Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  Sergio flexed his arm before he stood up. “What about the painkillers?” It was uncharacteristic for Jasper not to give him expensive drugs.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any to spare at the moment. My shipment this week has been delayed due to my assistant being out of town. Very inconvenient.”

  For a split second, the doctor’s eyes flickered towards the door. Though subtle something about his manner hinted at a lie. He knew the man kept his more interesting array of drugs under lock and key in the basement and for some reason, perhaps because he did not want Sergio to see down there, he was unwilling to open it up. He gave a shiver. In the end, if it saved him money, he didn’t care. Not only did he have his own brand of painkillers, but his last experience of the Doc’s drugs had not ended well.

  “Fine,” he grunted and headed for the door with slightly more haste than was necessary. Passing back through the waiting room he walked down the hall and out the heavy front door. Heading down the steps he almost fell to the sidewalk as the creaky one from earlier gave way beneath his heavy boot.

  “Bastard!” he yelled, wrenching his foot out of the hole it had made in the rotted woodwork; half the step came loose with it. Kicking a plank to the curb, he made his way to his car. The sooner he got away from this decaying Halloween hell-hole the better.

  Shifting the car into drive, his phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID; Tanya. Not a chance he thought, tossing the device onto the passenger seat and hitting the gas pedal. There was a party at Ronaldo’s tonight to celebrate some cunts birthday and he fully intended to get both hammered and laid, in that order. Medicinal of course, in lieu of painkillers. Business could wait until tomorrow; the doctor had told him he needed to rest after all.

  A lapse in reason

  The evening had lapsed into night and the twinkling stars had come out to thrill, illuminate or inspire whichever floated a person’s boat. For Ramone Gonzalez, they did none of the above. Though there were no street lamps along the overgrown track that led to the garage, the two halogen headlights of the van were doing a far better job of illuminating his path than the stars. Excitement had come earlier that day in the form of alcohol and winning money on a horse race; he was long overdue some luck in life. As for inspiration that had come in the form of a drunken Roca daring him to take the van off the track at full speed.

  Lacking inhibition and blissfully ignoring recent history he had cheerfully complied. Over bumps and through ditches they went. The thrill of driving at speed making him feel more alive than at any point in current memory. At some point, he was sure Roca had told him to slow down but he ignored him. Spying a raised mound amidst the grass his addled brain had been overcome with the desire to try a ski; a trick he had never quite mastered. Stopping the van he had reversed back to allow himself more of a run-up.

  “Whatcha doing Rae?” Roca had mumbled as Ramone forced the van to do a burnout before zooming towards the mound.

  Clipping the edge he thrust the wheel and his body towards the door and brought the van up onto two wheels. Roca had let out an amusing squeal and the van slid forwards. The euphoria of pulling off the stunt had lasted only moments, for the front wheel caught a bump in the grass and the van skidded. For a split second time stood still, the van teetering on the edge. In the end, Ramone suspected that it had only been because of Roca’s sheer weight in the passenger side that the van crashed back down on all fours.

  Ramone let out a long slow breath when the van eventually became motionless. Beside him, Roca had shoved his head out the window. That had been too close.

  He smiled to himself, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He couldn’t believe he had just managed to ski a fucking van and land it properly. The itch to go and find a larger mound and attempt a barrel roll quickly evaporated as he heard the stomach-churning noise of Roca vomiting his burger and fries.

  When he scanned the dark field for the direction of the garage he began to realise just how sober he felt. Who knew death-defying stunts could have that effect on a person? After straining his eyes he eventually caught sight of a shadowy mass. That must be it. Shoving the vehicle into first, he ignored Roca’s muffled protests and headed towards it.

  “You’re a right cunt with a fucking death wish you bastard,” the big man finally said as he pulled his head back inside.

  Ramone gave him a wicked smile. “At least I didn’t squeal like a girl and lose my dinner.”

  It served to silence the man for the journey back to the garage. It was after midnight and they had been out since early lunchtime. After each of them had spent a day cooped up underground without any form of entertainment they had agreed that the kids were locked up tight and that they could both go out for a few hours. The win on the horse race followed by a celebratory drink had quickly turned those same few hours into half the day, evening and night combined. It had been a mistake the rational part of his mind kept telling him. All he could do now was pray it had not been.

  Bringing the van to a halt it came as a surprise when his comrade climbed out to open the shutter. Such labour normally constituted far too much work for him. He must really be needing the air. Backing the van into the tight space he watched Roca’s head disappear down the stairs. Maybe the big man had been right the other day Ramone thought to himself. He cut the ignition and picked up the plastic bag containing the kid's dinner, perhaps karma did exist. Locking the van he proceeded to haul down the shutter and bolt it. Glancing around the nearby workbench he failed to find the padlock; the other man must have taken it with him.

  Descending the stairs Ramone could hear some interesting yet revolting bodily noises coming from the bathroom. “You ok in there, Ed?” he asked, a smile creeping across his lips again.

  The sound of the toilet flushing was the only response he got. A minute later Roca appeared looking slightly more dishevelled than normal and decidedly paler. “I fucking hate you,” he growled when Ramone failed to wipe the amused look from his face. “Let’s feed the kids then I’m going for a lie-down.”

  The man must be sick Ramone realised. Nevertheless, he followed him towards the cell room. That was the second instance of him voluntarily doing work within five minutes, let alone one day. When the heavy metal plated door swung open and crashed against the wall he could hear Roca grimace. His driving must really have done a number on his head. When they reached the bars a cold sensation crawled up Ramone’s spine, something felt wrong. The boy and the ginger-haired girl were on their feet but the red-haired one still lay motionless near the gate.

  “Please…” the boy said, though his words were barely audible. “…you’ve got to do something… our friend.” He pointed to the still red-haired girl. “She’s sick.”

  Ramone followed his direction and looked at her. It was not the first time they had arrived to feed them and she had been asleep. Could this be a ruse?

  Before he could reply Roca cut in in front of him. “Aww so fuck,” he bellowed. Apparently, he had found his voice again.

  When the boy spoke again Ramone could hear the concern in his voice. This was no trick. “Please. She hasn’t moved in over a day. We think she might be really ill.”

  He turned to look at his partner. “He might be right, Ed.” This could be problematic. Sergio had not briefed him on what to do if someone got sick.

  “Don’t see her spewing her guts out.”

  As Roca grumbled to him he could see the horrified look on the boy’s face. “Can’t you see that she’s ill!”

  “And if she dies…” the ginger-haired girl interjected before clamping a hand over her mouth.

  “Fine. You two…” Ramone began before Roca cut him off.

  “Aww fuck this shit. I’ll do all the fucking work. As per fucking usual.”

  Before he could do or say anything Roca unlocked the cell door and stepped inside. The second his thick hand grasped the red-haired girl's thin wrist Ramone saw her eyes snap open.

  Fight and flight


  As the cold rough flesh of the man’s thick hand took hold of her warm thin wrist, Anna’s eyes snapped open. Allowing herself to be pulled upright, she balled her free hand into a fist and held her breath. Slowly she twisted her body in his direction. It was now or never. For a split second, her cold green eyes locked onto the man’s dull grey ones and she gave him a thin smile. Using the momentum of her body shifting she brought her fist around. A momentary look of shock spread over his dull features before her punch connected with the right side of his face.

  The look obscured her view for only a heartbeat as his head flew sideways and careened into the sidewall of the cell. Instantly his grip on her wrist relinquished. Sidestepping his crumpling body Anna darted through the door. Outside the cell, the man in front of her yelled a curse. “SHIT!”

  Anna darted towards him. Helplessly she watched his hand reach for the gun hanging beneath his left shoulder. When his fingers wrapped around the handle a sickening reality hit her, she would not get to him before he drew the weapon. In desperation, she tried to force her heavy limbs to move faster. In normal circumstances, she could have made it. Eyes focused on her target the distance closed but the gun did not leave the holster. No time to question her dumb luck, Anna came down upon him.

  The failure of his holster to release his firearm had been enough to distract the man’s attention. When it finally came free Anna aimed a kick at his hand. “Argh,” he yelled, his arm twisting at an awkward angle. A loud bang echoed around the room, the gun had fired towards the roof. Ignoring it and the fact her assailant had retained possession of his weapon she rechambered her leg and sent a sidekick through his stomach. As he crumpled to the floor, she yelled out to the others.

  “RUN!”

  Adrenaline pumping through her system Anna did not pause for breath and sprinted towards the only exit from the room. She had to find a way outside… not much time left. Heart hammering she burst out into a short dark hallway. Not stopping to check if the others had listened to her. Stairs, stairs, she thought frantically, trying to match the cramped space with the one she had built up in her mind from Chloe’s vague descriptors. “Stairs!” she yelled on catching sight of the corner portion of three steps leading upwards. Skidding to a halt in front of the concrete steps Anna sucked in a breath and ordered her tired legs to take them two at a time. At the top, she could see directly in front of her the shutter she had correctly predicted from what she had been able to extract from Chloe.

  To her right sat the white van from Friday night. She had no time to check if their captors had left the keys inside. Struggling for air her lungs feeling ready to burst from exertion Anna raced over to the battered red shutter and quickly found the rusted bolt keeping it shut. Lunging forward she seized it in her shaking fingers and tried to slide it free. It would not budge.

  “No, No, NO!” she screamed as she pounded a fist against the corrugated door. She would not be undone by a hunk of rusted metal. From behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps reach the top of the stairs. Turning she prepared for an attack but instead breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the messy brown hair of Dylan.

  “Anna.”

  She ignored his yell, her eyes hurriedly sweeping the area. Her heart almost burst with a mixture of joy and relief upon discovering the workbench that sat crammed up against the wall next to the shutter. Practically throwing bits of junk to the floor she searched for something heavy. “Come on, come on,” she cursed just as her hands fell upon the handle of a large wrench. “Perfect.”

  She turned and struggled to raise the tool up. Dylan stood stupidly between her and the offending bolt. “Get out of the way,” she screamed widely. The boy trying futilely to remove the bolt with his own hands.

  “Argh,” Dylan yelled and threw himself away from her and her raised wrench. The whites of his eyes were visible and the look of sheer terror on his face made a small part of her question if it was fear at their predicament or how manic she must have looked. Summing up what little energy she had left Anna swung the rusted tool at the bolt.

  In one clean swipe, it shot out of its housing and sailed to the floor. Time seemed to speed up and any second she expected to hear a gunshot. Panting she grabbed one of the hand holes in the shutter. “HELP ME OPEN THIS!” Whether out of willingness or fear Dylan did as she commanded and took hold of the second-hand hole. “NOW!” Together they forced the shutter upwards; it screeched in protest and came up a few feet before it jammed.

  Cold air hit Anna in the face on glimpsing the outside world for the first time in days. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious she thought, gulping down a mouthful of fresh air…

  “ARGH…. HELP!” The sound of Chloe’s voice echoing up the stairwell shattered the moment.

  Turning she looked into Dylan’s fearful eyes. She breathed in and out again that sweet smell of freedom tantalisingly close. The adrenaline had started to ebb and her limbs had begun to shake.

  “Dylan, Go!” she said firmly. He looked back at her in shock as if he did not comprehend what she had said.

  “But what about…”

  Anne stepped forwards, staggered slightly and cut him off. “Dylan, you need to go! You need to go now. I can only give you about sixty seconds. “He looked at her in disbelief and she took in a haggard breath. Her skin felt hot enough to fry eggs on and she could feel the sweat cascading down her from head to toe. “I can’t run so I’ll stay here and buy you time. You’ve got to get out of sight and then hide ok? Hide so they can’t find you… get help.”

  He gave her a solemn nod and swallowed hard. He looked even more afraid, but determined also. “I’ll be back, I’ll get help. I promise.”

  Somewhere down below Chloe screamed causing both Anna to spin around and Dylan to duck under the shutter and run.

  Anna forced a small smile and gave the shutter a swift kick. It screeched and thundered down to the floor. “Good luck, Dylan.”

  This was the right thing to do she told herself. She had known beforehand that she did not possess the energy to fight both men into submission. Perhaps had her kick been enough to loose the second man’s gun…

  “Hold it right there, Bitch!” She turned to see the bruised face of the one called Rae reach the top of the stairwell.

  In one hand he held his gun; pointed directly towards her. While the other wrapped around Chloe’s torso.

  “Anna… I’m sorry,” the girl wailed, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry he caught my ankle I fell… I.”

  She tried to give her a reassuring look. “It’s ok, Chloe.”

  “Shut it, Bitch!” the man roared as he tightened his grip on his captive, causing her to squeal. “One more word and I swear to fucking god!”

  Anna glared at him “Leave her out of this!”

  “You’re lucky I don’t fucking shoot you where you stand!” The man’s face twisted around his words and for the first time, Anna could tell it was no bluff. Never taking his eyes off her he yelled down the stairwell. “Roca! Get your fat ass up here. NOW!”

  Anna just stared at him, all her energy focused on keeping herself upright. From down below the sound of the other man’s heavy feet could be heard thudding on the stairs like a sledgehammer hitting a pile of rocks. Now she knew why the other man called him Roca.

  “You got them?” the big man replied, his buzz-cut skull slowly appearing above ground.

  Only on hearing Roca’s words, did a look of worry began to spread across Rae’s face. “Where’s the boy?” his eyes scanned the room a look of desperation crossing his features.

  Anna smiled to herself as it became apparent that the man had completely forgotten about Dylan. Such had been his fixation upon her. Aiming for an airy mock but getting more of a grunt she replied, “what boy?”

  “Roca. See if he’s still in here… Quickly.”

  When the other man exited the stairwell, she could see a large bruise beginning to form on his right cheek. He and his comrade made a matching pair now Anna thou
ght in amusement. After a quick search, Roca declared, “he’s not here.”

  The worry on Rae’s face slowly began to turn to panic though his tone did not betray him. He threw Chloe roughly to the side making her crumple to the floor. “Take a quick look outside. If he’s nowhere in sight we’ll lock these bitch’s up and then go out in the van and get him.”

  The big man cursed under his breath and strode around the other side of the van though Rae gave no indication that he had heard. Moving to brush past her towards the shutter Anna stuck out a foot and swept his shin.

  The man let out a roar, lost his balance and fell forward. She felt a short-lived thrill of triumph before the weight atop her trailing leg proved to be too much for Anna to bear. Her grounded foot gave way and they both fell into a tangle on the floor. The sound of the gun going off echoed overhead and the back of her skull thudded on the concrete floor with a sickening crack. Stars sprung up in front of her eyes and she gasped for air.

  The last thing she remembered was the sound of footfalls crunching on the debris on the floor before the one called Rae’s face came into view followed by the barrel of the gun pointed towards her head. She balled her fist but regretted it instantly as the gun-wielding captor stood on her knuckles causing her to gasp and the fist to come loose.

  She felt what energy her dash for freedom had given her finally ebb and a wave of exhaustion wash over her pulling her down into the dark depths of unconsciousness.

  Life Lessons

  After sunset, a cold wind crept from Lake Michigan and made its way silently through the darkened streets of East Garfield Park; like an assassin stalking their victim. Dull wisps of cloud slowly began to form into larger masses, partially obscuring the star-spangled sky. Alongside one particular curb, a public bus pulled into a stop. It’s flashing indicators and headlights providing more light than the recently vandalised collection of street lamps.

  The vehicle hissed when the driver levelled the suspension and opened the doors. Two of the remaining four passengers, a brown haired teen and a dishevelled middle-aged man, stepped out onto the sidewalk. The second they were clear, possibly because he was fearful that his windows would meet the same fate as those of a nearby shop, the driver set off without delay.