Whispers of a Past || ON HOLD

Chapter 7: Almost Kidnapped....Almost

January 15th. . . .

I step out from the slightly shabby bathroom and into my room. Tossing my overstuffed backpack on the one bed, I walk around to the small tv in the corner of the room. Switching it on, I absentmindedly flip through the channels, only pausing long enough to make sure neither Casey nor my photo is on display on either of the various news channels.

Nope. Looks like Mr. Bubbles is keeping it between his people, and us.

Well, at least there's that-

My thoughts break off as there's the sudden loud noise of glass shattering behind me. I hardly get a chance to panic, none the less actually turn around to face the threat, before large arms are suddenly restraining me against a hard chest.

The remote drops from my hand like a brick as I automatically begin to struggle, my mouth opening to scream in warning to Casey across the hall. A large sweaty hand abruptly clamps around my mouth, containing my shout to just a muffled yell.

Fear squeezes my chest as a gag is suddenly slipped between the hand and tied in my mouth, a nasty, almost oily, tinge to it. There's suddenly a cloth bag pushed down over my head, the fear turning to raw, unrefined panic as my vision goes dark.

I frantically kick out with my hands and what I can of my arms, but whoever's holding me barely seems to notice my pathetic struggle. Two other hands grab my wrists, tying a coarse rope tightly around them, behind my back. I'm then lifted effortlessly up off from the ground and tossed over someone's shoulder like I'm nothing more than a child.

Oh crap. Am I getting. . . Kidnapped?

And judging by how fast and efficient they are, I'm just going to go ahead and assume these guys are professionals. Which can mean only one thing: Bubbles.

But how did they already find us? We're on the opposite end of town from where we did the research. It should've taken longer than ten hours.

There's the sound of glass being crunched underneath a booted foot as I'm carried out what I can only assume is the now broken window, a slightly chilly breeze catching me off guard.

I didn't even have time to put my jacket on. Damn inconveniences.

Oh my god! Casey! What if he comes charging out here? They'll get him too, or just kill him before he even realizes what's going on.

I frantically kick my kegs out like I'm in a desperate swim, my tied hands pounding against my own back. Yet nothing seems to faze this dude. I can tell we're now walking across pavement, a rancid odor souring the air as we, more than likely, pass a dumpster. I can hear other footsteps around me, alerting me to the fact that this guy has company, maybe four or five other guys.

Please don't tell me they've already snuck into Casey's room and killed him?! My god, I might hate him, but I never wanted him to die-

I'm suddenly dropped to the ground in a rush as a few shouts of surprise bark out around me, and my butt takes the full force of the fall, sending a shockwave of pain up my spine.

I ignore the pain, instead focusing on getting my breath back and wondering what the hell just happened to cause them to do that. I suddenly catch a noise like a low growl back from where I just came from, making goosebumps raise on my arms and neck.

I cower back against what feels like a van's bumper, restrained hands still tugging as I stare out at darkness, only small pinpricks of light getting through from the sun.

Another surprised shout echoes out from my right before its abruptly silenced by a resounding whack. I wince from the sound of skin smacking skin and bone, my raspy breathing hot against the fabric.