Holy crap, it’s for keeping sounds in, sounds that someone doesn’t want the outside world to hear.
John spends an hour or so searching everywhere for a way out. He presses his hands against every inch of wall hoping for a hidden door. He finds nothing but solid brick and mortar under soundproofing materials. He slams his body into the ply wooded doors to no avail. John finally returns to his seat exhausted from his desperate exploration of the claustrophobic space. He finds Jan weeping into her well-manicured trembling hands.
“Don’t cry sweetie,” John takes her cold chin between his fingers and looks into her eyes. “I’ll figure something out. We have to be strong,” he kisses her forehead and pulls her head against his chest.
They sat there awhile, John holding his terrified wife as she wept wet tears onto his sweat-drenched shirt. John hunts his mind for an answer to their predicament. Someone will come to get them. He realizes again that he needs a weapon to defend them from the eventual attack that is coming. A tire iron, every car has a tool to remove flat tires.
John pops the trunk. He searches the empty space, pulling the carpet up to find a tiny temporary spare but not one tool. Damn, this rental company sucks. If we survive this insanity, I’ll sue the shit out of the bastards that rented me this piece of shit car, John thinks as he closes the trunk.
Meanwhile Jan thinks about how she had never been to Europe or seen Hollywood. She had always wanted to stand on Meryl Steep’s star and have her picture taken. There are still so many things I haven’t gotten to yet, and now I’m trapped in some sick murderer’s killing space. Time is what she prays for as she hears John get back into the car and close the door.
Time goes by, and John forces Jan to drink a little from the sodas. Both colas are gone after twelve hours in the hot hollow garage; the last of their food is gone after two days. The room begins to reek of feces and urine. The heat is unbearable. They sleep as much as possible just to escape.
On the second day, John is sure that he hears someone banging around outside. His hands are no more than bloody stubs from beating on the door for hours trying to get someone’s attention. No answer ever comes and the days go by. Their minds begin to slide away on the fourth day. The concept of time disappears along with the headlights.
Jan falls asleep in John’s lap on the fifth day. He listens carefully as her breathing slows until it stops. He rocks her cold, limp body in his rickety hands that shake uncontrollably. He carries her pale, dead body back to the front seat of the rented car. He buckles her into the passenger seat and kisses the ashen, soft skin on her clammy forehead. He joins her in the car, snapping himself into the driver’s seat. The starvation pains fade away. Death comes to steal his life and as he thinks of his aunt and uncle, a tear, his last, rolls down his cheek.
“Wow, you guys look tired,” The big guy in overalls says as he hooks the rental car to his tow truck. He spits his tobacco as he pulls the GPS from the car. That good-for-nothing rental company won’t be paying him a visit any time soon.
John and Jan’s bodies are driven out to an isolated salvage yard to join the many others in a field of crushed vehicles.
***
The Rental Page 3
