Page 10 of Power Term

A shadow creeps closer and looms over my face. I blink at the change in light to refocus my vision. The image clears, but all I can make out is the end of a blue tie, a white dress shirt, and barely a hint of a smoothly shaven chin.

“You were my toughest challenge to date, you know that? Twice, you avoided what the other client had planned for you. That was their fault though, not involving me in the execution of the plan and only using me for information.” Shifting against the table, I try for a new angle to see the man’s face. It’s someone I’ve met before—the voice is too familiar—but the drugs or maybe the concussion keep his identity deep in the recesses of my mind. “Not that it matters now. They failed and I still got paid by them, and now I’ll collect the remaining funds of this second contract as soon as you’re… handled.”

“Second,” I rush out. What is he saying? “Two people wanted me?”

Okay, yeah, not sure why that should surprise me, but it does. I mean, do people hate me that much for what I’m trying to accomplish? I’m more than just the president. I’m fucking fun, and happy, and witty. Why in the hell would people want me dead when I can bring all that to the table?

“Ah, you are listening. Good.” The shadow shifts as he raises an arm, a hand dangling midair above my face. I flinch, sealing my eyes shut, preparing for the hit I know will come next.

Only the blow never comes.

A softtskhas me peeking one eye open. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t touch you, at least not until he arrives. That’s when you should be afraid.” The inkling in my stomach tells me I know exactly who he’s referring to. “As much fun as this is,” he continues, though his exasperated tone says he’s having the opposite of fun, “there are a few loose ends I need to remove before the client arrives and starts your final party.” He sighs. “And now I have to clean up this mess. Fucking hate burying bodies. Such a time suck.” A palm smacks against the table, and I jolt against the restraints in surprise, expecting the next hit to be directed at me.

Light blares down on me once again, the looming presence gone.

“Wait.” I arch my neck, desperate to catch a glimpse of my captor before he leaves me alone again. “Just let me go, please.”

“Not a chance, Madam President.”

“What do you want? Why are you doing this?” My words come out stronger with my growing frustration and disdain for his man and my situation.

“You. It was always about you. I’m not sure how you managed to piss off so many, but you did, and now I’m here. Don’t take it personal. It’s business.”

“This isn’t business. Kidnapping the president is a fucking felony, you traitor,” I snap. “I’m a good fucking person and don’t deserve any of this.” My voice echoes through the large space.

After a moment with no response, I catch an exasperated sigh and a mumbled “I don’t care.”

The annoyance in his tone stops me from uttering another word.

“I’ll be back soon, and then the fun will start. Oh, I almost forgot.” The outline of a black rectangular shape hovers over my face. A click and flash of a picture being taken, and then he’s gone again. Eyes wide I stare at the ceiling as grunted curses and the brush of something heavy being dragged fill the area.

“Oh, and, Randi, don’t bother hoping that motherfucker Benson will find you. I’m the best at what I do. There’s no way for him to track you. No one will find you. No one is coming to save you.”

The dragging sound grows distant. A squeak of metal against metal cuts through the air, making me wince. With a few more distant curses, all noise is cut off with a bang, the vibrations from the force reverberating along my spine.

It’s the following quiet that terrifies me. Now I wait. Wait for whatever he and his demented client have planned. Darkness encroaches on my vision as I struggle to suck in enough gulps of air to keep me conscious.

Inhaling deep through my nose until my ribs protest, I let the breath out slow through pursed lips.

I use deep breathing to relax my racing pulse. I have to calm down. I’ll be useless passed out. That fucker said no one would find me, but what if someone hears me?

A spark of hope bursts in my chest, making my heart race all over again, this time with excitement instead of dread. Drawing in a lungful of air, I scream for help at the top of my lungs, my voice straining into silence at the end. Over and over again I yell. Some of my screams are calls for help, others attempting to shatter the remaining intact windowpanes with my shrill.

I call out for what feels like hours, attempting to draw attention to my location. I’d take any help that comes my way. Hell, maybe my screams will attract a wild animal and they’ll come nibble through the restraints setting me free. Oh, or a bird. No, not just any bird—a pigeon, one that delivers messages. Shit, that won’t work. I don’t have a pen to write an SOS note to Trey.

For far longer than would be considered “sane thoughts,” I debate which of the many wild animals I’d choose to come rescue me.

In the end of the too long mental debate, the masked bandit raccoon wins out. Their opposable thumbs would come in handy with the restraints. Plus, they’re curious little guys and have sharp teeth in case they can’t figure out how to unsnap a zip tie.

Wait. DoIeven know how to unsnap a zip tie?

“What is wrong with me?” I whisper. A wobbly smile tugs at my dry, cracked lips, and a delirious giggle bubbles in my chest, coming out as a rasp. Once it starts, I can’t stop. Harsh chuckles fill the room, cutting through the silence as I laugh like a hyena.

“I’m going crazy,” I state between laughs. “Come save me, raccoon,” I croon with my crackly voice. “Come save me with your cute tiny thumbs.”

“How in the hell you became VP instead me is fucking insulting on too many levels.”

Immediately my laughter shrivels and dies at the voice I know all too well.

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