London Escape

by Cacey Hopper

  I don’t even have a chance to warn Jason before the car spins wildly out of control and slams into the wall of the tunnel. Time seems to slow as my head jerks forward and connects with something hard. I feel like it’s raining, then realize it’s just shattered glass tinkling down from what’s left of the windshield. Lights pop behind my eyes and my vision begins to blur. I’m conscious just long enough to see Jason’s hand reach out and touch mine.

  Everything goes black.

  12. FOUND

  I wake up slowly, painfully, my senses awakening one by one as though I’m coming back to life. The first thing I notice is how cold I am, the second is that every part of my body hurts. My head seems to throb with every beat of my heart. When I take a deep breath my ribs ache as though they might be bruised or even broken. Worse of all is my shoulder, which feels like it’s being pulled out of the socket.

  After a moment I attempt to open my eyes, but I’m rewarded with nothing but darkness. My clothes feel damp and I wonder how they got that way. With a jolt I remember the frantic car chase in the pouring rain. That would account for my injuries, slamming in the wall of the tunnel like we did.

  My other four senses are now working overtime, since my sight is doing me no good. I can smell the musty scent of mold and mildew. The floor I’m lying on seems to be damp and made of concrete. A basement, I decide. But where I am exactly? I’m fully awake now and have finally determined the reason why my shoulder hurts so badly. My right wrist is handcuffed tightly to a pipe over my head, my arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Gingerly I pull myself up into a sitting position, trying to ease the strain on my shoulder. Even sitting up it’s still painful. But my own pain quickly vanishes from my awareness when I realize I’m not alone.

  My eyes have now adjusted to the darkness and in front of me I see the dark outline of a door. To my left I can just make out another figure sprawled on the floor. My mouth is dry, but I manage a hoarse whisper. “Jase!” I don’t even consider the possibility he might be unable to answer me, because I just can’t think about that right now. After all we’ve just gone through, he had to be okay.

  He doesn’t respond, so I inch over in his direction as much as I can. My shoulder protests as I stretch it again, but I ignore the pain. When I’m as close as I can manage my free hand still can’t reach him. I nudge him with my toe instead. After a few breathless moments he stirs with a groan. I wait for him to regain consciousness fully. Eventually I see his outline move into a sitting position and I can hear his handcuff clanking on a pipe as well. We won’t be getting out of this one with a pocketknife.

  “Kit?” Jason mumbles finally. I hear a rustle of movement, as though he’s reaching for me. Since we’re so far apart his hand only reaches my foot, but he moves his hand up and gives my ankle a reassuring squeeze.

  “You’re okay,” he says quietly, and it sounds more like an affirmation than a question.

  “I’m fine.” By fine, I mean alive. For now that is enough, especially after the crash. “Are you okay?”

  “Never better.” Even though his voice is hoarse I can hear his smile; ever the optimist.

  “Great, then tell me your plan for getting us out of this one.”

  He says nothing, but instead sighs heavily. “Kit, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” I scoff.

  “For getting you involved in all of this.”

  “You didn’t make me get on that plane, Jase. It was my choice,” I defend. Besides it’s true, as much as I might want to point an accusing finger in his direction for getting us into this mess, he isn’t entirely to blame. We’re both silent for a while, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. How this could end very badly for us.

  “I can’t believe you flew out here for me,” he says with a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe you flew, really.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh and despite the seriousness of the situation, it feels good. “I can’t believe it either.”

  “What made you do it?”

  I think of all the many reasons why I came, but only one stands out to me right now. “Because I wanted to.”

  “Not because you wanted to save me?”

  “Well, that was part of it.” I shift around, trying to get more comfortable. “But mainly I think I wanted to prove to myself I could do something reckless.”

  “And disobeying your dad for once didn’t sound like such a bad idea, did it?”

  I wish he hadn’t said it, the one thing I have been trying hard to not think about. My dad, and what he will do when he finds out I have run away. Or worse, what he will feel like if I don’t make it out of this, if I were to leave him alone forever. It would break him, of that I have no doubt.

  The urge to lay down on the floor, to curl up into a tight ball until this all disappears, is suddenly overwhelming. And I would have, if not for the fact that my handcuff keeps me sitting upright. My chest is growing uncomfortably tight and despite myself I let out a choked sob.

  “Hey,” Jason says suddenly, giving my ankle another squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, fighting back tears. All this time I have managed to stay strong, always thinking about the next step and moving forward. But now we have come to the end of things, with no way out and no answers. I twist my wrist, but the steel is icy and unyielding.

  “We’ve made it this far together. We can make it out of this too,” he says encouragingly.

  I wonder if he’s just telling me this to keep me from becoming hysterical, but my gut says he’s telling the truth. I know deep inside nothing would stop us from doing everything we can to get free. My mind seems to be working frantically, as though straining to find a way of escape. I find myself thinking crazy things, like how if I only a bobby pin in my hair then I might be able to pick the lock on the handcuff and free myself. But that’s insane, I don’t have a bobby pin and I have no idea how to pick a lock even if I had one.

  We’re both silent for a long time and I wonder briefly if Jason has fallen asleep.

  “Hey Kit.” His whisper breaks the silence.

  “Yeah?” I whisper back, my voice echoing in the empty room.

  “That was great, back there, what you did with the jewels.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Just then the door slams open and we are blinded as the bright fluorescent lights flicker on overheard. When my vision clears I see who it is; V and the brothers, just like before. Only this time they are no longer merely menacing, they are deadly.

  “That was a very nice trick you pulled little girl,” Mr. V says as he saunters over to me. He holds up the black velvet bag, the one he had pulled from my backpack in the hotel. Turning the bag over, he dumps the contents onto the concrete floor. The fake pearl necklace I had worn to the bank clatters as it hits the concrete. He steps closer, his shoes crunching the necklace to bits.

  “Lucky for you my men found this in your pocket.” He dangles the real necklace in front of me. “You lying little thief.”

  Before I even have the chance to flinch, he lunges forward and the back of his hand meets my cheek. My head jerks from the sudden impact and I taste blood. Several things happen at once. Jason starts shouting loudly, his handcuff rattling against the pipe and the two brothers move to silence him. I’m not sure what they do to quiet him, because I’m still face down on the floor spitting blood.

  “Now,” V begins, “we seem to have a serious problem. My men and I have to figure out what to do with you two little thieves. We really were planning on letting you both go, an act of good faith to our ex-partner, Mr. Barron. But I don’t see how we can let that happen, now that you’ve done this.” He looks down at the real necklace as though trying to gauge its value in comparison with our lives.

  I look over to Jason, but he’s silent and unmoving, sprawled back onto the floor. Thing One and Thing Two are standing over him looking satisfied.

  A painful heat begins to spread through my chest, but then washes
away suddenly. The fear, the worry, the anger, all of it, leaves my body in a second. I’m left with stunning clarity about what I should do. I don’t even question whether or not it will work, I just act.

  “Please,” I begin, sobbing as heartily as I can, drumming up all the fear and anger I’ve felt in the past few days and channeling it into my act. “Please, don’t kill us.”

  “What’s that?” V asks, looking up from the necklace he was still examining. He seems confused by my sudden meltdown.

  “I’m sorry we lied to you and switched the necklace, honest.” I’m sobbing hysterically now, my body shaking visibly.

  “Well, that’s lovely, but it doesn’t make any difference. You and your friend simply cannot be allowed to go home. What is it they say?” He glances at his two bodyguards, who have now both moved their hands to their weapons. “Oh right,” V continues, “you know too much.” He slides the necklace back into the pocket of his suit jacket.

  “Then we’ll run away,” I say through my tears. “I hate my dad, I’ve wanted to run away for years and he knows it. He won’t have any trouble believing we’ve run away together.” Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jason pushing himself up into a sitting position. He’s giving me a curious look, but he quickly seems to catch on.

  “She’s right,” Jason speaks up, keeping one eye on the Things.

  V looks as though he’s actually considering this for a moment.

  “Just let me call him,” I say. “Let me tell him goodbye and that we’re already gone and there’s no use looking for us.”

  He frowns slightly and then speaks, “How do I know you won’t just tell him the truth?”

  “Do you really think he’d believe me if I told him any of this?” I’ve let my fake tears subside, but now I’m shaking with barely restrained rage. “Trust me, he’d laugh it right off, but if I don’t call he’ll come looking for me.” That much I do believe.

  V seems to believe this as well. “Well, you have a point. Besides, killing two teenagers could be rather—” he pauses, cocking his head to once side as he considers, “—messy.”

  I’m frozen. My throat is tight as I watch him decide our fate. Finally he moves to the corner of the room and stoops to pick up my backpack as though he is going to get my phone. And for the briefest second I actually believe he might let us go. But then one of the Things speaks up and says something in German.

  “Ah,” V says, pausing with my backpack in hand. “Karl has a point. How rich is your father?”

  “Very rich,” I say, swiping at the tears on my face with my free hand.

  “Richer than Barron? Though, he won’t have anything left when I’m through with him,” he adds, almost to himself.

  I shrug, I’m not really sure. My eyes are locked on the backpack still in his hands.

  “Who is your father?” V asks casually. Apparently the idea of ransoming us back to our parents is looking more appealing than letting us go or killing us.

  “Will Hawthorn,” I answer.

  Instantly he straightens. “William Hawthorn?” His tiny black eyes bore into mine.

  “Yeah.” I stiffen immediately under his harsh glare, throwing a glance at Jason in confusion.

  Then V begins to move quickly, nervously. He drops the backpack on the floor and as he steps away from us he begins to shout frantic orders at his two henchmen in German. They both holster their weapons and turn toward the door.

  “Wait, V, what about us?” Jason calls after him.

  “The deal is off, I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go after all,” he says grimly. Though I don’t believe for a second he actually feels guilty.

  “Then what will you do with us?” I demand.

  He strokes his chin for a moment, gazing at us. “I’m not sure yet. But no one can ever know about this. If they were to find out I had the two of you, well…” He looks down at me for another moment. I look up, wondering who he’s referring to. In his eyes I see something that surprises me: the merest hint of fear.

  He turns away suddenly and the room goes black once more. The door closes behind them with a resounding slam. There’s an echo of footsteps on stairs and then all is silent.

  “Are you okay?” Jason asks.

  “Fine,” I say hurriedly, my mind is racing. “What was that all about?” I can only imagine who or what V is actually afraid of.

  “I don’t know, but we’re in for it now,” he says dispassionately. “They’ll be back and so will those guns.”

  “I hope not.” The fear I had felt earlier is still fading. Though V has just threatened to kill us, I’m trying hard not to focus on that. Instead I’m still forming my plan of escape. As my eyes readjust to the darkness I spot the dark shape on the floor that has to be my backpack, right where V had dropped it before he left.

  “Is it just me or did he seem to know your dad?” Jason asks.

  “I don’t know. V did act strange when I told him my dad’s name.” I slide toward the backpack as far as my shackled arm will allow. I’m only half listening to Jason talk about my dad and V.

  “Not just that, V seemed afraid of him. You don’t think your dad is involved in all this too, do you?” Jason says hesitantly.

  I answer without thinking. “Of course not, my dad’s not a criminal.”

  Jason doesn’t respond, and I know he’s thinking about the fact that his father is a criminal. There’s no time for me to apologize. The backpack is still too far to reach with my free hand, so I reach out with my foot instead. My shoulder is now searing with pain as I pull against the handcuff. It’s still not far enough. So I pull harder and my shoulder gives a loud pop as I do. My head swims with pain. I close my eyes, grit my teeth and move just a fraction of an inch closer. I manage to hook my foot in the strap of the backpack. Careful not to let it slip, I pull it across the damp floor. Jason is still trying to figure out what is going on with V while I work to get the backpack.

  “Why were you trying to convince him to let you call your dad? You didn’t really think your dad would believe you were running away did you?” he asks.

  “No.” I pull the backpack closer, finally able to reach it with my free hand. I unzip the backpack. “I just needed to get my hands on my phone.” I find it and turn it on. Even back in my sitting position with the pressure somewhat relieved, my shoulder is still throbbing.

  “What for?” Jason asks, and I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking, there is no one we can call to help us out of this.

  “So I can do this.” I press a few buttons, reactivating the GPS chip I had disabled with Alexa’s help before leaving the country. I explain to Jason quickly about the chip. “I’m not sure how often my dad checks this thing to see where I am, but with any luck he might be able to find us in a few days.” It’s a slim hope, but right now it’s all we have. I consider for a moment calling the British equivalent of 911, whatever that is, or even calling Alexa, but I have no idea where we even are. The GPS chip is our best shot, at least as long as my battery holds out.

  “Great,” Jason says halfheartedly. “If they decide to keep us around for a few days.”

  My shoulders sag in defeat. Suddenly my plan seems a bit weak. I bite my lip, tasting blood. “Maybe we should try to call someone.”

  My phone buzzes instantly and I sit up a little straighter.

  “What is it?” Jason asks.

  “A text,” I mumble, opening the message.

  I read the message out loud, “Stay where you are, we’re coming.”

  “What?” Jason says exactly what’s on my mind.

  “I’m not sure.” My heart is thumping loudly in my chest as my mind races through all the possibilities. One in particular stands out at the moment: Peter. But Jason is coming up with his own conclusions.

  “Maybe your dad reported you missing and is already working with the police to find us,” he says.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I murmur back. It’s a possibility. I have been gone for several days. Still, as far as
I know, my dad isn’t even aware I’ve left the country. I clutch the phone in my hand and pull my knees up to my chest. Even with the hope of rescue I’m still shaking with fear.

  I’m not sure how long it takes for our rescue to come. I don’t even bother checking the time. My ears and eyes are trained on the door, waiting and praying that the next person to come through it would be friendly. I shudder when I think of what will happen if the Things come for us first. Jason has gone silent since we got the text. I can see his form slumped against the wall. I tell myself he’s just sleeping, which is likely when I consider he has now been in captivity for nearly a week. Beaten, malnourished, and living in a constant state of fear, he needs his rest, so I let him sleep. I couldn’t have slept if I wanted to. There are a thousand things racing through my mind right now.

  I’m still holding my silent vigil when it finally happens. Our rescue does not come the way I had thought it would. No loud SWAT team taking the building by storm. Instead our rescuer slips into the room quietly, his face illuminated by the glow of a small flashlight in his hand. He stalks toward me with his finger pressed to his lips, telling me to remain silent. He looks slightly familiar, dark hair and a square jaw, but I don’t have a chance to ask his name or where he came from. He kneels beside me and begins to pick the lock on my handcuffs. I’m free in just half a minute and he pulls me to my feet. My legs are shaky as I hurry to pick up my backpack. My right arm, now free, hangs limply at my side, completely unusable it hurts so badly. I wait breathlessly while the man unlocks Jason’s handcuffs as well. I take the chance to inspect him a little closer, trying to figure out who or what he is. My heart skips a beat when I see he is armed with both a gun and a knife.

  There’s no time for questions now. The mysterious agent has now freed Jason from his bonds and is helping him up. Of all the questions I want to ask, the foremost is if he thinks Jason is okay. He seems conscious, but barely, and the other man has to half carry him to the stairs. The man nods at me, indicating I should follow. We remain silent going up the stairs. It’s hard to be quiet when we pass a very unconscious Thing Two at the top of the stairs. I’m glad it’s dark because I can’t tell if he’s just unconscious or dead. Once at the top of the stairs I get a vague impression we’re inside an old warehouse of some sort.