by Sean Black
Ruth glared up at him. “Screw you. I’m going to scream and then my mom will call the cops and both your asses will be thrown in jail.”
“Is that so?” said Brice, turning away, walking across to the bedroom door and opening it to reveal Ruth’s mom standing just outside, tears streaming down her face.
In that split second it all came together. Everything was clear. The two men weren’t kidnappers. They were here at her mother’s request.
Broken Ridge? Her mom had never used that name. But Ruth knew what it was. Her mother had threatened her with it when they fought, which, since her dad had left, was a lot. She’d threatened to send her away. And now, because of a stupid misunderstanding, and because her mom was bitter and twisted from the divorce, it was happening.
“You knew about this?” Ruth said to her mother.
Her mother looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” Sandra told her daughter. “I can’t cope with you on my own anymore. This is for the best. You’ll see.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean you can’t cope?”
Brice stepped between Ruth and her mom. She moved to go round him, but he grabbed her wrists.
“Why are you doing this?” Ruth screamed, trying to shake herself free of his grasp.
“You know why.”
“To punish me for Dad leaving you. Is that why?”
“That’s not true. This has nothing to do with your father. There’s been all the lies. And the drugs. And your grades are . . .”
The drugs? Ruth had been caught at school with a joint that wasn’t even hers. That she’d been holding for her friend. One crummy joint that she wasn’t going to smoke, because she didn’t even smoke cigarettes, never mind pot. And her grades had been down because of all the shit at home.
“It was a joint, Mom. And it wasn’t even mine.”
“That’s how these things start, Ruth. That’s why you need to go somewhere you can learn to follow rules.”
Ruth felt Brice’s grip tighten. Suddenly he let go. Before she could react there was a click. She looked down to see shiny metal handcuffs around her wrists. She’d been so consumed with rage at her mom that she hadn’t even seen him put them on her. “You can’t do this!”
Her mom’s tears evaporated. Her crumpled features morphed into an angry expression that Ruth was more familiar with. “I think you’ll find that I can.”
3
Ruth sat on the floor in the back of the truck, and sobbed. She hadn’t cried like this since she was a little girl. Not that she could remember, anyway. She couldn’t even recall crying when her parents had told her they were separating. Or when they told her they were getting divorced. If anything, that news had come as a relief more than anything. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to them fighting all night anymore.
She had missed her dad when he’d moved out. Missed him a lot. She had wondered why she couldn’t have gone with him. But he’d explained that he only had a studio apartment in D.C., and that she would have had to change schools. Plus, he’d said, her mom would need her. It was for the best that she stayed where she was.
Although she resented not being consulted, she’d guessed that it made sense. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that her staying was her father’s way of trying to placate her mother. As her mother’s mood had darkened, and she began to take out her unhappiness on Ruth, finding fault with everything she did, Ruth had wondered if she was punishing her for her father’s leaving.
Now, sitting in the back of the truck on the way to God knew where, with two men who could be anyone, all of it not only agreed by her mom but done at her instigation, Ruth knew the truth. Her mom couldn’t hurt her ex-husband. Not directly anyway. So she’d concocted this as her way of punishing him. Ruth and her dad had always been close. Her mom had even joked about her being a “Daddy’s girl.” After the divorce it had become less of a joke and more of an indictment. As if Ruth should pledge unfailing allegiance to her mother rather than do her best to get on with both parents.
But if Ruth’s mom was punishing her to get back at her dad, Ruth was equally sure that there was no way her dad would have let this happen. If she could just get away, find a phone, or some way of contacting him, then these two rent-a-cops, or whatever they were, would be sorry they’d ever been born. Her dad would make sure of that.
All she had to do was play along. From what they’d said, there was a long drive ahead. They’d have to stop at some point. She’d get a chance to escape. All she had to do was have the courage to take the opportunity when it presented itself.
4
Who’s been a bad boy, Jacob?”
The question sent chills through him. He knew what was coming next. He knew there was no answer that would satisfy her. Once you’d been accused, denying any wrongdoing was worse than admitting it. “I’ll try to be good from now on,” he said. From where he was lying, his face pressed against the concrete floor, he could see her dirty black shoes and crappy old wrinkled stockings as she paced back and forth. “I promise,” he pleaded.
“Oh, my, Jacob. I know you want to be good. But you just can’t help yourself. It’s hardly even your fault.”
“I can help it,” he said. “I know I can.”
“Words, Jacob. You mean them when you say them. But you’re just not capable. That’s why we figured you might need a little help in the right direction, if you catch my meaning.”
He did. He knew exactly what she meant. So did his bladder. Warm urine ran down his leg as he lost control of it, his terror at what was to come all-consuming.
A lot of times he’d heard that thinking about the pain to come was worse than the pain itself. This was not one of those times.
He was about to be electrocuted. And there was nothing he could say, and nothing he could do, to stop it.
The black shoes and wrinkled stockings shuffled out of sight. He heard two sets of footsteps get closer. He was lifted off his feet and dumped onto the gurney. He thrashed and flailed but they were too strong.
The heavy leather straps closed over his chest, his waist and his legs. A cloth was shoved into his mouth. That was to stop him biting through his tongue. In the background, he could hear the low hum of the generator.
Hands grasped either side of his head. The neck strap was put in place. He felt the cool gel being slathered over his temples.
Jacob closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere else in the world than here.
“We’re doing this for you, Jacob,” she said. “Now you shush and be still and it’ll all be over quicker than two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
5
The truck slowed. From where she was sitting in back, Ruth could hear the click-clack of the turn signal.
She had planned on saying that she needed to use the restroom when they stopped, but now, after three hours on the road, it wouldn’t be a lie. She had needed to pee for the past hour. The truck’s suspension, or lack of it, wasn’t helping matters.
She kicked out at the backpack her mom had packed for her. She wasn’t even sure she was angry at her any more. What she felt went beyond that. She felt betrayed. Completely and utterly.
The only thing Ruth knew for sure was that, when she got out of this situation, she wasn’t going home. It wasn’t home. Not anymore. Home was somewhere you were safe. Secure. Neither of those words applied now. Not when you could be snatched up and transported halfway across the country at any time.
It wasn’t even as if her mom had given her a warning. Or asked her to do anything to change. There had been arguments over her room, and homework, a slow grind of friction between them, but no more than usual. This whole being shipped off to who knew where had come from nowhere. Or, at least, that was how it seemed to Ruth.
Brice, the taller and heavier of the two men, slid back a door leading into the back of the truck from the cab. He stuck his head round the side. “We’re going to stop in a few minutes. Make a comfort stop, if you need to. Get something to eat a
nd drink. We’ll take the cuffs off you, but you have to promise not to do anything stupid, you hear me?”
Ruth gave a little nod. “I won’t give you any problems.”
She’d already figured that the cuffs would be coming off anyway. What were they going to do? Take her into the restroom, pull down her pants for her and stand there while she used the toilet? Official escorts or not, there would be a call to 911 if anyone saw them taking a teenage girl into a truck-stop restroom and doing that.
All she had to do now was play nice and take her chance to escape when it came. She didn’t even need to get that far away, just to a phone, or borrow someone’s cell, and call her father. He would take care of the rest. These two chumps wouldn’t know what had hit them. Her dad had a lot of friends. Washington D.C. friends. Powerful friends.
The truck came to a stop. Brice clambered into the back with her. He removed the handcuffs and helped her to her feet. She rubbed at her wrists.
“Sorry about the cuffs,” he said, sounding genuine. “If you don’t give us any more problems, you can keep them off until we get there.”
“So what is this Broken Ridge place, anyway?” Ruth asked him. She figured that a few questions would help get him on her side, and that if he thought she was cooperating he’d be more likely to let his guard down. She could already make an educated guess as to what kind of place she was being sent to. A school for “troubled teens.” She’d watched a documentary on Netflix about one of those places. It hadn’t looked nice, but it hadn’t seemed awful either. It had come over like a kind of super-hardcore summer camp.
Mike appeared before Brice could answer. “Come on. Let’s go get some chow.”
Ruth followed Brice back into the cab. She slid across the seat and out through the passenger door. Mike put out a hand and helped her jump down.
She looked around. Behind them, trucks and cars thundered past on the highway. The landscape was flat, scrub desert that stretched off toward the horizon in every direction. There was a gas station, a couple of fast-food joints, and some kind of general store. “I need to use the restroom,” she told the two men, as they walked toward the store.
“No problem,” said Brice. “You do that and then we can get something to eat.”
Ruth hesitated. She was hoping that there would be another woman going into the restroom at the same time. That way she could ask to borrow their phone and call her dad. He would know what she should do once she’d made the call. Looking around she’d soon realized that, even if she did get away from her two escorts, she had nowhere to go. She could try to hitch a ride with someone, but that might be even more dangerous than the situation she was in already.
“Problem?” Brice asked her.
“No problem,” she said, heading for the ladies’ room.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
* * *
The ladies’ room was empty. Ruth headed for a stall. Escape or not, she really needed to pee. As she sat there, she listened for someone coming in. No one did. But surely it was only a matter of time.
She finished up, walked out of the stall and washed up as best she could. She left the water running in the sink. If Brice or the other one was outside she wanted them to think she was still washing her hands.
How come no one else had walked in? She had seen other cars, some with female passengers or drivers, parked outside. If they had pulled off the freeway, then surely one of them must have needed to use the restroom. They couldn’t all have stopped for gas or food.
Seconds passed. Then a minute. Ruth cursed herself for not trying to pick up her own cell phone before she left. Then she remembered it hadn’t been on the night stand next to her bed. Her mom must have moved it. But when? During the night, before the two escorts arrived to take her.
How long had her mom been planning this? Days? Weeks? It had to have been weeks. This wasn’t something you could put together in a few days. So her mom had known for all that time she was going to send Ruth away. But the past few weeks had been calm. They’d barely had an argument, never mind a full-blown row. Well, not apart from the usual stuff about Ruth picking up after herself and doing some chores around the house.
They’d shared dinners. Gone for walks on the weekend. They’d got on. Not great. They would never have the kind of relationship that some of Ruth’s friends had with their moms. But things had been about as chilled out as they’d been since her dad had left. And yet her mom had gone ahead with sending her away. Of having her woken in the middle of the night by two strange men, put into a truck with no windows in back, and being driven across the country to who knew where. To a school for “troubled teens.”
The name itself almost made Ruth laugh. Yeah, she was troubled—what teen wasn’t? If she was more troubled than most that was because of her parents’ divorce, and the hole it had left in their family.
So what had made her mom do this? It had to have been the joint. Ruth had been caught with it. That was true. But no one would believe her when she’d told them it wasn’t hers. That she wasn’t even a stoner. She wasn’t sure which was worse: being accused or not being believed when she’d never lied in her life. Well, apart from all the usual little white lies that everyone told.
A knock at the restroom door. Brice called out, “You need to finish up in there. People are waiting out here.”
Ruth’s heart sank. That was why no one else had walked in. No one she could speak to and ask to borrow their phone to make a quick call. Because that asshole on a power trip was standing outside making sure that no one else came in.
Play along, she told herself. Don’t show you’re upset. If you do, he’ll figure out that you were planning something. Play it off like it’s all cool.
She turned off the tap, grabbed some paper towels and dried her hands. She walked to the door, opened it and stuck her head out.
Right enough, a woman and her two daughters were standing there, looking less than pleased with Brice preventing them using the facilities.
“Sorry,” Ruth said, smiling sweetly at the mom. “Would you happen to have a spare tampon?”
It made her cringe to ask, but she needed a way to stall for time, and this was the only thing she could think of. Guys, even hard-ass guys like Brice, maybe even especially hard-asses like him, tended to get super-embarrassed when you made even the faintest mention of periods or anything related. At least, that was what Ruth had always thought.
Brice stared at her stony-faced. He didn’t seem embarrassed. He looked angry. Like he knew what she was doing and planned on making her pay for it.
The two girls studied the floor. The mom smiled sympathetically at Ruth. “Sure, honey.” She snapped open her handbag and dug around inside. She glared at Brice. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
She started to move round him, toward the door, toward Ruth. He put out a hand. “Ma'am, if I could have a moment of your time.”
The mom really glared at him now. “Sir, I don’t know what’s going on here with this young lady, but perhaps I should call the highway patrol.” She turned back to the two girls she had with her. “Girls, go ask your father to come here, would you?”
Brice held up a hand. “There’s no need for that. Or for you to call the cops. Unless, of course, you’d like to. Let me explain the situation we have here. My name is Brice Walker, and I’m currently escorting this young lady to an institutional facility. Her mother has signed her over to me, so I and my partner Mike, who’s out front right now, are in loco parentis.”
Ruth felt her face flush as the woman’s expression changed before her eyes. One minute Ruth had been a young woman who might be in trouble. The next moment, after a few words from Brice, she was the trouble. The lady’s two daughters were staring at her, too, like she was some of kind of zoo exhibit. The mom’s glances to them seem to be saying: See? This is what could happen if you don’t eat your greens, do your homework and keep your room tidy.
“We’re concerned that Ruth here might
try to do something silly before we manage to drop her off at the school. That was why I asked you to wait for a moment. I’m very sorry to have inconvenienced you,” Brice continued.
Ruth had to hand it to him. He was smooth. He made it sound like the most normal thing in the world. It definitely sounded like a speech he’d had to give more than a few times.
The woman looked at Ruth. “Is this all true?”
Part of Ruth wanted to say no. That it was all lies. Maybe the woman or her husband would call the cops. But what if she didn’t? What if Brice just made her out to be hysterical or crazy? What then?
Brice would be pissed. And Brice scared her. He’d already threatened her with pepper spray. There was no knowing what he and his buddy would do to her if she really made trouble. Even if the cops were called, Brice would put her back in the truck and they’d be long gone before anyone got there.
The woman was staring expectantly at her.
“Yes, it’s true,” Ruth said, her chin sinking onto her chest. She’d lost this battle.
“Do you still need a tampon?” the woman asked her.
But she didn’t need to lose the war. “Yes,” said Ruth. “I’d appreciate that.”
The woman dug one out of the box, stepped past Brice and gave it to her. Ruth thanked her and stepped back inside the bathroom. So much for borrowing a phone. She’d have to think of something else. And fast.
6
When she’d first walked into the bathroom stall, Ruth had noticed a window. It was small. Maybe four feet wide, and two high, and it was toward the top of the wall, but she thought she might be able to get through it.
With the lady outside having completely bought into what Brice had told her, right now it looked like Ruth’s best chance of getting away for long enough to contact her father. She put the toilet seat down, and climbed up. She reached up to the window, found the catch and pushed it open.