Chapter 25: I need a Hero…
Desperate, I searched around me for a place to hide, but found nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only empty parking spaces. ran a hand through my hair, silently crying. This wasn't fair! This sooo wasn'tfair. I needed more time, yet had none.
I was all out of options.
Without warning my right knee gave out, and I fell against the side of the van. Slowly, I slid until my body lay in a crumbled heap against the gravel pavement. Silent tears continued to flow down my cheeks, as I started to realize how royally screwed I was. I listened as his whistles grew steadily louder, and watched, as his white & grey Nikes approached from the underside of....the...the...holy, cow. Under the van!
I could hide underneath the van!
Wasting no time, I dragged my battered 130 frame beneath the narrow undercarriage of the van. It was a spot. I doubt I could've fit if I weighed ten pounds or more. And even now, only centimeters stood between me and the metal machinery above. But, as it stood, it was the only alternative I had. My heart pounded in my chest, as I watched him grow closer. He was less then ten feet away when he came to an abrupt halt.
I held my breath and watched.
Within three quick strides, his Nikes had reached the side passenger door, and yanking it open. The world froze for exactly fifteen seconds as I waited for his reaction.
He stood there, unmoving, before swearing and slamming the passenger side door. The entire van rocked above me from the shear force it, as his white Nikes carefully stalking around the edges of the van. I watched him stalk as best I could. With little more than half and inch between me and the van's underside, turning my head in the opposite direction was virtually impossible. So I followed him as best as I could, then listened when I couldn't. He moved from one side of the van, to other and then back again, until he stood motionless next to the passenger door.
He stayed motionless for endless seconds, as my body started to shiver. Partially from shock. Partially from fear. And partially from the cold October ground seeping in through my torn sweater, numbing me all over. If I got out of this alive, I promised myself an all expense paid trip to the Bahamas. Or anyplace that didn't have weather below 80 degrees. He stayed frozen for another two seconds, before suspiciously easing along the side of the van. Almost as if .....as if he was tracking something on the ground…
Oh my god, my foot prints. He was looking at my footprints!
I started to silently hyperventilate, as his Nikes moved down the van's side, toward it's rear. He was still edging along the rear when headlights from an incoming car flashed across the lot. He paused, then quickly squatted down to fiddle with his shoelace, as the lights from the incoming car grew brighter. With his back to me, I could clearly see from my vantage point, a .25 caliber H&K semi-automatic peaking out from underneath his olive colored flack jacket. Along with a few other gadgets that made my stomach turn.
Moments later, a dark blue sedan parked no less than three spaces from us and turned off its lights. Leisurely, my kidnapper stood up, stretched, and without hesitation, walked away from the van. The man in the sedan got out and walked slowly toward the restrooms, before disappearing into one.
Looking toward the back of the van, I searched for my kidnapper's Nikes. Apparently, he'd managed to cover nearly half the lot before stopping when the man disappeared into the restroom. Turning around, he headed back towards the van, but paused. A loud rustling noise, coming from the direction of the woods had caught his attention.
His hand crept down along the back of jacket, as he eased toward the sound. Then, without warning, he disappeared into the thicket of trees. As I watched him disappear, my gut told me it was now or never. This was the only chance I'd get.
Sliding myself from beneath the van, I started dragging my body toward the dark, blue sedan. Years, and years from now, I would have nightmares of this very moment. Of pulling myself continuously toward the sedan, only to realize I was still too far away. After a small eternity, I finally reached the sedan. My bruised, ice cold hands, fumbled up the door, trying vainly to grip the handle for the backseat. When I could finally caught hold of the handle, the door opened smoothly and I nearly broke down in relief. With every last ounce of strength I possessed, I pulled myself into the backseat of the sedan and closed the door behind me.
And laid there, waiting….and waiting….and waiting….
Aside from my labored breathing, the only sound that could be heard was the zooming of cars in the distance. The rhythmic lull from them slowly started to put me to sleep, when, the sounds of a door slamming rousted me back awake. I listened and waited, as the sound of footsteps crunching gravel grew louder and louder, and a man appeared next to the car. One hand massaging the back of his neck, he opened the driver's side door.
The cold wind rushed in, as he sat down and sighed. Muttering something under his breath, he leaned forward and laid his head against the steering wheel and stayed like that for one full minute. I repositioned my head down, just a little bit, so that it fell down further into the seat, hiding me. But he heard it.
Stilling immediately, he raised his head up and locked eyes with me through the rearview mirror.
I smiled and waved. He swore.
Swallowing hard, I tried to speak, but it came out dry and raspy. "Drive...please...please...drive."
He just stared at me. Eyes wide-eyed disbelief, not moving. Rolling my eyes, I sat up a little and immediately wished I hadn't. The man with the buzz cut, and white Nikes had come back. He was sitting in the driver's seat of the van, talking on his cell phone. My eyes grew round and my breath caught. I stared at my stunned would be rescuer, and then back to the van. The guy followed my gazed, and his jaw clinched.
"You in trouble?"
I nodded. "Yes…drive…please!"
He hesitated, reaching for something in his glove compartment. He opened his mouth to say something else, when I started shrieking. Buzz cut was looking at us....at me, to be exact. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he shouted something into his cell.
Oh, shit! "Drive…drive!" I screamed.
My rescuer fumbled with his keys, and started the engine, but didn't take off. Full fledged panic erupted in me. Why wasn't he driving off? By now, Buzz cut had gotten out of the van and was making his way around the front of it, toward us. In his right hand the H&K was clearly visible. He raised it. I closed my eyes expecting to feel the hit of a bullet when the sedan jolted backward. I opened my eyes. Mr. Slow-to-React had finally decided to floor it out of Dodge.
The next few minute were a blurry mess. The sound of glass breaking, bullets ricocheting, and the constant swerving of the car had launched me fearfully into the backseat's floorboard. More gunfire erupted. Except, this time, it was coming from inside the car.
I looked up briefly, and noticed my rescuer was brandishing a huge, scary looking, custom-designed silver automatic magnum. With one hand on the steering wheel, he aimed the gun with the other over my head out the shatter rearview window. I covered my ears to dampen impact of the gunfire, but still felt each and every round echo throughout my body. My rescuer shot off a total of five rounds. On the last, I heard an all too familiar sound followed by a bright flash of light.
"Did something just explode?"
My rescuer didn't answer. He was appeared to be awestruck.
"Hey?" I yelled, catching his attention. "What exploded?"
He looked down at me, then back up again. "The van." he said, simply. I sighed. Finally, my exploding car power had been put to proper use. Running a hand through his thick hair, he muttered something that sounded like 'Christ', before flooring it onto the freeway. I lay there a moment, thanking God and all the Saints that I was still alive, before lifting my head up and thanking my rescuer.
He didn't respond. He was too busy checking the review mirror. My guess, still enamored by the giant fireball raging away in the distance. Pushing myself off the floorboard, I laid myself across the backseat. Glass may have been everywhere, but at this point…I didn't care. It was a lot more comfortable then the floorboard, and easier to pass out on.
Forgetting I said it before, I mumbled it again. "Thank you."
He looked at me briefly, then back to the road. "No problem…"
I closed my eyes, and snorted.
After a moment I opened them again, and caught him staring at me through the rearview mirror. I stared back. And for the first time, I was able to take in his appearance. He was in his late thirties, tall, wavy, black hair the reached down past his ears. Dressed in a white business shirt, and black pants. His molten chocolate eyes gaze back at me, reminded me of…of…
"Is…your name Stephanie Plum by any chance?"
"Huh?" I sat up.
"Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter. From the Trenton area?"
"Oh god, please tell me you're not a former FTA."
He laughed. I mean really laughed, while shaking his head. "Christ, I don't believe this…this is so…," he broke out into a eerily familiar grin, before looking at me and laughing some more.
This was not a reaction I appreciated. Especially, after just nearly dying. I stared back at him, well and truly pissed. He stopped abruptly, when he noticed my mood and made an effort to calm himself down.
He coughed out the word, "Sorry," which came out kinda high pitched. Kinda like when you're holding back laughter. I narrowed my eyes, and he coughed once more before trying again. "I'm sorry....It's been a rough night. Forgive me. My name's...Tony."
I ignored the slight hesitation before he said 'Tony', in favor of focusing on being pissed. If I could've managed it, I would've crossed my arms and attempted a neck roll. Since I couldn't, I simply intensified my glare.
"Tony, is it? How do you know my nam--"
He cut me off. "Pictures…newspaper pictures. Not too long ago, I think. You...uh…blew-up a garbage truck, right?"
I groaned and reframed from answering. My head was swimming again anyway, and I need to lay down, pronto. Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the seat. After a moment, I felt Tony's hand on my wrist, checking my pulse.
"You on something, Plum?"
"No....yes..." I breathed, "…they…shot me…with something," I said. Talking was increasingly difficult. My words were starting to slur, and keeping my thought focus had become hard.
Tony sighed. "You need a doctor bad, toots."
I rolled my eyes. No shit.
He laid my hand back down, and was silent for a moment. "Hang on, ….friend nearby. Maybe…help you."
I could barely make out his words, as my body decided right there and then, was the perfect time to take a nap.