Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  Heart hammering Ramone rushed along the main deck at full pelt. In front of him on his right-hand side, a door burst open. A man, completely engulfed in flame, let out a blood-curdling scream as he slid into the railing and half fell, half threw himself overboard. Without pausing to see if he had hit water or deck Ramone pressed on. He had to get off this ship he told himself. Before the whole thing blew itself sky high. Unfortunately, he was on the pier side and the gap between ship and dock looked too narrow to attempt a blind jump into the water. He had to get to the lower decks.

  Ramone froze. From atop the ladder down to the next deck a man suddenly appeared. With a maniacal grin, he produced a serrated combat knife and charged. Slash after slash quickly forced Ramone to backpedal, however, he wasn’t quick enough and the blade tore down his right cheek in a crescent shape. Blood spurted from the wound and quickly mixed with the water droplets that clung to his face. Ignoring what pain adrenaline did not keep at bay he thrust his boot forward and caught the assailant square in the chest. The force of the blow sent the man skidding backwards to the edge of the ladder only for him to lose his footing. Ramone could only watch and listen as the man let out a harrowing scream that lasted only a heartbeat before it was followed by a horrid…

  Thud!

  Ramone’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright hands desperately seeking a gun in a holster that lay on the other side of the room. Frantically his eyes darted around. A dream… only a dream he told himself. Or at least it was… now. Sucking in a breath of stale air he refocused his vision and found the source of the noise.

  “Sup with you?” the voice of El Roca said, lifting his thick hand from the table surface.

  “Nothing,” Ramone grunted.

  Just a stupid dream he reminded himself once more. Slowly his brain remembered where he was and why. But it had been so real a small voice in the back of his head pointed out. Never since the actual event had the deck of that ship been so lifelike… so real. Shakily he got to his feet.

  “Sure you’re ok?” the other man asked again, not sounding like he cared.

  Ramone scowled at him as he rubbed the crescent-shaped scar that ran down his right cheek. “Fine. Why the fuck you wake me like that?”

  “Got a call from Tanya,” Roca replied gruffly. “The new Bitch’ll be here in ten.”

  Great Ramone thought, another one to look after. “Did she say anything else?”

  Roca sniggered at him. “Yeah, that you're a lazy bastard and to answer your phone in future.” Ramone glowered at his comrade, he didn’t care that he was only the messenger. “Oh and that once your lazy ass is up you’re to call her. Summin about she’s found a buyer.”

  Even though they were not Roca’s words the big man had a hard neck calling him lazy. However, if Tanya had found a buyer then they would hopefully not have to sit on this new girl for very long. He still had the events of this week’s fiasco well etched into his mind and would rather get such business over with sooner rather than later. Fishing in his pocket for a smoke he looked at the stodgy remains of last night’s curry congealing in its containers.

  “Is there anything else to eat?”

  Roca gave him a funny look. “Wot’s wrong with that?” He indicated the leftovers.

  Ramone bent down and picked up a spoon that sat lodged in what had once been the fabled korma. Holding it out he turned it upside down and watched its contents fail to conform to gravity. Normally he did not mind leftovers, but he drew the line at something that had curdled to the point it defied physics.

  “Stuck up prick,” Roca scoffed when Ramone dropped the spoon back from whence it came. At least it had the decency to fall into the mush.

  He would have to wait until after they had dealt with the new arrival before he could make the trip to the nearest town and find something more appealing. A loud rattling sounded from out with the room and Ramone instinctively made another grab for his absent sidearm.

  “Don’t think Tanya’ll be too happy if you shoot the new bitch,” Roca snorted, then added, “geez you’re jumpy today.”

  You’d be jumpy too if you’d just woken up from that nightmare he thought bitterly. He holstered his weapon and lit the roll-up. So much for ten minutes. Rubbing his free hand through his greasy hair he headed for the door. It had been two days since he’d last had the luxury of a shower and given the available options for breakfast he did not hold out much hope for the washroom facilities. The sleeping arrangements were sub-par too. In comparison, it made the dingy motel they’d passed on the highway look like The Ritz. Maybe he’d sneak in on his way to town and freshen up.

  When he reached the top of the stairs there was another sharp rap on the battered red metal shutter. “Hold on,” he grunted as he fumbled for the keys to the padlock that held the rusty bolt in place. Unlocking it he threw the shutter upwards with a screechy trundle. The bright morning sun momentarily blinded him and his eyes struggled to adjust to the daylight.

  “Morning,” a voice grunted from in front of him. He did not recognise it. “Delivery from Tanya.” Being able to see its owner did not help matters. Long blond hair ran down his back and framed a grizzled face. A thick Winnfield moustache and blue tinted circular sunglasses obscured any other features. One of Tanya’s lackeys no doubt.

  Before he had a chance to return the greeting the man strode to the back of an old blue Mustang. Ramone turned; Roca was nowhere in sight. “Roca,” he called out. “Get your ass up here. Now.”

  A muttered string of curses echoed up the stairwell followed by the sound of the big man’s heavy footsteps. “Wot? Can’t handle one bitch by yourself?”

  Ramone ignored him and followed the newcomer to the back of the waiting vehicle. “What you’ve got here is your typical Chicago high school teen,” the long haired man said on popping the trunk. “Tight ass, thin waistline, small round cupcakes complete with sweet juicy cherries.” The man took a step back and indicated that he was free to have a look.

  Ramone gazed at the short, slender girl that had been crammed inside. Long ginger hair lay in matted clumps over her blotchy face, her body visibly shaking. Her wrists and ankles were bound with coarse rope while a dirty rag had been hastily knotted and shoved into her mouth, held in place by another length of the same rope. A second, thicker, scrap of material acted as a makeshift blindfold and completed her bindings.

  “Not the most stunning example you’ll find but she’s got a certain charm about her, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” he lied, a feeling of disgust overcoming him. The girl couldn’t be any older than sixteen. Hell, she was still a child for Christ’s sake. At least the kids in the basement were mob business or something of that ilk. Well one of them was at any rate. He had no idea what Sergio would decide to do with the other. Though, like everything of late, that too would probably be out of his control. “Roca, come and get her out.”

  The thick man cursed at him yet obeyed all the same. “Why the fuck can you not do it?”

  The girl screamed into her gag upon being hoisted out of the trunk. In one swift motion, Roca deposited her atop a wide shoulder.

  “Happy folks?” the long-haired man asked, closing the trunk. No, Ramone thought as Roca brushed shoulders with him on his way back towards the garage. In the brief moment of contact, a strand of the girl’s hair caught in the mild breeze and blew across his face sending a shiver down his spine. “Well, I’m sure her new owner will enjoy her.”

  “New owner?” Ramone said aloud; unintentionally.

  “Yeah. The boss babe called while I was pulling up. Apparently, a buyer’s coming round to inspect her tomorrow... And having me pass along a message is better for her Chi than a conversation with you apparently.”

  Questions filled his head and he gave the man a puzzled expression. Eventually, he asked the first one he could articulate. “Why is she sending someone out here? We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  “Hey I don’t know the full details but apparently th
is guy’s staying in the area, is super busy and would rather not make the trek into the city if he doesn’t have to.”

  Something about this whole situation reeked. Some of Los sin techo’s finest picking up hot merchandise was plausible. In fact, he would put money on it not being the first time they had picked up a girl that they belatedly discovered some sort of issue with. However, Tanya sending her out here and then miraculously finding a buyer who just happened to be in the area seemed far too coincidental for his liking.

  “When is he coming?” he asked, resigned to the fact that he could do nothing about it.

  “Sometime tomorrow afternoon. Tanya didn’t give a specific.”

  Ramone went to draw from his cigarette only to find that it had burnt itself out. Cursing he withdrew another with the full intention of smoking it. “Fine,” he muttered. He lit the end and turned to head after Roca.

  “Pleasure doin’ business with you,” the man called out before the car door slammed shut.

  The sound of the engine revving filled Ramone’s ears and he made his way back inside and down the stairs. At the bottom, Roca was waiting for him.

  “So what’re we doin’ with her?” he asked, slapping the girl’s backside; she yelped.

  Ramone had to think for a moment. The simplest thing to do would be to put her in with the others but he didn’t like the idea of giving the red-haired bitch more ammunition. Though he was positive her threat to kill the boy yesterday had been a bluff he did not want to risk anything happening to the newcomer if she were only staying for a day.

  “Put her in here,” he eventually replied. He opened a battered wooden door at the bottom of the short hallway that served as the hub for the basement. The room was a broom closet that he’d cleared out yesterday in his attempt to find an aerial cable. It would be slightly cramped but the door looked sturdy enough not to give without some serious force, which he doubted the girl was capable of producing; it also had a lock.

  “Untie her first idiot!” he then exclaimed when Roca deposited the girl inside and went to close the door. Roca grumbled as he complied.

  The second her hands and legs were free the girl scrambled backwards and huddled herself into the far corner. Shaking his head Ramone hurriedly closed the door and locked it. As though hiding her away would erase her presence in his mind. He then turned to Roca. “I’m going out. You can look after them.”

  Without waiting for a reply he trudged past his comrade and made his way back upstairs. Wrenching open the van door he climbed in and drove it outside before stopping to close the shutter. He had no idea where he would go or what he intended to do. All he knew was that he needed to get away for a bit. Needed time to think.

  If he did not find some way to take back some measure of control over his life he could very well have a new nightmare in the pipeline. Only this one was shaping up to be far more chilling. A cloud of dust rose up from the dirt track as he hit it at speed.

  Interview technique

  Monday morning had arrived and with it a few scattered clouds. The high temperatures of the weekend had dipped slightly and were perhaps the only thing Matt Taylor had to be thankful for. Everything that had happened since he last left the walls of Woodlake Academy, bar one notable exception, had been a disaster. After crawling out of bed on Saturday, he had been unable to find Anna to try and straighten things out. However, the events of Sunday had been worse.

  His team had played a lacklustre match and what he could only put down to as divine intervention, allowed him to somehow score a game-winning goal with the last strike of the puck. The coach had understandably been annoyed. Yet at the same time relieved that they had won and Matt suspected that his last-gasp goal had been all that had saved him from a personal dressing down. However, in short, that goal had been the notable exception, things had gone downhill still.

  After the game, he had met up with his friends, minus Dylan, who had been conspicuously absent. A problem in itself as his house keys still resided in the trunk of Dylan’s car. None of this compared to the situation with Natalie. Whatever had transpired on Friday night, he could still not remember. Unfortunately, it had led to Natalie now thinking that they were an item. An awkward round of sodas had followed the game, after which he had feigned a headache in order to escape and find Anna; unsuccessfully.

  With all that in mind, Matt did not feel enthralled upon seeing the sandstone walls of Woodlake. Everything had started off here and unless you believed in miracles, returning would not likely improve matters. The only saving grace being that the situation could not possibly get much worse. At the very least he would find Anna, Dylan and his keys. Even if the former would not let him within ten feet of her.

  Crossing the parking lot he searched for a black Mustang. Nothing. At this time in the morning that ought not to worry him, however, a strange foreboding washed over him. Only to be compounded as he got closer to the main entrance. A police car sat in a parking space next to the building. He wasn’t the only one to have noticed either. Almost every other student stopped to stare, even if just for a moment. Police cars showing up at the school were not the most common of things and the students of Woodlake loved to spread and embellish gossip. He would not be surprised if by the time homeroom ended there were over fifty different stories explaining its presence scuttling along the grapevine.

  Matt made his way inside the building and tried to put the sight of the car to the back of his mind. He would have enough to deal with that day without getting hung up on a guest appearance by the local law enforcement. When he arrived at homeroom, he went straight to the back and sat down away from the few members of his class that had already arrived. Luckily they paid him no mind, being far too engrossed in their conversations of which he could probably guess the topic.

  The minutes trickled by and slowly but surely the collective downtrodden Monday morning conglomeration that were his classmates arrived, including three of his friends. Kitty had been the first, said hello to him and asked him if he felt better. A simple hi followed by a yes had been enough to pacify her and so she had she sat down in silence.

  Mark had been next. Sitting down beside Kitty, whose face slowly started to burn, he made his pleasantries before maintaining the silence. Like Kitty Mark had a habit of not prying into other people’s business when he knew he was not wanted. Although unlike the girl, he had an unnatural habit of already knowing your business. Matt looked at the mousy-haired girl. Something had happened between the pair of them over the weekend. However, he had no intention of prying for they had both respected his own privacy.

  As the first bell rang Natalie stormed through the door and threw her herself down beside them. What had rattled her cage?

  “So my Mom drags me out the house so she could stop off at the pharmacy before dropping me off. Not caring that I hadn’t done my hair, eaten breakfast or even finished dressing!”

  Well, it could be worse Matt thought, she could have come in and tried to do the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. Maybe if Anna didn’t show today he should talk to Natalie first. He may have been spared her being in girlfriend mode for the time being but it would not last forever and if he continually gave her the cold shoulder, she would surely suspect something were amiss.

  The movement of a slender hand in front of his face caused him to realise he had zoned out. “Matt… Matt… Are you even listening to me?”

  “Hmm…” he replied unconvincingly. “What?”

  “Urgh… Why do I always feel like I’m talking to myself around here?” Natalie exclaimed in frustration.

  “Because your sob stories about your mother dropping you off late are insignificant next to the power of the Force.” The entire group turned to look at Mark who had spoken in a voice eerily reminiscent of Dylan.

  “Someone has to fill in for Dylan while he’s not here,” Mark then said as though his mimic should have been obvious. “If you’d rather I could do Anna?”

  Matt couldn’t help but laugh and apparent
ly neither could Kitty. Natalie, on the other hand, did not take too kindly to her ‘sob story’ being made fun of and gave them all a death glare. The laughter subsided and Matt glanced up at the clock. Anna and Dylan were not the only people missing this morning.

  “Where’s Mr Irons?” he asked the others blankly.

  “Missing… Presumed gone,” Mark replied, following through with his offer to do Anna.

  It was clearly one straw too many for Natalie as she seized a random textbook that had been carelessly discarded on the table and clobbered Mark in the arm; he didn’t even flinch.

  Before Matt could reissue his question it was answered by the person best suited to. “Sorry I am late students,” the teacher stated on hurrying into the room, looking harassed. “Now if we could get the register done quickly you can all go off to your first classes.”

  “Well, that answers that,” Natalie said stiffly. Her face had turned dark and foreboding. Why did he always have to choose the crazy ones?

  Contrary to his statement, Mr Irons’ read the register in his usual monotonous way. When he got to Dylan’s name, he simply ignored it and moved onto the next person. The feeling of foreboding from earlier resurfaced in Matt’s stomach only this time he was not able to suppress it. When the bell to signal the end of homeroom rang, Mr Iron’s dismissed the class.

  Passing in front of the teacher’s desk the teacher raised a hand to stop them. “Not you four. I’m afraid that I must ask all of you to go directly to the principal’s office.” Matt looked blankly at him. “Your teachers have been informed of your absence from their classes. So there is no need to worry. However, I am not at liberty to answer any of your questions so I suggest you all make your way downstairs immediately.”