The Road Trip At The End Box Set

by J N Wood

  Chapter 8: Offers

  What the fuck just happened? All I felt was confusion, and the overwhelming urge to be sick.

  My blurred vision cleared slightly. My head felt heavy, like it was dragging me forwards. My hands were in front of my face, fingers splayed out on the ground.

  Why was I on my hands and knees on a pavement?

  ‘Help him up,’ a man’s voice ordered.

  Who the fuck is that?

  I felt a hand under my arm, and with a pained groan from whomever the hand belonged to, was hoisted up to my feet. I was unsteady and stumbled, almost going over again. The hand’s grip on my arm tightened, stopping me from collapsing.

  ‘In here,’ the angry voice said. ‘Now.’

  The person holding me up turned me around. My insides didn’t seem to want to come with me. My stomach twisted and lurched, fighting to stay out there on the pavement. I felt something inside me contract and threaten to empty its contents. With a great deal of effort, I managed to suppress the urge to throw up.

  Because I’d been so concerned with not hurling, I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings. I stumbled forwards, trying to lift my feet off the ground. The person clinging onto me had taken me inside a dimly lit room.

  Weren’t we just outside? I can’t remember where for some reason, but I’m sure it was outside. There was a pavement. I was down on the pavement, on my knees.

  ‘Go down the fucking steps,’ the man said.

  ‘I think he’s badly hurt,’ Jack said. ‘He’s about to collapse.’

  Hey, Jack’s here.

  ‘Jack,’ I called out. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Be quiet and get down the fucking stairs,’ the man barked.

  ‘Okay, okay. We’ll go down,’ Jack said. ‘I’m right next to you Chris.’

  I managed to lift my head up and look around. Jack was the person holding me up.

  Why didn’t I know that? This is very confusing.

  ‘Willard,’ the man shouted. ‘We’re coming down with two guys. Don’t shoot them.’

  ‘Jack, who is Willard?’ I asked as we walked down the stairs. Wherever the steps led to seemed to be more illuminated than the previous room. It sounded like somebody was moving around down there.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Jack replied. ‘Stay quiet for a bit.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ the man told us.

  ‘Milos, Logan, that you?’ a voice called out from below us.

  ‘Yes Willard, of course it’s us you fucking idiot,’ the man shouted from close behind me. ‘We found two guys outside. They just need to hurry the fuck up and get down the stairs.’

  I was suddenly shoved forwards, almost sending me tumbling down the stairs. Luckily Jack still had a good grip on my arm and stopped me from falling.

  We reached the bottom of the stairs and found a man waiting expectantly for us. Long messy hair and a scruffy beard covered most of his face. He waved at us and said, ‘Hi guys.’

  I turned to Jack and said, ‘I’ve kind of forgotten what we’re doing here.’

  Another hand in my back forced me to take two or three steps forward, pulling Jack with me.

  ‘Willard,’ a new man’s voice said, slightly deeper and more gravelly than the first. ‘Get those two chairs and the tape.’

  ‘You don’t need to do this,’ Jack pleaded.

  ‘Of course we don’t need to do this,’ the first man said. ‘But we want to.’

  ‘Willard. Chairs now,’ the gravelly voice said.

  The scruffy guy called Willard dragged two chairs across the concrete floor. He left them side by side in the middle of the room. He almost bounced up and down behind them, a roll of black tape held in his hands.

  A man stepped past us and walked to the other side of the room, placing his bag on a table.

  ‘You get some good shit today Logan?’ Willard asked.

  The man started emptying his bag and placing things on the table. ‘Sure did Big Willy,’ he replied in his gravelly voice.

  Again, Jack and I were shoved forwards.

  ‘Sit your fucking asses down,’ the angry man ordered.

  He’s definitely the most pissed off out of the three.

  I turned around to see a small wiry guy staring at me, his grin partially hidden by a bushy moustache.

  Who the fuck is this little twat?

  Moustache lifted his hand and pointed a gun at my face. ‘Sit down on the fucking seats,’ he slowly told us.

  ‘Okay,’ Jack said, dragging me backwards. ‘We’re sitting down.’

  The wiry moustache guy continued to grin at us, all the while waving the gun from side to side. Willard forced my hands behind my back so my arms were around the back of the chair. Then he taped my wrists together, and my ankles to the chair legs. Along with making whooping noises, he ran around me in circles, wrapping the tape around my chest and the chair.

  What the actual fuck is going on here? I’ve no fucking idea.

  I turned and watched him do the same to Jack. The expression on Jack’s face scared me. He looked terrified.

  I’m so fucking confused. A thudding pain was pulsing through my head. I could feel it in my teeth.

  ‘Hey Moustache Man,’ I called out. ‘What the fuck are you doing to us?’

  I could hear Willard behind me, cackling and bouncing from foot to foot. ‘That’s you Milos. He called you Moustache Man.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up Willard,’ Milos said, before stepping forward and slapping me across the face.

  My head whipped to the side, the stinging pain overlapping with the pre-existing thudding.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I’m not Willard.’

  ‘Shut up Chris,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yeah shut the fuck up Chris,’ Milos said. ‘Listen to your boyfriend Jack.’

  Milos stepped in front of Jack and gave him a backhanded slap. Jack’s head shot around.

  ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I said to him.

  Another slap caught me by surprise. The impact made my chair briefly teeter onto two legs, before settling back down again. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to flex my jaw and get some feeling back in my cheek.

  At least the numbness means it doesn’t hurt as much.

  Fuck. Spoke too soon.

  The pain flooded into my face. It felt like one hundred slaps all at the same time. ‘You little fucker,’ I called out.

  ‘Milos,’ Logan said from the other side of the room. ‘Don’t kill them please. We need to find out where they keep their shit.’

  I looked up to see Milos poised and ready to hit me again, his hand up in the air. He grinned down at me, his hand still set to strike. I closed my eyes and set my jaw.

  Nothing happened.

  I opened my eyes to see Milos walking away from us towards Logan, who was still unpacking his bag.

  ‘Hey Logan,’ Milos said. ‘Sandro’s shift starts in twenty minutes. We need to meet up with Custard.’

  Meet up with Custard? What the fuck does that mean?

  ‘Fuck,’ Logan uttered. ‘Lost track of time.’

  ‘What about these two?’ Milos asked.

  ‘Big Willy can watch them for a few hours.’ Logan turned around and waved to Willard behind us. ‘Come here Big Willy Style.’

  Willard walked over to them. ‘I don’t wanna stay here again,’ he complained. ‘I never go out.’

  ‘That’s because you almost got us caught last time you fucking idiot,’ Milos said.

  ‘Stop calling him an idiot,’ Logan scolded, before turning his attention back to Willard. ‘Keep an eye on these two but don’t talk to them. We’ll find out where they keep their shit when we get back. Four hours yeah. Just play on your Xbox and do not talk to them.’

  ‘Okay Logan,’ Willard replied.

  ‘We don’t have any shit,’ I said.

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ Milos snapped.

  ‘He’s right,’ Jack said. ‘We don’t have anything. We’re just trying to get home.’ />
  Milos marched over. Jack anticipated a slap coming so clamped his eyes and mouth shut. Milos didn’t disappoint, swinging his arm around and catching Jack on the side of his head.

  ‘Do you want another?’ Milos said to me.

  I looked at Jack’s reddening ear and shrugged my shoulders as much as I could with all the tape wrapped around me. ‘Fuck it, might as well.’

  Milos let out a cruel sounding laugh and slapped me, in exactly the same fucking place as the previous two slaps.

  ‘Cheers,’ I muttered through clenched teeth.

  ‘Milos,’ Logan said. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘Back soon boys,’ Milos said, grinning down at us. After a few uncomfortable seconds of his inane grinning, he turned and followed Logan up the stairs.

  When Logan was halfway up, he paused and turned around. ‘Don’t talk to them Willard.’

  Milos’s feet disappeared as he stepped into the darkness above. Then two sets of footsteps creaked across the floorboards until I heard a door swing open and close.

  I clamped my eyes shut and tried to remember how we got here. We were in a hedge looking at the fence, and then we were walking somewhere.

  ‘Chris,’ Jack whispered. ‘Are you okay?’

  I opened my eyes. The half of the room I could see had tables lining the walls. Piles of boxes of various sizes filled the tables and the spaces underneath. I tried to twist around to find Willard but couldn’t see him.

  ‘I don’t know why but I’m a tiny little bit confused,’ I said. ‘How did we get here?’

  Jack also tried to find Willard and failed. ‘That Milos fucker hit you on the head outside. Don’t you remember?’

  I closed my eyes again and tried to think back. Can I remember that? Maybe.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Where are we?’

  Jack glanced around at our surroundings. ‘The basement of one of the shops.’

  ‘Did he hit you when we were outside?’

  ‘No,’ Jack responded. ‘Just you.’

  ‘Why did he only hit me?’

  ‘I don’t fucking know. You were probably closer to him. He’s made up for it down here. My face feels like it’s on fire.’

  ‘Hey guys,’ Willard called out from behind us. ‘Do you like knives?’

  I twisted my neck to find him again, only seeing Jack’s panic stricken face.

  Willard came into view, over by the table where Logan had been emptying his bag. ‘I love knives,’ he said. ‘Logan always brings me back the biggest ones he finds.’ He spun around and gleefully stared at us, a six inch long knife in his hand. He started flipping it in his hand, end over end, catching the handle and then the blade. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, walking over to us.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, drawing the word out. ‘It looks nice.’

  Jack swivelled his head around to glare at me, his brow furrowed.

  I looked back questioningly. ‘What?’ I mouthed.

  The handle was back in Willard’s hand as he approached Jack. He drew the tip of the blade across Jack’s shoulder and down his arm. Jack leaned away as much as he could.

  ‘I’m not allowed to talk to you but Logan never said nothing about cutting you a little.’

  ‘You are talking to us Willard,’ I said.

  Again, Jack glared at me, frantically shaking his head this time.

  Willard dragged the blade across Jack’s left knee and then his right. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I am talking to you. That means I’ll have to hurt you both so you don’t tell Logan and Milos nothing. Milos beats me if I get things wrong.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about,’ I started.

  ‘Shut the fuck up Chris,’ Jack quickly said, before nervously smiling and looking up at Willard. ‘We won’t tell them you spoke to us. We won’t tell them anything.’

  With one long stride, Willard was suddenly next to me, so he was between me and Jack. ‘I’ll probably kill you first,’ he said, now staring into my eyes. His face was getting closer and closer to mine. He was flipping the knife end over end again.

  ‘I thought you were just going to hurt us?’ I asked.

  ‘Please stop talking Chris,’ Jack said.

  ‘I’d much rather you didn’t kill us,’ I said, flinching away from him.

  When Willard’s face was just a few inches from mine, he quickly stood bolt upright and stopped flipping the knife. ‘Maybe I won’t kill you.’

  In a flash his face was close to mine again, the knife under my chin. ‘Or maybe I will,’ he breathed, the hot stench filling my nostrils. Then he smiled and slowly stood up straight, chuckling away to himself. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.’ He made a quick half turn and went to walk past me.

  His right knee struck my left knee. Then he somehow managed to catch his right ankle on the back of his left leg. A split second later he was face down on the floor. His left foot shook for three or four seconds and then stopped.

  A few seconds of silence passed. I stared down at the back of Willard’s head, his right hand caught under his face. I waited for him to get back up and kill me for tripping him up.

  ‘What the fuck just happened?’ Jack asked me.

  ‘Fuck knows. His knee hit my knee, and then his legs turned into spaghetti. They were all over the fucking place.’

  I still stared down at Willard’s prone body. He wasn’t getting back up.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Jack asked. ‘Willard, are you okay?’

  Then I noticed the blood, slowly seeping out around his head and staining the concrete floor.

  ‘There’s blood,’ I said, glaring down at the ever increasing redness. ‘A lot of blood.’

  ‘Where’s his knife?’ Jack asked. ‘Can you get to it?’

  ‘I think it might be in his face. That’s why there’s all the blood.’

  Jack tried in vain to lean forward to see around me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean he’s stabbed himself in the face. What do you think I mean?’

  ‘What did you do Chris? They’re definitely going to kill us now.’

  ‘What the fuck? I didn’t do anything. I’m strapped to a chair. It’s not my fault he tripped over me.’

  ‘The fucking psycho Milos isn’t going to care if you didn’t mean it. You just fucking killed us. Thanks Chris.’

  I glared at Jack. ‘Fuck you twat face. Those two fuckers might not care, but you know I didn’t do it on purpose.’ I quickly leaned backwards and forwards, the chair first going onto the front legs, and then the back legs. ‘I’m strapped to this fucking chair.’

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ Jack said. ‘Look for something.’

  ‘We need to break the chairs,’ I said. ‘I just managed to lift mine up a bit. Lean forward and stand up on your feet. Then slam the chair back down to break the back legs.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jack agreed. ‘Good idea.’ With a grunt he leaned forward. The back legs of his chair briefly left the ground before falling down again. ‘Wait a second. I’m finding it difficult to get it up.’

  ‘I know. Beth told me you have issues with that.’

  ‘Fuck off Chris,’ he spat, and with a grunt, leaned forward so he was up on his feet. The back legs were about three or four inches off the ground. ‘Right,’ he smiled at me. ‘Here we go.’ He brought the chair down with a double clap that echoed around the basement.

  His chair was still entirely intact.

  I looked up to see Jack’s eyes closed, his face quivering.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ I said.

  Jack opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. ‘Yes I know that Chris.’ He looked at me and forced a smile. ‘Why don’t you try it?’

  ‘Okay. I will.’ It took me a couple of attempts, but I finally got the chair’s back legs off the ground.

  ‘Now just slam it down on the concrete Chris. You should be able to do it.’

  I sat back down with all the strength I had. When my chair hit the ground, a shooting pain shot through
me, starting in my arsehole and travelling all the way up my spine.

  I tried to breathe through the agony.

  Once the pain receded slightly, I turned to Jack. ‘You knew that was gonna happen. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I fucking did. You just watched me do it first.’

  ‘I don’t think we can get the right angle with our ankles tied to the chair,’ I said, trying to look down past my knees.

  ‘Yeah no shit Chris.’

  ‘Any suggestions?’ I asked.

  ‘You need to get the knife,’ Jack said.

  ‘And how am I going to do that? It’s in his face.’

  Jack strained his neck and angled his head towards me three times. ‘Fall onto him and pull the knife out.’

  I repeated the strange movement he’d made with his neck. ‘What the fuck does that mean? My wrists are taped up behind my back.’

  ‘You’re hands aren’t taped up. Fall onto him so your hands are near his head and pull the knife out.’

  ‘Simple as that yeah?’ I asked.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  I looked down at Willard in front of me. ‘I’m facing him,’ I said.

  ‘Bounce and shuffle your way around.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ I muttered. ‘It’s really not that easy.’

  ‘Just hurry up and pull that knife out of the hairy fuck’s face. I’d do it but you’re closer. And you killed him.’

  ‘I didn’t fucking kill him,’ I said, and tried to spin my chair around. I barely moved it. With every twist and effort I moved a frustratingly small amount. It was gonna take all day just to get into position.

  ‘Speed it up a bit Chris.’

  ‘Yeah thanks Jack. I’m trying.’

  On my next thrust, I tried a little too hard. The chair started to topple over sideways. I leaned over to my left as much as possible but it wasn’t helping. With a loud splintering clatter, I fell onto my right shoulder, my hands nowhere near Willard’s head.

  ‘Well done Chris,’ Jack said sarcastically.

  But my right leg was free. I kicked it out to make sure, hitting Willard’s leg in the process. The bottom of the chair’s leg was still taped to the back of my leg, but it was free.