Page 19 of Bump in the Night
Pumpkin
My eyes spring open. I cough what feels like dry ash from the back of my throat as all of my senses come alive. Well, all but one. My head is covered with a heavy black sack. I try to swallow, but the back of my throat is so dry. I feel like I’ve eatenfire.
My fingers tremble. My wrists are bound behind my back in a tight vice. These aren’t handcuffs – I’ve seen how handcuffs work before. Those are two metal rings, just like the ones you see on TV. No, what’s binding my wrists together right now is something less compassionate than handcuffs – more barbaric. It’s a plastic cord, or a zip-tie, maybe – or maybe just good, old-fashionedrope.
If it’s a zip-tie, I know how to break free. My dad paid a lot of money for me to take self-defense classes from trained ex-military men after my mom passed – but, right now, there’s no possibility of breaking free. I can barely keep still. The car is too fast – the ground beneath us toorough.
Fuck. I feel tears press behind my eyes. This was the best night of my life, and now I’m going to fucking die. Worst of all, I don’t even know what’s happening to me or, more important,why.
No.No. New blood courses through me. I will not die – nottonight.
With fresh determination in my body I feel the ground beneath us change. It’s less rocky and bumpy and then becomes completelysmooth.
The car behind us taps the corner of the bumper. I do what my self-defense training taught me to do – I press my wrists together over my head and then slam my arms down onto my back. The zip ties snap and I pull the bag off my head – but I also get the attention of mycaptors.
When the driver’s head turns to catch me with her eyes, the car swivels and she braces herself on the steering wheel, eyes locked forward. The man in the passenger seat lets out a roar as his big hands reach into the back seat. He grabs my shoulders with both hands and pushes me back into the seat. He’s so big that his chest and shoulder take up the entire space when he pushes me back. I settle down under his firm, silent command – but not before I throw a fast glance behindus.
I can sense that we’re being followed because this car has taken every crazy detour it could. For a second there, I thought we’d actually achieved lift-off and were being catapulted intospace.
The headlights behind us are bright, but I squint and catch a glance at the face of the mandriving.
My heart leaps with joy. It’sJohn.
John is right behind us, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off me this entire time. But then, my heart sinks. Elliot. I choke back a sob as I turn back around, my attention now rapt on the windshield. I can’t. Tears gather as I try to swallow around the big, fat lump in mythroat.
I feel our death cab lurch as the driver hits the gas harder. My hands fly toward every corner of the back seat. When I think I have a grasp, I look out the window and see dense woods rolling past us. I don’t know how far we’ve gone, but we could be in Forest Park. My eyes dart around, trying to find any hint as to where the hell we are. The only sound is the fury of theengine.
And then, just as hopelessness tries to seep in on me, the car spins with the force of something hitting the back, cornerbumper.
And its spins. And spins. I hold on for dear life as the man in the front puts his hands toward me, his palm open and big for me to hold onto. His forearms flex and the muscles contract with furious heat as he pushes my belly to the backseat. He pins me down. Apparently, whoever captured me wants mealive.
The driver holds the wheel but cannot regain control. I know we’re spinning fast, but it feels like slow motion. The green and black of trees against the night sky spin and spin in the windshield, but I feelweightless.
And then -crash.
I’m flung into a corner of the car and my head nearly smacks the window, but a strong hand grabs my wrist and securesme.
All I can hear now is the pounding in my ears. The man in the mask puts his finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet. I do what he says. I don’t want to anger him. The airbags have been deployed and the woman in the driver’s seat is limp. The man who has his hand wrapped tight around my wrist is so big that the airbags didn’t knock him out. Neither did the impact of the car against a tree on the side of theroad.
I try to get away by kicking at the back door, but it’s no use. The man pulls me into the front seat with ease and I swallow thickly as my hands find his chest. He could eat me alive if it weren’t for the mask. He opens the door with one hand, and with the other, he wraps me up in his arms. He’s strong, but he doesn’t feelaggressive.
He puts me down next to him and finally my feet find solid earth beneath them. I put my hands on my knees and cower against a tree as the driver tries to open the door on her side. When she discovers her door is blocked by the side of a thick tree trunk, she climbs into the passenger seat with her gun trained onme.
John’s car screeches toward us and he slams on thebrakes.
John.
I don’t know if I say his name out loud or if it’s only in my head. He gets out of the car and puts out a hand for me to stay where I am. As I back up, the man in the mask pulls me toward hischest.
I know how this ends. There are two of them – my captors in masks – and two ofus– me and John. Only three of us have guns – and the one whodoesn’t?
Well, that’sme.
My eyes dart over to the woman, her gun trained on John. John has his gun aimed at her as his eyes dart between her and the man holdingme.
There’s sudden, slow movement from the man holding me in his clutches. I look up at his flashing revolver – as he turns to point his gun straight at the woman in themask.
What the fuck is going on? My insides turn electric as he pushes me toward John. I falter and tremble as John catches me with one big arm and stows me behind him. I grasp his shirt, my fingers kneading through thefabric.
