Page 16 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

Two weeks after the seizure, I drive to an abandoned auto repair shop near the commercial port. The whole street is a collection of bankrupt businesses, not even hooligans come here to vandalize. The perfect place. With a dark, eerie feeling in my gut, I stare at the workshop I scouted out last week. The door to the former reception room is hanging partially off its hinges and all the windows are shattered. Desolate, like the lead-gray sky and the cold wind blowing inland from the Pacific today.

This is going to be the hardest part of my plan.

With a deep sigh, I get out and carry the large wooden planks into the former inspection room one after the other. Then I get the rest of the lumber, the drill, and my tool box.

For a moment, I look at the rectangular planks on the floor. I chose the extra light wood of sanded birch. As if that makes a difference!

My throat closes up. The wind whistles through the shattered windows, making me shiver. The spooky feeling inside me gives way to a kind of cold rigidity. I have to think about cemeteries. About old cellars. The coffin. How can I do such a thing? How can I even think about that after what I’ve experienced?

I wipe my mouth and chin with clammy fingers and shake my head. I have no choice. Over and over, I’ve weighed my options. The national parks the Scrivers stop at are quite a few days’ drive from the Yukon. If I take Lou with me, she won’t be sitting well-behaved in the passenger seat next to me. I’m sure lots of AMBER alerts will be issued, so I have to stash her out of sight…somewhere.

Like a treasure.

The whistling wind grows louder, sounding like the eerie song of a ghost choir. The door rattles against the frame in a monotonous rhythm. I light a cig and pace in front of an old lifting platform. It’s late May. Supplies are stocked and all the other little things are purchased. The week before last, I insulated the hollow space under the double bed with acoustic foam. I was hoping to simply put Lou there, but since I had to slam on the brakes the other day, I realized how dangerous that is. She could be thrown uncontrollably through the space, especially if she’s sedated. And then she could break her neck…like Jordan. If I also line the hollow space with blankets, she could suffocate if she is in an unfavorable position. I won’t have time to check on her every minute. A week ago, I ripped out the insulation again and tried to put an extra wall in the space, but the wood paneling was too thin for that. I almost disassembled the bed construction into its individual parts.

Then, an idea came to me that has kept me up during the nights: I have to build a box for Lou. A crate is the surest way to get her to the Yukon unscathed and undetected.

Feeling a dark chill, I go to one of the broken windows and look at the RV. The inscription Travel America strikes me as mockery. I’m doubting myself, maybe for the first time since I considered abducting Lou. If I’m willing to put her in a box, how far will I go to reach my goal?

After a deep drag, I toss the cig outside and face the boards. Just looking at the wood makes me nauseous, which doesn’t help.

But it has to be done. For Lou and for me.

I’ve already received all the birch boards and lumber in the right size from the hardware store, I just have to assemble them. I take the first board and drill a hole through it where I marked it. My hand is shaking and I stop. The wind sings its song of ghosts and graves. Shadowy thoughts of narrowness and darkness swirl through me. Death. Torture. Darkness. I grit my teeth and keep going, drilling all the holes in the boards. I find it difficult to breathe. Before I move on to the next step, I take a look at Lou’s screenshot.

She beams at me. My stomach clenches. I can take her to the Yukon, chain her up if I have to, but using the box is cruel.

I put the phone back in my pocket and reach for the drill again. I can hardly hold it. Angry at myself, I set it aside and clench my hand. So tight it hurts. As if I could force my fingers to stop shaking.

Pull yourself together, you weakling! It’s not you that’ll go in that box, it’s Lou! And that’s exactly why you’ll sedate her. Not only so she’ll be calm, but also so she won’t be afraid!

I take a deep breath, open my fist, and hold my hand at eye level. It’s still shaking. Fuck! I’m a real loser if I can’t build this shitty box. Lips pressed tightly together, I reach for the screw. This work is important. I have to do it right, the result is for Lou’s safety. End. Of. Discussion.

I screw the first two squared timbers to the boards without looking at Lou’s picture again. Pangs of conscience don’t help. I put Lou out of my head, focus on what I’m doing. Drilling and screwing. I imagine building a box for my supplies. My hands calm down and the stoic part takes over. I manage to connect the remaining boards and the wood and drill a few more air holes in the boards before I attach the latch to the lid.

My heart pounds as I examine the finished work, but it’s not because I’m afraid. I feel too bad to be proud of having made it, but I’m immensely relieved. Considering I’ve managed this, I can do everything else, as well.

That night, I have an aberrant flash. I managed to chain myself up, but during the blackout, I must have smashed a pile of dishes, that would at least explain the pile of broken glass I find the next morning. A cupboard door has been torn off and is lying on the floor. If I were to have an attack in the Yukon, I’m sure the best thing would be to chain myself to a tree outside.

Having cleaned up the mess and fixed the door, I start shopping for Lou’s clothes around noon. I order most of them online and have them delivered to Ramon’s address. Some of the things I can’t find at all and I end up selecting a few pieces that I like. I realize that I favor black a lot even though I’ve enjoyed seeing Lou in a white shirt.

Besides ordering the clothes, I find a medical student on the darknet who is willing to share his knowledge of narcotics with me for cash. After all, I just want to sedate Lou, not kill her. She also has to be awake enough to drink water and go to the bathroom, but not be able to remember anything afterwards. And under no circumstances should she know that I’m transporting her to the Yukon in this shitty box.

I carefully write down all the combinations, but still memorize them. The only remaining problem is the chloroform. I can’t give drops to Lou, I only have a rough dosage. So I decide to test it out on myself. But for that I need Ramon. For the first time, he has scruples and I have to double the amount I offered him so he agrees to knock me out.

In the end, we need four tries to get the right dose. The first few times he used too much chloroform. I was gone after a breath or two, but it took me a long time to come around. A little too long, Ramon said. I don’t want to take any chances with Lou. The chloroform comes from a chemical company’s warehouse that some of Ramon’s buddies broke into. It hasn’t been diluted, so it is much stronger than I anticipated. On the fourth try, Ramon only used half of what we used on the third try. It took longer to get me into deep sleep, but only two minutes to wake up. I made a note of this dosage and, estimating Lou’s weight, calculated hers.

Now there’s only one thing left to do. I’ll have to be around people, but I’ll first have to take care of my appearance. If Lou sees me in my current state, she will never come with me. And that’s ultimately what she has to do to make my plan work. Come with me and get into the RV—the rest should be easy.

Chapter

Five

It’s June 25th. I’ve been standing behind a sequoia tree at the edge of the Lodgepole Visitor Center since six this morning, never taking my eyes off the spacious parking lot. Today, Lou and her brothers will arrive at Sequoia National Park, assuming her itinerary wasn’t made up.

A dark, euphoric tingling in my stomach ascends to my chest. I’ve been here since last night. I parked the RV in a turnout on the main road so that it can’t be seen from the visitor center.

I dive deeper into the shadow of the tree and pull up the corners of my mouth, trying to put on that smile I’ve been practicing every day for the last month. A harmless but confident smile that won’t scare Lou.

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