by Rimmy London
A buzz erupted from my bag and I fumbled with the gun until it dropped into the bottom with a clunk. I grabbed my phone, my finger hovering over the answer button as I read the name - Melanie. My old roommate. The one Givanni deemed ‘emotional’. But I mostly deemed her ‘psychic’ because of her ability to read my mind almost before I could. It would be hard to keep everything from her. I pushed the button.
“Hey Mel,” I chimed, wanting her to hear the successful, confident, and fully at peace sound of my voice. She coughed.
“What’s up honey?” she answered. It wasn’t a greeting - she knew me like she knew herself, even over the phone. My fake jubilance deflated.
“Well, quite a lot actually,” I sighed. “I wish we could just sit for awhile and catch up...”
“We can!” she squealed, cutting me off. “I’m in town. Take me to dinner! I tried your apartment but I guess you moved? It’s about time if you ask me. Your job could pay for something so pretty. I’m flying back in the morning, but we can talk all night if you want. ”
A few minutes later and I was on the road, headed to a restaurant with great food and more importantly the best dessert menu in Los Angeles. Making my way through the city, the rush-hour traffic was just getting good. Everyone probably eager to get home to their families. The van next to me had windows piled with luggage and sleeping bags - and excited kids filling up the remaining seats. But aside from the occasional crowded vehicle, most just had a single, bored-looking driver. My lane slowed to a stop while the cars around me continued on at a crawl. Lifting in my seat I could see a sign for the exit. I twisted to find an opening in the lane next to me.
That was when I saw it.
A car I thought I would never see again. It was nothing like your ordinary sedan, although it tried to blend in. Its exterior shone with a wet gloss like a deep pool of ink. My pounding heart felt like it stopped altogether, and I wrenched my eyes forward. It was impossible. I had half talked myself into believing they’d had nothing to do with the crash. But my world was different now and doubting everything I saw was probably not what I should be doing. What I needed to be asking myself was what to do now that the same men that tried to kill me a week ago were three car-lengths behind and crawling closer by the second? I sat up in my seat, realizing something. I had been in Mr. Ginetti’s car. With windows so dark they were impossible to see through. So how could it be me they were after?
They rolled by, the driver glancing at me like I was no different than any other commuter on the road. All the tension that had built up inside me released through shaking hands, and I dropped my forehead to the steering wheel. My lane needed to start moving. I was ready to overdose on chocolate. A honk sounded and I lifted my foot from the brake, but the cars were still stopped. I pressed the pedal down again before I could meet with the vehicle in front of me. “Hey!” An angry driver yelled from somewhere in the crowd of automobiles, and another horn sounded. It took me only a second to realize what was happening.
The black car had stopped. with plenty of road in front of it, cars were maneuvering around and voicing their anger. The back door opened, and I felt frozen as I watched a man built like a house step out of the car. He fit my nightmares well, right down to the stained tee and forearm hair like a grizzly. He was walking directly towards me, and my lane was at a dead stop. I tried to imagine what Givanni would do, but I wasn’t Givanni. ‘I’m just an average girl about to be killed in the middle of a crowded highway’. I squeezed my eyes closed. No. I couldn’t think like that. There had to be a way out. I just had to be willing to do whatever it took to get there.
A low buzz from behind came so quickly that I jumped when a motorcycle flew by, cruising down the left shoulder of the highway. Trying not to think of what kind of ticket it would get me I slammed my foot on the gas. The burly man turned back to his car at a run as I peeled out of my cramped spot and accelerated past the standstill cars. With my foot smashed to the floor I didn’t look at the speedometer. I didn’t look at the cars I was passing. I only kept my eyes straight ahead. If I drifted to one side or the other it would all come to a very abrupt end. The curves in the road that at lesser speeds seemed gentle, had me gripping the steering wheel. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, clearly making out the black car. They were following.
Catching sight of a gap in the barriers, I turned. The dirt and weeds median was definitely not meant to be taken at high speed and I jostled around. Finally, the tires connected with fresh asphalt. I looked ahead, hoping to see something encouraging, like maybe a jumble of work trucks that could hide my small car. But stretched out in front of me was a completely finished and completely deserted highway. Empty but for an unmanned bulldozer. It was like a pitch-black runway. They would easily catch up to me, and then…
I searched for another option., unwillingly checking my rearview mirror. They were right where I thought they would be, their tires just striking the black pavement. Where were the policemen when you needed them? I would be happy to take any ticket. I’d even offer a few years in prison. I was sure it would be much nicer than what those men had in mind. Spotting a sandy path, I barely had time to glance at the small sign reading ‘Emergency Vehicles Only’ before my tires hit dirt. The smooth surface of tiny pebbles carried the tires in odd directions and I slowed, afraid I would lose control.
And then I was greeting southbound traffic. I slammed on the brakes. The rear tires slid out and my car spun until it was broadside to the lineup of vehicles. Every lane was stopped with drivers staggered to the right and left. There was no way for me to even squeeze onto the shoulder. Drivers shook their heads at me - and some laughed. I twisted around in my seat and pushed down the lock button, hoping that with so many people watching my pursuers wouldn’t want to create a scene. The thought of running was tempting, but I couldn’t imagine giving them such an easy target.
I looked out my window again just as the door was wrenched open - lock and all. Metal pieces clinked to the ground. Diving for my bag, I caught the strap before being pulled from my seat. The purse was ripped from my grasp and the man pinned my arms down, dragging me with him like a sack of potatoes. Frantic, my eyes finally focused on the cars in front of me and the fearful faces of the surprised drivers watching. “Help!” I screeched, staring at them through a sudden wave of tears, my shocked voice weak. I took a breath, hoping my second attempt would be more convincing. “Help me!”
A man jumped from his car, his wide eyes locked on me. Instantly, I regretted yelling. They were sure to kill him. “Look out!” I shouted, and the man holding me flicked one fist in my direction. It hit my stomach like a hammer, and I doubled over. The pain swelled and spread, and my head spun with sickness. Trying to stay in control, I wished I could wrap my arms around my throbbing middle, but they were still pinned back as the man shoved me face-first onto the back seat. I could hear a voice in the distance.
“Hey! Stop! Take your hands off her!”
It sounded too far away. He would never make it. Perhaps I should be glad, he would be very lucky to walk away from this. Another pain broke through the swelling in my stomach as zip-ties cinched around my wrists. I heard feet outside - like people running. A faint trickle of hope touched my heart, but before I could turn my head every door was closed. The car jolted forward, and I fell back into the seat. Pain exploded in my wrists like they’d been severed, and at the thought I leaned over the seat, vomiting on the floor. Choking on my breath, I was sure the ties had cut clean through my skin. I kicked one leg forward, bracing myself for each turn.
There was one glimmer of hope that I held onto as I felt the car accelerate like a jet engine. Those people had seen everything. Surely there had been at least a dozen 911 calls before we had driven away. How far could we get? A bump had me wincing in pain, and the thought slowly crumbled. I forced myself to accept just what had happened. It had been easy for them to kidnap me. In broad daylight. In the middle of a crowded highway. Whatever they wanted from me, I was sudden
ly sure they would get it.
The drive took a lifetime, with the fear of what might lie ahead nearly overpowering me. The two men in the front seat didn’t speak, and I watched the small portion of their heads I could see. It was a physical struggle to stay in control. To look calm. Don’t cry! I fought with my heart as it threatened me with its sympathy and forced it down to my toes. It seemed too long a drive, and my hands felt slick with blood. Every time they slid together I fought back the faintness that came. No one had mentioned that I had emptied my stomach onto the floor, but the day was hot and whether by design or excuse the heat had been entirely trapped inside. No AC, no windows rolled down. Just warmth and the smell of sickness.
The car turned onto gravel. I listened to the sound of the small rocks grinding together under the tires as we came to a stop. The driver finally rolled his window down, but only a crack.
“Hey! We’ve got it,” he yelled, like I was a box of supplies. If only I had an idea of what they wanted. What if I didn’t have it? I swallowed, shaking my head and trying to gather strength. Outside there was organized commotion, but I couldn’t make sense of what was going on. What I could make out was the number of feet treading the ground, and it wasn’t encouraging. Peering out the window, I watched shadowy silhouettes as they passed back and forth. The pain in my wrists had changed to a deep sting - an indication that the cords had sunk deeper. Feeling tears well up again I blinked, knowing it wouldn’t help to look as terrified as I felt.
Another set of tires ground through the gravel and I spun around, my eyes following the sound. My two captors exited the car, closing the doors behind them. There was a jumble of footsteps, and a new voice reached my ears. After trying to understand the words I realized the man was not speaking English. But while it had sounded smooth and beautiful coming from Givanni, the Italian coming from this man was frightening. My eyes stayed fixed on the spot where I had heard him, hoping desperately that he would drive off. He had come here and done what he needed to do, now he could leave.
Trying the door handles carefully, I froze as my second attempt sent the handle snapping down like an explosion. Biting my lip, I squeezed my eyes closed. If there was some slight chance that this frightening stranger had not been aware of my location he was sure to know it now. My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice loud and harsh. Another man responded, “Yes, sir!”
Frightened, I slid to the center, staying a safe distance from both sides. I kept my head forward as the door inched open. From my peripheral vision, it was easy to make out his massive size. One bulging hand grasped the doorframe and I concentrated on keeping my body from shaking to pieces. He spoke in perfect English.
“My dear, I am terribly sorry for the clumsy harshness with which you were treated. My men are not as attentive to such things as I am.” My eyes flashed to his round face quickly before resuming their fixation in front of me. ‘And they are not as lethal as you,’ I thought. His attempt at kindness was as obvious a fraud as the spotless white suit that stretched over his endless frame. I was sure he had plenty of blood on his hands. His face was as overbearing as the rest of his frame, the features swallowed up in pale skin. He reached one hand out, and I ignored his invitation. “Certainly, you do not wish to stay in this car as the sun heats it faster and more suffocating than an oven.” A cooling trickle of sweat slid down my back as if on cue. “Will you not come with me?” he gushed. I wondered when he would notice the cords practically severing my wrists. There was a light slapping sound as his fat hand fell onto the leather seat. “Oh, I see.”
Reaching into his jacket, where I was sure there were a great many weighed-down pockets, he brought out a thin black handle. I felt my face flush as he snapped the blade out with a twitch of his hand. The sun glinted off the smooth metal and into my eyes and his lips curved into a smile as I squinted uncomfortably. Feeling the cold knife slide between my hands I shivered. With one painful jerk, the cord snapped, but the man didn’t back away. I mashed my tongue between my teeth when the cord was slowly peeled off, the dull sting igniting into searing fire. He held up the thick, matted strand showing a mixture of clotted and fresh blood. My shoulders ached when finally released from their unnatural position, but not wanting to rest my hands on my lap I held them out in front of me. His powerful hand clamped around my elbow, and I jumped from the car as he pulled, trying to keep my shoulder from dislocating. I could feel fresh, warm blood dripping off the end of my fingertips.
He dragged me with him, saying nothing. If there was something they wanted from me, why hadn’t they asked for it yet? What were they waiting for? Suddenly jerked to a stop with a twist of his hand, a sharp pain shot through my shoulder and I stood on my toes to lessen the pressure on my straining joint. We entered a large grey building, his glossy shoes tapping and echoing through the dark warehouse, blocking out my sandals’ sloppy shuffle. I squinted my eyes as the back wall slid open, allowing just enough room for our passage before it stopped with a loud squeal. The already-strained buttons on the fat man’s suit seemed close to breaking as he puffed his chest out, a wide smile spreading across his face. I didn’t notice the group of cars that pulled up from three different roads until they stopped within inches of each other.
The shiny Volvos were identical except for their subtle difference in shades. I ground my teeth together, glaring at the group as they stepped from their cars. But though my face was determined, the terrified thumping in my heart was painful. The men didn’t speak at first. They just stood next to their priceless cars in their priceless suits looking more like GQ cover models than - whatever it was they were.
Nodding his head at me, one of the men spoke quietly in Italian. His skin was a strange mix of tan and grey, his irises standing out with their flat steel color. The fat man attached to my arm nodded, the rolls under his chin swelling with each dip of his head. The name Marco in the middle of a string of Italian made my head snap up. With a phone raised halfway to his ear, a faint smile graced this new man’s thin lips. He pressed a button and waited. He then asked a question, his Italian almost friendly. With a broader smile, he walked forward and pressed the phone to my ear. I froze, feeling my heart beat frantically while I glanced around at the emotionless faces.
“Introduce yourself, Loriel,” the fat man ordered, his tone losing its false pleasantry.
“I’m L-Loriel Lane,” I whispered, barely audible. The phone was gone before I could hear a sound and the man’s grey eyes rested on me as he spoke again to the unknown person, his voice louder. I flinched when he spoke in heavily accented English.
“Well, would you like us to have her say something else?” he asked. Despite his pleasant tone, sneers from the others had me trembling even more violently. A deep chuckle shook through the massive man still clamped onto my arm, and my face flushed in desperate anger. At least my fingernails were still long. I could gouge some deep lacerations for them to remember me by. The grey-eyed man slid his phone back into place. His eyes did not focus on the helpless victim in front of him, hands now almost completely streaked with blood. “He’ll be there,” he said quietly.
“Well now,” my captor beamed. “Things definitely have gone smoothly. I am so pleased. It will be quite enough to convince him, I am sure. We will meet in the morning then?” Staring back with his steely grey eyes, the leader looked like he had never felt pleased a day in his life.
“Yes, boss. It is all taken care of, we will meet as planned.” My head swirled as I turned the tables around, putting this boxy, flattering man in place as the one in charge. Without another word, the five observers stepped into their vehicles, quiet engines still running. My heart seemed to crack painfully as I watched the grey-eyed man leave. At least in a crowd, I had a small hope, however naïve it might be, that out of so many there just might be a bit of rational thought in one of them.
The fat man dragged me back the way we had come. I wondered how quickly he could break my arm if I tried to break his nose. Two new men joined us, followi
ng behind us in their work pants and shirts like it was another day on the docks. We reached a small natural kind of harbor and boarded a glossy-looking boat. Only after I had been secured in a barren room with no windows and a small cot did I hear them speak from outside my door. Again in Italian. My lip trembled, and I hoped desperately to find some miraculous way to escape, but there was nothing. Not unless I wanted to claw my way through the side of a boat, or go back the way I’d come. Tears trailed down my frozen face, my eyes wide and unblinking, shock pulsing through me full force. Never in my life had I felt so wasted, so completely drained of everything. Dragging my feet to the worn cot I slumped down, staring at the wall in a daze.
Chapter 7
I was still sitting upright when the deadbolt lock snapped. My eyes opened just before the door slammed into the wall and I jumped to my feet. It felt like only minutes had passed since I was locked in the neglected room, and yet the sky had begun to lighten. Two tall, skinny men barked at me in Italian. Seizing me from both sides they jerked me forward, alternating pulls as if to force me in every direction. It all seemed only for show as I was still groggy, confused, and in no way resisting. How could I be worth so much trouble?
They dragged me outside and down a crumbled sidewalk. A group of four men watched from a sandy lot, a new set of suits. Looking from one hardened face to the next I stopped when the last man had a distinct look of concern. My eyes locked on his. If only I could believe that this man might feel some sympathy for me, that maybe there was some small chance he disagreed with the others. Hope leaked into my stunned heart and tears stung my eyes. But slowly his expression changed, his forehead smoothing into stone and eyes focusing past me. He now blended perfectly with the others. Swallowing hard, I was sure he had just sealed my fate.