by Lauren Salem
I knew the mango tango smoothie was contaminated before I drank it. Someone put a sedative in the drink before it went into the blender but didn’t grind it up properly. The white, crumbly pill was still evident in the smoothie when the waitress served it to us, but I was the only person who didn’t drink it. For Johnny, the glass became half-empty fairly quickly, even though he sipped it through a straw. Collins ditched his straw, threw it on the floor, and chugged it, “like a man,” with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Laura used her straw like a spoon and occasionally mixed the smoothie. Counselor Hank finished his last because he was more focused on the conversation. He only took a few sips between sentences when he talked so much his mouth became dry. No one was listening to him. Johnny seemed to stare up into the umbrella’s undercarriage for quite a long time. He was probably daydreaming. When Collins finished chugging the smoothie, he coddled his head in his arms from the agonizing brain freeze. I gazed at Laura, which made her feel uncomfortable. She’d smile at first and then bounce around in her chair, trying to avoid my never-ending eye contact.
No one noticed the danger that was right in front of them because they were all too distracted by something else. Who contaminated the smoothie? I thought it was either the waitress or Counselor Hank, but why would he drink it if he knew it was contaminated? Everyone was facedown on the table within a few minutes. I pushed the smoothie aside. Out of nowhere, a dart flew into my neck, and I fell asleep like the rest of them. At that point it was doubtful that Counselor Hank had anything to do with this…unless he was crazy enough to drug himself and pretend he was just like one of us. What about the waitress? She never came back to take our order. Hmm…
I gazed at the counselor, who lay on his belly, sleeping with his hands tied behind his back like the rest of us. The cargo truck hit a bump on the road, causing a large box to fall on the sleeping hostage. The counselor groaned and struggled to roll the box off his back. I noticed the tape was peeling off the box, and I was curious about what could be inside. Maybe the contents of the box would give me a clue about who abducted us or where we were going. I used the wall to help push myself on my feet before I kneeled next to the counselor, grasped the tape with my teeth, and pulled the box open. About fifty packages of blueberries marked with a “WCV” label were packed away in that box. This didn’t really help. The label didn’t mean anything to me.
“Where are we?” Laura asked. “Why are my hands tied behind my back?”
“I had the strangest dream ever,” Johnny added.
“Someone get this box off me!”
“Which one of you mother-fudgers did it?” Collins demanded. “It was the counselor all along! I knew he had an ulterior motive for taking us out to lunch. I shouldn’t have fallen for it.”
“We were all abducted,” I said.
Everyone gasped and started to panic.
“Everyone calm down,” Johnny interrupted. “As soon as this truck stops, we’re going to get out of here. We just need a plan.”
Everyone became silent.
“Enlighten us, Johnny,” I said.
“I’m sure if we just talk to them everything will be OK,” the counselor suggested.
“They don’t look like they wanna talk. I mean, they abducted us and all,” Collins argued. “Don’t you think if they wanted to talk they would have been a little friendlier?”
“I have a plan,” Johnny interjected. “We should hide behind these boxes, so when they move the boxes they’ll be surprised when we kick them in the face.”
“Violence is not the answer,” the counselor said. “Adults handle situations by reasoning with one another. Johnny, you don’t know anything about the situation. Kicking the people in the face will probably make our situation worse.”
“I think the counselor is right,” I added. “Since we don’t have the use of our hands, there isn’t much we can do to hurt them without getting ourselves into more trouble. We would only be able to run away if we knocked them out. We don’t know how many of them are out there, or if they’re armed. Actually, I do know they have tranquilizer guns. I got shot after you guys drank your smoothies.”
The truck came to a stop, and everyone hushed. Our heads turned to stare at the door with wide eyes. The lock clicked open, and the door rolled up into the truck.
“Y’all look like you saw a ghost,” a man in a black uniform said. “I’m Herb, and I’ll be escorting you to your final destination, so—”
Collins shrieked in fear. “Did you hear what he said, you guys? ‘Final destination’…You know what that means? We’re all gonna die at the end!”
“Son, you watch far too many movies,” Herb replied. “This is nothing like Final Destination, but it can be, if you like.”
“I’m not sure if you’re trying to make me feel better or worse.”
Four other men in black uniforms approached the truck.
“Everybody out,” Herb said.
As I got out of the truck, I noticed each man wore the same logo I found on the box of blueberries. The circular patches were plainly designed and said WCV above the words “Herb” and “Guard.” Herb grabbed the rope, tied my hands together, pressed what felt like a gun against my back, and told me to walk.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You don’t want to find out. Now do what I say.”
“Who are you people?” Collins shouted.
“Start walking now!”
My feet shuffled through the sand as the strong sun blazed in my eyes. The guards closed and locked the gate behind us. There was nothing but sand and gates around us, and it seemed like we were walking in the middle of nowhere. My foot hooked on something, causing me to fall to my knees, where I was suddenly ambushed by a skeleton that popped out from beneath the sand. Sand flew into my eyes from the skeleton’s eye sockets, and I blinked several times to try to get it out. Herb quickly pulled me up and pushed me to continue walking. I walked the rest of the way in the dark with my eyes closed. A few minutes later, I couldn’t feel the sun on my face anymore, and the temperature felt cooler. A door closed and locked behind me.
“Someone push his hands through the bars so I can untie him.”
My arms were pressed up against the cold metal bars, and my hands were freed.
“Have some water,” the guards said before they walked away.
“Vincent, are you OK?” Johnny asked. “Sit down. The guards are gone.”
“I feel like I have a million cuts in my eyes,” I responded as I slowly sat down on the cement floor.
“I’m right behind you. Lie down into my lap. I’m going to flush your eyes out with water.”
Once I was lying in his lap, he held my eyelids open and dripped water into my eyes. I blinked a few times in an attempt to restore my vision. We were surrounded by black bars and brick walls. Everyone looked exhausted and sweaty.
“Drink your water,” Johnny said as he handed me the bottle.
“I think I’ll pass. It’s probably poisoned.”
“The bottle was sealed. I think it’s fine. If you don’t drink, you’ll dehydrate.”
“Fine,” I said before I gulped down all the water.
“Do you think anyone’s looking for us?” Laura asked.
“If the office notices you didn’t check back into school by the end of the day, then they’ll be looking for us,” the counselor said. He took out his cell phone. “I’m not getting any service.” He stuck his arm through the bars, reaching his phone into the hall. “Still no service.”
I moved to the darkest corner of the cell and sat by myself while everyone else was engaged in pointless conversation. They were all afraid and wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay and find out what this strange place was all about. There was no point in going back to the school because soon enough I’d graduate and have to go back home where I wasn’t wanted. During a Christmas party almost eighteen years ago, two senators (one Democrat, the other Republican) took a drunken
roll in the hay, resulting in me, the mistake that created the “family values” campaign. My parents made decisions based on how negatively something would affect their image and campaign, so naturally when the press found out Mom was pregnant, she had to get married. Growing up in such an unconventional family with no siblings was rough. All the media attention, cameras flashing, nagging reporters, and press conferences, not to mention all the fighting…I got tired of keeping up my parents’ image. I wanted to be myself, and this life wouldn’t let me do that, so I jumped. I casually walked into a five-story building, took the staircase up to the roof, and jumped. As I fell, the cameras were still flashing, and reporters were still gathered around, filming my every move. It all ended once I hit the ground.
The EMTs rushed me to the hospital, where I stayed for several months, sleeping in a coma as my body mended several broken bones. When I woke up, I had a whole new life. To save face, my parents enrolled me in Sonoran Correctional High School.
Chapter 3: Laura