The Switchblade Mamma
By Lindsey Schussman
Copyright 2016 Lindsey Schussman
1.
It was 1:00 AM and the end of my shift. The two heavy metal doors flung open and a wall of people came cascading out like a waterfall. I exited the building and rushed to my locker. It was only November, but it was a cold one. It had been raining on and off all day. And I, who was very susceptible and did not like the cold, was fumbling with the zipper of my jacket. The cold was messing with my hands.
With my jacket zipped and finally in place, I walked myself to the edge of the patio. I was greeted by a cold slow drizzle. I pulled my hood over my head and looked to the sky to let the drizzle slowly slide down my face.
The clouds blanketed the sky like a dark purple haze. The moon was hidden behind this ominous blanket, but every now and it would play peekaboo in the sky. I pulled the hood closer to my face and tried to hunker down as I swiftly walked to my truck. There was a slow lazy breeze about. It wasn't constant, but when it came around and it hit me in the back like needles. The hair stood straight on the back of my neck and I rushed to my truck a little bit faster.
She was old and tired, but she still meant the world to me. She was my old 1989 Chevrolet Suburban. She was midnight blue and dark gray, a birthday gift my father had given me before he died. I was a very sentimental girl and this truck meant the world to me. Every time I sat in it, it gave me good memories and reminded me of good times in the past, of a once happy family.
The suburban in my mind, still in her prime, almost had 300,000 miles on it. Thankfully for the Arizona weather there was virtually no rust on it. I didn't know how much money I put into it, but I knew I put all my blood and sweat in it to keep it running. It went through three rear differentials, two transmission rebuilds, one front end rebuild, and I didn't even want to think of the crap I had to go through with emissions. I had spent quite a bit of money trying to get all-terrain tires on it, and I was in the process of thinking about getting a new paint job; all of which would cost of a boatload of money and a butt load of overtime.
Since the truck was stolen three times; every time recovered and returned by the police, I installed an alarm and a remote unlocking mechanism. I unlocked the doors and hoisted myself up into the truck. Though it didn't have an actual lift, the all-terrain tires that I had put on it required a little bit of climbing to get in, especially for my small stature. I jumbled with the keys and dropped them twice before I could even get them into the ignition. I so hated the cold, it always messed with me in such ways. For example, my hands weren't working right. I turned the key, and the engine slowly rumbled the life. I waited patiently while the engine warmed up.
It had been one of those kinds of days at work. One of those days where every person seems to get under your skin and make it crawl. All I wanted to do was to go home and have a couple of beers and play some Xbox. That was my Thursday ritual.
To supplement my rage, I decided to listen to some music that would enhance my mood a little bit more. I decided to listen to some Nine Inch nails, "The wretched."
The truck was finally warmed up so I put her into gear hightailed it out of there.
The rain had started coming down a little bit harder now, but I still kept on course and headed to the nearest gas station to pick up some beer and some snacks for the night. Driving with a nonworking compressor was never an easy thing to do. The cold and the rain did not make my situation any easier. Low visibility from fogging windows made it difficult to see. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket over my hand and rubbed the windshield, creating a momentary window. At least until it fogged over again. As I turned into the gas station, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had got there safely.
By the time I got what I needed, it started to pour buckets of rain. I didn't run, but briskly walked to my truck. I didn't want anybody to think I was sissy about the rain, did I?
Key's, ignition, vroom. By now, my two rear windows were completely fogged up and visibility was at zero. I slowly backed up maneuvering, peeking out the driver's side window as I did, so that I would not hit anything. Good thing it was only one in the morning, because barely anyone was in the parking lot.
Driving in the pouring rain was proving to be difficult. Unfortunately in my older model truck, the windshield wipers seemed to only have two speeds? slow, and slower. Lucky for me, there were not too many vehicles out on the road at one in the morning. I didn't have to worry too much about crashing into another car.
I came off the highway and pulled up to an intersection where I would turn right to get to my apartment complex. It was a no turn on red intersection. I sighed partial irritation as my truck rolled up and crept to a stop at the red light. Not paying attention to any other of my surroundings, I continued to stare blankly into the illuminating red glow. I was still jamming out to Nine Inch nails, and enjoying my pepperoni stick that I had purchased from the gas station. I didn't notice the other vehicle pull up behind me, quickly and abruptly stop.
It happened so fast I didn't know how to react. One moment I had both my hands on the steering wheel feeling good and venting my rage through song, and in the next moment, my driver side window exploded sending a blizzard of glass all over the place. I began to protest by saying a slew of cuss words. I threw the truck into Park, which was my biggest mistake, because after I did, two gigantic pairs of arms rushed through my driver side window and pulled me out of it. I should have just floored it.
I was dropped to the ground like a rag doll. My ribs were violated by an oversized steel toed boot. It was a blunt force of painful sensations that I had never felt before. Instinctively I grabbed my ribs, and coughed up, hard. I looked up, trying to get a glimpse of my attacker.
All I really saw was the yellow glow from the street lights bouncing off the millions of small droplets of rain. With the moisture in the air and the extreme cool down from the cold front, there was much vapor exiting my mouth and nose from my heavy labored breathing. I was scared Shitless.
I went for my pocket which contained two knives that that I carried with me every day. The attacker anticipated this for I was quickly kicked in the arm before I could even grab one.
Once again, I felt a spiral of shooting, quick traveling pain. It was the first time that I had actually ever been assaulted, and I had absolutely no way of knowing how to fight off my attacker. It was one of those kind of moments that occasionally flashed through my mind on a day-to-day basis, but I never really thought it would happen. And even though I thought of the conclusion over and over again and how differently it could be, I still was not prepared for the events to come.
The rain was still pouring down and I was completely drenched. In a last futile attempt to save my life and to ward off the mugger, I tried to take a stand. I looked up, planting my palms into the cold soaked concrete. Trying to get up, trying to raise to my feet, I flinched and turned my head as I saw a fist coming for my face. Blackness, I saw nothing but total blackness.
I woke up shivering. My eyes slowly opened to an exploding pain in my head. At first I thought I was blind because I saw nothing but darkness. I moved my head around a little bit, only to find that I was wearing a pillowcase or something cloth like over my head. I was lying on my left side and completely bound up like a pig. My hands were tied behind my back, and my legs were tied together. I could barely move.
I was trying to figure out where I was at. Besides me shivering from my drenched clothing, I felt a warm vibration beneath me. There was the smell of car oil and grease. My senses started to come to a little bit more. My mouth tasted of blood, as my tongue poked and prodded around a gag that was in my mouth. I thought about yelling help, bu
t it seemed useless. I didn't think anybody would hear me from any moving vehicle. As I moved my head around a little bit more, I could feel the bloody crispiness from drying blood stuck in my head bag. Its coppery aroma mixed with the oil and grease smell of the vehicle started to make me gag. I began to wiggle around trying to gain my freedom back. The ropes were tight but they weren't that tight and I tried my best to wiggle out of them. I froze when heard a man's voice.
From the distance of his voice I could tell he was sitting really close to me. I got really nervous and started to sweat bullets."A boss man, she start to come to. You want me put her out again?" The man's voice was low and grungy with a hint of Louisiana. I couldn't see him but from the sound of his voice I imagined a short, stocky, furry, and chubby man. I started squirming a little bit more. I was hoping the putting her out again wouldn't consist of another punch to the face. "Yeah I suppose you should. I don't want her to give me too much of trouble when we get back to camp. Give her another hit off that rag Clive, not too much though. We're going to have to interrogate when get her there." His voice was coming from the front of the vehicle. He must've been driving. His voice was a little bit higher than the other guys. He seemed to be a little bit lighter in weight. His voice though, his voice was what scared me the most. I could hear a dark undertone in it. This was the guy that I would need to fear the most. As I was waiting for my hit from the rag, I could hear the driver. From what I could tell he was on the phone. "We got her chief. We picked her up just where he said she would be. We are on our way back to base camp. We'll get her ready for the procedure." The only thing that really went through my mind when I heard that was what the hell's going on? Procedure? Was I kidnapped by evil doctors? What kind of procedure, and where was I going? Really? How the hell does this just happen to somebody? And who the hell was he?
I heard Clive move. Before I could react he had his hand across my face. I twisted and turned my head thrashing like a wild bull. No avail. Thrashing just led me to running out of breath and having to take deeper ones. I inhaled deeply to catch my breath. Before I knew it, there was darkness, again.
The Switchblade Mamma Page 1