Amanda Lance Wanted

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.However, my curiosity was still dominating my sense of self-preservation, and I was still sure that if someone was in danger, it certainly wasn’t me.I clutched my phone as though it were a beloved friend, only now noticing my sweaty palms.I laughed again and wiped them on my shorts.It was obvious I was just tired, and my imagination was overloaded from worry.I walked through the same way I came, regretting having left my coffee behind.I made the resolution that I would cut back on the mystery novels, swearing off Hitchcock and Stephen King for a while.Still, I felt relieved I had been wrong about someone needing help or being hurt.I walked through the lot, wondering what other genres might be over-stimulating my brain, when I saw an abrupt flash of bright light.“Hello?”I figured it was just a set of headlights, another family looking for a parking spot—maybe it was Dad looking for me.I kept trying to reassure myself by glancing down at my phone.Sure enough, I had one new message.But while I was checking its contents, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere as I started to realize the semi-trailers that surrounded me were unfamiliar.The nervousness I felt increased and a new tightness began in my chest, suddenly making it dreadfully difficult to breathe.I almost wanted to laugh; how clichéd was it that I had gotten lost in such a short amount of time? Figuring it would lead to the parking lot I came from, I followed the direction of the headlights and turned the corner.It wasn’t headlights, however.For the longest time I really, truly wished it had just been headlights.Instead, the light was coming from a flashlight at the end of a tractor-trailer.It was hard to see who was holding it, but the holder kept shining it on several figures who were removing large crates from the back of the truck.“Hurry it the hell up!” A man’s voice whispered.Another man’s voice said something in a language I didn’t understand.In just a few short moments, the men worked together to load the crates into two SUVs and another small truck.With an almost perverse fascination, I watched the gracefulness of the figures as they labored.It was a stage play featuring dark silhouettes that didn’t seem to know they were dancing.I nearly forgot my fear in the confident speed with which they worked, until the figure holding the flashlight left the light on two of the men lifting a particularly large crate together for enough seconds for me to see the handgun on one of their belt buckles.My heart leapt into my throat so aggressively it felt as though it were trying to escape my body completely.I could no longer hear anything but the sound of it beating it my ears.I didn’t know anything about the criminal underworld, but common sense told me that guns were bad and shady doings in the night were extra bad.An instant kind of terror overcame me that made me gasp out loud without realizing it and I had to cover my mouth.The urge to flee was instant.This place wasn’t for people like me.I began to back away as quietly as I could.But then arms grabbed me and a hand went over my mouth.The arms pulled me right off the ground, their strength capable of keeping my own at my sides even though I thrashed and struggled.The arms couldn’t keep my legs though, and I used this advantage with everything I had, kicking at everything and anything.Ultimately however, it didn’t do any good.My last logical defense was to throw my head back.Only unlike what you see in the movies, head butting someone is extremely painful.And when I felt my head contact with that object, it was actually so painful I thought: This is it.I’ve been shot and I’m going to die.I’m dying.I began to scream with a shrill, piercing quality, muffled as it was through the hand.Unfortunately, this only increased the pain and confirmed my suspicion of impending death.A mess of thoughts came to me.I began thinking about all of the immediate events in my life and how they would be stolen from me.I’ll never get to finish that book.Will Robbie go back to Iraq? I’ll never get to travel.But above all, I kept thinking about that stupid coffee.I’ll never get to give Dad that coffee he needed so much.He’ll be so disappointed.“Shut up or I’ll kill ya.”The words came in with a subtle southern accent and the scent of aftershave and clove cigarettes.Kill.Kill.Kill.Kill? Kill?It echoed through my head as though my mind were empty of any other thought.I felt myself start to shake and my torso went limp.My arms were practically glued to my sides, but I started to wish for fake fingernails to scratch with, or maybe pepper spray.Why hadn’t I ever taken self-defense courses?Voices were shouting back and forth to each other, although where exactly they were coming from I couldn’t be sure.Abruptly I was pulled away.The arms were dragging me from the pavement and toward one of the SUVs.The panic set in then, and I began kicking harder, tried to scream even louder, telling myself that statistically, if I didn’t get away now, I never would.Hot tears ran down my face, and I screamed in my head for help as if someone could hear me.The flashlight blinked out and an engine began to roar.Everything was dark until my eyes adjusted, so I never saw the cargo door of the SUV open or where the bungee cords came from.The arms released me into the backseat with several crates.I instantly lunged to run from them, but he pushed me back down before I could let out a scream or do much else but slap at him.As easy as batting a gnat, he took both my wrists in his single hand and bound them in the bungees, then did the same to my ankles, using a separate cord.In less than a minute, I was hogtied.I blinked back the tears and felt the mucus pool in my throat.Poor Dad.He would make another stop to get himself some coffee, right? It wasn’t likely he would fall asleep at the wheel or anything, but it would be better if he had some caffeine in him.I was filled with self-loathing as I struggled against the binds.Why hadn’t I just walked away when I had the chance?I felt distinct calluses on the hand that put the tape on my mouth.Were these the hands that would kill me? I looked into the face of the mystery man who had turned my heart into a caged animal, now wondering, what would he do to make my heart stop?I made myself concentrate.It was as though I were taking the SAT again and sitting in a classroom with two dozen other overworked teenagers.I was now reminded of the stuffiness of some of those classrooms and the tiny wedges of those desks.Cramped and herded into such a tiny space, I remember feeling grateful for being homeschooled, imagining being incapable of going to school like that my entire childhood.But I had gotten through it and even thrived because I had concentrated—I just had to do that now.So I closed my eyes and breathed, which was considerably difficult through the tears.There were two? No, three different doors opening.Obviously the driver’s side had to be one of them, and both of the passenger-side doors.The weight of the SUV shifted to my left when someone entered from that side and sweat quickly filled the air.It terrified me when I realized I was the only female in the vehicle.The reality of it was almost too much to handle.The SUV began moving.The engine was so quiet I only realized it from the way a crate shifted against me, forcing my head into an unnatural angle.When did I start to move away? Why hadn’t Dad found me yet? Briefly, I thought about my phone and naturally went to reach for it.I thrashed against the bungees and winced as they pulled on my skin.The voices upfront were whispering, arguing about something I didn’t understand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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