Page 113 of Straight to Me

I hear footsteps outside. Whoever was chasing us must still be out there. Nudging Jack, he doesn’t move. I try shaking his arm.

Nothing.

The blood around him is a scary amount.

Someone approaches and my eyes search wildly for what side they’re on. Boots then appear on the other side of Jack; they’re illuminated by headlights from a vehicle that’s getting closer.

A phone unexpectedly lights up near to Jack’s waist. I edge it closer to me using my fingertips and pick it up. It’s mine. With little time to think, I open a link to share my location with VP.

I don’t even know if he’s still alive, or what’s happening. He could be coming for me right now for all I know. Or he could be dead... I shake the thought from my mind as the boots walk towards the van that’s now pulled up in front of us.

My tacky fingers manage to send the link before quickly switching the phone to silent and jamming it down my bra so that it's hidden. I wince at the simple movement. My ribs burn. It feels like one of them is at least cracked or broken.

I look around for anything useful. There’s that gun in here somewhere. Desperately searching for the weapon, more boots appear and start approaching.

Finding my voice, I shout at Jack to wake up. We need to get out of here. Someone's getting closer. The driver’s side door creaks open before Jack’s body is dragged out carelessly.

“Jack, no! Jack, wake up!”

“Get the bitch out,” a man's voice says.

Panic rises in me. I suddenly spot the gun Jack made me grab earlier. I reach across for it, but rough hands grab my hair, pulling me out of the truck the same way Jack had been taken. My nails scratch at the fist pulling hard on my scalp.

My ribs are definitely broken. The sound they make as my body’s stretched and dragged to the back of the van makes me feel sick and the air is completely taken from me. Blackness then clouds my vision. The pain unbearable.

I’m going to pass out.

As my body tumbles across the floor of the van I suddenly stop against Jack’s body. I roll my head to face him. “Jack, wake up,” I strain to talk and breathe.

I hold my burning ribs as the van’s wheels spin into action and hurl us away. We’re thrown against the door from the force of it. Jack’s body slides and hits into mine, another pang of searing pain’s sent hurtling through my chest.

“Jack, please,” I sob, shaking his bloodied body on top of me.

“He’s long-gone, bitch,” a thick Aussie accent laughs at me. I can’t see him clearly. The back of the van’s practically pitch black.

“Fuck you.” I suddenly feel brave, but it’s really just anger mixed with adrenaline. I don’t want to believe Jack’s dead.

A solid fist connects with my cheek, almost knocking me out cold. I sag half over Jack. The man stands, staggering slightly as the van travels fast on the road. He drags Jack’s body away from mine. “Don’t touch him!” I blubber.

Then he fumbles for my bare and scratched-up legs, gripping and pulling me as I try my best to kick myself free. I scream louder than a banshee, even with pain now in my jaw, until I’m silenced by a gun shoved in my mouth.

My teeth scrape against the metal making me cringe. “Shut the fuck up,” he says above me, pinning my arms down with his knees. He roams the gun further in my mouth, making me retch. “You look good like this,” he hisses. My mouth’s pushed open wider, my lips ripping at the edges as the gun nudges my tonsils.

The driver bangs on the wall behind him, “Hold on, Drew.”

Drew takes the gun out my mouth, and I turn on my side, adopting the foetal position as I heave and gasp for air.

The van swings left, moving slower as we drive over bumpier terrain. I rattle around like a pinball, hitting into Jack’s body again.

Lying hopelessly still, his heavy hand falls near mine. I pick it up, cradling it. My fingers tighten as the tears I’ve managed to hold finally escape.

After a couple of minutes, the van brakes hard and the engine gets cut. “Why’d you stop?” Drew shouts to the driver. The van rocks as the driver gets out, slamming the door shut behind him. His fast footsteps sound in the gravel, getting louder as he makes his way round the van.

Opening the back doors, a rush of fresh air enters as he says to Drew, “Get out, we’ll go on foot from here.”

Jack’s hand feels cold in mine. Fearful this’ll be the last time I see him, I squeeze his fingers tightly again, not wanting to let go. Drew moves to Jack’s feet. I’m not sure if it’s just my imagination, or the stress, but Jack’s fingers feel like they tighten around my hold.

The driver jumps in the van. Hooking me under the arms, he snatches me up to my feet and my hand’s forced to let go of Jack’s.

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