The Kidnapping

Locked Out: Kidnapping Part 2

          "It's creepy being out here," Greg grumbled. He held the bag in one hand slung over his shoulder, and a pistol in his other. The barren street laid out before us, a sun-bleached pale scar running through an ancient crumbling neighborhood that at one time was a bustling shopping center. A loud crash rang out from an alleyway between two shuttered businesses. Greg whipped around, pistol in one hand, the bag in another, ready to kill whatever moved. A thin black cat raced past him; its' tail bristled out in fear. He'd whipped the bag around so quickly, that the infant monster inside the bag began to wail. Again, the bag glowed, the symbols on the sides did their work, silencing the little ankle biter. But they glowed much dimmer this time, their power waning against the strengthening power of the creature.

          "Don't whip that thing around so much, you're wearing the bag out," I growled at him.

          "Dude, I'm sorry. It's just....have you ever been outside after dark? After everything shut?" Naked fear laid bare before me in his eyes.

          "You know I have," I replied, looking up at the sky. The sunlight crept down further behind the horizon. The day was done, and with it went our protection.

          "Yeah, that thing," he said, his voice trailing off. Geez I wanted to hit him in that moment. But it wouldn't have solved anything. Instead, I glared at him. My gaze forced his own eyes to cast downward, "Sorry. Let's try to find shelter if we can't find a ride."

           We walked a little further. Greg gets chatty when he gets nervous. Right now, he was pretty nervous, "Still, it gets eerie out here on this highway without a single car in sight."

          He was right. There wasn't any traffic on the road. No cars. No cops. Nothing. The entire city had gone to bed right after the sun touched the horizon. After dark, no one wanted to be out. Being out at night was suicide. Almost no one survived until daylight once you were locked out. Almost.

          While Greg was scanning each and every alleyway, hoping against hope that he would find some errant delivery driver, some dumb teenager out too late with his parents' car, something to rescue him. "You think we'll ever find a car," he asked.

          "Not if you keep searching for one to magically appear," I grumbled.

          "Well, what should I be looking for then," annoyance tinted his voice. It did grate on my nerves a little, but annoyance is better than fear.

          "Open businesses. A house with an open shutter that didn't or couldn't close. A garage that maybe has a malfunctioning shutter system or open gate. Something like that," I replied still searching.

           We had been walking and talking for some time. The little bundle of pain we were carrying had been quiet through all of it. Perhaps too quiet. "Greg, stop," I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around away from me. No glow from the bag. No movement either. I waited for a moment. Then two. Nothing. I sighed deeply in relief and let go of his shoulder. Had it been my imagination?

          Greg gave me a look and began to turn back around, the little ankle biter's hand or foot pushed against the bag. Shit.

          "What's wrong," he asked, panic rising in his voice.

          "Bastard's awake," I replied. "We have to move, now."

           "Where though?" He said waving a pistol at the buildings lining the street. Each one had steel security doors rolled down and locked tight. Ancient brick store fronts had steel security doors lowered and locked. The few houses we passed earlier had been locked tightly the same way. Nothing open, nothing out. No one around.