by Mark Edwards
He held my arm, squeezing the shit out of it, and used his weapon to point me towards Matt's pickup truck.
“You're going to drive.”
He opened the driver's door. “Go around the steering wheel.”
I did comply. I took a look at the accelerator pedal. He still had the pistol pointed toward my head.
“Oh, don't think about trying anything funny, woman. I know you'd want to see your little girl again, right?”
I nodded, taking a side glance at him with my glossy jumping eyes.
“You want to see her again, RIGHT?”
“Yes.”
“Calm down, Taylor, Taylor. Stop that shaking. You know I don't want to see you hurt, Right?”
“RIGHT?”
“Yes,” I jumped. I closed my eyes. His barking seemed worse than the bite of his bullet, not that I wanted to be able to compare them both.
“I'm going to walk around to the passenger's seat, and you better not try nothing, ok?”
I shook my head.
“Because if you do anything funny...”
BANG!
Broken shards of the rear windshield flew carelessly all over, thanks to his bullet.
Eeeekk!
“Quiet now, Taylor. You have no idea how I hate excitement,” he grinned.
He needed to have done nothing more to make me know how crazy he was and what he was capable of doing, and I was willing to do anything, anything to see my little Haley again, alive, so I sat still around the steering wheel of the pick-up truck, allowing him to walk around to the passenger's seat.
“Damn it! This thing won't open,” he forced out.
His bullet had apparently left a hole in the door opening mechanism, screwing up the passenger door.
He then came back around to the driver's door, climbed over me and then made his way to the passenger's seat.
“Drive.”
Our bodies jolted as I turned the key, cranking the truck to life.
“I need a bit of insurance,” he grinned, forcing the tip of his pistol between my legs. “Now, drive,” he grinned.
*****
“You know your little boyfriend, Matt should have just simply asked you to do it.”
“Do...what?”
He looked me over as our bodies jerked. I was still driving the pick-up and he still had the cold mouth of his revolver between my legs. “We transport a particular type of goods from here to Mexico.”
The way I looked at him, he could discern the question mark on my forehead.
“Look where you going, you want to get us killed? Anyways, our main transporter was murdered so we needed a replacement, an unsuspecting replacement.” He looked me over.
“You–– mean–– you wanted me to transport illegal goods to Mexico?”
“But...why was my daughter taken? What does she have to do with this?”
“Matt took too long to invite you to our exclusive regime so we had to find another way to get you into our program.”
“But?”
“You want to see your little Haley again, alive, RIGHT?” He moved a finger closer toward the trigger of his gun, which was still pointed between my legs.
I nodded.
“Oh, shit, what do they want now?” Jenkins breathed after seeing two patrol cops in front of us on their parked motorbikes. They both came off their bikes and signaled me to stop. I breathed relief. Jenkins took a deep breath. He swiftly placed this towel over his hand, covering the gun he had between my legs. He moved it closer, down there, touching it, making me jump to an upright posture, my eyes opening up wider, as I sat around the steering wheel. I guess he wanted me to know that I would lose everything down there if I ever hinted at the cops that I was in trouble.
“Good morning, is everything alright?” one of the cops greeted.
I so badly wanted to say 'No' but I felt the cold nozzle of Jenkin's pistol pressing harder against my tight area. I smiled at the officers. I figured I needed to comply with Jenkins. I had a lot at stake...a lot. I couldn't risk losing my daughter and my––.
“May I see your drivers licence and registration please?”
“This truck isn't...”
“Hey man, I'm a cop,” Jenkins interjected, before I could even finish. “Officer Jenkins, Williamsburg Police Dept.”
“Oh, we've heard of you,” the other cop giggled, looking at the towel that covered his hand.
“See you're having a whale of a time with your girlfriend.”
“Ha, ha,” he grinned, giving me a kiss on the lips as if he had forgotten that he was holding a gun between my legs. My entire body flinched in disgust and hate, I would have preferred touching an insect.
“Anyways, take it easy, Pal. Drive safely.”
“Sure.”
The cops were about to walk off but, “Hey, what happened to your windshield?” one of them spat out, looking at the rear windshield that Jenkins had torn out earlier with a bullet. I started blinking my eyes, hoping that the officer would have picked up that all wasn't well.
“Just a minute...a bullet hole in the passenger-door?”
Before the officer could finish...
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
Both officers fell to the ground.
“You hurt them, Jenkins!”
“DRIVE!”
Dangerous brows formed over his reddened eyes. He pointed his weapon toward my right ear. “HURRY!”
I slammed the accelerator pedal, making the vehicle leap from zero to a fish-tail.
“What are you doing?”
“You said drive, right?”
I wouldn't stop wrapping that steering wheel until the pick-up truck started swirling around, like a roller coaster at a park fair, making everything around us spin at the speed of Flash. The pickup then plunged off the road, mowing down this white picket fence. I floored the gas pedal, pointing the truck toward this willow tree.
I then swiftly pulled the latch of my door. Jenkins pulled his latch too but his door just wouldn't open; he should have remembered that. I hurriedly pushed my door open and threw myself on the grass. I rolled a few yards.
I covered my head while staying on the ground. I listened to the blast.
* * * * *
“Back there, he did mention something about Forest Hil...I think,” I whispered, brushing myself off.
“It's time to go get my kid.”
12
I couldn't remember where I had put my phone, neither was the pay phone of any help. I needed the help but I had to get my daughter if it meant doing this on my own. And who could I call when I'm labeled as a suspect for what happened to the Mexican and maybe even what happened to Matt, and maybe even Rogue Officer Jenkins. I continued peering through the windows of the long grey sparsely loaded bus, still wearing only my teeshirt and undergarments, looking along the countryside. I tapped my fingers on the railing of the seat of the bus, anxiously waiting for that moment. I knew I had to see my daughter again, and there's nothing that was going to stop me. I was determined. Anything, Haley, Anything.
I ignored the gaze of this nosey old lady who sat in the row, right across from me. She had silky white hair; she seemed more than willing to fire up a gossip. I wasn't in the mode; I had a kid to find. I continued looking outdoors as life of the Virginia countryside flipped by, through the windows of the bus– I saw couples fishing together, this man walking his dog, this woman loading her dodge pick-up truck with sweet potatoes, having not another care in the world and then I saw this woman, about my age, 28, along with this Afro-American bloke, playing Double Dutch with her little girl, who maybe he calls his step-daughter, her blond ponytail flashing away. The sight of this drove home the fact of how unlucky I was, unlike her. I covered my face with my hands, hiding the teardrops.
I then had this flashback of the day Haley, me and her dad, Martin, all went to Disneyland in Orlando, a little over a year ago. We had a ball. I started hating Martin around that time but I couldn't deny the fact that we had one of our best days back
there as a family unit. And that roller-coaster ride was ahh, something else. All three of us, screaming, holding tightly to each other as our cart made that close-to-90° dip. I felt as if I had lost my entire stomach back there. Never thought I would have lived that one out. I still had those photos we all took with Micky, Mini, and Goofy, Haley's favorite disney character.
And then, through my window, as the bus slowed down, I saw this little girl, couldn't be older than 8, flashing her ponytail while she sat on this bench. Probably she was waiting for someone to get her or probably her mommy had gone to get her ice-cream. But who could be so careless, leaving a toddler alone? “Look who's talking,” I moped, taking a deep breath and hating myself for letting this happen to Haley.
I took another look over my shoulders once more, looking at this low-cut hair dude, sitting toward the back, who had a few days growth of beard. He sat in a row across from this woman, mid-50s, who would intermittently give me a glance while she spoke on her phone. I found the bloke so suspicious without any real reason to. He took another glance at me and then he smiled. He popped his cigar from his lips. Maybe it's my mind telling me weird sort of stuff. I got up from off my seat, held on to the railings of the moving bus and then shuffled my way to the back.
“Where's she?”
“Where's who?”
“My daughter...where the heck is she?”
He looked in the pocket of his shirt, “Not in here, mama,” he belittled.
I moved back to my seat without saying anything, feeling rather idiotic.
The bus then pulled over. The rear and front doors swung wide opened. A pair of officers boarded the bus, through the front door. They looked everyone over as if they were looking for a suspect. I took a deep breath, trying to prevent my rushing heartbeats from making me numb. They started walking toward the middle of the bus, where I had been sitting.
Probably it's best if I get off, I pondered, taking a glance toward the rear of the bus.
Or...maybe I should stay calm, I breathed.
Then through the rear doors boarded another pair of cops, looking even more purposeful than the first pair.
The sudden pain in my head throbbed, disturbingly as they rambled closer. I felt cornered. Maybe they're not looking for me. But what if they're looking for me?
I felt as if my mind was about to explode, even the unruly hair on my head was shaking. I looked outside, through my window. The cops stood at the passage way, next to my seat.
This is it... Stay calm, Taylor, I forced myself to think, though my knees shivered like those of a suffering kid in winter.
“My grandson's a cop too. A real kick-ass Williamsburg sheriff he is.”
It was the elderly lady, the one who sat in the row across from me. She smiled with nothing but pride as the other passengers giggled and so did one of the cops.
“Let's go.”
They all exited the bus.
I breathed relief. I wanted to thank Miss Nosey so much.
But then, the woman toward the rear, who would momentarily take a glance at me while talking on her mobile phone got up from her seat.
“Officers,” she hollered, sticking her head through the window. “Inside here.”
She then gave me this stare of contempt. The officers turned back and started re-boarding the bus through the front door. I swiftly got up from my seat and shuffled my way to the rear door, making my escape.
13
Two Hours Later
By now I was in the loneliest part of Forest Hill–– the woods, crushing mushrooms while strolling through this crooked path between shrubs and pines. And this was when I realized my mobile phone had been in my bosom all along. I breathed relief but that was before I tried dialing for help or backup. The stupid cellphone was dead; needed charging. But then again, who would I call? My own kid has been taken and now I'm an enemy of the state.
By now I had my arse covered with this pair of dark jeans, not quite the best fit, and I was wearing this pair of trainers I had borrowed, without permission, from the clothes-line of some good samaritan. It suddenly seemed a bit dark for a little past mid-day. Maybe it was the canopy of pines that would try to obliterate the grey skies above. I then heard the fury of the thunder as the veiny lightening momentarily parted the dark skies. A warning this must be that the worst is yet to come, I shivered, gripping myself with both hands, looking around, figuring which direction should I take.
“HALEY...”
The whir of the timberland gust, walking between the thick willows, like a human, taking the cackling oak leaves along with it, was the only answer I heard.
“HALEY!!!!” I hollered, even louder but all I heard was replicas of my hoarse voice, maybe a mile off.
“Maybe I'm looking for her in the wrong place,” I breathed, my hair blowing wildly in the wind. “But I'm certain I heard Jenkins telling whomever that he had an abandoned cottage up here. It's awfully cold up here, and lonely; maybe it's best I turn back...”
And then I saw tire marks, judging the size of the bead marks in the dirt, they were probably those of a small truck or van. I took a deep breath. Maybe I shouldn't do this alone. Probably I should go back and call somebody, if it's even Martin, as much as I hate him, I pondered.
“Whoever you are, you've got my kid and this crazy mama's coming!” I slammed, teeth clenched. I followed the path of the tire marks, bringing along with me this wooden shaft.
*****
Within 10 minutes I stumbled upon this white econoline, which was parked a few meters from this shabby cottage. This van had so much dirt and grease on it; maybe it hadn't been driven in like, ages.
“Does somebody actually live here?” I breathed.
I hid behind the side of the van. I could smell the binding of disc brake pads.
“Ouch,” I shrieked after touching one of the disc rotors. It was hot enough to scald my finger. I crept toward the hood of the vehicle. I could smell hot water, “maybe it's from the radiator.” Now I wasn't too convinced that this thing was parked here for ages.
I tiptoed toward the back.
Knock, knock.
“Haley, are you in there?” I whispered.
“Haley, are you hearing me?”
“Answer me, Haley, if you're in there. Mommy's gonna bring you home.”
“Haley,” I sobbed, but still no answer.
I looked over my shoulders, seeing nothing but the tract of timbers.
“Maybe it's time to go inside.”
I held my only weapon, the branch of a tree, tightly, making my way toward the front door of the hut.
I took another glance over my shoulders and then I turned the knob with my shivering fingers, my heart pounding away.
I then jumped with fear after hearing the crashing roar of the thunder. The rains would wait no longer; the downpour began after such furious warning.
The stubborn wooden door made this lousy creek as I gently pushed it open.
“Shit...Someone's in there, someone's in there,” I said in a low voice. I heard footsteps. I gently pulled it closed and then hurriedly hid myself to the side of the hut. My hair was pasted to my face while I watched, and waited, in the rain.
I saw no movement of anybody, so I decided it was time to go back.
Aah-chum! Gesundheit.
I tried holding back this sneeze but I couldn't, not when getting wet in this rain, which aggravated my sinus.
I then heard the croak of the front door. My heart pounded even harder against my chest. Someone was either getting inside or going out.
The downpour continued and so did my anxiety. I waited for another three minutes, but there were no signs of anyone and the van was still parked outside. I wasn't going to wait the 10 minutes I had planned to, so I moved toward the front door.
“Shit!” I closed my eyes in disgust, my chin tilted. “The door's now bolted. Now, what the heck do I do? What the heck do I do, Taylor?”
I opened my eyes.
Huh!!!!
&nb
sp; I had company.
She seemed to appear from apparently nowhere.
OMG, It's her!
It was the woman who had taken Haley... in the mercedes.
14
“Are you–– Grem?”
“Hi,” she smiled, but that did nothing to hide how cruel of a bitch she was, not when she had this pitch-black dagger, caressing it, giving me the creeps.
I took a few steps backward, my hand shaking to a tizzy. I became fixated by the cold glare from her grey eyes even as the wind blew her tall blond hair. She continued cuddling that deadly knife while giving me that smile. I held my piece of wood tighter even though my hands shook with heightened anxiety.
Now she was scaring the shit out of me, wiping her tongue along the blade of that dagger.
“I heard you haven't been behaving yourself, Mom. You've been a real pain.”
“Where's...where's my daughter?”
“Maybe I'll make you see her again, if you kill me first.” She bit a side of her lips, still cuddling that knife.
“Maybe I'd rather not kill. You–– could just return my daughter and then we walk out of here and then I'd pretend this–– didn't happen.”
“Are you serious, Taylor?”
I nodded.
“That wouldn't be fun, Taylor. Nah, Nah, Naaah.” By now she started wiping the point of her dagger on the inner part of her arm, puncturing it to a crimson flow of blood.
Huh!!!
“You see, Taylor, nothing in life comes this easily,” she purred. “You think I would just make you walk free, just like that?” She edged closer. “That wouldn't be fun,” she spoke charmingly.
I squeezed my piece of wooden rod. And I swallowed.
“I crave some bloody delicious fun,” she jeered, tasting her own blood. Hmmmn.
“You better give me back my daughter!”
“Well, bring it, Bitch!” she bragged, through blood-stained clenched teeth.
“I want my flipping kid back. I want my Haley back, you hear me?” I started striking that crazy woman with my piece of wood.
She then managed to get a hold of it, pulling it towards her while I held it firmly.
