Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  The G-string dug into her crotch, why anyone in their right mind would wear one of these things she could not fathom. “Happy?” she spat at Rae.

  “And the rest of it.” For the briefest of moments, he pointed the gun towards the suspender belt and stockings, before ramming it back against Chloe’s head.

  Sighing Anna worked the thin nylons up her unshaven legs; one of them had a ladder down the back. Fastening the suspender belt behind her waist, she struggled to attach it to the tops of the stockings. How the hell did these things work? When eventually she finished she stood with her hands on her hips and scowled at Rae. “Satisfied?”

  “Hands behind your back, Bitch.” Without taking his eyes off her, he flicked his gun in her direction. “Bind her hands, Roca.”

  The big man grumbled and Anna fixed Rae with a look of hatred. Reluctantly she placed her hands behind her back.

  “Turn around,” Roca commanded. She did so. “The fuck’s this?” He then exclaimed as Anna felt him seize her left wrist and undo her sky blue bandana.

  “GIVE THAT BACK!” she yelled without thinking, struggling to stop herself from spinning around and attacking the man.

  “Shut it!” Rae barked.

  “Take it easy, Rae. If she wants it back so badly she can have it.”

  Before Anna could figure out what the big man meant, he had seized a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Next second her mouth was forced open and the bandana shoved inside. Momentarily stunned she coughed into it and felt a piece of rope pressed up against it and tied tightly behind her head. It chaffed the skin on her cheeks. The big man let out a cruel laugh.

  “Nothing to say now eh, Bitch?” he mocked as he began wrapping her wrists in the rope.

  Anna could almost feel the circulation to her hands lessen with each coil he wound around her wrists. After he had finished she tested the rope with her hands and discovered that the knots were beyond the reach of her fingers. Looking back over at Rae, she could see his gun finally lower from the pale and stunned looking face of Chloe. The other girl must have gone into shock or something she reasoned. It was the last thing she saw before Roca pulled a strip of thick black material over her eyes and tied it off behind her head.

  “Know what I kinda like you this way, Bitch,” Roca’s voice said from behind her. She felt the uncovered skin of her backside received a stinging slap and struggled violently away from it. The cruel laughter combined with the sudden loss of her vision disorientated her and put her on high alert for an attack or an assault she would not see coming. Anna was afraid.

  Two unbelievable things before breakfast

  A gentle breeze ruffled the moth-eaten brown curtains of the small motel room as it fluttered in through the open window. When the two halves of thin fabric parted intermittently, a few rays of sunshine illuminated the room. Beneath the faded bed sheets lay the still sleeping form of Matt Taylor. Rolling over for the umpteenth time since going to bed the previous night he groaned and wearily raised a hand to shield his eyes. His brain struggled to cope with the rude awakening, what time was it?

  Sitting up Matt cracked his neck from side to side. He did not know how they had managed it, but he and Walker had somehow found the one motel less comfortable to sleep in than the previous nights abandoned factory. Rotating his shoulders, he reached out a hand to find his phone on the bedside table. Hitting the lock key resulted in the black screen remaining so. He tilted his head, his mind struggling to figure things out. He tried again with the same result. It’s dead a small voice in the back of his head said. Shit! Hurriedly his eyes darted around the room, eventually resting on a cheap clock with a cardboard covered face. If the thing worked then it was just going on eight am. A momentary pause allowed him to notice the low ticking sound that lingered in the background.

  “Bastard!” Matt cursed as he scrambled out of bed and started pulling on his clothes. He’d lost a whole hour.

  Grabbing Mark’s jacket and helmet, he quickly ensured he had left nothing behind. Skidding out of the motel room he darted the few paces between rooms seven and eight. Hammering his fist on the door, he yelled. “Walker!” No reply. “Walker!”

  When it quickly became apparent that no answer would be forthcoming, he tried the handle. True to form, Walker had left his door unlocked. Glancing around the dim room, he could see no sign of the man; though this room apparently had a better set of blinds. “Walker?”

  The door shut behind him and Matt flicked on the light. It did not take him long to spot the hobo's legs sticking out from behind the far end of the bed. The sight did not surprise him. Not only had he seen the guys sleeping habits first hand, but a distinct possibility existed that the floor was actually more comfortable than the bed. Unfortunately, on drawing closer, his heart sank.

  “Oh shit,” Matt exclaimed, the stench of alcohol filling his nostrils and his eyes catching sight of an empty bottle.

  Dropping to his knees, he rolled the man over onto his back. Walker let out a low grunt and Matt breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t died he thought. Glancing at the bottle he recognised it as being the one the man had stolen from Mr Gutierrez. Angrily he kicked it against the wall.

  “Walker!” Matt yelled in the man’s face. He gave him a shake, no response. Cursing, he pulled him up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the wall. When there was still no sign of consciousness Matt slapped him across the face. “Walker!”

  “Fuck,” he cursed as ideas began to cycle through his head. He had seen plenty of films, the most memorable of which being a time-travelling classic, in which the hero had to rouse a drunk man from his stupor. Unfortunately, it usually involved concocting some form of thick beverage that just the smell of, would be enough to sober someone up. He did not have the ingredients to attempt a hangover cure nor the time to fetch them.

  It would have to be plan B Matt decided as he stood up and hurriedly made his way to the bathroom. Grabbing the obligatory water glass from the countertop, he turned the cold tap on and filled it to the brim. Back in the main room, he looked down at Walker’s unconscious form. Without a shred of remorse, he threw the water directly into the hobo’s face.

  Walker’s eyes snapped open. “Hugh?” he spluttered, moving his head from side to side. For the briefest of moments, a smile began to form on Matt’s lips. However, the man’s head slumped onto a shoulder and his eyes shut. “S’not time to geht up, Frankie,” he said with a yawn, “seeping.”

  “URGH!” Matt yelled, nearly putting a hole in the wall when he hit it with a fist. What should he do now? He was in no doubt that Walker would live, regardless of how much he had drunk. However, even if he were to wake up he would likely be of absolutely no help today. “FUCK!”

  NO! He had come too far to give up now. Anna was in serious trouble and he might only be a few miles from her. He would not give up now, nor wait until Walker sobered up. He would just have to find her by himself. The drunkard grunted in his sleep again and Matt found his attention turning back towards him. Not entirely sure why he bent over the man’s body and opened up his coat.

  Grubby and frayed the coat looked no better on the inside than on the out. Hesitantly Matt fished through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. Slowly he withdrew the man’s handgun and looked at it. The dull metal felt cold in his hands as he turned it over. At the top of the grip, he read the manufacturer's name, Walther. He did not need to look along the barrel to know the model. He almost laughed under his breath, the irony not lost upon him.

  This was not the first time he had handled a firearm. When he had turned sixteen Janine, unbeknownst to their parents, had taught him how to handle and shoot a semi-automatic handgun. Use the sight, aim with both eyes, relax and squeeze the trigger, don’t pull, she had told him while supervising him taking shots at some tin cans. At no point during the lesson had he even contemplated that he might end up pointing a gun at another human being. Yet a year later here he was stealing a firearm with th
e strong possibility that he might end up doing just that. Then again, he had done a lot over the past few days that he would never have even contemplated the previous week.

  Stashing the gun away inside Mark’s jacket, he took one last look at Walker. Only then did he noticed that the man clutched something in his right hand. Curiosity got the better of him and he plucked what turned out to be a piece of paper from his grasp. On feeling the texture, he knew instantly it was a photograph. It looked old and had been folded along the same line many times.

  Matt glanced at the man a moment in slight wonder then held up the image to the light, he could see a smiling man in his early thirties standing with a girl of about six years old with blonde hair. His jaw hit the floor and the photo almost followed suit.

  “Anna,” he breathed in disbelief as he stared at the girl in the photograph.

  Even though she looked about ten years younger and with her hair its natural colour, Matt would recognise those eyes anywhere. That girl was unquestionably Anna. The man, on the other hand, he did not know. Though something about him held a slight air of familiarity.

  Matt looked between the unconscious figure of Walker and the photograph. What the hell? Why on earth did the hobo, whoever he was, have a photo of a six-year-old Anna? Could he be the man pictured with her? He glanced at the unconscious drunkard and the image. He had strongly suspected Walker to be younger than he looked, but given the man’s current appearance he could not tell one way or the other. Either way, the more burning question of why still remained.

  He shook his head. Whoever this man was and what sort of connection he had to Anna would have to wait. Folding the photograph along the pre-existing line he pocketed it. Once again pushing it into the section of his head to deal with later. For now, he had to concentrate on finding Anna. Once he had found her, he could perhaps unravel the enigma that was Walker. Hell Anna herself might even have the answers to those questions.

  Leaving the intoxicated man slumped against the wall, Matt turned out the light and exited the motel room.

  Outside the sun shone brightly as he strode across the car park. Bar Mark’s motorcycle there were only two other vehicles parked in the square lot that sat in front of the L-shaped building. While he made his way across the tarmac, a black pickup truck pulled up at the entrance. Stopping only for a few seconds, as the though the driver had suddenly changed his mind it drove off again. Paying it no heed, he headed for the parked motorcycle.

  “Matt!”

  The teen froze mid-step. Turning he looked over to where the pickup truck had just been parked. Standing before him, pale, covered in dust and what looked like blood was Dylan.

  Resistance is futile

  Nine o’clock fast approached and the sun had well and truly risen. The result being a humid air that had a sticky sort of feel. However, down below in the garage basement, the tension in the air was so thick it could have been hacked to bits by a machete. After the standoff with the red-haired bitch, Ramone had smoked the last of his cigarettes to the point that the hot ash had burnt the tip of his right index finger. Yet his nerves were still shot.

  He and Roca had sat in silence after dressing and binding the girls. The ginger-haired one still stood shaking and he was uncertain if she would remain upright for much longer. The other though struggled against her bonds, clearly searching for some way to free herself.

  Watching her for a moment, Ramone could not help but think that they had finally found the one thing other than being lazy that Roca was good for. As the girl struggled again Ramone shook his head, he had to admire her tenacity. At no point throughout the entire ordeal had she shown him any sign of fear and even now still fought them tooth and nail. It was perhaps with the greatest irony that her own strength might be what sealed her fate. He did not doubt she could have recovered so quickly, after Jasper’s ministrations, without it.

  He looked over at the hulking mass of muscle that comprised the being of Roca. At some point soon they would part. However, there would be no chance of him missing the bricks company. The only hiccup would come if the other man had reached the same conclusion and chose to act first. The thought had crossed Ramone’s mind of getting rid of him before the visitor arrived. Unfortunately, they had been outnumbered three to two last time and he did not fancy odds of three to one or worse. No, he would have to wait until the deal had concluded and the buyer well on his way down the dirt track before he could contemplate taking Roca out.

  It will all be over soon he told himself. In a few hours you will be rolling up to Maria’s door with a large pile of cash and then the two of you can go anywhere you want, do anything you want... be anyone you want. If only it were that simple. He had to convince the visitor to part with the large pile of cash first. As though by some sort of otherworldly intervention his phone rang. Withdrawing it tentatively from his pocket Ramone could see that it was exactly nine o’clock.

  “Hello,” he said sharply, bringing the device up to his ear.

  “Good morning,” came the reply, though it sounded quite distorted. “I sense that the reception is bad so shall we make with the pleasantries in person.”

  “Sure,” Ramone replied. “How long till you get here?”

  “It is nine o’clock. The time we agreed on, is it not?” The man asked rhetorically. “Therefore I think that it would be safe for you to assume that the noise you are about to hear is one of my associates politely knocking on your shutter.”

  On cue, the heavy sound of the shutter being rattled echoed down the stairs and into the room. From the other end of the phone, Ramone thought he heard the man speak, “I said politely…” a sigh then “…My apologies. Shall I see you upstairs?”

  “Yeah,” Ramone replied and he hung up the phone. He then turned to Roca. “Stay here and keep your eyes on the bitches.”

  “They’re not going anywhere… yet.” Another cruel laugh followed Roca’s words and Ramone left the room.

  The brick’s laughter at the whole situation had started to make his blood boil. What that bastard would do to those girls given half the chance… he deserved everything Ramone would give to him and more. Pushing the thought down Ramone struggled to get himself under control, hastily taking the stairs two at a time. It would not do the keep their guest waiting.

  When he reached the top he made his way over to the shutter, unlocked it, and then threw it up towards the ceiling. His eyes struggled to adjust, however, he could still see that his fears about the numbers had been correct. The visitor stood tall, dressed in a neat black suit and well-polished shoes. From behind, the rising sun cast him with a golden sort of glow; just like before. On either side two bodyguards, each with their own sharp suit and shoes flanked him. Off to the left, he could see a large black van with tinted glass windows. Five to two Ramone thought in alarm. If it turned out that the man had no scruples or did not like the manner in which things were progressing he could easily do away with Roca and himself and take both girls for nothing. They would have to watch their step with this one.

  “Good morning,” Ramone said in the calmest and most welcoming tone he could muster. “How are you today?”

  A smile danced upon the visitor’s lips and though Ramone could not see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, he could just imagine the glint. “I am very well this morning. How are yourself and your fine associate?”

  “We’ve been better,” Ramone replied truthfully. “Being stuck out here for this long gets tiring.”

  The visitor let out a chuckle. “I can imagine that it would do. I am sure your employer has found it difficult to be without two fine gentlemen such as yourselves these past few days. Nevertheless, needs must. He will no doubt be looking forward to seeing you, once matters here are concluded.”

  “He’ll probably be looking forward to seeing his money more than us,” Ramone replied, forcing a laugh.

  His words hung in the air for what felt like a week before the man let out a small chuckle.

  “I am sure th
at you are quite right. It saddens me that people seem far more interested in money than good company these days.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to inspect some then?” It may have been a crude segue but the visitor’s laughter joined his own and he relaxed slightly. He was getting quite good at this fancy talk.

  “And I thought I would be bringing the money to this meeting.”

  It took Ramone a moment to figure out the joke but he soon recovered. “Why don’t you come downstairs and you can get better acquainted with your new company.”

  “Actually…” Ramone felt a shiver run up his spine, the man’s tone suddenly flipping from jovial to calculating. “I found it to be quite dark downstairs last time. It would perhaps be best if you were to bring the young ladies upstairs so that I may see them in their best light. If you understand my meaning.”

  It was a double-edge. On one hand, the more accommodating he was the more likely the man would be generous. However, better lighting might work both for and against them in terms of the man’s impression of the two girls. Not to mention the open space would favour the larger number should a fight break out. In the end, the situation merited niceness.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  The man rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Perhaps you should bring them up one at a time. I would not want the charms of one to overshadow those of the other. In addition, I would appreciate it if you were to move your vehicle outside. I like to have plenty of room to work with.”

  Ramone had to bite his tongue to avoid reverting to his usual harsh and abrasive tone. Sighing he ushered the men to stand back and proceeded to move the van outside. Once he had finished, he made his way back inside and headed for the stairs. “I’ll send my partner up with the first one.”

  “Capital,” the visitor said in a tone that Ramone felt sounded far too jovial for what he was about to do.