by Baron Sord
Under the bed?
Nothing.
She still had feet. That would have to suffice.
What to do about the big feet outside this door?
Could she fight off a man?
She smirked to herself. She’d fought off many men in her life. The usual handsy men she’d dated. But never kidnappers. She could try to seduce the man outside. What if he was gay? What if he was gross? No, she needed a better plan.
Too bad this room had no window. If it had, she would’ve climbed right out.
Maybe she needed to wait.
What time was it?
The phone said it was 5:31am.
If the kidnapper outside was a night owl who hadn’t yet gone to bed, maybe he would soon. What if he was an early riser and had just woken up? There was no way to know.
The TV blared Bollywood.
Emily waited for a few minutes, standing near the door, wondering if she should just make a run for it. The element of surprise was always effective.
She reached for the doorknob.
What if the door was locked?
If she touched it and rattled it, the man outside would hear her.
But she needed to know.
She reached for it again.
Hesitated.
Reached for it again.
Screw it.
She twisted the doorknob carefully.
It turned smoothly.
The door opened and cool air drifted across her face.
Assholes! They had A/C and they weren’t letting Emily have any of it. Not even a fan. Now she hated them twice as much.
The view of the room revealed a couch, a TV, a tiny kitchen area. All of it was white and plain and well-worn. Nobody lived here permanently. It had to be a rental apartment of some kind. Bollywood flickered on the TV. On the couch, there was a shoulder in a T-shirt.
A very big shoulder.
RING, RING, RING!
A phone jingled somewhere near the big shoulder.
Emily gasped audibly and nearly jumped through the ceiling. Fortunately for her, the blaring TV drowned out the sound. She quickly pulled the door closed to a slit, just enough to see out but hopefully not enough for that big shoulder to see in.
The big shoulder lifted and revealed a big muscled arm that pointed a remote at the TV.
The sound went dead.
Emily prayed she wouldn’t be next.
The phone continued to ring.
Finally, the man answered, irritated, “What? Sure, yeah. You did? How much? No, they gotta pay more than that if they want the whole body. We could get $250,000 if we sell all the usable organs separately.”
Whose body? Emily wondered.
“We already blood typed her, sequenced her DNA, everything. Yeah, she’s clean. No. No genetic markers for cancer and no existent tumor markers.”
Emily suddenly looked down at her elbows. There was just enough light glowing from under the door for her to see what appeared to be two healing needle marks on her right arm. She touched them gently and both felt bruised. Had someone taken her blood recently? Had this man taken it? She swallowed a lump the size of a golfball.
“I’m telling you, her body is high quality. Young, healthy, beautiful. Yeah, I’ve seen all of it. Got a good loooong look.”
Emily grimaced. How long? And how much had he seen?
“You won’t find a better donor anywhere in the world. Yup, she’s twenty-four.”
Emily was twenty-four. The golfball sized lump she’d swallowed wanted to come back up in a rush of disgust.
“She’s blonde and has blue eyes. Why?”
Emily touched her hair thoughtfully. She was blonde and had blue eyes like her brothers Jason and Logan.
“What does hair color matter if they just want the body?”
Emily’s stomach knotted. Just want the body? Like, without her head? What did that mean? Were they going to cut her head off?
“Yeah, they’ve already paid over a hundred grand. No, we’re not giving her back. We’re just trying to make some extra cash before we sell her organs. Look, you know the situation. Tell your buyers it’s $450,000 for a complete body. If they can’t afford it, I know people who can. Tell them to quit wasting my time, okay? And don’t call me again unless they’re ready to make a downpayment on a serious offer. Got it? Good.” The man’s voice had been irritated, angry, and aggressive. Not a man to be messed with.
The TV sound resumed blaring the uplifting Bollywood musical.
While Emily had listened to the man on the phone, the ball of fear in her stomach had inflated outward until her entire body was a balloon of high-pressure fear.
She was stretched to the limit and knew she had to act now.
If she hesitated, she’d be dead.
She opened the door two inches to survey the room more carefully.
The front door had a thumbturn lock.
All Emily had to do was run around the couch and get to that door. Her back would be to the man while she opened it, and he’d be within a few feet. It would be too easy for him to lunge and grab her.
Maybe she should wait and see if he fell asleep?
She watched his shoulder rise and fall slowly.
Was he sleeping already?
No, not this soon after that heated call.
If she made a run for it anyway, would he be surprised to see Emily out of bed?
Of course he would.
The one thing Emily knew for sure was that surprise didn’t work if you didn’t use it. She placed the smart phone carefully in her mouth and bit down gently, trying not to crack the screen. She’d need both hands to work that doorknob and she didn’t want to drop the phone by accident while she fumbled with it.
She pulled the bedroom door open slowly, wincing in expectation of a creaky hinge. There wasn’t one. Once she had it open far enough for her to make her move, she counted down in her head.
Five.
Four.
She went on three, dashing out and around the couch and grabbing the front doorknob with one hand while twisting the lock with the other.
“What the—!” The man on the couch gasped.
Emily tore the door open and jumped into a hallway and started running.
Footsteps slapped behind her.
Another door at the end.
Could she make it?
Luckily, it had a panic bar and she slammed it open.
Stairs.
She danced down them as fast as she could, taking the phone out of her mouth with one hand while gliding her other along the railing.
There were several flights. Around and around she went, going down and down and down.
Frantic feet hammered behind her. Restrained hissing from the man, “Get back here, you shit smelling bitch!”
Emily hadn’t taken a single breath since bolting. Nearly lost her footing five times going down all four flights in the stairwell. Smashed open another panic bar at the bottom and burst outside at a full run.
Faint dawn light revealed a maze of back alley streets.
No matter which way Emily turned, she was walled in on both sides by a mix of smooth cement walls topped by iron bars, or ivy-covered cement bricks interrupted here and there by rusty metal plate gates. Nothing she could climb over without a grappling hook.
She spared a glance behind her and saw a big bald man in a T-shirt and shorts, her captor. Like her, his feet were bare. Probably the only thing about this entire situation that was fair.
Unfortunately for her, the road was cracked and rough and hurt her feet. She ignored the pain. Overhead, dozens of electrical cables ran from one leaning power pole to the next. Scattered piles of trash, old shoes, and cracked pottery littered the edges of the road. She turned yet another corner and ran right past a surprised black-haired man with brown skin wearing nothing but shorts and flip-flops as he tossed a loaded plastic bag into a large trash bin and stared at Emily’s naked legs. Was he Indian? Chinese? Thai? Emily didn’t have time t
o stop and ask.
Behind her, the kidnapper was flagging. Emily was in excellent shape despite her unintended convalescence. She was also running for her life. Adult diapers and a dirty shirt weren’t her preferred running attire, but she didn’t have time to change.
She passed an empty lot. Nothing in the back of it except more walls and scattered broken glass. Not worth the risk. If she ran in, she’d be trapped.
Several scooters were parked along the alleyway, but Emily didn’t know how to hot-wire anything. Ahead, two rusty bicycles were parked outside a traditional one story Thai house. If they weren’t locked up, Emily was going to borrow one. She didn’t have time to ask permission.
As she approached, she saw a fat chain locking the larger one to a pole. The smaller one was very rusty. She had a slight lead on her kidnapper, so she blazed past both without slowing.
The kidnapper grabbed the smaller bicycle and pushed it up to speed before hopping on. Something metal snapped. “Shit! Piece of shit!” One of the pedals had broken off so the man threw the bike tumbling aside. He was having trouble keeping up.
For the first time since Emily realized she’d been kidnapped, there was a thin beam of hope shining from the end of this horrid tunnel.
She poured on the speed and turned another corner.
And ran right into a dead end.
She stumbled to a stop.
At the end was a high cement wall topped by vertical iron bars.
The kidnapper was right behind her, feet slapping rhythmically.
She needed to do something.
A very expensive looking BMW was parked in front of the wall. Sorry, whoever bought this, Emily thought. She put the phone in her mouth and ran toward the front of the car at full speed. She vaulted onto the hood then onto the roof, denting both before jumping for the wall. She grabbed desperately for the iron bars with both hands, catching them in a moment of Parkour brilliance. She stopped herself from crashing into the cement wall with her feet, but not without dropping the phone, which landed on her lap.
“Shit!” she gasped, afraid to lose the phone. She scrambled to grab it with one hand, still gripping one of the iron bars with the other.
Footsteps slapped around the side of the BMW and the big man grabbed her thigh with two strong hands, pulling hard. “Get down, you bitch!”
“No!” Emily kicked, but he had her leg. “Let go of me, asshole! Let go!” All the kicking sent her phone flying. It clattered to the ground. “No!” she whined.
The man pivoted around behind her, standing between her and the back bumper of the BMW. He wrapped both arms around her waist and hung all his body weight on her.
Emily was strong, but she couldn’t possibly support her own weight and that of a large man. She tried, but her grip eventually broke away from the bars and he dragged her down. On her feet, she fought against him, but he slammed her against the cement wall. She barely turned her head away in time to avoid a broken nose, but her cheek hit hard. She’d have a big bruise by tomorrow.
If she made it to tomorrow.
The man savagely twisted her arm behind her back and hissed in her ear, “If you scream, I will break your arm off.”
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” The sudden explosion of pain in her shoulder stopped her cold.
A second later, a bright knife point hovered an inch from her eye. He growled with dark menace, “Do what I tell you, or I will kill you. I will cut your throat and you will bleed out in this alley in sixty seconds. I’ve got nothing to lose, bitch. I will happily kill you right here.” He yanked her arm for emphasis. “Do you understand?”
“Nnnnnn—” Emily wanted to say no. But she was too scared.
He yanked her arm again. “Say yes or I will fucking slit your throat.”
“Nnnnn—yah, yah, yes.” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. She hated the thought of giving in, but she didn’t know what else to do.
The man put his knife away, picked up the cracked smart phone, and walked her back to the building, their fingers laced together like a man and woman in love. He squeezed her hand so hard, she was afraid he’d break all her fingers. “If anybody stops us and says anything,” he growled, “we had a fight. You’re my girlfriend and we had a fight.”
The idea of being this man’s girlfriend disgusted her. Despite his baldness, he wasn’t bad looking. If it wasn’t for the black bladed facial tattoos covering the right side of his face, and the bull ring in his nose, he might even be attractive. But Emily hated him. The only thing she would ever do willingly for him was knee him in the balls. If she had the chance.
He squeezed her fingers even harder and all her joints popped loudly.
“Ow! Owwww!! Okay!”
“We made up and we’re going back to our apartment.”
Emily stopped and glared at him.
“Say it, bitch.” He squeezed again.
She wanted to spit in his face. “We made up. We’re going back to our apartment.”
He glared at her, his lip curling.
Emily knew that look. Not good. Was he thinking about raping her?
He chuckled, “If you didn’t smell like shit, I might actually fuck you. You’re pretty hot.”
Thank goodness for poopy diapers.
To Emily’s dismay, they didn’t pass anyone on the way back to the apartment building. If they had, she would’ve cried for help. She looked through every window she could, hoping to catch someone’s eye, but it was still too early. Most people were still asleep. The only thing that caught Emily’s attention while they walked was her throbbing cheek. She touched it experimentally with her free hand. It was raw and wet but not bloody.
To Emily’s surprise, the back door of the kidnapper’s building was propped open with a cement block. Mr. Kidnapper kicked it aside and pulled her up the stairwell. Upstairs, the apartment door was also wide open. He pushed her inside before closing the door behind him.
“What now?” Emily asked.
“You wanna take a shower?” His eyes gleamed. “Wash all that shit off?”
“Fuck you,” Emily spat.
CRACK!
He slapped her hard.
Emily spun and stumbled into a small kitchen table, stopping herself from crashing into it by planting both hands on the top. Her head hung between her shoulders. She stared down at the table, wondering how she ever ended up in this situation. Was this man going to kill her before he sold her body or after? Was there any way out of this living nightmare? Was there anything she could possibly do?
Laying on the table beneath her was a cheaply printed pamphlet stained with grease.
CLASSY DINER.
America Food For You!
FAST DELIVER!
Followed by a +66 phone number.
Emily knew what that number meant.
Thailand.
She gazed at the phone number, seeing it, not reciting it. She let her eyes move over it so she would better remember it.
“Get moving, you fucking bitch,” the kidnapper grumbled and pulled Emily by the arms. Then he pushed her into the bedroom and shoved her into the bed. “Put that on,” he ordered, pointing at the NeuraLink.
Emily stared at him.
He smiled, “Do it or you’re dead. Bitch, did you not hear me? Did I not make myself clear?”
Emily pulled her legs onto the bed and picked up the headset.
“Oof! You really smell like shit,” he grimaced and waved his hand in front of his face.
She scowled at him.
“Put it on, shit britches,” he nodded at the NeuraLink.
Emily did as ordered.
“Plug it into the phone.”
She did.
“Gimme the phone.”
She did. The only reason she was so docile was to help her concentrate and burn that phone number into her brain.
“Lie down,” he said while swiping his finger over the phone, undoubtedly accessing the Reternity app. “Sweet dreams, bitch.” He poked his finger against the
phone screen.
The world disappeared.
—: Chapter 32 :—
Tuesday, March 24th, 2037
5:59am
The Real World
I woke up disoriented.
Saw an unfamiliar ceiling in a dark room.
Sat up in bed.
Pulled something off my head.
Where was I?
Some hotel room.
How the hell did I get here?
I stood up from the bed and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at an unfamiliar city that was just starting to wake up. The cars driving down below still had their lights on. The sun hadn’t yet risen.
My phone rang on the bed.
A blinking headset was attached to it.
The phone screen flashed.
Dad.
Calling on Skype3D.
I answered, “Hey. What up?”
“Logan. It’s your father.”
“Yeah, I know. What’s going on? Why’re you calling so early?”
“I know where Emily is.”
“Me too,” I smirked. “She’s in Cambodia, working for Giving Hands Worldwide or whatever.”
“No, Logan. She’s in Bangkok.”
“Bangkok?” I was confused. “What’s she doing in Bangkok?”
“Don’t you remember? She was kidnapped. Mind-locked.” He sounded panicked. “You spent a week searching for her in Reternity. Jason took us to the Dark Kingdom and—”
That was when it all hit me. I gasped, “Where is she? Tell me where she is, Dad! Did you find her? Where the hell is she?!”
“She’s being held in an apartment. We think it’s somewhere close to a restaurant called Classy Diner. They have a website. Jason,” Dad turned his head to the side, “Text the web address to Logan.”
My phone pinged with a new text from Jason.
“Got it,” I said.
Dad said, “The place is in Punya Village. It’s only about 5 miles from your hotel. Emily said the guy holding her has a facial tattoo on the right side of his face and a bull ring in his nose. Real big bald guy. Caucasian.”
“Did she say anything else about where she was?”
“Yeah. The building she’s in has a bunch of alleys around it. No real landmarks she could remember. Logan, you need to go to the Makasan police and tell that detective you mentioned to talk to the people at Classy Diner. Talk to their waiters and any delivery people. See if they remember a bald guy with a face tattoo and a bull ring.”
