Wanted (3 page)

“Hello?”

I figured it was just a set of headlights, another family looking for a parking spot—maybe it was Dad looking for me. I kept trying to reassure myself by glancing down at my phone. Sure enough, I had one new message. But while I was checking its contents, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere as I started to realize the semi-trailers that surrounded me were unfamiliar. The nervousness I felt increased and a new tightness began in my chest, suddenly making it dreadfully difficult to breathe. I almost wanted to laugh; how clichéd was it that I had gotten lost in such a short amount of time? Figuring it would lead to the parking lot I came from, I followed the direction of the headlights and turned the corner.

It wasn’t headlights, however. For the longest time I really, truly wished it had just been headlights. Instead, the light was coming from a flashlight at the end of a tractor-trailer. It was hard to see who was holding it, but the holder kept shining it on several figures who were removing large crates from the back of the truck.

“Hurry it the hell up!” A man’s voice whispered.

Another man’s voice said something in a language I didn’t understand.

In just a few short moments, the men worked together to load the crates into two SUVs and another small truck. With an almost perverse fascination, I watched the gracefulness of the figures as they labored. It was a stage play featuring dark silhouettes that didn’t seem to know they were dancing. I nearly forgot my fear in the confident speed with which they worked, until the figure holding the flashlight left the light on two of the men lifting a particularly large crate together for enough seconds for me to see the handgun on one of their belt buckles. My heart leapt into my throat so aggressively it felt as though it were trying to escape my body completely. I could no longer hear anything but the sound of it beating it my ears.

I didn’t know anything about the criminal underworld, but common sense told me that guns were bad and shady doings in the night were extra bad. An instant kind of terror overcame me that made me gasp out loud without realizing it and I had to cover my mouth. The urge to flee was instant. This place wasn’t for people like me. I began to back away as quietly as I could.

But then arms grabbed me and a hand went over my mouth. The arms pulled me right off the ground, their strength capable of keeping my own at my sides even though I thrashed and struggled. The arms couldn’t keep my legs though, and I used this advantage with everything I had, kicking at everything and anything.

Ultimately however, it didn’t do any good. My last logical defense was to throw my head back. Only unlike what you see in the movies, head butting someone is extremely painful. And when I felt my head contact with that object, it was actually so painful I thought:
This is it. I’ve been shot and I’m going to die. I’m dying.
I began to scream with a shrill, piercing quality, muffled as it was through the hand. Unfortunately, this only increased the pain and confirmed my suspicion of impending death.

A mess of thoughts came to me. I began thinking about all of the immediate events in my life and how they would be stolen from me. I’ll never get to finish that book. Will Robbie go back to Iraq? I’ll never get to travel. But above all, I kept thinking about that stupid coffee. I’ll never get to give Dad that coffee he needed so much. He’ll be so disappointed.

“Shut up or I’ll kill ya.”

The words came in with a subtle southern accent and the scent of aftershave and clove cigarettes.

Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill? Kill?

It echoed through my head as though my mind were empty of any other thought. I felt myself start to shake and my torso went limp. My arms were practically glued to my sides, but I started to wish for fake fingernails to scratch with, or maybe pepper spray. Why hadn’t I ever taken self-defense courses?

Voices were shouting back and forth to each other, although where exactly they were coming from I couldn’t be sure. Abruptly I was pulled away. The arms were dragging me from the pavement and toward one of the SUVs. The panic set in then, and I began kicking harder, tried to scream even louder, telling myself that statistically, if I didn’t get away now, I never would. Hot tears ran down my face, and I screamed in my head for help as if someone could hear me.

The flashlight blinked out and an engine began to roar. Everything was dark until my eyes adjusted, so I never saw the cargo door of the SUV open or where the bungee cords came from. The arms released me into the backseat with several crates. I instantly lunged to run from them, but he pushed me back down before I could let out a scream or do much else but slap at him.

As easy as batting a gnat, he took both my wrists in his single hand and bound them in the bungees, then did the same to my ankles, using a separate cord. In less than a minute, I was hogtied. I blinked back the tears and felt the mucus pool in my throat. Poor Dad. He would make another stop to get himself some coffee, right? It wasn’t likely he would fall asleep at the wheel or anything, but it would be better if he had some caffeine in him. I was filled with self-loathing as I struggled against the binds. Why hadn’t I just walked away when I had the chance?

I felt distinct calluses on the hand that put the tape on my mouth. Were these the hands that would kill me? I looked into the face of the mystery man who had turned my heart into a caged animal, now wondering, what would he do to make my heart stop?

I made myself concentrate.

It was as though I were taking the SAT again and sitting in a classroom with two dozen other overworked teenagers. I was now reminded of the stuffiness of some of those classrooms and the tiny wedges of those desks. Cramped and herded into such a tiny space, I remember feeling grateful for being homeschooled, imagining being incapable of going to school like that my entire childhood. But I had gotten through it and even thrived because I had concentrated—I just had to do that now. So I closed my eyes and breathed, which was considerably difficult through the tears.

There were two? No, three different doors opening. Obviously the driver’s side had to be one of them, and both of the passenger-side doors. The weight of the SUV shifted to my left when someone entered from that side and sweat quickly filled the air. It terrified me when I realized I was the only female in the vehicle. The reality of it was almost too much to handle.

The SUV began moving. The engine was so quiet I only realized it from the way a crate shifted against me, forcing my head into an unnatural angle. When did I start to move away? Why hadn’t Dad found me yet? Briefly, I thought about my phone and naturally went to reach for it. I thrashed against the bungees and winced as they pulled on my skin.

The voices upfront were whispering, arguing about something I didn’t understand. My palms searched for something to clamp onto, something to defend myself with, or a way to get myself out of there. But all I felt was the cold metal of the cargo door and what I thought might be the frame of a crate. Headlights flew past the SUV’s windows as the driver accelerated. I cringed and dug my nail into my palm. Even if the cargo seating didn’t have a safety latch, the vehicle was moving way too fast for me to roll out with any hope of safety.

The arguing was getting louder. “When are we supposed to do that?”

A second voice laughed bitterly. “Yeah, we don’t exactly have a lot of free time on our hands.”

My ears tuned-in to the conversation and I tried to turn my head to see beyond the seat. All I could really see, though, was the brief flare of a lighter or a match and the lights of the freeway overhead.

“Just gimme one goddamn minute to think.” I stiffened in the cargo seat when I heard the voice of the mystery man.

“You’re going to get us all screwed,” said the first voice.

I flinched when I heard the leather disturbed and the loud sound of slapping. The second man began laughing again, and it took me a moment to realize someone had just gotten hit.

“I’m helpin’ is what I’m doing. You’re lucky everybody in the state didn’t come over when you got rid of that truck driver.”

I saw another flame and this time it was followed by the smell of the clove cigarettes.

The second man spoke up. “Hey, hey, hey! He’s got a point, Wally, and it could be a lot worse.”

When I lowered my eyes, I thought I saw the shadow of a hand slap someone’s back, but I couldn’t be sure. The words ‘got rid of’ were going off in my head like cartoon bombs, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.

“Thanks for the optimism, Polo.”

“Hey, Wally? Wally? Wasn’t that driver a connection of yours? What did you go and lose that guy for, anyway?” the second man asked.

“‘Cause he’s a damn fool.”

“To hell with you both! That greedy bastard wanted more money, a bigger percentage next time for less merchandise. Bottom line is we had a problem, so I took care of it.”

“Yeah,” said the mystery man. “Now we got a bigger problem.”

The one they called Polo laughed and the first man joined in. “Ain’t no problem,” he said. “I’ll take care of that, too.”

I saw another flame and this time I could easily smell sulfur. I gagged at the stench and began to cough. Between the tears, mucus pooling in my sinuses and lack of air available, I was no longer capable of breathing properly. Fear took over. Even though I commanded myself to inhale and exhale normally, I failed miserably and my head began to ripple like waves. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him look back at me, but it was only for the briefest of moments. I heard a deep exhalation of breath, then a button clicked, and I felt an eruption of wind blast my neck and shoulders. Within a minute or two, my chest stopped hurting so much and my heartbeat somewhat returned to normal.

Straightaway, I started counting the freeway lights in my head to calm myself down. I just had to get through this moment so I could make it to the next. Each time I got to one-hundred, I stopped and started over. One-hundred was a number I often felt comfortable counting to when I was upset. I think maybe repeating the action over and over tired out my brain enough so I couldn’t cry anymore. My eyes felt like burning coals in the back of my head; the mystery man and the ones identified as Wally and Polo had stopped their banter, leaving the vehicle in silence.

My limbs went heavy against the cumbersome crates and began to tingle in their awkward positions. I had to close my eyes as the wind blurred my vision. Somehow, despite my fear and impending doom, I felt myself fading into the cool of the summer night.

I blinked; my eyes stung against the brightness of day. I discovered new levels of self-hatred for sleeping so long. How had I slept for so many hours when I should have been trying to escape? I pushed my way past the man standing in front of me, no longer caring if I harmed him in any way. I only wanted to get as far away as possible. My arms and legs were stiff and my torso felt tingly from being cramped so long, but I managed to thrash past the mystery man and onto the crushed gravel. My shoes were missing. I reached down to rub my feet. Someone swore, and I think Polo started laughing. I straightened up and kept going. Another hop and my ponytail came loose from the tie, my hair cascading around me like a blonde curtain.

The seconds were painfully slow. In reality, I only made it two or three steps away from the SUV before the mystery man’s arms closed around my torso and he effortlessly tossed me over his shoulder.

I flailed my arms, hitting him as best as I could, thinking back to the few times I had attempted to lift free weights with Robbie. If I had stuck with it, I might have been able to defend myself better. Now, every ounce in me fought with what felt like the meaningless efforts of a child. Any remote hope I had of saving myself began to slip away.