I point out the only other car in the small lot, and he drags me by arm.
A few minutes later, we’re winding down a back road full of run down farm houses and other places I’ve never deemed worth my time to travel to. I’m in the passenger seat and the thief, I now know as “Clyde NotMyRealName,” is driving with one hand and holding his gun on me with his other. The sirens were an apparent false alarm as we passed by the funky highway earlier, seeing that the police were just trying to control traffic. I’m not exactly sure what to do because, believe it or not, this is my first hostage situation so I shift in my seat to stare at him. He looks to be somewhere in his forties, with the definable features of scattered scruff along his jaw and a weird looking scar near his temple. He’s not all that bad looking, but really not all that handsome either; why he never considered wearing a mask in the store is beyond me. He doesn’t notice my scrutiny so I stare some more. And I stare. And stare. And–
I seemed to have struck a nerve. This crosses out my idea to begin an award-winning chorus of “The Song That Never Ends,” and gets me thinking that perhaps I should try reasoning with him instead.
“If you take that gun off me and let me go, I’ll stop staring at you.”
Perhaps I should just keep my mouth shut. He gives me a confused side glance,
“How about I take the gun off you and you keep quiet.” Good enough, I think, and I give a nod. He tosses the gun to the backseat.
“It’s not loaded anyway.”
I can feel some of the anxiety immediately evaporate from me, and I take that as a cue to get to know my captor.
“So Clyde, what are you planning on doing with me? I must forewarn you I’ve got a mean roundhouse kick so if you try any funny business–”
“I’m married.” He simply states.
I’m just about to ask another question when he shoves a now cold burger in my lap and tells me to “eat up” so I can “shut up.” The Prude. So I take comfort in the burger, even making a show of licking my fingers and the noisy silver wrapper to dispel any unearthed feelings of attraction towards me. I sneak a look at him and see several veins about the pop in his arms, neck and head. Mission accomplished.
We’re now traveling through some wooded area, with field mice playing a suicidal darting game across the road. Fear is really starting to set in as the evening gets quieter outside and I’m still wondering where the heck we’re going. I decide to voice my concern to Clyde.
“Oh I’m almost done with you. I just needed to get a state between us so I can have more time to escape. Your stop is coming up.” He gives a pursed grin.
I look at him in horror. There’s no way there’s anything civilized anywhere near here, and he knows that. Ten more minutes of cruising and he slows to a stop on the side of the road and orders me to give him my purse. Seeing as how I wasn’t exactly planning on being out of the house too long, I told him, I failed to bring it. He throws a round of curses and tells me to get out before he does something I’ll regret, so I comply and leave. As soon as I close the door, he spins off into the fading light of the day. I did not, however, tell him about the wallet I kept in my back pants pocket so Clyde 0, Me 1. I do, however wish I had my purse because at least I’d have a cell phone. Not to mention I’m out a car. And a GPS. So I walk down the side of the driveway trying to create some sort of safety equilibrium from the dark woods and the empty road. I walk, and walk and walk until suddenly I hear a soft speeding roll behind me. It has to be a car! Knowing that I can be easily missed with my neutral toned clothes, I search for anything on me that may attract attention. I find the aluminum burger wrapper I wadded up and put in my pocket (I don’t like trash in my car,) opened it up and raised it up to try to catch a gleam from the sun. The truck comes up from behind me, and zooms on by. So much for that plan. So I walk on. But hold on… in front I hear a similar roar on the road. It’s the truck! It saw me! It roars in reverse towards me before it stops at my side and I give the driver a wave.
“Hi… um.. sir! I really need a lift, if you don’t mind, to the nearest city? I can pay for gas!”
The latter seemed to seal the deal and he, yes I’m certain it’s a he now, tells me to come on in. It sit in relief as he takes off down the road, and decide not to pull out my wallet until he’s gotten me somewhere safe. I ramble out a bunch of “Thanks you”’s and “You don’t know how much this means to me”’s as he’s giving out his “No problem”’s and “Don’t mention it”’s. After just a couple of minutes I start to see lights on the horizon and I’m even more relieved. He looks at me and smiles, and I look out the side window, but in the reflection I can see he’s still looking at me, up and down.
“It’s been a real pleasure helping you out ma’m, especially when it’s someone so pretty.” He gives a gold flashed grin and puts his thick hand on my leg, and I cringe with realization. There’s a reason mom always said not to talk to strangers.
To Be Continued…
EDIT: Part Three HERE