Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  Anna tried to put on her most reassuring smile as the girl met her gaze. “O…O…Okay.”

  “I know it’s going to be hard for you to remember but the more you can tell me the better our chances of escaping.”

  “Oh come on, Anna. How can you expect her to accurately recall anything about what’s just happened to her?” Another glare silenced Dylan.

  “Do you remember anything about when they brought you into this place?”

  Chloe’s blotchy face told Anna that the girl had recently been crying and she had a suspicion that she struggled not to start again. “I…I…I…was…b…b...brought h…h...here in the b…b…boot of a c…c…car.”

  “Ok, Chloe, that’s a good start,” Anna said reassuringly. “Do you remember being taken out of the car?”

  “The…The…There were people talking. Ab…bout m…m...me.”

  Anna reached out and took hold of the girls trembling hands. “I know it’s hard but you’re doing well. Tell me about how you were brought inside.”

  “O…one of them carried me on their shoulder.”

  Anna nodded encouragingly. “Did you happen to go down some stairs?”

  “Seriously, Anna?” Dylan exclaimed, glaring at her. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” she snapped back. “If I’m right we’re in a basement and if I can confirm that it’ll be critical to our escape.”

  “I…I…I think s…s…so. It was bumpy.”

  Yes! Anna thought. Internally she did a fist pump. Her instincts were good. Now if only she could get some indication of how close they were to this room. “Did it take them long to bring you from there to here?”

  Dylan gave her another dirty look but she ignored him.

  “The…the…they…d…d…didn’t b…b…b…bring me h…h…h…here.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears and she began to hyperventilate.

  What? Anna thought as she looked at the girl. She almost punched herself, of course. It made no sense for them to have undressed her before transport. They must have done something to her before putting her in with them. She shuddered, thoughts filling her head of what that ‘something’ might have been. She spoke softly “Where did they take you?”

  “A…A small r…r…room. It wasn’t …f…far.”

  “When did they bring you in here?”

  Chloe’s face turned red and tears began to tumble from her terrified eyes. Recoiling slightly she stared at Anna unseeingly and sobbed. Anna sighed sympathetically; it looked like she was right about something having happened to her. She made soothing sounds and put an arm around the girl's shoulder.

  “Anna, that’s enough!” Dylan declared. He sounded angry.

  Chloe buried her head into her chest and Anna looked up at Dylan. “I know,” she said sombrely, then promptly ignored him. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. All I need to know is are we close to the stairs.”

  Dylan’s mouth hung open, a look of disgust spreading across his face. She had gone too far but he had a hard neck to judge, especially given how he manipulated people to his own ends. As Anna ran a soothing hand over Chloe’s hair the girl nodded her head. “Thank you, Chloe.”

  Anna smiled internally. If the girl was correct then the route between where they were and the exit would be short. A small laugh escaped her lips that went unnoticed by the others. She held the poor girl close as she wept and considered things again. In one move by placing Chloe with them, evidently to save themselves effort, their captors had unwittingly given her all the information she needed to orchestrate an escape attempt. All she needed now was the right circumstances in which to strike.

  Heaven and Hell

  The night air felt crisp and hung eerily still. One could even say foreboding. In stories when nights like this were written it normally signalled something would change irrevocably. Perhaps an indication that Matt Taylor was about to make a grave error in judgement.

  When he rounded the corner and entered Anna’s street an inexplicable cold breeze caught him in the face. Along the gutter, impossible autumn leaves blew, as they always seemed to do here, regardless of the time of year. He looked around at the grey buildings that seemed to leak drab neglect into both the ground and sky above it. Daylight, Moonlight, this street seemed to be the same regardless of the day or time. Depressing.

  It had taken him up until about nine thirty to make his decision. Unfortunately, it was only then that he realised he lacked a bottle of bourbon and had no lawful way of obtaining one. Frantically he had snuck down into the basement and rooted around in an old wine rack. Ironically, in contained no wine. His parents, being fans of that particular vintage, kept it upstairs in the kitchen. Down below were all the spirits that were broken out when company necessitated them. It had been a stroke of luck that he had found a single unopened bottle of bourbon. His dad had been given it as a gift for his fortieth birthday several years ago and judging by the amount of dust on it, had failed to find someone to foist it onto since. His backup plan, a call to Mark, had fortunately been unnecessary.

  An hour later, everyone else in the house had retired to his or her rooms. Not daring to risk the conventional exits, he had climbed down the trellises beside his window. Not the most socially acceptable action he had realised. Janine really had been a bad influence on him growing up. Short of time, he pushed the thought away to deal with later and caught the first bus he could that headed to South Chicago. It had been a narrow escape but he had made it to Anna’s apartment building with five minutes to spare.

  At the top of the stairs, bottle of bourbon in hand Matt motioned to knock on the hobo’s door. He paused. Was this the right thing to do? Or more appropriately, was this the sensible thing to do? He had been questioning his decision at every point that had led him back here for the third time today. Now he had reached the point of no return. He could walk away, go home and hope Anna either showed up before the weekend or that the police would find her. Alternatively, he could continue down his present course and… He’d reached a crossroad and one that age and emotional investment in Anna made difficult. On one hand, he wanted to have grownups deal with it all. On the other, he was nearly a man and after everything Anna had done for him, he owed it to her to keep her safe and save her from danger. She might not want to talk to him once he found her but at least then, they would both know he had tried. He knocked on the door.

  When there was no answer, Matt did not hesitate to push his way in and to the living room where he found the man sitting on one of the chairs with his back to the door. When a floorboard squeaked underfoot, the man did not bother to turn round.

  “Kept me waiting huh, Kid,” he grunted

  “It’s only eleven twenty-nine,” Matt said firmly, double checking his watch. “And my name’s Matt.”

  “Suppose it is. Though, I’ll probably still call you Kid. It’s practically a law I call you summin that irritates you. I could go for Matty if you prefer?”

  Matt clenched his free hand into a fist. Did this guy think he was in a movie or something? “I’ve got your bourbon,” he finally spat through his teeth.

  “Now we’re getting to the good part,” the man said and stood up. “Though if you keep clenching your fist every time I say or do something to piss you off you’d be better off leaving it like that.”

  Matt looked down at his hand and then back at the man, who hadn’t even turned around to look at him yet. Relaxing his arm muscles, he resisted the urge to ask how the man he had known.

  “And before you say anything it’s practically another law that the old drunkard says and does things that the hero finds inexplicable and counterproductive.” The man had an almost maniacal grin on his face when he turned around. “O’ course yet another law states that when the hero saves the fair maiden the old drunkard, who was instrumental in the rescue attempt, doesn’t even get a look in. So I guess there’s a few laws that both of us would like to change. Now let’s have a look at that bottle.�
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  If Matt had not thought the man crazy before he most certainly did now. Did he actually believe in the rubbish he spouted? Or was all this just another one of his acts? If it were the former then Matt may have made a serious error in judgement. The latter...

  “Well, that’s not a bad little bottle you’ve brought me.” Matt looked at his hand and realised that he had lost possession of the bourbon. How the hell had the man done that? “And I was only expecting a cheap bottle of rats piss… or cats piss at the very most. But this… this is a thing of beauty. You’ve certainly earned yourself gold service with this, Matty boy.”

  Matt had to resist the urge to clench his fists again and quickly realised that it would probably not be the last time. This was going to be a long night and they had not even gone anywhere yet.

  “Now let’s get you somewhere safe.” Matt gave the hobo a quizzical look. What on earth was he on about now? The answer became apparent when the bottle quickly vanished inside the man’s dishevelled coat. “Right, Matty boy. We’ve got places to be.” The grin the man gave him made his skin crawl. People had stopped calling him ‘Matty’ by first grade. This was not going to be just a long night. This would be a very long night. He made up his mind right then to tell the man straight that they were not playing some sort of screwed up game…

  “You coming, Matty boy?” The gruff tone of the hobo interrupted his thoughts. Matt turned his head to find that the man had left the room during his internal monologue. Cursing under his breath, he followed the man’s voice out of the living room and down the hall. Make that a very, very long night he thought and stepped out the front door. The man had already made his way downstairs. Was he not going to bother to lock his door? When he finally caught up to him on the sidewalk, he raised that very point.

  “Aren’t you going to lock your door?”

  “The thing about living amongst thieves, burglars and general miscreants is that you typically don’t have anything worth their while to half-inch,” came the slightly amused reply.

  Matt did not bother to question the man’s logic. At least in his case, it was probably true. In fact, he could probably have left the door open and hung up a neon sign saying ‘rob me’ and would still have had no takers. Instead, he asked a more pressing question. “Where are we going?”

  The hobo said nothing until they reached the end of the street. “Strip club.”

  Matt stopped dead in his tracks. “What! Why the hell are we going to a strip club?”

  The man started to cross the road. “Cos the ladies wear very little for starters.”

  Matt stopped again on realising they were not at a crosswalk. Apparently jaywalking was also on the agenda that evening. He glanced around, made sure there were no cars or law enforcement around, then crossed. He would wager that this would be just the first of many laws he would be about to break.

  As he caught up with the hobo, he discovered the second part of the man’s reasoning. “Then there’s the fact that such ladies are quite tolerant of a man’s lifestyle choices. And I suppose there’s the off chance that the guy you’re looking for might show up because he likes to look at pretty ladies who wear very little.”

  “Off chance!” he practically yelled at him. “We’re going to a strip club on the OFF chance this man shows up!”

  “Pretty much.” The man’s gruff tone gave Matt the impression that this was more about seeing scantily clad women than finding someone who could identify the number plate. “Now settle down back there, Matty boy, you’re disturbing the tranquillity.”

  “Settle down!” Matt yelled, He stepped in front of the man and looked him straight in the face. “You said if I came back before eleven thirty with a bottle of booze you would take me to someone who could identify the plate number you saw.” When the man simply brushed passed him like he was a sheet of paper he lost his temper. “Fine, what’s the point! Keep the bottle and see your naked women! I’ll find Anna myself.”

  He turned to walk away only for the man’s grizzled voice to call out after him. “Trust me, Matty boy, if you’re at the point where you’re following some old drunkard to a strip club then you’re out of options. That sister of yours looked mightily pissed off when she left and I doubt that anyone at school listened to you because of the reputation your damsel has no doubt gotten for herself. Lives on the wrong side of the tracks, skips school to go to work, has a temper on her that epitomises the phrase ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’, that sorta thing.” He paused to draw breath. “Now, if you’re coming follow me and settle down. If not then make your own way home.”

  Matt stared wide-eyed at the old man’s back. He hated to admit it, but he was right. He had no idea how to go about finding Anna, now that he had burnt his bridges with Janine. Hell, he had not even bothered to ask what the plate number had been. He had nothing. Gritting his teeth he broke into a jog and caught up with the hobo round a corner. The man gave no acknowledgement that he had returned.

  For the next hour, the pair walked in silence. They had long since left any part of the city Matt knew behind. Where they were now he did not know but the number of women whom he would have pegged as the drunkards ideal sort of company seemed to increase the further they walked and the amount of clothes they wore seemed to decrease. Boarded up shops and graffiti were rife and they had passed several groups of people who looked like they belonged to various street gangs.

  Matt shivered and unconsciously clenched his jacket closer to him. So focused on his surroundings, he almost walked into the man who had stopped dead in the middle of a cracked sidewalk. Brownish water bubbled up from the crack but he did not seem to notice.

  “This is the place,” he grunted and pointed to a single story building that stood apart from the others on the street. A large pink neon pole dancer flickered from pose to pose on the roof. Judging by its size it was larger than the one across from Anna’s apartment.

  “Now, keep your cool in here, Matty boy. I’ve been barred from far too many of these places for my own liking. So I don’t want you screwing this one up for me. You got that?” Matt nodded, his eyes lingering on a row of motorcycles parked outside the establishment. “Oh and if you piss someone off too much they are liable to stab you. So watch your mouth and don’t talk to no one unless I say so.”

  Truth be told he had figured that part out just by walking through the neighbourhood. He may have disliked it, however, he knew that keeping quiet and letting the man do the talking would probably be the most advisable course. Though given what he had seen of the hobo’s charm, that option would probably prove to be little better. That still did not stop him voicing his feelings. “Let me guess. I should let you do the talking.”

  “You’re learning fast, Matty boy. Keep this up and I might let you drive when you’re older.”

  They passed the parked bikes gingerly and headed to the door. “So what’s the likelihood of this man showing up tonight?” Matt asked avoiding the last comment.

  “More chance than there is of him being willing to help us.”

  Matt groaned internally but kept his mouth shut this time. He could have put money on not liking the man’s response to the question. When they reached the door a thought occurred to him and he almost kicked himself for not asking the man this before. “Do you have a name?”

  “Probably. Everybody’s got a name, Matty boy,” the drunkard replied, holding the door open with one hand. He screwed up an eye as he seemingly tried to recall something. “Can’t quite remember what it is in this place. Guess we’ll soon find out.”

  Matt blinked at him nonplussed. What sort of answer was that? He then turned his attention to the inside of the club that proclaimed itself to be called ‘Heaven and Hell’, truth be told it held a strange fascination that in other circumstances he may have given into. He felt pretty sure that not even Mark or Dylan had ever been inside a strip club. The anticipation quickly vanished when he looked about. Empty, the best way of describing it. Empty and dingy. Ye
t also surprisingly smaller than he had imagined from the outside.

  The air hung thick and seemed to cover the room in an unmoving haze. With its thudding music and strobe lighting, smells of tobacco, alcohol and a sweet scent, that strangely reminded Matt of Natalie, the club was more of an assault on the senses than the images his imagination and videos online or at Dylan’s had led him to believe it would be.

  Along the right-hand wall, he could see a long bar behind which stood a muscular bartender in a vest top with tattoos down his arms. Behind him sat the expected array of different bottles that contained liquids ranging from crystal clear to poison green to tar black. His eyes scanned the room again and he could see that his first impression had been wrong; the club was in fact not empty. Around tables, he could make out the dark shadowy shapes of patrons. While through the haze, scantily clad women walked. The strobe lights seemingly serving as markers so they could avoid both each other and the furniture.

  Opposite the bar, a curtain covered stage jutted out into the room. It narrowed the further it stretched outwards. Near its end, a silver pole extended up to the ceiling; currently unoccupied.

  As the hobo shepherded him over to an unoccupied table directly opposite the door Matt caught a glimpse of a further four poles that rested on their own individual mini-stages, two on either side of the main stage. Only one of them currently in use. Reaching the other side a girl carrying an empty drinks tray, with ridiculously long eyelashes crossed in front of them, and fluttered them at Matt.

  “If you’re gonna lose your concentration every time one of those honey’s flashes her lashes at you, Matty boy, you’re not gonna get very far tonight,” the man said causing Matt to realise his eyes had followed the girl and were firmly planted on her backside. “Least not in the way you’re hoping too.”

  Tearing his eyes away from another waitress’s butt Matt took the hobo’s invitation to sit. “I thought it would be livelier.”