Winning Choice: Brandon yanks open the van door.
I ignore the kid and grab the driver’s side door handle. Up close I can see the van isn't like a normal van. It's more polished. Heavier. It looks more like an armored car with dark tinted windows and heavy plating. It could be a tank for all I care. I want the people inside!
I yank on the handle but it's locked. “Get out of there,” I yell. “What did you do to me?” I can’t see through the dark tint, but I hear someone thrashing around. I yank again on the handle, harder, and the damned thing comes off in my hand!
A few more people have come out of the shops to see what’s going on, but they’re staying well back of the accident and the crazy naked man. My fist dents the door as I pound on it, but the thuds are deep and low from heavy plating. This thing is solid.
Thinking maybe the sliding door is open, I reach for that handle. I hope it’s fastened on a bit better but don't get to find out because someone someone inside the van starts firing! I duck down as a hole appears in the driver’s side window right where I was standing. Then another. The heavy glass doesn’t shatter but just makes these perfectly round holes. The bystanders scatter and I think for a second maybe I should be with them, but I’m not backing down now.
Keeping low I pound on the diver’s door again, harder, thinking maybe I can get it to pop open. WHOOM! My fist caves in a giant dent and opens a gap between the door and the frame. Now there's been this little part of my brain that's been screaming since I woke up on that table about how impossible this all is, and how I must be dreaming or on drugs, but I keep trying to ignore it. That’s the logical part of my brain, and it’s having a breakdown. It wants a time out. I push it into the corner and give it a lollipop for right now, as a different part of my brain is just rolling with things.
I reach into that little gap and grab on. The metal crunches in my hand. Oh yeah. I brace myself and pull, and the door doesn’t just come open. Metal shrieks and tears and the door flies right off the van! It sails right out of my grip and out into the street.
The kid the is only person still standing around, and his jaw drops. “Holy crap!” he says. He’s a poet.
Slumped over the steering wheel, covered in blood, is the tan man from the warehouse. He moans and I tear off the seatbelt with one hand and yank him out with the other. He dangles off the ground, face bloody from the accident, his head lolling back and forth, half conscious.
“Who are you?” I snarl at him. His eyes slowly open and he squints at me.
“Brandon…” It’s bizarre hearing him say my name like he knows me. Like we’re friends. “You shouldn’t be here.” His eyes droop shut, and I shake him back awake.
“Where should I be? Tied up in that warehouse? Dead somewhere?”
The kid runs at me, pointing towards the back of the van. “Dude, there’s a-“ The tan man raises his gun and points it at the kid, who freezes in place. Idiot! I’d just been shot at and didn’t even think to look for his gun. Fortunately my new speed allowed me to make up for this particular mistake. I smack the gun out of his hand, sending it flying into the van. And, I’m pretty sure, shattering most of the bones in his hand. He grimaces.
“No more shooting,” I tell him. “But I’ll break your other hand if you don’t start talking!”
“I wasn’t shooting,” he says. “I was being shot.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” says the kid. “Somebody just bailed out of the other side of the van. Took off running.” The kid pointed down the street back the way we came.
I glance at the kid, weighing my options. It has to be the short, mousy guy. I want some answers from him, too, but I’ve had enough running for one day. I opt for the bird in the hand.
“He didn’t take the process,” says the tan man. I see now that some of the blood covering him is from what looks like a gunshot wound to his shoulder. I’d just assumed all his injuries was all from the crash. Details were never my strong suit before, but I think that's going to have to change in a hurry.
“Process? Like what you put me through?” I ask.
He shakes his head slightly. “Leave no trace,” he says. “Once you were done we all start dying off. Wrap up the loose ends. But you took longer than we thought… we all started… but not him.”
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Mandeville," he says. This guy isn't going to be with me much longer. He sags in my grip, eyes fluttering shut. I shake him back awake. Part of me feels bad about this, but a bigger part doesn't care.
Sirens begin howling in the distance. We're going to have company in just a moment, and I'm not sure how much longer my luck will hold in dodging them.
Inside the van something start beeping rapidly. The kid runs back for his Prius, probably to finally get the heck out of here. I'm surprised he stuck around this long.
The tan man's eyes snap open and he feebly grabs my arm with his unbroken hand. I can barely feel his grip, but his stare is so intense, so maddened, I step back in surprise.
"Don't let him find you. Stay hidden. If he finds you, don't listen to him. Don't!" his eyes close again, his head falling forward.
Of course this Mandeville guy can find me, he helped kidnap me. They probably know all about me, including where I live. Where Nicole lives! I shake him again "Does this guy know where we live? Does he know about my wife?" I'm screaming now.
"Don't... listen..." he says, his head falling forward. Inside the van the beep turns into a steady whine as he goes limp. Now I've got a dead guy in my arms, which really trumps Naked Car Accident Causer on the cop's list of things they get upset over.
Something whoomps inside the van and a wave of heat hits me. I drop the tan guy to the asphalt and step back. More than just feeling the heat, I can somehow see it. The van is starting glow red hot, and getting hotter. Probably a self-destruct mechanism to help wrap up loose ends. No wonder this Mandeville guy wanted out before tan guy checked out.
The kid comes back around the van holding a duffle bag. He flinches away from the van as he gets close. "Geeze, is it on fire?"
I shrug, backing up. "No idea, but I don't plan to stand around and find out. Sorry I dragged you into this."
"Wait," he says, holding out the duffel bag. "It's just some gym clothes, but beats what you've got going on now."
I hesitate, not sure why he would help me after all this. He tosses the bag to me.
"Go. Go find your wife. The cops are going to be here any second. I'll tell them I was carjacked."
I loop the duffle over my shoulder. "Thanks," I tell him, and take off running down an alley. I take it easy to avoid crashing into any walls, but I'm still miles away in minutes. I stop in a grubby garbage area behind a building where I'm well out of sight and pull open the duffel. The faint scent of sweat and must hits me as I pull out some sweats, a tshirt, and some socks.
Only then do I suddenly wonder how the kid knew I had a wife. Did he hear me yelling at the guy from the van? Is this day just making me too paranoid?
Does Brandon:
1. Call his wife to tell her he’s okay.
2. Make his way back home to scout out the situation first. (Winning vote)
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आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Power Shift (Book 1)
कल्पित विज्ञानBrandon Stamp is abducted on his way out of a grocery store. He doesn't know who took him or why, and when he finds out what they want him for his confusion turns into terror. Frantically searching for clues to the group behind his abduction, Brand...
