Ashrika
MY EYES OPEN TO A QUANTUMof pitch-blackness, I blink rapidly until my sight adjusts to the darkness. Still, I can’t make out much. I squint against the dull ache in my head, easing my tongue around my dry lips. The rancid tang of chloroform clings to my lips, filling my tastebuds. The abrupt jostle of my body and a rolling can somewhere behind my head, suggests I’m in a moving vehicle.
Thrusting a hand forward, I move it, from right to left, feeling nothing but empty space until the rigid coldness of metal meets my searching fingers. And with my fingertips exerting pressure against the ridge, I pull my body into an upright position. An immediate moan slips through my lips and I drop back down, squeezing my eyes shut against a wave of nausea. Covering my mouth, I inhale a few deep breaths to curb the sensation then push up once more. My hand trembles as I run fingers through my hair, now stiff with dust. A thin beam of light catches my eye. It must be the door which means it’s still daylight outside. As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I make out several objects scattered near my outstretched feet. A large suitcase, four boxes and two gas cylinders. Judging by the dimensions, I’m in the back of moving van.
I glance around looking for a means of escape. Surprisingly, fear eludes me for the moment, if anything, it makes me determined to get free. Slowly, I rise, steadying myself against the ridges of the cabin wall, the swaying motion of the van makes it difficult. Certain I can move without falling over, I edge toward the door then trace the pattern of the metal frame, using my fingers to check for a lock or opening but several minutes of searching, prove futile.
I grit my teeth in frustration and thump a curled fist against the heavy door, yelling at the top of my voice, “Help. Somebody please help me.” The cries sound hollow to my ears. I doubt anyone would hear me. Still, I scream until my throat constricts in dryness. Admitting defeat, I strike the rigid metal once more then lean heavily against the door, breathing hard as exhaustion claims my body. I refuse to give into the tears pricking the back of my lids. The dull throb of my head signals another bout of nausea and I wretch for a few seconds but nothing comes out.
Weaving back and forth drunkenly, I drag myself to the corner I’d risen from and drop to the single mattress and suck in air to force down the threatening. Desperate, I pull up legs and bow my head between my knees. The move doesn’t help. I need food and water. “No. I need to get the fuck out of here,” I mutter. Where is my kidnapper taking me?
Kidnapped! The sudden realization dawns hard and fast. Cold fear grips my body, squeezing the air from my lungs and pricking the walls around my heart. I clench my fingers, as my breath rushes out in sharp exhales. “Please. Help me,” the words squeak out. I clasp my hands together to stop the shaking before my teeth began to chatter and my body gives into violent trembling. I clutch my knees in a frantic attempt to stay still but the sudden jerk of the van flings me against the side. Groaning, I try to sit up then roll onto my back when a loud bang resonates through the cabin and a stark brightness hits my eyes. I cover my them quickly.
“Are you awake, pretty girl,” the loud bark ricochets through my body, filling me with dread faster than a speeding bullet.
Terror squeezes my insides and my eyes fly open as a bulky figure appears. “Get away from me,” I screech, grabbing lungsful of air to fight off the approaching hands. “No!” Adrenaline jackknifes through me, and my body arches upward with the force of my gasp. Something covers my face, stealing my vision. Hands grips me around my thighs pressing down. I convulse, battling the weight restraining me.
“Relax. He’s coming, pretty girl.”
“No!” I scream, flailing about, trying to escape. “Let me go.” High-pitched squeaks fill my ears. Footsteps grow louder, closer. “No,” I croak, my throat sore from screaming. Strong hands grab my arms and pin my wrists. Kicking out my legs, I try to fight back, but they are much stronger, and more weight is forced on my legs, holding them still until I gasp for air. “Please,” I try once more.
“Shut the fuck up!” His hand swings wide—
Gunshots slammed my eardrums. My body snapped upward at the same time as my eyes flew open, darting around the room, fast and furious.Where were they?Panting, I swallowed the dryness clogging my throat. Lightning and thunder danced a quick tango outside my window, rattling the frames and pelting the glass roof.It’s not gunfire.I fisted the blanket like a protective shield. I swiped the sweat trickling down from my brow and pulled on the t-shirt sticking to my clammy skin. Shaking with enough force to cause an earthquake, I reached for the phone and dialed.
“Rika?” Zayne answered on the second ring.
I fought to get my breathing under control by pulling in deep long breaths. “It’s storming,” I replied on a shaky whisper. He knew I hated storms. And the nightmare I’d woken from didn’t help my state of mind either.
“Hang on, baby, I’m coming,” he soothed.
“Okay.”
I disconnected the call and hit the lights, flooding the darkened room with instant brightness that did little for my calm. Clutching my knees tight to my body, I willed the noise to end as another crash resonated through the sky. I sat back against the headboard and pulled the covers to my chest. My gaze swept the room, checking every corner, expecting God knows what to come jumping out of the shadows before it landed on a bottle of vodka sitting on the kitchen counter.
Tia brought it with her the day before wanting the low-down on Trent’s visit from two nights ago. Somehow, we’d ended up with coffee, popcorn and watching a rerun ofSomething’s Gotta Give, Trent and the vodka forgotten. I eyed the bottle again, but another burst of thunder rattled the windows and stilled my bravery to go get it. Gripping the edges of covers, I held on for dear life like it was my salvation against the storm monsters. I shook so badly, my teeth chattered.
“Where are you Zayne?” I whispered, glancing around as my racing heartbeat stripped me of the rationality to believe storms were harmless unless I was outside in its direct path.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, still as a picture until an abrupt thumping sounded too close for comfort. It took a few seconds to distinguish the pounding on the door downstairs. I cocked an ear to listen and barely made out the banging over the grumbling thunder.
