Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  In front of her, the doors opened and a blinding light consumed her.

  Resultant force

  The first spots of sunlight had just started to show on the dusty floor when Sergio Gutierrez eventually returned to his office. In a mad rage, he slammed the door closed, causing the loose wood panel in its lower section to rattle violently. The floorboards creaked in protest beneath his thundering feet. Reaching the desk he threw his weight down into the world-weary chair. Idiots, he cursed internally as he slammed his fists down on the solid desk surface, Fools!

  Not only had two complete strangers managed to break into his headquarters unnoticed, they had managed to make it all the way up to his office and gods knows where else, virtually undetected. Only one person had seen them properly, Freddy. However, the dumb fuck had ended up in a pool of his own blood with his brains splattered across the wall for good measure. Worse yet no one had managed to get the full story from him. After barrelling back into Ronaldo’s Freddy had yelled above the music, a not unimpressive feat, about there being intruders heading for his (Sergio’s) office.

  The bloodied and broken nature of his face quickly ended any suggestion that it was a joke. Sergio had hastily sent men downstairs to bolster the exits while he led the majority to the fourth floor. By the time they got to his office, the intruders had fled. One of the others, Sammy or something, had caught a glimpse of them darting into the elevator, supposedly landing a shot on one of them. That’s where it got weird, for according to him the intruders had been an old man and a teenage boy.

  Sergio slammed a thick fist down on the desk surface again. His men were currently searching the premises to discover if anything had been stolen or what they might have been looking for. So far they had found neither. In all honesty, he did not expect the former. There was very little stored in the building worth stealing.

  It may have been intuition or perhaps simply paranoia, but he had a suspicion that they had been looking for the brat they had picked up last week. Tanya had already encountered another interested party in the form of the ‘Suits’ that had shown up on Friday night, though he doubted this intrusion had been their handiwork. Still a teenager and an old man? That must surely be the weirdest combination he had ever heard of. An old bounty hunter teaching his son the trade? It wouldn’t be the first time he had heard of such. Everyone had to start somewhere…

  It hardly mattered either way. The brat had not even been there so it had been a wasted effort on their part. Though it would explain why they had gone looking for his office. If they had snooped around downstairs and found nothing they must have reasoned that his office would be the best place to look for information. Yes, that would make sense he thought smugly, a contorted smile spreading across his lips. Outside of himself, only Tanya, Ramone and Roca knew where the kid was and nothing in this office, or anywhere for that matter, would tell someone where to look or who to ask.

  The pieces slotting into place, Sergio let out a sigh of relief. If he were wrong and it had been a simple case of robbery then so be it. He would, of course, have to tighten security and reprimand those who were on guard duty that night. So long as they were careful not to let word of this incident get out he could have Tanya root around for the identity of the perpetrators and then string them up above his door by their entrails.

  Still, he would be taking no chances. If someone had gotten wind of who had snatched the kid he was going to ensure Ramone knew to be on the lookout for trouble. Picking up the phone he punched in the number. He drummed his fingers on the desk while it rang… no reply. Haphazardly he tossed the phone down onto the surface. It was still early and Ramone likely still asleep. For a moment he pondered sending someone out to tell him but thought better of it. No need to waste resources when he could simply call back at a more sociable hour.

  Sighing he lowered a hand and opened the bottom desk drawer. The night’s events had worked wonders in sobering him up and left him in need of a stiff drink before attempting to get some sleep. Rifling through the bottles his hand stopped dead in its tracks, his eyes falling on the empty space at the back of the drawer.

  “BASTARDS!” he roared at the top of his voice. In one swift movement, he got to his feet.

  In a blind fit of pure rage, Sergio grabbed the edge of the heavy mahogany desk and thrust it upwards with all his might. As it tipped over in mid-air his phone, whose position on its surface had suffered many previous scares, got caught underneath it. The resultant crash reverberated around the empty room and the handset found itself crushed beneath the hunk of chiselled wood.

  The mark of friendship

  Moonlight crept into the room, the thin black curtains fluttered in the night breeze. A knife blade glistened, a splinter of light catching its cold steel surface. As the wielder increased the pressure on the hilt, a drop of blood trickled down the edge. The victim yelped in pain but remained helpless to stop his attacker; the blade sliced an elegant line across his cheek.

  Blood splattered across Matt’s face as he tore open the fat man’s soft flesh in one swift swipe. The smell of rust engulfed his senses and the surroundings spiralled into an incomprehensible blur. His head spinning he struggled to regain control. In a flash, he found himself inside a metal box, a flickering light buzzing with each pulse. The doors of the elevator opened up to reveal a thick man with short black hair and a broken face.

  Without pausing to consider how easily the knife had morphed into a gun, Matt squeezed the trigger. The deafening shot resonated around the metal enclosure and he stepped out. Crimson pooled at his feet and he could feel it seep through the porous fabric of his trainers. In abject horror, he tried to step backwards out of the puddle but found that his feet were entrenched in the stuff.

  “No!” Matt screamed as the still warm coagulated plasma began to run up his legs. “No!”

  He tried to fight it. Struggled to free himself from his victims hold. All to no avail. He had become completely drenched in the blood. His vision began to fog. He screamed once more, though it came out more like a muted gurgle for the thick gooey liquid penetrated his mouth and forced its way down his throat…

  Matt sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Panting his gaze darted around the rough uncovered stone walls that surrounded him. It took him a moment to remember where exactly he had ended up. After he and Walker had escaped East Garfield Park, it had become apparent that he would not make it home undetected. His comrade too had made this deduction and reasoned that when someone discovered that he was missing, the old drunkard’s house would be the first place his sister would decide to check; given the current state of affairs. In that regard, Walker had steered them to an abandoned factory where he had spent many an intoxicated night over the past year, or so Matt had been told.

  Carefully, Matt unwound the bandage around his left arm. The sun rays from the broken skylight providing ample illumination to examine the wound. The spot where the bullet had scuffed along his skin still looked wet and juicy. Walker had cleaned and dressed it last night and the pain had dissipated for the most part. His jacket and t-shirt were ruined but without any alternative, they would have to do. Re-covering his arm, he counted his blessings that the man had pulled him out of the way in time. Otherwise, it would probably have been his head.

  Standing up Matt eased the aches and pains out of his muscles; sleeping rough definitely did not suit him. Turning on his phone for a moment to glance only at the time he crossed the cavernous factory floor to find Walker lying in a position that should only have been possible in a cartoon. How the man could possibly sleep like that, he did not know. After the events of last night, he felt uneasy in the man’s company. It had been less than twelve hours since he had watched him kill without hesitation or remorse. The memory evidently still fresh in his mind. Perhaps it would be best not to know his motivations. He would work with him until they had found Anna and she was safe. After that, he’d make a point of ensuring their paths never crossed again.

  “Walker,” h
e hissed in the man’s ear though he did not know why he had whispered; the place was deserted. The man did not move nor give any indication that he had heard him. Giving him a shake Matt tried again, slightly louder this time, “Walker.”

  Grunting the man twisted around onto his back, but still gave no response. For goodness sake Matt thought, you are worse than Janine. “Walker!” he practically bellowed.

  As the words echoed around the building, the man sat bolt upright and his eyes snapped open. “The hell is it, Matty,” Walker said, his head darting from side to side. When he ascertained no danger was imminent he flopped back down onto his rolled up jacket.

  “It’s two in the afternoon. We should get going,” Matt replied firmly.

  “Well, in that case, I suppose you’d better go and find us some transportation,” Matt looked at him blankly. “As for me, I’ll be going back to sleep till you do. I somehow doubt this Kedron Valley place is reachable by public transport. Even so, I’m not relying on the bloody bus service for another getaway. Especially if we’re going to be carrying some hot merchandise.”

  Only when Walker spelt it out did Matt realise they had a problem in that regard. All they knew about Kedron Valley was that it lay somewhere in the middle of nowhere north of Annawan. Hell, it hadn’t even been marked on the map and now that Walker mentioned it, there would not likely be any regular form of public transport headed there, if any at all. This certainly threw a spanner in the works. Going home to borrow a car was out of the question. The moment he stepped through the door he would never be allowed to leave again. In such a situation, Dylan would have been his next port of call. However, since he might be caught up in all of this and his car god knows where that option was also off the table.

  Matt sighed. Only one other person he knew of had a vehicle and might consent to let him borrow it, Mark. The pair had done their basic motorcycle training together so he knew how to ride. However, would Mark be willing to lend him his pride and joy? With no other options, it was worth a gamble he thought, heading for the door. By now, news of his AWOL status would probably have reached the ears of his closest friends; at least those who remained at school. Yet aside from Anna, Mark was the one most likely to turn a blind eye to having seen him.

  ##

  The journey across town from the old factory to where Mark lived took less time than Matt had predicted. So much so that he had time to stop for a double cheeseburger, fries and a Pepsi. By the time he had finished his meal school had been out for over half an hour, more than enough time for Mark to have ridden home. Turning the corner into his friend’s street he found himself cautiously creeping along the sidewalk. Peering around the corner of a tall hedge that separated Mark’s house from the neighbours, he could see the garage door sat open. He had barely set foot on the driveway when the stoic voice of his friend called out from inside the garage.

  “She’s not here and nor does she know.”

  Matt almost jumped backwards and into the path of an oncoming car. By she, Mark was referring to his aunt with whom he lived. His friend's near-psychic powers consistently caught him off guard and were always terrifying.

  Having anticipated the question Mark replied. “I saw you stuffing your face while I waited for the lights to change,” the dark haired teen stood up from beside his bike and grinned. “So Anna and Dylan go missing and then you. I was beginning to wonder if I would be next.”

  “That’s not funny, Mark,” Matt said hotly but failed to stifle the laughter his friend's sense of humour always managed to draw out.

  “So what’s your story?”

  Matt had been prepared for this little inevitability. Unfortunately, Mark had the uncanny ability to tell when he was lying so he had been forced to come up with an altered version of the truth. “I know where Anna has disappeared to,” he said firmly. A solid part of the truth would be the best thing to start with he had reasoned.

  Mark tilted his head slightly and Matt could tell the remark had just been run through his lie detector. “Seriously?” A hint of doubt laced his friend's tone and Matt thought he could detect a dash of concern.

  Matt locked gazes with the other boy. “Yes.”

  “So where is she?”

  “Out of town,” Matt ventured slowly. “I’m not sure she wants to be found.” The first lie; he could only hope it passed the test.

  “But you’re going to try anyway,” Mark correctly deduced.

  “I at least need to talk to her,” Matt replied, trying to sound convincing. Nothing he had said was entirely untruthful but he needed Mark to buy every word of it. “We ended on such a bad note I kind of owe it to her to explain what happened.”

  “Isn’t that like poking a dragon with a stick?” Mark laughed at his own joke. “You never did tell me what happened on Friday. The grapevine has been all talk about Dylan. However, I heard a rumour that Anna gate-crashed Raymond’s party. Scared some Jock’s shitless if the story is accurate.”

  Matt sighed. He did not have time for this though could not afford to refuse. “It turns out that Dylan messed with my phone and had Natalie send me some texts pretending to be Anna.”

  The look on Mark’s face suggested that a light bulb had just turned on inside his head. “So that explains Nat’s foul mood this morning. Still, that’s a nasty thing to do to someone who’s supposed to be your friend. I guess Dylan never did forgive Anna for breaking his nose all those years ago.”

  “I guess not.”

  “And poor Nat must have felt doubly scorned after Anna made that comment about old Rick Hunter.”

  Matt was unable to stop the look of shock spreading across his face. What did Mark know about Natalie and Rick?

  “Seriously, Matt?” Mark snorted in amusement as Matt found himself lost for words. “You don’t think you’re the only one who knows about Nat and that son of a bitch.” When he continued to look dumbfounded, Mark continued. “Rick used to come into Ozzy’s for his guitar stuff. He also liked to brag loudly about the girls he had done, was doing, or planned to do. I knew he and Nat were dating, and that Anna had joined his band long before you ever did. Then one day he came in going on about how he had taken his girlfriend’s cherry but intended to ditch her for being boring in bed and instead go after the new girl who had joined his band.”

  Matt’s jaw hit the floor as Mark casually divulged one of their friend’s darkest secrets. And Dylan thought he knew everything.

  “When Anna tried to use it against her, Nat must have thought she had stolen both you and Rick away from her. Talk about having something backfire horribly on you.”

  Matt had to take a deep breath before he could say anything. What had happened between Natalie and Rick was not news to him. However, Mark’s conjecture about the aftermath of her fight with Anna did bring about some feelings of sympathy for the girl. It must have been horrible for her to think, rightly or wrongly, that Anna had stolen two boyfriends from her. No wonder she had gone along with Dylan’s scheme. Yet it did not absolve her.

  “Anyway, I got drunk on Friday night and wound up kissing Natalie right in front of Anna,” Matt finished.

  Mark recoiled slightly and winced. “Ouch. I’m surprised she didn’t rip the pair of you to shreds.”

  “That’s why I need to talk to her.”

  “So you’ve come to borrow my bike.” Even after many years Matt still found it unnerving how Mark could know exactly where a conversation was going long before it would normally have got there.

  “Yes.”

  For a moment Mark looked him straight in the eyes and it took a lot of effort for Matt to hold his nerve but somehow he managed to see the stare through. “Fair enough. She’s all yours.”

  Matt had to restrain himself from bursting with gratitude. That had been far easier than he could ever have anticipated. Although after years of the other boy's company he knew he should have been prepared for anything. Mark if nothing else, was completely unpredictable.

  “Should I fit my aunt’s old
sidecar?” Mark then asked, catching Matt slightly off guard.

  “Why would I need that?” Only when he spoke did Matt realise that it would have been better just to agree. If all went to plan there would be himself, Anna and Walker. He hadn’t factored that into consideration when going through his list of options. Lord only knew what he would do if Dylan had been caught in the same trap too.

  “You’re intending to bring her back so you should be prepared for carrying her guitars,” Mark replied as went to the back of the garage and tore a dust sheet of an old black sidecar.

  “Her guitars?”

  “Anna won’t have skipped town without them.”

  The conversation between the pair died quickly after that while Mark expertly bolted the sidecar to the right-hand side of the bike. When he had finished, he handed Matt his biker jacket and helmet; both emblazoned with a blue dragon motif. For a moment Matt was sure his friend's eyes lingered on the bloodied rip in the sleeve of his t-shirt, but no comment came.

  “The spare helmet’s under the seat,” Mark then said, holding out the keys. “The rigs well balanced but you’ll need to pay attention to the road camber to make sure it stays on line. And remember to be careful when turning right as the weight distribution can cause you to tip over if you’re going too fast.

  “I owe you one… big time,” Matt replied. He pulled on Marks jacket and gloves then took the keys.

  “Just bring her back to me in one piece, ok.”

  Matt straddled the bike, looked up at his friend, and inserted the key into the ignition. Pulling in the clutch he sparked the engine into life. “I promise.”

  Slowly he guided the bike out of the garage and down the driveway to the edge of the road.

  “Oh and, Matt,” Mark called out, just before he turned into the empty street. “If you also happen to find Dylan don’t bother wasting the spare helmet on him. His heads not worth protecting.”

  Matt didn’t respond. He hit the road and sped off down the street. Turning a corner part of him had a strong suspicion that Mark had deduced far more than he had wanted him to.