Girls Just Want To Have Fun
December 8
Thunk. Thu-thunk. Wham.
"Ouch!" I yelped, my head slamming backwards into cold, hard metal. "The hell—" Thwack. Abruptly, I opened my eyes to see darkness. Am I blind? Oh, God. I shook my head, terrified. I needed my sight. Lame, but I relied on it completely. However, as I shook my head, I felt the brush of dirty fleece rubbing my face. My spine hurt like a hyena, and as I tried to shift my weight, something scraped my back.
Then it hit me. Someone had zipped me into a hoodie backwards, and flipped the hood over my face. Jeezum, who were these guys? That was so amateur, didn't they know the hip thing was to use duct tape? Just as I thought that, I winced, rustling my wings. They wouldn't open. Generally, I could open them through a shirt or coat (although I don't like ripping the few clothes I have), but this time, I could hardly move them. They were duct taped closed.
God damnit! I reached to pull down the hood and then shred the tape, but something yanked my wrists back. Trying to bend my knees, something pulled tight on my ankles. They tied me down.
Thunk!
I winced, my head hitting metal again. With a rush of realization, I squirmed. I was in the bed of a truck. Tied down, face covered, wings taped, in the back of a truck. I screamed through the thick fleece and fabric. Then, annoyed to the point of severe scratching of something, I started trying to lick the hood off of my face. Managing to force it off of my eyes enough that I could see the clouds speeding above me, I sighed and continued, but suddenly the crazy Chicago winds dipped into the bed of the truck, and pulled the hood over my face again.
"Argh!" I screamed, writhing. Thu-thunk. My head slammed the metal again, and I collapsed for a second before yanking hard at my bonds. I'm fairly strong, and generally intelligent, but the knots outsmarted me. Ari (or at least I assumed he was the one who had kidnapped me) had tied strangle knots all around me. Strangle knots are generally used for ensnaring animals, because the more force applied to the inside of the loop, the tighter the loop becomes. One of my best friends when I was younger had enjoyed hunting and had taught me how to tie and untie this particular knot. However, you usually have two hands to do so. The point is that when I yanked, the loops tightened on my wrists and ankles, pinching my skin. I winced, my jaw clenching.
Is Ari a Boy Scout or what? This is insane. My back and wings hurt like sin. The skin was chaffing on my wrists, and my feet were falling asleep from lack of circulation. The $560 necklace was no longer tucked down my shirt, which implied that someone had removed it and wanted me to starve. Worst of all, the fleece jacket smelled weird.
Yes, I am a whiner. Deal.
All of my muscles tensed, I struggled, mostly with a plan of escape. Then I realized I could relax. I wasn't going anywhere fast. Flopping down on the metal bed, I closed my eyes, and pretended I was…well, everywhere but there. Relaxing a little from the retarded denial, my mind cleared enough to think rationally.
I wonder where I am… I listened, breathing softly.
Thu-thunk. Thu-thunk. Thunk…thunk. Traffic. A boom box. Murmurs of pedestrians. I figured it was a pretty tall truck, or someone would have noticed the girl tied into the back. Cold wind blew through the bed, and I could taste the moisture in the air.
Lake Shore Drive. The weathered road and potholes, the mass of perambulators along the sidewalks, and yet still the buzz of the city—we were driving alongside Lake Michigan. I road the bus this way everyday for a month a few years ago—I had a job working with a "Chicago Style" hotdog street vendor, but got fired for "stealing".
Anyway, I knew the road, and could practically smell those hotdogs. If I knew which way we were going, maybe I'd be able to keep track of our location. Eyes closed, I was surprised by the sudden growth in voices and excitement. All of a sudden, I could hear a literal hum of people's voices. In the distance, I could hear the theatrical music of theme park rides. Then I realized that we were passing Navy Pier, Chicago's lakefront playground. It was on my left (the right side of the truck), which meant we were heading north. Feeling slightly more secure, I took a deep breath, vaguely relaxing to the tune of Navy Pier as we passed it.
However, the tune was suddenly replaced with the wailing of a police siren. My stomach clenched. I'd spent enough time in my life running from the police. But suddenly, I remembered that I was tied down in the back of a truck, being kidnapped. Maybe some Illinois state power would help me out right now.
"Please, park your vehicle. Yes, you in the red truck." The microphone message reached my ears, and I felt the truck start to lean to the side, slowing down. Yes! Thank God! Saved!
Luck o' the Irish. Boys in blue helping me out, two days in a row! Maybe I was off the wanted list at last!
I felt the rumble of the truck's engine kick off, and heard the door of the cop car open. Then I heard footsteps pass by me, and just before I could call out for help, another voice called from the cab of the truck.
"How can I help you, officer?" Ari.
The cop cleared his throat, and then spoke. "Well, I just wanted to see if you knew that you were speeding. This is a 50 mile-per-hour zone, and you were exceeding 70. Sorry, dude, but I'll have to write you a ticket."
Ha! What now, jerk? I thought. I'd get rescued and Ari would pay! This was working out very well.
"Oh, really?" Ari cooed, "I'm so sorry. My speedometer must be reading wrong, as it only showed that I was going 50. Thank you for telling me, sir. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone." He coughed, and I heard paper rustle. "How much will that ticket be for?"
"Oh, umm, that'll be $190."
Listening closely, I heard Ari count out five $50 bills, four $10 bills, and then hand them over, his voice pleasant. "Thanks, officer. Have a good day. I like your dog, by the way."
Just as the cop started to walk away, thanking my kidnapper, I called out. "Wait! Help me!" Suddenly, the hood lifted away from my face, and fell across my chest. The cop, a fairly young man, probably in his twenties, stared at me.
"Um, dude, you know you have girl tied up in the back of your truck, right?" the cop called.
"No, no, sir, wait, untie me!" I hissed frantically. The hood recovered my face and I yelped. "Wait!"
"Oh, yes, sir," Ari replied. "My wife. She's really into adrenaline. It gets her pretty, uh… Well, she gets more…active…after a little adrenaline rush, if you know what I mean." I screamed, yanking at the ropes, not caring about the pinch anymore.
"That didn't sound very cheerful," said the cop.
Ari laughed. "You should hear some of the other sounds that come out of her. Trust me, she enjoys the fear."
"Oh really? And it really, um, works?" The cop laughed. "Wow. Well, nevertheless, sir, I'm sure there's a law against this, so I'm going to have to—"
"How 'bout a tip?" Ari cut him off, and I heard more paper. My hijacker was loaded. Snarling, I bit my lip. Screaming wasn't any use anymore. However, I cringed at a little wet snuffling around my wrists—gross! What were they doing to me now? The bond tightened, and then suddenly became very slack. My hand flopped to the metal floor. Quickly, I yanked it back and pulled my hood off to see a beautiful German shepherd. My eyes widened and it tilted its head at me, and then began wagging its tail happily. I reached over and quickly untied the knot on my other wrist, then reached out, grabbed the gorgeous dog, and kissed its forehead. It grinned at me, licked my face. I leaned forward, keeping low, and untied my ankles, then slid around onto my stomach, planning the best way to run.
Ari handed over another three $10 bills to the cop, who instantly thanked him, and then questioned how crazy Ari's "wife" got after these "adrenaline rushes". Laughing, Ari only said, "Crazy, man. I'd let you find out for yourself, but I don't she'd go for that."
The cop laughed and thanked him for the offer, pocketed the extra money, and turned to walk away. Ari rolled his eyes. Who said you can't buy love? Turning to his passenger, a cohort assigned to him just for this run, he laughed. The partner cackled, too.
"What the hell, man? Didn't know you were that slick. I've heard stories, but it's funny to see it happen. I almost believed you."
Ari chuckled, getting back in the truck. He stuffed the wad of remaining money—about $300—into the ashtray. "Didn't know cops were that retarded." Putting it into gear, Ari looked at his side mirror just in time to see the cop's dog bound out of the bed of his truck. Frowning, Ari looked over his shoulder, and spotted…nothing. "She's gone."
"Huh?" the partner replied, turning on the radio. Ari practically snapped the shift back into park, and ripped the keys out of the ignition. "Dude, that was a good song!"
"She's gone!" Without hesitating, Ari threw open his door and jumped out into traffic. Dodging cars, he ran around the truck, yanked out his lackey, and looked around.
Navy Pier, his voice suggested. Snarling, Ari wheeled towards the humongous building, jam-packed with awkward tourists, insane vendors, and obnoxious children. Shaking his head, he swiftly headed towards one of Chicago's biggest tourism sites.
Gasping, I sprinted down the main hallway of the Navy Pier building, passing numerous restaurants, kiosks, and souvenir shops. I almost stole an "I heart Chicago" hat, hoping to disguise myself, but decided against it. What I really needed was a new coat. The one I had one was a man's winter jacket, and happened to be about four sizes too large for me. Not to mention, it was zipped on backwards, the hood bouncing in my face. Spying a woman's new "Irish" hoodie spread over her bag, her back to me, I discreetly walked past it, picking it up, and then dashed towards a restroom.
Once inside, I ducked into the handicap stall, and yanked off the smelly jacket, hanging it on the hook, then I reached over my shoulder, and grabbed the duct tape on my wings. Starting to pull it off, I almost screamed. Ripping a small chunk of fabric from the jacket, I stuffed it into my mouth. Bleck. Then I reached over my shoulder again, and yanked at the tape. Feathers were pulled from the skin, and I shrieked, but the fabric did its part and completely muffled me. Yank, scream, yank, scream. It continued for a few minutes, until all of the tape was flopping in my hands. Tears were streaming down my face.
Imagine someone covering your head with duct tape while you slept, then ripping it off, and taking all of your hair with it. Many of my beautiful feathers were missing, but at least I could move my wings again. I stretched them a little, then folded them in tightly, and yanked the hoodie on. Stuffing the gag and duct tape wad into the pocket of the jacket, I flushed the toilet, and then slipped out of the stall, leaving the jacket. I walked to the mirror, and looked at my face. Pale, slightly bruised. Freckles. As per usual. My hair looked like crap, and the lady next to me was brushing hers.
"Excuse me ma'am, but could I possibly borrow your hairbrush? I'm about to meet up with my boyfriend, and I forgot my makeup and whatnot." She looked startled, but the woman in her thirties laughed, and gladly handed over her brush. I grinned at her, and ran it through my hair quickly, releasing many knots. My hair fell smoothly again, and I sighed. Better disguise. "Thank you so much." I handed her the brush.
"Of course," she said, with a slight Australian accent. "I remember being your age. Is your boyfriend cute?" She smirked, taking the brush back and slipping it in her purse.
I smiled, but I was thinking of my "husband," Ari. "Yes! He's so cute! I just hope I'm good enough for him…" I sighed, pinching my cheeks.
"I bet you're too good for him." She winked. "But do you want some lipstick?" She grinned. "It's brand new, coffee colored. Would go great with your hair."
I beamed. People could be nice. "Thank you so much!" I took it from her, and quickly applied some. Instantly, I looked sufficiently different from before, and hoped I would blend.
"Welcome! You can keep it—not my color anyway." Winking again, she left. I sighed, getting ready to move to my next hiding spot. However, the cheery tune playing on the radio cut off suddenly, and the PA system kicked on.
"Will a Ms. Ivy O'Sullivan please come to the lost-and-found by the main entrance. We believe we have found your necklace."
I gulped. O'Sullivan wasn't my last name, but it was close. Very Irish, which was perfect, but it wasn't correct. Could there be another Ivy wandering through Navy Pier?
Always trust your instincts. Ari was trying to lure me out. Or at least tell me that he knew I was here. But why?
Steeling myself and rolling my shoulders, I walked to the door, and walked confidently across the food court, and towards a staircase in the distance. Reaching the foot of the staircase, one I knew lead to the beautiful Crystal Gardens, I started to ascend. I had come here when I was little and lived on the streets (not much has changed), sometimes I'd hide and spend the night. There was something particularly comforting about the one-acre indoor palm court. The fountains made me happy, and I could always find food scraps. I'd always found Navy Pier slightly cheesy, but Crystal Gardens was perfect. I reached the top of the steps, and glanced over my shoulder quickly, my hair swishing into my face. Spitting out strands, I spotted Ari, headed towards the steps. He hadn't seen me yet.
My heart started to pound. I spun and took off running, doubting my ability to fight. I knew he would win. So instead, I sped through the palm trees, breathing hard. Everything hurt from the rough truck ride. Crossing the acre quickly, I looked back again to see Ari sprinting towards me, his stride about twice the size of mine. Running on his far right, and back a little was another young man. Attractive guy, but when I looked at him more closely, I could see the necklace that I stole swinging around his neck.
I spun around and threw myself at the glass door that lead to the patio. It swung open and I dashed out, raced down the steps and shot off towards the docks. I don't know why I ran that way—I should have looped back towards the building's front, towards Lake Shore Drive, but I guess I'm officially retarded.
The edges of the lake were frozen and the water was dark, icy. I would hate to fall in that. If everything went the way I wanted, I could get far enough away from Ari to duck into the city and hide in a shop or something. As long as it was populated.
I looked over my shoulder again—no one was following me. Maybe I lost them? Could they have given up? Just as I turned my head forward, something hard slammed into my side. Surprised, I completely lost my balance and sailed through the air—right into the lake.
Ice cracked beneath me, cold engulfed me, and instantly, I started shivering. My arms went numb, and I had run out of breath before I hit the water. My lungs are stronger than normal people's, but despite this fact, they froze as soon as I submerged. Gasping underwater, I wriggled, attempting to get to the surface. Something suddenly yanked hard on my wrist, and I shot upwards, appearing face to face with Ari. His hair was slick, his suit was sticking to him, and he was laughing.
"How 'bout that tackle, Sugar?" he said, spinning me around and wrapping an arm tightly around my waist. Then he started to paddle towards the shore.
"Damn. Dude, you are cra-zy. Why'd you go in with her?" The friend stood by the edge, watching, amused.
Ari smirked and pushed me up onto the edge of the dirt. I was literally frozen. "I didn't know if she could swim. Can you swim, Ivy?" he asked, pulling himself out of the arctic water like a seal. I glared. "Guess that's a 'yes'." He shook his head, slid his hands under my arms, and pulled me out, lifting me to his chest. Like a useless block of, well, ice, I didn't fight. Ari put one arm under my knees, the other wrapped around my back, and then he carried me along the street.
"Put…me…down…" I mumbled, shivering like jell-o on a little kid's spoon. Everything ached, and my whole right side felt broken from Ari's tackle. A visit to a chiropractor was sounding more and more appealing, and I don't even like those guys.
"You wanna try walking to the truck by yourself? Good luck, Little Popsicle." He laughed, not putting me down.
"G-go to h-hell!" I choked, and managed to pull back my fist and swing. The solid mass of my bony hand smashed into his jaw. And I shrieked. He winced from the hit, but that was it. No satisfying crunch—just the electric pain in my hand. See, when you're colder, everything hurts more. I cradled my hand against my wet chest and glared at Ari.
"Hey, don't blame me for that, Cutie. That one was all you." I blinked, and I could feel my eyes getting heavier… Hypothermia is my friend.
My shivering ceased. I was starting to feel warm. Yep, delusions should be coming along very soon… I looked back at Ari, and he leaned in to kiss me. I blinked, and he was staring straight ahead. I had imagined it. His friend was talking about aliens—no, wait, tourists. Wait, why was it getting darker? It couldn't be that late?
My head flopped into Ari's chest—he was so warm. My eyes closed, I drifted into the embrace of hypothermia, wondering if anyone would notice.
