Brightness blinds me and I have to cover my eyes with my hands to try to slowly let them adjust to the light. My eyes ache and in turn, my head starts to also.
Knowing I’m in trouble, I force myself to concentrate on my surroundings. I remember being at the police station; there are hazy memories of Joel in the interrogation room, of Drew distraught, of being outside and being kidnapped.
The room where I have been left has wooden double doors that appear to be to a closet on my left side along with a small desk and chair next to it. Opposite the bed is a closed door and on the wall to my right is a large window that only shows the darkness outside. Curtains on either side of it remain open. I lift my head to look directly next to me and on the other side of the closet, closest to me, is another door.
So this room has two closed doors. Will they both lead outside? What is outside?
I smell faint traces of paint in the air and, looking at the walls, it doesn’t really appear quite finished. The whole room looks thrown together and incomplete.
What am I doing here? Who has taken me? Why me? All the questions rush through my head in a panic and my heart starts thumping in my chest as I quickly sit up. I feel dizzy so I close my eyes to block out how the room is spinning. My headache grows worse and closing my eyes doesn’t help. More flashes of memory attack me and I wince each time a new image emerges.
Dana is dead. Joel shot her. She is gone forever. I’m never going to see her again. I’m never going to get a hug from her or hear her call me Zee again. She is gone and for some stupid reason I’m still alive.
Tears fall down my face, but I don’t bother wiping them away. More will come. It isn’t fair. Dana was a good person, the best person I knew. She volunteered on weekends at a homeless shelter and she always donated money to charity when she could afford it. She was a decent person; unbelievably loving and caring. Why did this have to happen to her? She deserves to be alive. She deserves to be happy. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. Why did Joel have to miss? Why did he have to hit Dana? Why hadn’t I understood my dream better? Why didn’t I make more of an effort to stop this?
More tears come and my whole body shakes as the thoughts consume me. I hate Joel. I hate myself. I hate my dreams. Everything is ruined and it’s my fault.
I lose myself in sadness for I’m not sure how long. Finally, my thoughts drift back to the present. I’ve been kidnapped and I’m probably in a really dangerous situation. I need to calm down and think rationally.
I sit up carefully and move the covers away. The cold air grips me and I see that I’m still in the same clothes from the police station. That’s good. It would have been too much to think about if I had been changed into something else while unconscious.
I look back at the window and decide I should take a peek outside. Just because it’s dark out, doesn’t mean I won’t recognize where I am. I must still be in Boston somewhere, right?
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and, as I stand up, I nearly fall over. My legs feel like jelly, even my arms feel as though they’re drunk. Is this an after effect from what I have been drugged with? Or are they feeding me drugs now that make this permanent in order for me to be unable to run or fight back?
My heart beat speeds up again. If I don’t calm down, there’s a good chance I’ll have a heart attack soon.
I slide down the side of the bed until my butt touches the ground. I use my arms to pull myself along towards the door closest to the bed. It’s a slow process as it feels like I’ve gained a hundred pounds and become the heaviest person in the world. When I do make it to the door, I reach out with a now wobbly hand and manage to get my fingers around the door handle. Every second I hold my arm up makes it want to drop off. I’m exhausted.
As badly as I want to try to get out of this room, I suddenly hesitate to turn the door handle.
What will be on the other side? Is it a good idea to attempt an escape while I can’t even walk?
I turn the handle before I can talk myself out of it and it only turns for a second before it jams up.
It’s locked, which means I’m locked in this room. I let my arm fall and lie down on the cool ground for a moment. My mind goes hazy, but then I remember the second door.
Finding energy from my panic of being trapped, I slowly make my way over to the other side of the room. When I make it there, I discover that this door is open. Inside is dark and cool and I can tell from the light shining through from the main room that this is a small bathroom. It doesn’t lead anywhere else; it’s a dead end.
I again lie on the ground and, this time, I close my eyes. I’m fairly certain my head is being bashed in with an axe. I wish the pain would go away and I eventually get my wish. Darkness pulls me further down. Soon, it feels like I’m underwater. The pain ebbs away as I inhale the cold liquid and soon feel nothing.
***
I doze on and off; never quite falling into a deep sleep, yet never quite being awake, either. When I do finally open my eyes, my body complains of being stiff from being on the ground and my stomach grumbles for food. I sit up and groan at the creaks and cracks my aching body makes. Over the hunger I have an overwhelming urge to go to the toilet. I force all my energy into moving toward the bathroom and have to grip the door handle to keep myself standing. As much as my legs still feel unstable holding my weight, I do feel like I’m a little stronger than I was last time.
After I’m finished, I wash my hands before I then dip my head under the running tap and drink hungrily at the nice, cold water shooting out of it. I drink until my stomach aches and I start to feel sick. I turn off the tap and make my way back out and over to the bed where I collapse on top of it.
I take another look around the room and see nothing much different from what I’d seen last time I was awake. My eyes move to the side table next to the bed and I notice it has a large, open shelf where I spy my handbag resting innocently. An instant rush of hope fills me at the thought that maybe I can get my cell and call for help.
I search it and everything appears to still be in there. As I continue digging into it, I find my cell at the bottom and for the first time since waking up here I feel excitement grow inside me. I flip the cover over and turn it on. The screen lights up and I hold in a cry of joy. There still is a way out of this. I’ll call for help and someone will come and save me.
I impatiently wait for the welcome message to load and my heart sinks when a message comes up saying ‘sim card missing.’ My cell is on, but there is no signal. I turn it over in my hands and pull the back off to find that the sim card has indeed been removed. The cell is useless. I can’t call anyone for help.
I flip it back over and look at the background behind the menu screen. It’s a photo of Dana and me from when we were only ten. I had taken a photo of an old photo because it made me smile seeing it. Tears well up in my eyes and the image of us blurs until I can no longer see. Wiping the tears away, I look through the photo album. Most of the ones I had on here are missing, but some have obviously saved to the cell. These are the only ones I have left now.
I painstakingly go through each photo of Dana and cry over every one of them. The last photo I have is from the day she died. The day of my birthday. I had taken it while she drank her root beer float. She is pulling a face at me as she drinks from the straw. She is so beautiful.
I lose myself in memories, not returning to the present until my hands are shaking from the cold. My whole body is freezing and I take my eyes off my cell to move under the covers to warm up. I clear out of the photo album, but with no sim card my cell doesn’t have anything more on it. The one thing it does have is a time and date.
04:00 April 10th.
It’s four in the morning on Tuesday. It’s been two days since I was taken and three days since my birthday. Three days ago my life was normal, boring and my best friend was alive. Now Dana is gone, I don’t know where I am or what’s going to happen to me. Feeling a sense of dread, I turn my cell off and shove i
t back into my bag. Closing my eyes, I hope to sleep and drift away from this unknown situation I’m stuck in.
One thought keeps repeating in my mind over and over. I will never have a future that includes Dana now. That’s unacceptable to me. Dana died on my birthday and so did I.
***
A creaking noise rouses me next and I open my eyes to find the sun outside is only just starting to rise. I’m groggy and still tired. It’s beyond me how I can still feel tired after spending days being out cold and doing nothing. I turn my head at the sound of the door handle being turned and a sharp knock against the door that makes a loud echo in the room. I try to get a glimpse of the person who has taken me hostage. I only see them from behind and I watch them leave, keeping the door ajar.
Is this someone helping me? Am I being rescued?
I sit up, feeling stronger again. That must be a good sign. I stand up, glad to be able to hold my weight fine, and look at the open door nervously, fearful of what I might find out in the corridor. Now that the moment has come to leave this room, I’m hesitant to do so.
Knowing that I can’t risk missing out on this chance to have a look outside the room I’ve been trapped in, I creep cautiously to the door with my bare feet slapping the cold floor while I ignore the chill it brings. I push the door open further and peek out for a quick second. I see a black blob at the end of a hallway that fills me full of dread. I don’t dare look back again. Across from me is another doorway. This door is also open, but no one seems to be in the room it shows. From what I can see, it looks to be a room like mine, but it’s dark. There is either no window in there or the curtains are shut.
“Hurry up, everyone,” a male voice grunts from down the hallway, sounding gruff and strict. I’m positive I’ve never heard this voice before.
I chance another look out and see a well-dressed man wearing a suit and tie, maybe in his forties, standing a few feet away from me. He must have been the black blob I’d seen moments before. I look down the other end of the hallway to find a small boy standing at the doorway of the next door down from mine. He looks young and frail with wild hair that gives me the impression someone has taken garden shear to it. How long have they held him captive? He looks like he hasn’t been taken care of properly in years. Is he a sign of what is to happen to me?
I notice another doorway across from his and diagonal to mine. A girl stands out in front of it. She’s wearing a heavily crinkled dress and even though she looks like she has only just woken up like me, I can already tell without looking at my own reflection that she looks runway model ready compared to me. There is a strange mark over her throat and I think it might be a bruise. Has whoever taken us done that to her?
No one says anything. I look back to the open door opposite me. Is someone in there, too?
“Come on, Blackout, we’re all waiting for you,” the Suit Man who spoke before raises his voice louder.
He appears to be bored and begins tapping his left foot against the ground. There is something about him that makes me not trust him. He has the look of someone starting to age gracefully, however I can tell he is hard and unforgiving. He stands straight with his shoulders back in a way that looks unnatural and uncomfortable. He’s fit looking and I guess he might have been in the army or something similar. His dark hair is slicked back and his eyes are permanently narrowed at us all. I can picture him being one of those creepy paintings where the eyes follow you all around the room. It gives me shivers and I have to firmly plant my feet on the ground to stop myself from taking a step back from him.
“Blackout, hurry up!” Suit Man yells again and I mentally promise myself never to get on this guy’s bad side. I also wonder who he’s talking about, surely there isn’t a person called Blackout, so what is he waiting for? Is he cueing someone to cover us in darkness?
Finally a guy emerges from the doorway opposite from mine. He looks worse than any of us. His hair is pointing in all different directions and his eyes are half closed. His white shirt is creased in every place and he appears as though he is about to fall over. I hear Suit Man utter “finally” and I guess this guy must have been Blackout. What a strange name.
“Muscles, I don’t suppose you’ll give him a hand? He received a large dose of the drugs we gave him and as a result he hasn’t fully recovered just yet.” The man speaks while looking at the kid behind me. He doesn’t look like he has any muscles to me. He is scrawny and seems rather frail. Muscles is a strange name for him. Is it something like when you’re in the mob and they call the skinny guy named Tony ‘Fat Tony’? The kid doesn’t move and I don’t blame him. Everything about this situation screams to me that we’re in trouble.
Not really sure why I do it, I take a step forward and Blackout lets me put his arm over my shoulder. My body struggles under his weight and it momentarily distracts me from the fear that has gripped me.
Is this man going to kill us? Why has he taken all of us?
“Are you okay?” I whisper to Blackout, fearful that I might get in trouble for talking. Blackout is slowly letting more and more of his bodyweight lean down on me and my legs immediately begin to protest.
He doesn’t answer me, but the other girl who has been standing opposite the kid comes over and puts Blackout’s other arm around her.
“Muscles would be a better choice. Follow me.” Suit Man walks down the corridor, not looking back at us once.
“Who are you?” I call out to him, feeling a moment of bravery.
“You’ll find out everything soon enough.”
“Where are we?” the girl helping me with Blackout asks.
The Suit Man never answers her and, as he turns a corner, we lose sight of him.
“Do you think we should try and escape?” I ask the girl with me, my voice shaky.
“I doubt we’ll be able to get far with this guy,” she points out.
Blackout grunts and I see him trying to open his eyes further. “S’feel tired.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask the girl.
“I woke up to his knocking just before, I was taken yesterday, I think. You?” she asks calmly.
“This is my third day here, first time I’ve been out of that room, though.” I swallow down my cries that try to surface when I say aloud how long it has been, since it’s also a count for how long I’ve been without Dana.
“What do you think this is about?” she asks me.
“I have no idea.”
We turn the corner and enter into an area that has couches, a pool table, a large television and a table with a couple of chairs. There is a small kitchen area which also houses a bar fridge and microwave. The Suit Man is over by a double set of doors on the opposite side of the room.
“We’re just waiting on one other person and then I’ll be able to talk some things through with you. I realize it’s unfair to keep you locked in your rooms without any interaction so you’re welcome to enjoy this area. Talk amongst yourselves. Throw around some theories. I anticipate Reader will be here in a few hours.”
Reader?
“This is kidnapping! You can’t keep us here,” the girl screams out, making me jump from her sudden outburst.
“We’re protecting you all, Hacker.”
“What does that mean?” the girl whose name I now assume is Hacker demands. Why does everyone here have such strange names? Am I the only one with a traditional normal name?
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Like hell I will. I demand you let us go at once or my Dad will bring a ton of lawyers down on you and you’ll never see the light of day again!” Hacker growls. I hope that’s true. Could we all be let go soon?
“Your stay here can either go smoothly and comfortably, or complicated and unpleasantly. It’s your choice. I recommend you hear me out before you plan on storming out of this place. I have armed guards on each door which will be locked securely so you can’t cheat your way out.”
I wonder what he means when he says that, but Hacker
appears to have bitten her tongue on any further arguing. Suit Man leaves us then, locking the door behind him.
Hacker had stopped helping me with Blackout when she started yelling at Suit Man and I’ve been slowly losing my grip on him. I manage to drag him closer to one of the couches where I allow us both to finally collapse. I can tell by his breathing that he’s dozed off.
I wish I could sleep through this situation. Sleep through being kidnapped, through losing Dana. In fact, what is the point of being awake for any of it with my best friend dead?
“What the hell is going on here?” Hacker now demands of us. Her words pull me out of my dark, circling thoughts.
“I have no idea.” I shrug at her since Blackout is still asleep and the kid Suit Man called Muscles seems unable to talk at all. Maybe he’s mute?
“Why the hell were we taken? Where the hell are we? And how the hell do we get out?” Hacker begins pacing around the room and I feel even more helpless because I know none of those answers.
“He said he’s protecting us,” Muscles speaks up and I’m shocked by how deep his voice is. For some reason, I thought that if he could talk he might sound high pitched, like a boy Dana and I went to school with. His voice didn’t break until he was in the eleventh grade which made him a prime target for some pretty horrible teasing and caused him to have the same feral look about him that this kid has. Dana insisted we be nice to him and she even managed to get Drew and him to become good friends. Turned out, he wanted to be an accountant, too, and he helped Drew with his exams. Dana always knew what was best for people.
“Kidnapping us isn’t protecting someone, kid,” Hacker snaps at Muscles.
Taken By Surprise (Taken Trilogy Book 1) Page 18