You, Me, We Are All Mistakes

10. MARGARET THATCHER'S UK

CHAPTER 10
MARGARET THATCHER'S UK

A loud scream travels straight to the amygdala, an area of the brain that processes fear and kickstarts the body's fight-or-flight response. The struggle and screaming resumed behind the sealed doors of this eighteen-wheeler. The girl maintained her venom towards their captors.

"Get off me! No! NO! Help! Police! Who the... HELP!"

Strong hands firmly held her ankles and wrists. She kicked hard. Her best volley connected with an attacker's shins yet caused little reaction. A fifth captor appeared from the recesses to tie her swiftly and professionally. Together with a bound Nelson, she was dumped in a corner of the trailer where the sun's rays poured in through a small skylight. The girl continued to kick and shout and scream.

"It's all soundproofed in 'ere, love," said a darkly dressed man. He was built like a bear.

She sustained her yelling. Nelson stayed quiet, breathing heavily with a fearful racing heart.

"We're not here to hurt ya, love" came the matter-of-fact next statement.

The girl stopped abruptly. Her neck and cheeks flushed red, she was breathing too fast and turned to stare fiercely at Nelson.

"Who... ARE YOU?" she screamed.

"I'm sorry..." started Nelson.

"STOP! Look Mister..." she hissed, "if this is some kind of weird abduction thing you can just f..."

"N... no!" stuttered Nelson, "honest."

He took in the trailer's interior, noticing it gleamed improbably white with newness and cleanliness. It was spotless, save for a two empty Coca Cola cans discarded on the floor and what appeared to be an empty Marks & Spencer's cheese and celery sandwich packet. The ceiling glowed from a hidden light source.

Nelson glanced at his captors who were nonchalantly huddled away in the far corner, now preoccupied with a group activity.

Craning his neck in their direction he bellowed, "Who are you!"

One glanced indifferently over his shoulder and, blanking the question, he returned to focus on his cohorts.

"Who... ARE you!" shrieked Nelson again. Still no response, and Nelson surmised not to expect one. He suspected he knew who these people were, or at least who they were connected to. His worst fears from the morning's waking cold sweat were manifesting. He had brought this on himself. And another innocent party.

The girl continued to stare fixedly at him.

"HELP!"

And then, "Get me... out of here!" the words were left suspended in the air.

A moment passed with an unnerving quiet. The girl's awkward, searing stare unsettled Nelson further, flaring his irritable bowel. The stinging panic coursing through to his colon triggered the sudden need to break wind. At the last moment, the girl cracked before he did.

"Who the hell are you?" she hissed.

"Nelson, Nelson Staff. No relation. I'm very sorry about all..."

"To whom?"

"I'm sorry?"

"No relation to whom?"

"Vic Staff. Vic? The documentary about the Vegas Vegan on that new Channel Four."

"Never watch it."