Chapter 1 - Awakening

          She turned slowly to look at the body in the seat next to her. She wondered if this one had stopped breathing at some point like the one she had found earlier in her trunk. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw the chest move. She decided it was safe to examine the face now that breathing had been established. It turned out to be quite an attractive face, although determining it was an attractive face should have been the last thing on her mind considering the circumstances.

 

Just then a twitch drew her attention to his hand where a flash of silver caught her eye. In his lap lay a Desert Eagle .44. The reason she so quickly identified the make and caliber was because she had grown up with three older redneck bothers and a dad who supported with great enthusiasm their second amendment rights. Although her mom was delighted when she finally had a girl, her brothers and dad treated her like one of the boys.

 

At the thought of the gun in this strange passenger's hand, she felt a shot of adrenaline run through her body. She calculated the chance of being able to get the gun away from her unconscious male passenger. At least she thought he was unconscious. He had not opened his eyes since she came to awareness in a strange car, with blood on her hands, a dead body in her trunk, and him - this strange man- sitting in the seat next to her.

 

He had longish, dark brown hair with a few streaks of blonde. A five o'clock shadow indicated that shaving had not been a priority for him in the past 24 hours. The logical reason would be that he was running from something or chasing something. This theory of course was reinforced by the .44 in his lap. She was unsure what she should do with this information.  She decided that the only thing that would help her at this point was to try and remember the last few hours or days or whatever time had passed without her knowledge.

 

She looked at the clock that showed ten o'clock.  She knew it was morning, based on that it had to be at least the next day if not longer, because the last thing she remembered she had been sitting in the therapist parking lot at ten o'clock in the morning. It felt like one of those life or death moments and she was at a severe disadvantage with memory gaps.  She decided the most imminent danger was the passenger asleep next to her. 

 

To determine what consequential decisions she would make, she had to decide what side of justice he was on, and what side she wanted him to be on.  She wasn't sure she wanted him to be the good guys, because of the blood on her hands and the body in the trunk.  On the other hand, he may have witnessed how the blood ended up on her hands and how the body ended up in the trunk, all of which would be really helpful to her.

 

  He could also be a friend of the deceased in her trunk.  Looking at his khakis, button-up shirt with a white t-shirt underneath, and the leather jacket; she somehow doubted that the last was a possibility.  The body in the trunk had been dressed in a really tacky, polyester suit with slickly greased hair.  The two fashions didn't seem to be conducive to friends, but then again you could never tell.  Opposites attracted just as well in friendship as it did in relationships. 

 

Her friend, CJ, was a good indication of that.  He was somewhat of a computer geek and she was basically computer illiterate.  In fact, computers hated her secretly she was sure of it. CJ also preferred to be indoors as much as possible and she was an outdoor kind of girl.  CJ liked sappy old movies while she preferred comedies.  

 

There were so many differences, yet they had become best friends almost instantly.  He was about 10 years, her junior.  They had met at a coffee shop when her laptop had refused to do anything but show her a blue/black screen right in the middle of writing her term paper.  CJ had rescued her from the technological nightmare she had found herself in.  So maybe passenger man and trunk man had found themselves in a similar friendship.

 

Speaking of CJ, perhaps now would be a good time to call him.  CJ was very left brained and would have some good logic in this situation. She dialed his number on her cell phone she had found in the coat of her jacket.  She was thankful it had still been there. It rang 7 times then went to voice mail.  She hung up without leaving a message.  "That's odd." She thought out loud to herself.  Never before had CJ not answered her phone call before even when it had been 3 o'clock in the morning and she had imbibed a little too much after a most recent break-up with the last jerk. She decided she was on her own with a less-than-correctly functioning brain.

 

She noticed her passenger’s leather jacket gaping open. In the inside pocket, she could see a long wallet sticking out with a silver medallion embedded into the leather. She briefly contemplated retrieving it so she could find out who he was and make a better decision based on his identity, but just then she caught a glimpse of a Chevron out of the corner of her eye. The desire to wash the sticky, putrid-smelling blood off her hands won out so she pulled into the parking lot. 

 

She tried to hide her hands as she made a beeline for the ladies’ room. She was careful to avoid getting close to any of the customers or staff for fear they'd be able to smell the metallic smell of blood and wonder. She quickly concocted a plan and grabbed a box of lady’s feminine hygiene products praying that it would guard against suspicion.

 

 She ended up not needing the back-up plan as no one bothered to even glance in her direction.  She prayed for the ladies’ room to be empty and found luck on her side. She slipped in, locked the door, and checked it twice. The last thing she needed, in all this mess that she had found herself in, was someone to walk in while she was washing blood off her hands.  It would take more than a box of feminine hygiene products to explain that one.

 

She scrubbed until her hands were almost raw and shuddered at the thought of the blood that had been on her hands.  When she was done her hands were so clean that she could have performed surgery.  She wiped her hands dry with toilet paper, just in case there were some unknown bits of blood that could be found under a special light.  This way any possible evidence would just be flushed. As she started to leave she heard a pounding on the door.

 

          "Hold on there's someone in here" She yelled to the door where someone impatiently stood on the other side.

 

"Sheesh..."She said only getting the door halfway open before she was looking down the barrel of a .44.

 

Thank the Lord, she had good bladder control. Two brown eyes framed by long dark eyelashes peered around the door. She would normally be jealous as her own eyelashes were nonexistent. She always complained especially when she saw a male well-endowed in the eyelash department, but that was not the first thing on her mind this time.  The first thing on her mind was "Oh, Lord! I'm going to die in a convenience store bathroom." followed by "Dang it! I knew I should have taken the gun!"

 

A large muscular hand reached in, grabbed hold of her arm, and yanked her out of the bathroom and backwards against a hard, broad chest.  It gave new meaning to the word full body contact though this was not the sport she wanted to be involved in.  She was pressed up against him so hard she could feel his heart pounding.  She was surprised he had one.  She also felt her own heart trying to jump out of her chest.  Hot breath fell on her ear, followed by

 

"Don't make any sudden movements act like we're newlyweds and you are crazy in love with me. You'd better hope you can be convincing because your life depends on it." 

 

If he was trying to win brownie points with her she was pretty sure it was not working.  What a crazy mix of sensations, to feel like she might die any minute and feel a thrill run through her body by the whole cloak-and-dagger thing.  She really shouldn't be surprised. She was the queen of finding and dating the craziest guys, it had been a running joke between her and CJ.  Unfortunately now she had found the ultimate crazy guy and he was going to kill her. On the positive side though, she wouldn't have to worry about dating anymore crazy guys if she was dead.

 

It was bad enough she had started out yesterday in her therapist’s parking lot sitting in her beautiful blue PT cruiser. Now she had woken up to a strange car along with its accoutrements of a dead body in the trunk, a suspicious man in the seat next to her, and her own hands bloody on the steering wheel.  This had all led, in a most unpleasant way, to being held at gun point in front of a bathroom door at the closest Chevron.

 

Her stubborn Irish, inherited from her mother, kicked in.  She decided to use it to test his limits to see how much she could get away with without getting shot.  The chances of him actually shooting her in the Chevron were slightly lower than if they were in the car.

 

          "I'm not going to go anywhere until you tell me why and what's going on.  I deserve to know at least that before I die."

 

"...Because if you don't, the people whose friend you killed, will kill you and me.  As for what's going on?  That's too long a story for right now. That story will have to wait for later. Just so you know I'm FBI, one of the good guys, so you don't ask ...again!"

 

"I've asked that question before?" She whispered back horrified more to herself than him beginning to realize how busy her mind had been betraying her. He continued to hold the gun between her and himself.  She could feel the hard steel of the barrel's business end pressing into her back.

 

 "Lady, what is wrong with you? You've asked me that ten times since we started this trip.  Next you're going to again tell me you don't remember anything and the last thing you do remember is visiting your therapist which you obviously need to do again."

 

The Irish started to build again, but its growth was quickly stunted by shock as he whipped her around to face him. He immediately pushed her up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his body covering her. Once again the words “full body contact” ran through her head. He was suddenly kissing her as if it was a natural thing to do with one hand gently holding the back of her neck with the other hand still holding the gun pressed into her stomach.  This was not exactly her idea of a romantic date. There were too many things to list that were wrong with this scenario.

 

As quickly as the kiss had started, it ended and she was suddenly hip-to-hip with him. He holstered the gun on his belt between them.  With his arm around her shoulder, they walked out to the nondescript black sedan.  Her sick sense of humor kicked in.

 

"By the way, I thought you'd like to know there's a dead body in the trunk"

 

"I know.  I put it there after you killed him."

 

She didn't know whether she wanted to pass out, cry, or start laughing hysterically.  She voted for laughing, mostly because a person trying to act crazy in love as if her life depended on it probably wouldn't cry or pass out. After a few soft hysterical chuckles, logic kicked in and her brain started pulling options out for her to examine; 1. He was lying because he was the bad guy.  2. He was telling her the truth and he was getting ready to arrest her.  3. There was the word self-defense involved in the story about the body of the person she had killed in the trunk. 

She was pretty sure she didn't like any of those options, so she pinched herself hoping that waking up from this nightmare could be an option.  All she ended up with was the realization that it wasn't a nightmare and a small bruise on her arm.  The look on the self-identified FBI agent told her that she had just reinforced his assessment of her mental status.

 

How many times had she wished she could find a tall, dark, mysterious stranger thinking how romantic it would be?  She decided it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  They walked to the passenger's side of the car where he proceeded to open the back passenger side door and shove her in.  He strode unhurried to the other side of the car and got into the driver's seat.  She suddenly was aware of why he was unhurried because as she tried the door she came to the realization that the child lock had been activated.  Silence was they  had been traveling on.

 

"So, here's a stupid question, but I'm curious as to why I was driving and now I'm being shoved in the back and treated like a prisoner."

 

He pointed to the large goose egg on the left side of his head that she had missed previously.

 

 "That would be because I wasn't in my right mind before, thanks to you. I've returned to my common sense and realize I don't want a matching one on the other side.  That is why you are locked in the back seat."

 

She chuckled, the whole thing sounded ludicrous. She couldn't even imagine herself being strong enough or stupid enough to hit an FBI agent hard enough in the head to raise a goose egg.

 

“What kind of an FBI agent allows an average woman to get the jump on him?”  She verbalized her thoughts “Not much of a FBI agent, are you?"

 

The glare she received from the rearview mirror made her chuckle more despite the situation.

 

"Not one for conversation?" She couldn't stop herself as sarcasm poured out of her. "Apparently the goose egg is interfering with your ability to communicate."

 

Inevitably, she always resorted to sarcasm when she was nervous. Unfortunately, her brain did not seem able to differentiate that this was not the best time to use this particular coping skill.  It was as if adrenaline had removed the filter between her mouth and her brain.  She knew she had a good chance of making him mad, but she couldn't stop herself.

 

"So next time you want to put a romantic move on a beautiful lady, use a breath mint and lose the gun. The gun is just not a real turn-on for most sane women."

 

"Well, I wouldn't consider you sane. If I was trying some romantic moves it wouldn't be in a convenience store bathroom. Despite the fact that I don't look like I know how to shave, I do have some class. Where was the beautiful woman? I missed her."

 

Her first instinct was to kick him in the back of the head but unfortunately he was driving and she did not have a death wish. He peered at her in the rearview mirror.

 

"Finally shut you up, did I?"

 

At that anger and frustration poured out of her.

 

 "No, you didn't. I just don't want to waste my time talking a man who has to kidnap women in order for them to spend time with him."

 

She must have gotten to him because he immediately swerved to the shoulder of the road and slammed on the brakes. Whipping around in his seat, he pointed his finger in her face.

 

 "Listen, lady, I'm just a little sick of your smart mouth. Do you think that maybe you could keep your mouth shut for the next half hour?  I'm trying to protect your butt and I think that a little gift of silence as a gesture of appreciation might be in order.  So here's what's going to happen;  you are going to shut up, I am going to figure out how we are going to lose the dead body's friends that followed us into the Chevron and are now probably pretty close behind us. We are also going to keep the nasty comments to ourselves. I'd like to not have to expend valuable brain power insulting you when it would be to your benefit that I use it in figuring out how to keep us both alive and you out of jail." He stopped then turned back around "Holy Mary, are you always this big a pain in the butt?  No wonder you're not married." 

 

She grew quiet at the tirade and then pretended to block him out.  She fumed at the married comment, but felt like a heel realizing that what he said about the corpse's friends was true. Embarrassment also reared its head because he had pointed out a painfully true fact.  Her mouth had always caused problems in any relationship she had been in. It was a curse she blamed her brothers for putting on her.

 

Alone in her mind with various thoughts, the next six miles passed in relative silence. Intermittently, she looked furtively out the back window for any car that might be suspiciously following them.  As the miles went by and she still had not glimpsed anything, she began to wonder about this man's story. She had discovered one good thing about her mouth; it could sweet talk someone as easily as annoy them.

 

Her therapist said using her mouth to annoy those in a romantic relationship with her most likely resulted from an unconscious wish to not be in the relationship. She made a note to fire her therapist as soon as she got out of this mess and back home. If the therapist was worth the 90 dollars an hour she was paying then she wouldn't have ended up in this situation in the first place. 

 

She might even sue the therapist for damages and loss of wages assuming she survived all this.  CJ had been the one to recommend the therapist. Usually he was pretty good with his recommendations but this time he severely failed.  She could forgive him though because she wasn't paying him $90 an hour to be her friend.  A powerful urge of nature hit her, interrupting her current train of thought.

 

"Excuse me, officer?" She emphasized the word 'officer' with the most sarcastic voice she could squeeze out.  She got a glare that could have set her on fire so she reversed tactics.

Sweetly as possible, she asked "I don't suppose I could use the ladies room, could I?"

 

          "I suppose you could if I didn't already know you just went fifteen minutes ago! I suppose you have a bladder problem on top of all your mental problems?"

 

"No," she retorted hotly "I had a blood problem. I needed to wash the blood off my hands and didn't take the opportunity to think about peeing. Shortly after washing my hands, you stuck a .44 in my face.  I decided at that point it probably wasn't a good time to ask to go back in and use the restroom."

 

"Fine, there's a turnout up ahead that you can use." He said abruptly.

 

"What?? I don't squat and pee, I need a real bathroom." She said with a snobbish tone.

 

"Well, it's either that or pee in your pants. In which case, I'll be opening the windows so I don't have to smell it and you can enjoy sitting in your own urine. The alternative would be to quickly figure out how to squat and pee."

 

Any attractiveness she had thought she'd seen earlier quickly disappeared as her dislike for this man increased every time he opened his mouth.  Ironically, it was something she had heard from others about herself. What was even more frustrating was that she realized she didn't have a choice because she wasn't about to pee on herself.

 

She looked around desperately for anything she could take with her to utilize as toilet paper. It was bad enough to have to squat and pee, but she wasn't about to wipe with her hand or one of the numerous tumbleweeds lying about.  The only thing she could find within reach was a burlap looking piece of cloth poking out from under the driver's side seat.  She snatched it, crumpled it into a ball, and slid it into her pocket.  She was positive this barbarian would probably take that away also if he had seen her take it. The car finally slowed to a stop.

 

"You'd better make it fast.  I figure you have 30 seconds to pee, wipe, and get your pants up and your butt in the car. Unless you'd like to have your dead friend's buddies show up while you are hanging out to dry." He chuckled.

 

"Just hurry up and pull over." She spoke through clenched teeth as the urge to pee became almost painful. Despite the fact that he had been rude about everything else, he was quick to open the door to allow her to get out. 

 

"Go to the other side of the car." She commanded him.

 

"Nope, pee here with me protecting your butt or in the car."

 

Although she most of this trip there was no filter between mouth and brain, this time it kicked in. She quickly decided that although it would be uncomfortable to pee in front of this man, she had previously found attractive, it was better than peeing in her pants in front of him.

 

The mixed feelings of anger and fear helped somewhat as she squatted to pee. They helped to counteract any feelings of embarrassment that might have arisen.  She made quick work of relieving herself and was thankful she had been able to do it without peeing on her shoes, pants or anything else that would be returning to the car with her. 

 

"Will you at least turn your back so I can wipe?" She wasn't above begging a little to prevent further embarrassment. 

 

He obliged.

 

She quickly pulled the piece of fabric out of her pocket as he stared down the highway in the direction they had come.  She wiped then quickly buried the fabric in the loose sand in an effort to retain at least a shred of decency. She yanked up her pants and before he could push her in the back seat again, she hopped into the passenger's side. She quickly locked all the doors.  Realization that her quick-thinking brain had failed her again hit when he appeared at her door with car keys dangling from his finger.  He put the key into the lock and each time he tried to turn it to unlock the door she pushed the lock button down again.  This continued only a minute or so until he began shouting and pointing the way they had come.  She looked in the rearview mirror to see a car speeding towards them. 

 

She knew then that the car and shouting confirmed that he was right about somebody following them. She didn't wait to find out for sure and swiftly unlocked the driver’s side door. Her captor ran around to the driver's side, jumped into the car and sped off with the door closing by itself as a result of the force from their accelerated departure.  She grabbed hold of her seat belt and thrusting it into the partnering holder and with the other hand grabbed the aptly named 'Oh S**t!' handle. She looked over just in time to see the car speedometer race to 100 and then pass it.  She barely got a glimpse of the upward curves on the road ahead before she closed her eyes and began to pray every prayer she could think of.

 

"Hail, Mary full of grace...give us this day our daily bread...now I lay me down to sleep..." 

Everything went black.

 

She woke to a light blinding her. A man was at the other end of the light she guessed, due to the masculine hand holding the light. Shielding her eyes, she tried to get a glimpse of the person behind the light.

 

"Is passing out a common occurrence with you?"

 

"Passing out?" She asked confused but as she said it everything came flooding back.

 

"You," She pointed to him "This is your fault!"

 

"Me? My fault? Oh right, I forgot. Pardon me, next time I'll drive by when I see a beautiful woman waving down cars on a practically abandoned desert road.  If I forget and accidentally do, I definitely will make sure there isn't a dead body in the front seat of her car first.  I always seem to forget how dangerous it is these days to stop and help a damsel in distress.  I guess though it is only dangerous if it is you. As it turns out your distresses are quite a bit worse than typical damsels." He turned his back to shine the light in the direction of a rustling noise in the nearby tumbleweed patch.

 

          She whacked him upside the head with her hand.

 

"What the..."  He exclaimed as he whipped around blinding her with his flashlight again.

 

"Let me tell you something, Bubba, or whatever you're called. Since I've been aware of your presence, you've done nothing but complain about me. Shut up and go somewhere else because I don't need protecting so bad that I'm willing to put up with your whining." She blurted with great enthusiasm.

 

It was deathly silent.  She grew uncomfortable waiting for some kind of response and when none came she began wishing she could see his to get a hint of what he was thinking. They looked up to see a pair of lights flickering moving closer at a rapid pace to where they stood behind the black sedan. She was yanked down to crouch beside him at the opposite end of the car. One of his hands covered her mouth.  She resisted the urge to bite it realizing it was probably just an instinct. Luckily, he wasn't a smoker so his hand wasn't so disgusting it made her want to gag.

 

His tone of voice became deathly seriousness as he started issuing commands.

"Slide underneath the car and don't come out until I tell you it’s ok." she did without hesitation.

 

"Where are you going" She whispered. 

 

He didn't hear her because he had already disappeared into the dark.  He had left her the flashlight but she turned it off to conserve the batteries.  As any normal person knew it would be pointless to hide under a car if there was a flashlight to point out your position.  You might as well just wear a big flashing neon sign that said 'come get me'.  She preferred to live a little longer so decided there would be no flashing neon signs for her tonight.

 

As the darkness under the car enveloped her, she felt her other senses heighten.  Every beat of her heart felt like it was pumping Jell-O through her heart rather than blood.  It was an incredibly strange sensation to have while her heart rate was increasing rapidly by the second. As the circulation in her system increased the adrenaline flowing through her system, she felt herself become stronger and calm.  She wondered briefly at the phenomenon, but the thought didn’t linger. 

 

She heard the roar of a motor draw closer and then slow to an idle as it stopped.  She could see the faint outline of tires as the car idled a mere ten feet away from her head. Despite the cool night air that swept across the desert, she began sweating drops that slid down her back and side.  

 

She heard two car doors open and slam shut in unison.  That meant there were two of them.  She wondered who they were and if they had been present when she had apparently killed their friend. If not, how had they found out what had happened to their friend.  She wondered as she listened to feet crunching on gravel next to the highway.  The noises were followed by a resounding ‘thunk’ sound like someone slapping a hollow pumpkin hard. 

 

She almost screamed when a man's head appeared on the ground with open eyes that were obviously not seeing anything.  This time when she looked at his chest to see if there was movement to indicate breathing, there was none. He was not familiar to her at all.  He had a bald head with a few stray hairs on top with a bulbous nose that was bright red in color.  He had on a suit that looked out of place in a desert. 

Just as she was contemplating this new body she heard scuffling. A loud gun shot rang out resonating around her. She froze as everything became intensely quiet.  She could almost hear small grains of sand in the desert shifting against each other in the cool night breeze.

Reviews

[Gerry Legister]

I Love this its almost coming out of my head, a good write