Time... His Script is You and Me (A David Bowie Fanfic)

Cracked Actor

Hey all!

I just want to tell you that I may not be able to post chapters every week. I have a lot of commitments going on, but just know that I really do love doing this.

Just know that if a chapter doesn't come out one Sunday, it will most likely be on the next. I'm not going to officially say I will change my uploads to fortnightly, but I'm just warning you in case I upload later than usual.

Anyways, as always please vote, share, comment, and etc.

Hope you like this chapter, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

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I must have been drugged, because the last thing I remembered was the bag being thrown over my head, and the man grabbing my wrists; my handkerchief thrown to the pavement as he bound me.

The next thing I knew, I was in the back of a van. Driving god knows where. Though the bag was over my head, I tried to use my other senses. My hands had been duct taped behind my back, and my mouth and legs had also been taped. I was sat on the dusty floor of the van, among (from what I could tell) boxes and cabinets full of unknown things.

It was then that the reality of the situation hit me.

I had been kidnapped, and I was now in the back of a man's van, driving possibly towards my death - or worse.

I had to somehow escape.

From behind my back, I wiggled my fingers - at least those were free. I tried to move my hands around the floor of the van - try and find something, anything, that could be of use.

After a full minute of searching around the dirt and dust at the van's floor, we took a sudden sharp turn, and I heard the rattle of something like a screw come towards me. Not wanting to hesitate, I used all my strength to throw my body to where I heard the sound. It hurt like hell, hurtling my body across the van, but I knew that I would be in for a lot more pain if I didn't somehow get away.

It was then when I heard my captor's voice from the driver's seat, "What's going on back there?"

But he knew I couldn't answer. It was some sort of sick joke, that question. He chuckled for a bit, and then said something to himself about his 'intellect', and turned up the radio.

Bowie was playing. Specifically, Cracked Actor.

Let me tell you, having a much-beloved song ring in your ears as you are being abducted really puts a bitter tone to things. I tried to block it out, and wished somehow that David had never written it. In any matter, it couldn't help me now, and if I ever got out, I didn't think I would ever listen to that song again.

I fumbled my hands about - trying to find the screw somewhere among the grime. Eventually, I felt something small and metallic in my fingers. But what was more important - something sharp.

I picked the screw up in my hand and bent my wrist at awkward angles in attempts to break the tape's seal. I scraped the duct tape a few times, and though more often then not I ended up cutting my own skin, eventually I heard a small tear.

At this, I put all my strength into jutting my arms out - separating my hands and ripping the tape. It split cleanly, and I had to stop myself from squealing in happiness.

With my hands free, bloodied as they were, I went and took off the bag, and the tape on my mouth and legs.

Now that I could see, I noticed the van was a lot smaller than I had thought, and had one metal cabinet on the left side, filled with tools and screws like the one I had used. There were no windows. At this point, the van was still driving, so my next task was somehow exiting a moving vehicle.