Chapter 1 - Awakening

Chapter 1

   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 let out her breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding when she saw the man's chest rise and fall. She decided that 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. She identified it quickly thanks to her three older bothers and her dad who supported with great enthusiasm their second amendment rights. Her mom had been ecstatic that she finally had a girl, but her brothers and dad had always treated her like one of the boys. At the thought of a 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 hadn't opened his eyes since she had come to awareness in a strange car, with blood on her hands, a dead body in her trunk and this strange man 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 hadn't 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 glanced at the clock it read ten o'clock.  She knew it was morning, so based on that it had to be at least the next day if not longer, because sitting in her therapist's parking lot at ten o'clock in the morning was her last memory. It felt like one of those life or death moments and she was suffering from a severe disadvantage with the current memory lapse. 

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 might be on and what side she hoped he was 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 as well.  Then again, he could also be the 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 and slick 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.  She should know, her friend, CJ, was a good indication of that.  

CJ 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 8 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 that she had found located in the coat of her jacket where she had placed it at 10:00 after she had called her therapist from the parking lot.  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, even when it had been 3 o'clock in the morning and she had become seriously inebriated 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 glanced at the unconscious man, his leather jacket gaped open and in the inside pocket was a long wallet 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.  Carefully she hid her hands inside the pockets of her jeans as she made her way to the ladies room.

 She was careful to avoid getting too close to any of the customers or staff for fear they'd be able to smell that putrid blood smell and wondered. She did concoct a plan for that though if someone had mentioned it, she decided she would just grab a box of tampons and no one would think it was suspicious. Luckily, she didn't have to use that plan as nobody looked in her direction.  She prayed no one was in the ladies room and found luck to be on her side in this particular instant. She locked the door and checked it twice. The last thing she needed in all this mess that she had found herself in was to have someone 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 away. 

She scrubbed until her hands were almost raw and still shuddered just thinking about having the blood on her hands even though her hands were so clean that she could have performed surgery.  Being paranoid, she wiped her hands dry with toilet paper just in case there were some unknown bits of blood that could be found.  This way any possible evidence could just be flushed. As she got ready to leave she heard a pounding on the door.

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

 

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

 She questioned her earlier decision not to pee before leaving the restroom and thanked God she had good bladder control. Two brown eyes peered around the door; they were framed by long dark eyelashes. Normally she would be jealous as her own eyelashes were nonexistent, but that was not the first thing on her mind.  The first thing on her mind was "I'm going to die in a convenience store bathroom." followed by "Crap, I knew I should have taken the gun!"

 A large muscular hand reached in and grabbed hold of her arm using it to yank her out of the bathroom and backwards against a hard broad chest.  It gave new meaning to the word full body contact although this was not the sport she wanted to be involved in.  She was pressed up against him so hard she could almost have felt his heart beating, she was surprised to notice he had one.  She did however feel her own heart trying to jump out of her chest.  Hot breath on her ear was 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're a convincing actress and can act as if your life depends on it...which it does."  If he was trying to win brownie points with her she was pretty sure it was not working.  What a crazy feeling, to feel like she might die any minute, but feeling a little thrill run through her body by the whole cloak and dagger thing.  She really shouldn't have been 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 started out in her therapist parking lot in her beautiful metallic blue PT cruiser only to "wake up" hours later in the strange car along with it's accoutrements of a stereotypical dead body in the trunk, a strange man in the seat next to her and a car she didn't recognize with her own hands bloodied on the steering wheel.  This had led to, in a most unpleasant way, being held at gun point in front of a bathroom door at the closest Chevron.

Her stubborn Irish, she had inherited from her mother, kicked in and she decided to use it to test his limits on what he would put up with without shooting her first. She decided that the chances of him shooting her in the Chevron were slightly lower than say if they had been 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 much before you kill me." She hissed at him.

 

"...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 will come later. Just so you know I'm FBI, one of the good guys, so you don't have to 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, 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 full body contact ran through her head. He was suddenly kissing her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do with one hand gently cupping the back of her neck, the other hand holding the gun pressed into her stomach.  This was not exactly her idea of a romantic date. There were too many things wrong with this scenario.  As quickly as he started the kiss, he abruptly ended it.  Faster than she could respond, she found herself hip to hip with him, the gun holstered on his belt between them.  

With his arm around her shoulder, they strolled nonchalantly out to the nondescript black sedan as if they were just an average couple taking a road trip.

She felt 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, maybe you could pretend the two of you are a couple instead"

 

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

 

At that point, she couldn't decide 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 out options for her to examine regarding what he had just told her.  He could be lying because he was the bad guy or He was telling her the truth and he was getting ready to arrest her and the one that she hoped was most true was that there was the word self defense involved in the story for why a dead man had ended up in the trunk.  She was pretty sure she still really 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 then strode unhurried to the other side of the car to get into the driver's seat.  She became aware of why he was unhurried when she tried the door and came to the conclusion that the child lock had been activated.  Silence was maintained by both of them until he had returned the car to the highway that she had been driving on.

 

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

 

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. Now that I've returned to common sense, I realize that I don't want a matching goose egg on the other side.  That is why you are now locked in the back seat."

 

She chuckled because the whole thing sounded so ludicrous. She couldn't even imagine herself being strong enough or stupid enough to hit an FBI agent hard enough in the head to give him a goose egg. What kind of an FBI agent allowed 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 sick humor and sarcasm poured out of her. "Apparently, that goose egg has interfered with your ability to communicate."

 

Inevitably, when she was aware of what was going on, this was how she coped when she was nervous. Unfortunately, her mouth didn't seem able to differentiate between when it would or wouldn't be safe to use this coping skill.  It was as if the adrenaline had removed the filter off her mouth.  She knew she had a good chance of pissing him off, but she couldn't stop herself.

 

"So next time you want to put romantic moves on a beautiful lady use a breath mint and don't use the gun it's just not a real turn on for most sane women."

 

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

 

Her first instinct was to kick him in the back of the head but unfortunately he was driving and she really didn't want to die yet. 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 appreciation in the form of a gift of silence might be in order.  So here's what's going to happen;  you're going to shut up, I'm going to figure out how we're going to lose the dead body's friends who followed us into the Chevron and are now probably pretty close behind us and we're both going to keep the nasty comments to ourselves. I'd like to not have to expend brain power on 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 paused and turned back around "S**t, 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 assuming what he had said was true about the corpse's friends. 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 found herself 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 hadn't glimpsed anything she began to wonder about this man's story. She had found out one thing about her mouth it could be used to sweet talk someone as easily as it could annoy them.  Her therapist said that using her mouth to annoy those in a romantic relationship with her most likely came from her subconsciously not wanting to be in the relationship. She made a note to fire her therapist as soon as she got out of this mess and back home. Her thought was that if the therapist had been worth the 90 dollars an hour she was paying her, 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 would survive all this.  CJ had recommended the therapist and usually he was pretty good with his recommendations but this time he had severely failed.  She could forgive him, because she wasn't paying him $90 an hour to be her friend.

 

A powerful urge of nature hit, interrupting the current train of thought to remind her that she had neglected to use the Chevron facilities for their normal use.

 

"Excuse me, officer?" She emphasized the word 'officer' with as much sarcasm as she could squeeze out.  In return she got a glare that could have set her on fire. She reversed tactics and said as sweetly as possible "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 slight tone of snob.

 

"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 was increased by him opening 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, too. The car slowed and stopped.

 

"You'd better make it fast.  I figure you have about 30 seconds to pee, wipe, and get your pants up and yourself in the car. Unless you'd like to have your dead friend's buddies show up while your a*s is hanging out to dry." He laughed a little at his own words.

 

"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 a*s, no pun intended or in the car."

 

Although she had no filter on her mouth, she did have a filter on her brain. It 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, in counteracting her feelings of embarrassment.  She made quick work of relieving herself and thanked God that she had been able to do it without peeing on her shoes, pants or anything else that might 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 that they had come.  She wiped then quickly buried the fabric in the loose sand and dirt not wanting him to see it 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 and locked all the doors quickly.  She realized once again that her quick-thinking brain had failed her when he appeared at her door with the 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 for only a minute or so until she saw he begin shouting at her and pointing back the way they had come.  She looked in the rearview mirror to see a car speeding towards them.  She realized that the car and shouting probably meant he had been right about somebody following them. She didn't want to wait to find out for sure if he was right or not so she sat motionless. Her captor ran around to the driver's side, jumped into the car and sped off all in one fell swoop with the door closing by its self due to the force of the accelerated take off.  She grabbed hold of her seat belt, thrusting it into its 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 as she 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..."  then everything went blissfully black.

 

She woke to a bright light blinding her. Apparently a man was at the other end of the light or so 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 traffic down 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, because I always seem to forget how dangerous it is these days to stop and help a damsel in distress fix a flat tire.  I guess though it could be dangerous only because it was 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 whiney baby crap until either I'm safe or I die." 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 at least see his face so she could read what was going on in his head. They both looked up to see a pair of lights flickering as they moved closer at a rapid pace to where they stood behind the black sedan. Suddenly she was yanked down to crouch beside him at the opposite end of the car. One of his hands was covering her mouth, she resisted the urge to bite it as she knew it was probably 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 as he started issuing commands was full of sternness but deathly seriousness so when he told her to "Slide underneath the car and don't come out until I tell you it's ok." she did it without hesitation.

 

"Where are you going" She asked.  He didn't hear though because he had already disappeared into the dark.  Thankfully, he had left her the flashlight. She turned it off to conserve the batteries and 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 considering her heart rate was increasing rapidly by the second. As the circulation in her system increased the amount of adrenaline flowing through her system, she actually felt herself becoming stronger and calmer.  She wondered briefly at the phenomenon, but didn't let the thought linger long.  She heard the roar of a car motor draw closer as it slowed down. It stopped and she could see the faint outline of tires as the car idled a mere ten feet away from her head. Despite the cool night desert air, she began sweating drops that slid down her back and side.

She heard 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 who's body she had found, apparently, originally in the back seat of her car and then later in the trunk.  Just as she was wondering and listening to feet crunching gravel, she heard a resounding thwack 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.  The next sounds she heard while contemplating this new body were of scuffling. 

A loud gun shot resounded around her. She froze as everything became intensely quiet.  She could almost hear the small grains of sand in the desert shifting against each other in the slight cool night breeze.

 

 

Reviews

[Gerry Legister]

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