I are back. Sorry I couldn't get another in before I left, I had to scramble to even get packed on time.
Let's all pretend that Tomas has an awesome motorcycle and an awesome car AND an awesome, high-paying job that would justify his ownership of the two. Yay, fiction.
Disclaim – Ben and Riley aren't mine.
Chinese Man
The footsteps couldn't have been Tomas's. They were too slow and, even in their barely audible falls, way too loud. They were accompanied by a light, faint and bluish, that I could see shining down on the ground near the base of the closet door. It was probably Crandon with his cell phone.
Oh, we were dead. There was no reason Crandon shouldn't open the closet door right now.
The footsteps paused, before almost rushing back the way they'd come.
I let out the breath I'd been holding and felt a faint breeze on my neck from someone behind me that had done the same. Situation still not good – I wondered why Crandon had turned and left like he had. Why hadn't he opened our door? Was Tomas with him, waiting near the entry to this storage room?
We waited in there for what felt like five minutes. It was probably two before my legs started cramping up and despite my will to remain silent, I had to stand up. Someone stood up behind me as well, knees cracking. I opened my cell phone again, grateful that the cheery 'welcome' jingle was turned off. I turned around and aimed it at the back of the closet.
Ben screwed up his eyes at the sudden light. Riley was still crouching on the ground, looked around at his illuminated surroundings. We definitely weren't in a closet.
We were at the top of a staircase.
Was this luck or just a dumb idea? Whatever was at the bottom, it was probably a dead end. I took a step towards the edge and shone my light around. Now that my eyes had been in the darkness for longer, I could see more with what the phone was giving me.
Ben pointed to the side of the staircase, where a small sign was tacked to the wall. Truckers please see manager – Use front door. That meant there was another door around here somewhere, and odds were it was at the bottom of this staircase. It looked as if it was used for restocking merchandise; that made sense, since this store sat upon the one street in miles that had a slope to it. It had better be unlocked. I started down the staircase, cringing at the squeaky, wooden steps. I passed a light switch but ignored it. I heard Ben and Riley following me down.
Once I reached the bottom I had no idea which way to go. We were now in a room that contained a whole bunch of weird mechanical contraptions, looming out of the darkness and tinted blue. Water heater (how old was this place?), water softener, huge coils of ductwork, straight out of Brazil. As if this was the basement to some forty year old house.
I crouched low and looked at the cold, hard basement floor. I saw a path of old, dusty footprints going from the left side of the room to the staircase. Straightening back up, I bumped into Riley, who'd been leaning over my shoulder, trying to see what I was looking at.
"This way," I whispered, taking off to the left, wondering why I'd said 'this way' when they could plainly see that I'd turned left. I wasn't too upset with myself for making unneeded noise, though. Things were looking better, if not brighter – we were about to escape.
Escape what, though? Tomas and Crandon knew we were lurking around here somewhere, they'd seen the car. Well, we certainly weren't able to do anything helpful while we were trapped in the back of a clothing store, so this was definitely an improvement.
"Hurgh," said Riley, which is about what I was thinking when he said it, except when someone presses the barrel of a gun to my temple I don't feel the need to voice my surprise.
.
Ben
.
I turned around upon hearing Riley's strange emittence, but perceived movement ahead of me as well. I backed away and heard that unmistakable clicking sound of a bullet being rotated into place.
"Ben," said a voice I didn't recognize. "Don't move. Try anything and Riley gets hurt."
Confusion? Why, yes. Who was this person and why were they lurking in the basement of some clothing outlet? A flashlight was clicked on, aiming straight into my face. Through my almost-blindness I could see four sets of feet on the ground – Riley's shoeless ones backed by cracking brown ones that I didn't recognize. The Chinese Man's dusty black ones backed by a pair of dark brown oxfords. I had to do something.
"Who are you?" I asked, temporarily willing my eyes to see through the shine of the flashlight, see the faces of the attackers. All I saw was a glimpse of Riley's face, looking a bit like a fish that'd been flopping around on the bottom of the boat for too long. I could see a hairy, wiry forearm wrapped around his neck and a gun pressed to his head.
"You'll learn soon enough. Go," said the voice behind the Chinese Man, whose predicament I guessed to be about the same as Riley's.
"Go where?"
"Exit. Go left. Stop at the door." I didn't have a choice. I turned my back to my friends and walked slowly towards what I hoped was the door, that shiny rectangle illuminated by the flashlight behind me. When I stood in front of it I stopped and turned. Flashlight in my face again.
"Stand over there," he said, gesturing with his flashlight. I relocated myself. The guy with the flashlight kept it on my face while the other one opened the door, looked around, and stepped outside. Daylight came flooding through and I would have squinted had it not been for the fact that I was already squinting. The guy outside was indeed dragging the Chinese Man along in much the same manor that Riley was being held – the Chinese Man looked at me for a brief moment, an expression that I took to be anything but reassuring on his face, before he was yanked around and his captor beckoned me through the doorway.
His captor was one creepy-looking fellow. His hair was pulled back in a long, tangled, greasy ponytail, reminding me curiously of shredded snake guts. His frame was small, but not smaller than the Chinese Man, and probably more compact than the existence of matter before the theoretical Big Bang. As I stepped through the doorway the man shoved the Chinese Man away from himself and leveled his gun in our general direction.
"Any funny business and I'll shoot." The Chinese Man raised his hand half-heartedly.
"Tomas-"
"Shuttup, you. You know I'll do it." So this was the infamous Tomas. Who'd been the instrumental hand that put Riley through so much misery. I felt the rage boil up and instantly I more than hated this man – now he may as well have been Satan. I had met some vile people in my day but each one of them had ended up having some kind of miniscule streak of good in them.
Now, with Tomas, even if he had a streak of good, I doubt I would have acknowledged its presence. I wanted to pick up a sledge hammer and pound his head into the ground , end his miserable reign over our predicament and destroy his ugly chiseled face in a mess of tissue and blood and ground-up bone. Fortunately for him there were no sledgehammers, or equivalent, in the near vicinity. I merely glared at him.
"Ben," he said, nodding to me. Glaring right back. He looked like he knew what I was thinking, and was reveling in my helplessness. A hint of a sneer tugged at his lip.
The other man, who I assumed was Crandon, came through the doorway, pushing Riley in front of him. Crandon looked about as confused as I'd felt at the beginning of our encounter; his eyes kept flickering to the Chinese Man, who stared back. Crandon was a full head taller than Riley, putting him a bit taller than myself, but not by much.
My eyes flickered between Riley and Tomas. Tomas stopped staring at me long enough to watch as Riley's eyes stopped squinting and landed on Tomas. I expected Riley to have some kind of negative reaction upon once again seeing Tomas's face, but nothing changed. Riley glared at Tomas, Tomas glared at Riley. Riley shot a look in my direction and must have caught some kind of bewilderment or shock or something on my part, because he kept staring at me for a while, asking a silent question.
A pause passed between the five of us. It would have been awkward but I'm guessing Riley, the Chinese Man, and I were too scared to think about awkwardness at the time, and Tomas seemed to be at peace with taking a few moments to glare at Riley. Crandon probably felt awkward, but I got the sense that he didn't really know what was going on anymore. Tomas took a step towards Riley, while keeping his gun and one eye aimed at the Chinese Man and I.
"Riley," he said, for no apparent reason. Was he looking for a reaction? He had a look on his face that was near triumph, as if he delighted in letting Riley know that he once again had power over him. The expression was aggravating. Riley turned his gaze on the man.
"What, you want me to scream like a pansy at the sight of your face? You think I didn't recognize your voice back in there?" The last word had scarcely left his mouth before Tomas suddenly had his fingers pinching the back of Riley's neck. An unsaid signal told Crandon to let go, and Tomas, knocked from his mental pedestal, pushed Riley towards the car, which I now saw was parked in the alleyway that we stood in. Crandon aimed his gun at us but still looked utterly confused. I took a few steps toward the car, sure that Crandon wouldn't shoot me, as Tomas shoved Riley into the backseat.
"Ben," he said, "Shotgun. You," he said, pointing to the Chinese Man, "Between Crandon and Riley in the back." Once again the barrel of his gun followed our moves as we made our way to the car and climbed in. Once I had shut my door I turned in my seat to look at Riley, who was rubbing the back of his neck.
"You ok?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Shuttup, you two," growled Tomas as he took the driver's seat. Crandon slammed his door and kept his gun low. He no longer looked confused, per sé, but there was definitely something strange about the way he was acting.
"Nobody talks." I watched out of the corner of my eye as Tomas maneuvered the car onto the little road and turned onto main. At least he wasn't driving like a maniac. He probably didn't want to attract the attention of police.
Undoubtedly he was going to take us to the Co-op that Riley and the Chinese Man had talked about. Take us there and try to get Riley to hack something or another. Obviously he still had some use in mind for Riley, or he would have killed him. He probably wanted the Chinese Man for the same purpose – any information he didn't have.
And me? Why was I still alive?
It struck me that I was probably how Tomas intended to make Riley do things for him. Leverage. The thought frightened me so I dismissed it. He wouldn't have to touch me if I took action. Maybe if I punched him, right now, knocked him out.
Crandon was aiming a gun at me. It wouldn't work.
I could grab Crandon's gun and shoot Tomas!
Who was I kidding, I'd get my hand blown off.
Tomas pulled the car up in front of the Co-op. He took his gun out and, while aiming it at me, got out of the car. This was a huge risk – what if somebody saw? I stepped out carefully, looking up and down the street. No-one in sight; I guess that came with small towns in Utah. Small towns in general. Riley and the Chinese Man were out of the car, Crandon approaching the door to the store with a set of keys. Why was it locked? "Is it Sunday?" I asked of Tomas. He didn't grace me with a response.
"What time is it?" I tried.
"Go in," he muttered, gesturing. Riley hesitated in front of me, for the first time showing fear at the prospect of his own return to the place. He kept walking, though. I wanted to tell him, "It's ok," but again, like so many times these past few days, clearly it wasn't ok. Odds were we were all going to die. I'd have loved to naively believe that the good guys always come out on top in times like these, but this wasn't just a movie or book laced with glittering morals and opportune moments. This was life, and, as life was prone to do, it stunk.
So short chapter, but it's something. Bjork!