Frog (16 page)

She stuffed the cash in the bag and ran from the room. Still clutching the keys tightly in a sweaty palm, she ran back to the kitchen and through it to the garage. Four cars sat pristinely; the fifth space empty. The Lexus in which they had abducted her was nowhere to be seen. She looked down at her car key. It looked foreign. She knew nothing about cars, but went to the first one and opened it. She inserted the key. It didn't fit. She went to the next. It did. The engine started like a charm. She pushed the button on the box secured to the visor and the garage door purred open.

She almost pulled out then and drove away, but something stopped her. Part of her screamed to get out of there, fast! But the stubborn part of her, the same one who had stuck with the wobbly cart, said
wait
. She wasn't quite done here. She wanted to leave them a present. She wanted to get them back just a little for stealing her life for all

these weeks. Her precious, precious life. She climbed out of the car, leaving it idling, and looked quickly around the garage until she found what she was looking for. Gasoline, in a five gallon container of bright red plastic, with a handy nozzle for dispensing. She ran back into the house and began pouring the gas in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom, a trail of destruction. She rummaged feverishly in the kitchen drawers until she found the matchbox. Striking three at once, she threw them on the gasoline and was gratified with a whoosh of sound as the gas lit and she saw the trail of fire work its way into the living room.

This time Jane didn't stick around to see if it caught. She ran back to the car, leaped in and backed carefully out, turned around in the large drive and headed down to the gates. They opened on cue as sensors responded to her approaching car. She eased out and drove slowly, her foot shaking against the pedal as she tried to stay calm. She felt the stiff business card poking against her thigh as she shifted in the seat. Some day she would use that card. She would call the police, once she was far away from here. Surely she wasn't the first person they had abducted and tortured, and she probably wouldn't be the last. A well timed tip could put those two behind bars for life.

But now she focused on the road, looking for a sign to lead her to a main thoroughfare. Impulsively she let out a whoop of sheer joy. She was doing it! She was reclaiming a life she was only now going to live. As she turned onto the public road, she fancied she saw the orange lick of a flame kissing the mansion behind her. She turned her eyes back to the road ahead, where freedom lay.

FIN