Girl I went to high school with.”
My mouth opened and I found myself staring hard back at him now, checking the outline. I didn’t recognize him at all. “She wasn’t a close friend, was she?” He had to be mistaken. Maybe this was a coincidence.
“I sat behind her in math class two years straight. Never noticed me, though.”
I was barely awake in math class. I hardly remembered anyone from school. I couldn’t even tell you my teachers’ names. “That was a few years ago, wasn’t it?”
He lifted his eyes, checking me out in the rearview mirror. “She was real cute. Had this button nose, like yours.”
Without thought, I moved my hand over my face, covering my nose. It looked like a button?
He squinted at me, and then slightly turned like he wanted to look at me full on instead of through the mirror but didn’t want to take his eyes off the road. “Are you sure you’re...”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Avery,” he said. He took his right hand off the steering wheel and held it out, offering a sideways handshake.
I took his hand and studied him, but I still didn’t recognize him. It struck me funny that anyone would remember me, and not just as that girl that slept through math class. Avery knew my name, even these few years since I’d been out of school. Guilt weighed on me since I’d lied when he’d been so compliant and nailed who I really was. At first, I wasn’t going to admit to anything, but something changed inside me. Maybe I was tired and weak after the night and needed some stability in a truth rather than lies. “I lied,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I’m Kayli.”
“I thought it was you,” he said, the sloped smile returning to his face. “I was pretty sure. Took me a few minutes, though. It’s been a while.” He released my hand and reclaimed the wheel. “Whatever happened to you, anyway? Didn’t see you around after that.”
“Got my GED and quit.”
“Funny. So you got out at sixteen or so? I was a year and a half behind you there.” He slapped his palm against the wheel. “They always told us to go to college or you’ll end up working hard jobs. No one ever tells you the hard jobs aren’t so bad.”
“You like driving a cab?”
“Are you kid
ding?” he asked. “I know this town better than most people, and work when I want. I could work anywhere, really. I meet interesting people. All I have to do is drive.”
I had to smile at that. It left a little hope for me. Maybe after I got Brandon back, I could drive a cab. It sounded interesting.
I was going to comment, but then I noticed through the windshield when the Sergeant Jasper came into view. I didn’t have time to reminisce any more. “Okay, I need to ask you a real favor, Avery.”
“Sure,” he said. “What’s that?”
“Park outside the building, and I need you to go in and get someone for me.”
“Who?”
“Anyone in apartment 737.”
He turned on the road that would get us to the parking lot. “Isn’t there a security guard?”
“She won’t even notice. Just smile and walk to the elevator like you belong there. Anyway, go up to 737, and then whoever answers, tell them Bambi is outside.”
“What?”
“They’ll know who it is. If they don’t believe you, tell them the first time I ever met them, Marc was working at the pretzel stand.”
Avery scratched at his scalp through his thick dark hair. “Geez. A lot to remember.”
“Can you do it?”
“Yeah, I can do it.” He pulled up to the curb in front of the building and parked, leaving the car running.
I slid down, not wanting to be spotted in case the place was being watched. “I’ll wait here.”
“Hang on,” he said. “I don’t like you out here alone. You got kidnapped once already.”
“Where’s your knife?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and passed it off. I took it, testing how it opened.
He scanned the parking lot. “I still don’t like it.”
“Just hurry. If anyone can help, those guys upstairs can. Get them and then we need to get away from here.”
“So we have to kidnap one of them because someone stole you? Should probably call the police,” he said. “Or the FBI.” He opened his door. From my angle on the floor, I caught his angled chin and what I thought was a sharpness in his eyes. He was sober now, and on the alert. His lean body was hard, too. He looked like a slacker, but underneath that stoner exterior was a hardworking guy. “Leaving my keys. Drive off if you have to.” He made sure to lock the doors and left.
My heart soared for a minute as he closed the door. Avery was awesome. Why didn’t I pay attention to him in high school? I picked up my head to watch him walk into the building. He was wearing cargo shorts and a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt, partially open. I tried to imagine him at fifteen or so, about the age I would have been in tenth grade. Maybe he had grown taller. Or I didn’t recognize him with the beard on his chin.
I shrugged it off. If a guy didn’t plant himself in front of me, I usually didn’t notice him. That was probably my problem in high school. I never noticed the quiet ones. To be honest, I barely remembered names and faces from any of my classes. I could probably pass by a teacher on the street and not recognize him.
I counted off minutes, hoping someone was home. Please, please, someone. Brandon was out there all tied up. He’d gotten zapped again. Would they keep doing that? Would they beat him up? Use torture?
Brandon said he’d die before helping them. I was worried he might be enough of an idiot to do just that before I had a chance to get to him.
The moment of quiet waiting was hard. With Avery there, I had things to distract me that were immediate. Now all I could see was Brandon’s face as he’d pleaded with me to escape. Emotions welled up, and my throat thickened as I held back tears. Every blink, all I saw was his sad blue eyes. Brandon saved me, and lied and stayed with the German to give me time to escape.
Stupid Brandon. If he ended up dead, I’d never forgive myself for not staying with him.
The sky was cloudy, with the moon playing peekaboo between clouds. The streets were quiet, the streetlamps lit up, and casting yellow light, letting me see shadows in the car. On other nights, I might have felt safe being back at the Sergeant Jasper. Tonight, it was uncomfortable. Who knew who was watching? I sniffed, wiping at my face to make sure the tears were gone. I could suffer and feel guilty later. Focus was what I needed now. Save Brandon. Find him and save him.
Voices outside startled me. I popped my head up, checking to make sure they weren’t here to kidnap me again. I had the knife ready. I clutched the cell phone.
The sound of a key in the lock made me hesitate. The door opened and Marc filled the space, staring in after me. His dark hair was messed up, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had on a black tank shirt and jeans. His mismatched eyes, one blue, one green, stared hard, like he needed a good look before he believed it was me. At first he appeared confused, with his eyebrows scrunched. That morphed into recognizing me and then a barrel of silent questions spilled out between us. I imagined he was trying to figure out what I was up to, like I’d planned this.
God, he was beautiful.
I finally thought I’d be okay, which was something I hadn’t been sure about until that moment. Marc would know what to do. We could save Brandon.
He leaned back, looking at Avery behind him. “You gave her a knife?” he asked.
“Marc!” I cried out, jumping into action. I closed the knife and dropped it into the driver’s seat and then grabbed his arm, tugging. “Get in. Hurry.”
“What?”
“Come on, get in! We have to go. We can’t stay here.”
Marc’s mouth hung open, his eyes sweeping over me. He reached out and traced a finger across my chin, causing pain from a scrape I’d forgotten about. “What happened to you?”
Avery hurried around the car, opening his door. He grabbed his knife, put it into his pocket, and then sat down. “Dude, she said we have to go.”
Marc twisted his lips and got in, slamming the door closed. He turned his body, and his shoulders rounded out and it was like he filled the whole space. His hard stare made me feel safe and I feared his anger at the same time, even if that anger wasn’t directed at me. I sensed he was fully aware there was danger and he didn’t like not knowing. I’d seen that look on him before, when he’d discovered a bruise on my face and had then proclaimed he’d save me from ever getting hurt by my father again. As he spoke now, his voice rose in volume, and deepened at the end of every comment. “Are you in boxers? Where’s your shoes? Are you drunk? What the hell is going on?”
“Avery,” I said. I leaned over and nudged his shoulder. “Drive off. Anywhere. Circle the city.”
“Bambi,” Marc snapped. He snagged my arm that had reached for Avery and held it in a firm grip. “Talk to me. Don’t just tell him to drive without thinking. What’s going on? Someone’s chasing you?”
Avery took off from the curb. “It’s like I was trying to tell you on the way down. She was kidnapped, man. They kidnapped the other dude. They might be coming back for her. So we had to kidnap you. It’s complicated.”
Marc’s eyebrows squished together, causing a wrinkle between them. “Back up a minute. What? Who do they have?”
I began explaining, starting from when I was asleep and Brandon and I were attacked, all the way to where they disappeared down the road with Brandon in the back seat. “But they still think he’s Corey.”
“Holy shit,” Marc said, his mouth slack for a moment. Then his entire composure changed. “Adrien,” he barked.
“Avery,” Avery barked back.
“Sorry. Avery. Drive to...” Marc took out his cell phone. He started typing into it. “You know the fountain downtown?”
“The pineapple? Who doesn’t?”
“Head there.”
“If you say so.”
Marc typed at his cell phone. He looked up at me, his mismatched eyes darkened, studying me. His hand went out, touching my chin.
His touch stung as he brushed his finger along the scrape. I pulled back, smacking his hand. “Don’t worry about me. We have to g
o get Brandon.”
“Do you need a doctor? Anything else hurt?”
I felt scraped everywhere, and bruises, and I was sure to be sore later. It didn’t matter to me right now. I’d take some Tylenol later and call it a day. Brandon first. “I said don’t worry about me. Brandon might get killed. They’re after this...core thing. They called it Murdock’s Core. They wanted Corey to get access to it. They’ll probably kill him or use him to get Corey to do what they want if they find out he’s not the real Corey. We’ve got to get him away before they find out they’ve got the wrong one.”
“On it,” he said, showing me his phone. He’d sent a text to Axel. The texts were innocent enough. Let’s all eat pineapple salad. Bring enough for a girl who loves to eat. She needs new summer clothes, too. We should take her shopping.
I’m guessing this was code for meeting at the pineapple and that I needed clothes. I was wondering why he was using code at all. Did he suspect these guys were listening in?
“What supplies? What can we do? Can you find what this guy wants? This core? If we can get Corey to get them access to it...”
“We need to evaluate these guys and see just how dangerous they are.”
“I know, but maybe we can make a trade and then...”
Marc brushed a fingertip along his eyebrow. “They said the owner of the core was dead. It could be they killed him. If that’s the case, we’re going to have to be careful. This isn’t like we give them what they want and expect them to behave. And we don’t know if what they want is going to lead to more deaths, or worse.”
The German didn’t specify why he wanted this core. I still didn’t even know what it was. I imagined it was some sort of hacker thing that made money or was valuable and they could sell it. I mean, why go through the trouble without it being worth a lot of money? Still, it seemed like they went through a lot of trouble to get to us when there had to be easier ways of getting what they wanted. Brandon said they could get hackers to get what they want. But the German wanted Corey specifically. I wondered why.