Missing [ST]

Forty Three

The destination of the red blip was a warehouse complex that was far away from urban civilisation, and on a patch of land that probably wasn't owned by anyone legally.

Twenty years ago it might have been a manufacturing centre for some sort of product where workers packed up boxes and forklifts loaded large crates of goods into awaiting trucks and lorries, but now it was just an abandoned building that should have been knocked down when it was first decommissioned.

Will cut the engine, turned off the tracker device on the dash, and then reached into the glovebox by Joe's knees.

It popped open and revealed two handguns with ample ammunition which he took out without a word. The guns looked like some customised models of Glock 17s.

"You really are the real deal, huh," Tom commented, unclipping his seatbelt over his shoulder.

Will slid one of the weapons into the holster under his arm, and secured a couple of extra magazines in straps. His primary choice was stuffed into his belt and he swivelled in his seat to address everyone.

"I want you all to stay here, okay? Because I don't know if it's entirely safe."

"So why bring us all this way to just sit and wait?" Joe countered, returning to his impatient line of questioning. "I don't care if you don't think it's safe, I want to help. I want to go in with you."

With an elbow resting next to the headrest as if to challenge, Will looked at him.

"Can you shoot a gun?"

"Uh n-no...not really," Joe stammered. His face had washed out like he wasn't expecting the question. "Well, kinda. I've used a rifle back at-"

"Brad, there's a bag under your bench. Could you pass it over?"

The interjection, which was measured and clipped with Will's usual authority, offered a group hesitation.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

A small black bag was passed to Tom, who passed it over to Will, and then it was unzipped and the fabric covering further weapons were carefully unravelled on his lap.

A smaller gun. Different make. Slightly different shape.

"Then I guess you're going to learn," Will said, holding a new gun in hand to get Joe's attention. "Mag slots in. Catch is here to release. Safety, off and on. Front and rear sights. Grip with your strong hand and hold away from your face. Pull the trigger with your index finger. Easy peasy."

Will swivelled the weapon in his fingers so the handle was ready for Joe to take.

It took a second for the bombardment of instructions to settle, but the gun was accepted with a left hand and inspected quietly.

"If you want to help, you stay here with the others. It is a defensive weapon, not an attacking weapon. Understand?"

Leah, who had been silent the whole journey listing every possible outcome in her head, finally had the urge to speak.

"What about his daughter?" she asked, sitting forward as the momentum of her mind carried her.

Will tensed his personal adjustments, and he did not turn around.

"I think it's too late for her," he answered, a pinch of sadness deepening his voice.

"But how do you know for sure she's not here with him?" Leah tried again, more urgency and a flat-out refusal to accept an unknown fact.

"These people are cruel. They won't sympathise with an innocent life."

"He won't want to come out if he knows she's gone," Joey added from the back.