Thanks for the awesome feedback! To new readers that have written – your comments are blowing me away!! I am so happy you like the story. I hope you enjoy the next part too! - MAC!
CHAPTER 19
I open my eyes, greeted by a brightness that stings. I feel out of it – groggy. As I look around, it all comes back to me. The ugly van, the cold – uncomfortable – floor, the sore spot on my neck… Tad kidnapped me. Last night, I guess. It's definitely daytime now, and the sun's burning my eyes. At least I hope it's only been a couple hours. What if I've been out for a week? Or a month? I once saw a movie about someone that slept for seven years… she was in a coma though. Oh no – what if I've been in coma?
I look down at myself, seeing that I'm still in my sweat suit from Target that Mrs. Cartwright had given me yesterday. At least I think it was yesterday. Regardless, I can't have been wearing this for seven years. Or even a week. I don't smell yet.
A rumbling in my ear alarms me, breaking into my thoughts. I hear distant voices and remember the wire. Yes! My saving grace. Cooper is on his way to save me. They're tracking me with this fancy wire.
I look around, spotting no one from the van. Not Tad or any of his fan club cronies.
"Cooper?" I whisper quietly. Carefully.
"Heather?" a female voice says, sounding relieved. "It's Angie. Oh, thank god you're okay."
"Yes…" I say. I don't want to converse right now with her. She's very nice and all – and she's totally part of the Save Me team – but I'm not sure when Tad's going to be back and all I really want right now is to talk to him. To Cooper.
"Kyle, get Cartwright. She's awake. Tell him she's asking for him."
I want to hug Angie. How did she know exactly how I felt? Is it a woman thing? Did I mentally communicate it somehow?
"How long was I out for?" I ask, still whispering and looking around for someone. Anyone.
"About nine hours," she says. "Cartwright's been going out of his mind. Oh, speaking of which, here he is now."
"Heather?" Cooper says, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice.
"Coop?"
I hear him breathe out in relief. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice sounding thick and constricted.
"I think so. I feel okay," I answer honestly.
"What did he do? You've been unconscious for hours—"
"Drugged me, I guess. But I'm not sure with what. I just know that he put a needle in my neck and released something that took about five seconds to topple me."
I hear him take a couple deep breaths. I know what that means – he's regaining his composure. I honestly think when this is all over, Cooper's going to need therapy. Or at least a day at the spa. Either way, perfect birthday present for him! You know, if I live through this and all.
"But you feel okay now?" he eventually asks.
"Yes," I say. He doesn't need to know that I have a terrible headache. It'll just upset him. "Do you know where I am?" I ask, trying really hard not to sound as desperate as I feel.
"No," he admits. He truly sounds on the edge right now. "Can you give me a minute?" he says, away from the microphone. I assume he's talking to Angie. God, he sounds so tired; his voice is all croaky.
"Coop, have you slept at all?" I ask. "You sound awful."
He laughs humorlessly. "You think I could sleep right now?"
"If you're about to fall over, you should. You do me no good coming to my rescue practically narcoleptic."
"I'm fine. And I'm not about to go and take a nap, so forget about it." He's quiet for a moment. "Where is everyone? Why are you alone?"
"I… I don't know. I woke up alone just a little bit ago."
"Heather… I know why you did it," he says softly.
"Huh?" I ask, ever so eloquently.
"I got your voicemail," he explains.
I'm not even in front of him and my cheeks flush a deep red. Oh god! My confession of love voicemail? I forgot all about that. I left it for him to listen to, not for us to chat about!
"I guess I knew even before I heard you say it. But in your voicemail, you said something – assumed something – that I need to set you straight on."
"Okay," I say… and I have no clue what he's talking about. I don't really remember what I said, other than that I love him and was sacrificing myself to Tad for him. Or something along those lines.
He sighs. "You assumed that… that I don't feel the same way," he spits out, and I can hear that it's hard for him to say. Especially like this… on a microphone while I'm kidnapped, listening. And this is how we have to say these personal things to each other – me in a voicemail and him on a microphone. Because – let's face it – with us, abnormal and high intensity situations are the norm.
"You asked me to go out with you, more or less, awhile back. And I told you that I didn't want to be your rebound guy. I practically pushed you to go out with someone else, knowing exactly how nuts it would make me if you actually did. You're in the situation you're in, right now, because of me."
"That's not true—"
"You said you were putting yourself in danger because you love me. I think it's nuts that you could feel anything close to love for the person responsible for the mess you're in—"
"—well, I don't think you're responsible for—"
"—You said you did it all because you love me," he repeats, his voice quivering just a little on the last words. "—Heather, you're such a fool. That's exactly why I was the one in your position yesterday."
I… I'm speechless. I don't know what to say. He's saying he loves me. That he made the same sacrifice I made for the same reason! I mean, I think I could see it all clearly that last time our eyes met. Before we were separated. I saw a look that seemed to say all of that.
But to hear him say it…
I'm just speechless. But then it hits me; he's saying it because we're not sure I'll make it out of this. I'm in real danger. Cooper just spent hours wondering if I was alive most likely, since I was unconscious and unresponsive for nine hours.
All the same – a wonderful feeling stirs in my stomach at his words. And even if he is just saying it because he doesn't want anything horrible to happen to me, with me thinking he doesn't love me, it still makes me the happiest woman on earth. Despite the fact that I'm in the middle of my kidnapping and have just woken up from a drug-induced nap.
"Heather?"
"Yes?" I say, and then I sniffle.
"You're crying."
It's then that I realize I am. Crying, I mean. "It's just so sweet," I say, sniffling more.
"It's the truth," he says in a serious tone.
"Even if it's just something you're saying in case—"
"That's not an option, Heather. We're going to find you."
"But… you don't know where I am."
He sighs. "We lost you a couple of hours ago. The helicopter following you lost the van in the woods. We were following, and were within a couple miles – and you guys just disappeared."
He sounds really frustrated about that. I realize quickly we don't have time for this. For frustration, or helplessness, or even for confessions of love set to the music of a ticking time bomb. Suddenly fueled by the knowledge that Cooper might actually return my feelings – that we might actually have a chance together – I look around, determined.
I am not sure what I'm looking for, but I realize that I have to start talking about anything at all that might help him locate me.
I scramble to my feet, and move quietly toward the back window, pulling aside the shade so I can look out. I'm shocked to see darkness. I had awoken to an incredibly bright light before. I now realize that the bright light is an interior one. It's dark outside. But… if I was asleep for nine hours, and it was night time when I was drugged, then it wouldn't be dark out right now, would it?
"Heather? What's wrong? Why aren't you talking anymore?"
"It's dark outside," I whisper.
"It can't be. It's nine in the morning," he says.
"I'm looking out the window and it's dark," I say insistently.
"You couldn't have gone far enough in this time to pass through time zones," he says, in a half-joking way.
Then it occurs to me. As I stare out the window, I can't make out any distinguishable features of the great outdoors. Nothing to prove we're driving in the woods or anywhere for that matter.
"We're underground," I say quietly. "It's why you lost track of us."
Cooper's quiet, clearly taking it in.
"Cartwright, what've we got? How's she doing?" I hear Barrett say, his voice getting closer and closer to the microphone with each word. Obviously our "minute" alone is up.
"Get a man over to the area where we lost contact, and check for tunnels, caves, holes… anything," he says, in his full business voice. "They may have gone underground."
It all happens simultaneously. I hear Barrett spouting out orders to officers, just as I hear a noise coming from the same room as me. Or same truck, rather. I turn, seeing Tad and one of his cronies enter the back of the van through a little door that must lead to the front.
"Baby – you're awake!" Tad says. "Perfect. We're almost at our destination."
"Where would that be?" I ask.
"That's on a need-to-know basis. And you don't," he says, his deep voice – laced with unspoken threats – coursing right through me.
I feel a familiar sense of fear flutter in my stomach.
"Heather, don't worry." Cooper's voice soothes me in my ear. "Stay calm. Don't let him see that you're scared."
But I am scared, I think to myself. My mom's old saying – "you have nothing to fear except fear itself" – is stupid. I fear Tad, and the guy next to him. And the guy driving the truck – whoever he is. I fear everyone in the Heather Wells Must Die Club. And why not? I'm Heather Wells. It's understandable!
"Um – who are you?" I ask the guy next to Tad, trying to keep control of the conversation – something Barrett had told me to do yesterday. Because, you know, Tad's unstable; he's not in control.
"Taylor," he says in an aggressive, almost accusatory way. "I'm Seymour's brother. I'm the mean one," he says coyly, smiling widely. "The scary one."
I'm so dead. I might as well throw myself from the van now. It's so not looking good for me if Tad's somehow the nice one of the bunch. "Oh," I finally say in a small voice.
"I've wanted a piece of you for a long time, cutie pie," Taylor says.
"You don't touch her!" Tad says, to my relief. "I'm running this operation, little brother. You're just my copilot."
"Heather, honey, listen to me," I hear Barrett say. "I've got information on this Taylor guy. He's more unstable than his brother, so be careful what you say to him," he warns. "He was in therapy for years dealing with a major inferiority complex. I'm guessing Tad has been calling him the 'copilot' all his life. That can work to our advantage. Another note, though, is that he's more obsessed with you than his brother – possibly as a way of showing up his brother. But he will also do whatever his brother asks him to."
"Keep an eye on her while I give Finn the directions to our spot," Tad orders his brother.
Taylor looks at me – looks me up and down, actually. "Glad to," he says.
I smile quickly, self-consciously. He looks just like Tad… from before Tad's mega-makeover. In those photos that Cooper and I looked at that we found beneath the floorboards of Tad's old house in New Jersey, a younger Tad once looked just like the brother standing before me now. Glasses. Brown, messy, matted hair. Some pimples. A nice smile.
"So," I say, when I'm alone with Taylor. "You're Seymour's brother, huh? I see you got the more favorable looks," I say.
He looks at me in surprise, before smiling. "Really?" he asks. "You think so?"
"Yeah," I enthuse. "I mean, clearly your brother had some plastic surgery. And you are natural. You don't need surgery to look good."
His smile grows. "You know, I've been pretty obsessed with you. I was there the night we almost got you. Some creep hit me pretty hard that night," he says, getting mad. He's talking about Cooper. Obviously. "But I got him good – thank god I had my brass knuckles on."
My mouth falls open, thinking of how badly Cooper must've gotten hit that night. No wonder he was knocked unconscious! Oh, Coop…
"I'm not sure why you went through all that trouble, trying to kidnap me and whatnot. I mean, all you had to do was write me a nice letter. I would've written back. We could've been friends."
"I don't want to be your friend," he says, suddenly angry. He takes a step toward me and grabs my arm roughly, causing me to give out a little yelp.
"Heather?" Cooper says in my ear nervously.
"I want to be your boyfriend!" Taylor says. "Except my brother does too!" he says angrily, clearly frustrated – throwing my arm back at me. "And my wife doesn't seem to want me to be your boyfriend, either."
"Your wife?" I ask, shocked.
"She's in the Club, too," he explains. "She wants you to die for an entirely different reason than we do."
Great. I have the jealous wives of my anti-fan club out to get me as well.
"We've got confirmation," Barrett says. "There was a hole that took them underground – a mile from where we lost them. Our men are going in."
"They're already hours behind them," Cooper says.
"Well, it's all we've got," Barrett says. "They're going in, and moving forward. Heather, you just have to keep them distracted. Talking. Just the way you're doing."
"Taylor, if you don't stop flirting with her right now, I'm going to kill her now. I don't care what your brother says!" a woman says, storming into the back of the van.
"You must be Taylor's wife," I guess, causing her to leer at me.
Just then the van stops. Everyone's quiet, and I feel like I can hear my own heart beating in my ears.
"We're here, baby. Your new abode," Tad says, entering the back.
"You two, get everything ready. Now!" Tad orders, causing Taylor and his wife to open the back door to the van and jump out quickly.
Tad walks up to me and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the van and into the darkness.