Chapter Seventeen #2
There are about ten cans of Coke on the ground that I try to avoid as I reach for the glove compartment.
I turn the knob, and the compartment opens, revealing a thick booklet on top.
I grab it and crawl into the bed area where I pull the curtain shut.
I turn on the phone’s flashlight as I flip the booklet to the last page.
I rip the page out and then begin writing down every location the truck has traveled to since the log started.
When I’m finished, I put it back, grab the paper, and shimmy my way back under the bed to where Lane is waiting for me.
“I got it, sexy trucker man,” I say.
“Good job,” he says, completely dismissing my remark as he holds his arms out. He feels for me as I stick my feet out first. Once he has my ankles, he pulls me through the opening and lets me drop to the ground. “How many more trucks are there?”
“Two more.”
“Let’s head to the next one.”
We creep over to the next one that is clearly a newer vehicle, but it proves to be locked from all sides.
That just leaves the truck closest to the open door.
We stay on the far side as Lane helps me inside.
As I work to write down the locations, the phone in my pocket begins to vibrate.
Startled, I jump before flipping it over and looking at who is calling.
Since there aren’t any names in the contacts, I don’t recognize the number.
I stick the phone back into my pocket and return to working on the log.
Most of the locations are similar, and instead of writing new ones, I start putting a tally next to them.
“Felix, there’s someone coming,” Lane whispers. “Hurry!”
My stomach tightens as I quickly push the curtain back.
I drop the log back in the glove compartment and push it shut as I rush for the area under the bed.
The glove compartment drops back open, reminding me that if I don’t turn the knob, it doesn’t lock, but I don’t have time now.
I crawl under the bed and reach for the little door as I hear the front door open.
I assume it is Lane, trying to find a quicker way to get me out, until I feel the cab dip a little as someone climbs in.
Now I don’t know if I should try to open the compartment door and get out or wait for him to leave. Maybe he just forgot something and will just grab it and go.
I hear the jingle of keys as he sticks them in the ignition.
Now I really don’t know what to do. What if he’s planning on leaving? What if I’m stuck in here for fuck knows how long?
Oh lord…
This definitely isn’t the sexy role-playing I had been wanting.
The semi-truck roars to life as the floor begins to vibrate. I reach for the door, finding that Lane hadn’t pushed it closed, and start to press against it when the truck begins to move. I lie still, praying he is just moving the truck into the loading dock, and then I can flee after he has left.
I lie as still as I can, breathing quietly as the truck moves around a bit before I hear the air of the brakes.
“We good?” the driver shouts, telling me that someone else must be outside, but I don’t know what side they’re on.
If the driver’s shouting to them, it’s likely they’re on the driver’s side, so should I shimmy my way around to escape through a different compartment?
The roar of the semi is loud enough that he probably wouldn’t hear me even if I make a racket.
I begin to push the door open just a bit, hoping to see out of it when the man turns the truck off.
I take a deep breath and just wait for him to leave.
Once he’s gone, I’ll make my escape. I’ll get out, and I’ll run.
Suddenly the phone in my pocket begins to vibrate. Pressed against the hard floor, it begins to rattle as I quickly reach for it, hitting buttons as I feel them. It stops vibrating and I hold my breath.
“What the…?” the man asks as he pushes the flap up and shines his phone’s flashlight in. I stare at him as his eyes grow wide. “What…the hell? What are you doing?”
With my foot, I kick the door open. I start pushing myself back toward the door as panic settles in my stomach. I hear the truck door open as I push my feet through the open gap.
“Hey! Someone broke into the truck!” he yells, probably to the other guy that had been helping him.
Suddenly the man from the cab is there. He grabs my ankle and yanks me toward him. I bring my free foot up and kick him right in the face. He reels back, but he doesn’t let go of me.
“You fucking asshole,” he yells as he yanks harder.
I reach for anything to grab onto and catch something in the dark.
I hold on tightly and start struggling as the man yanks at my leg as hard as he can.
I lose my grip on whatever I am holding onto as he yanks me from the cab.
For a moment, I’m falling, but the drop isn’t far before my toes touch the ground.
I struggle to get my feet under me, but I lose my footing and fall back onto the ground as the man moves toward me.
Suddenly, there’s a streak of darkness as Copper collides with the man.
He latches onto his arm and starts dragging him down.
The man screams as he’s yanked off balance by Copper’s weight.
I jump up as the second man grabs me. I bring my elbow back, but there was no reason for me to because Lane is already there.
He grabs onto the man, grasping the man’s shirt in his hand before yanking him forward and driving his fist into the man’s face.
“Let’s go,” Lane says as he pushes the man away.
He moves toward me, so I grab his wrist as Copper continues to drag the man. Lane yells for Copper and the dog releases before running after us.
I lead Lane through the gate and start running for the car.
“Keys…keys…where are the keys?” I hiss as I dig at my pocket for my keys and manage to pull them free. I yank open the driver’s door and thrust Lane toward it. “Get in!”
“I’m trying,” Lane says as he crawls over my seat and into the passengers.
I send Copper in before jumping in and ramming the key in the ignition. I start the car, throw it in drive, and slam my foot down.
“Well?” Lane asks.
“Well, what?”
“You wanted to role-play. Was it fun?”
“Oh, not funny,” I say.
Lane laughs. “Alright, no more joking. Are you alright?” Lane asks.
“Yeah…you?”
“I’m fine. Why is it…why have I gotten into more shit since I met you than I ever did alone? This is definitely a first for me to get caught so often.”
“Well…at least I stole one of your firsts,” I say as I glance in the rearview mirror to make sure we aren’t being followed. I’m not even sure the two guys saw what car we got into.
“That’s not true,” Lane says. “You’ve taken at least a couple of my firsts. Like…the first time I was tortured by food.”
I look over at him in shock. “I’m going to take away your first time of being murdered if you mention my food one more time. I never said I was a good cook.”
“Fine, I won’t mention it again. So, how’d you get caught?”
“This stupid phone kept ringing,” I say as I yank it out.
I see that there are two voicemails as I take a corner going about twenty miles faster than I should have been. The car hits the curb, but thankfully, we don’t blow a tire.
“What are you doing?” Lane yells as he tries to find something to grab onto.
“I don’t know! Looking at this stupid phone. There are two voicemails,” I say as I hit the first one and put it on speaker.
“ We have found James, give me a call when you get this. ”
“What? That’s it? No ‘he’s okay’ or anything?” I ask.
“What’s the second voicemail?”
“Was that García?” I ask as I slow just enough to make sure we won’t get hit before flooring past a stop sign.
“Yeah.”
I flip to the next voicemail and press play.
“ Okay, so I have a little more information. He’s okay at the moment. I believe they have him stable. Give me a call back. ”
“Call him,” Lane says as soon as the voicemail ends.
I press the “call back” button and put it on speaker. The phone starts ringing as Lane reaches over until he connects with my wrist. He slides his hand up until he hits the phone and takes it from me.
“This is García.”
“Hey García, you found James?” Lane asks.
“Actually, St. Michael’s hospital called us.
He had been with them as a John Doe for three days.
I know we sent out alerts to nearby hospitals and his name was on the list of missing, but there hadn’t been a connection until about two hours ago.
They called us up, we identified him, and I ran over since I was the closest to make sure it was him. ”
“Is he alright?”
“He’s in a coma. Suffered trauma to the back of his head. He had been stripped of all ID. A woman found him when she was out walking her dog. Thought he was dead and called the police. As of right now, we don’t know anything else.”
“Alright, I’ll be there. I’m not sure how far away St. Michael’s is, but we’re headed there now. Has Janice been notified?”
“Yes, I notified her as soon as I identified him. She should be here any minute,” he says.
“Okay, great. Thanks, García.”
“I’ll see you in a few,” he says, and I end the call.
“I mean, if he’s made it this long, he’ll probably live, right?” I ask.
“I guess…but head trauma…especially trauma that has left someone in a coma for days, can be a tricky thing,” he says as I slow for a stoplight and plug the address into the GPS. It tells me that it’s a four-hour drive, which makes me internally groan.
“So…if a hospital four hours from here is currently holding him, then he wasn’t involved with the disturbance here,” I say.
“Probably not,” he says. “It must have just been a coincidence. We basically got nowhere as we ran around threatening people and breaking into places.”
“Pretty much,” I say. “But at least James is alive.”