Chapter 34
Alice
Nellie’s screams abruptly cut off.
Panic slices through my body like a hot knife.
The fabric, stuffed haphazardly into my mouth, blocks my screams for her, leaving me silenced and dry-heaving on the rough carpet fibers.
Hot metal vibrates beneath my back, the grinding of tires tearing up asphalt only just now audible.
The sharp chemical smell of motor oil fills every tight inhale.
My ears ring. My head buzzes and pounds like an angry hive of bees has moved in, leaving me aching and confused. Worsened by the darkness surrounding me.
The trunk vibrates as the car picks up speed, the asphalt switching to the popping rocks of a gravel dirt road.
The driver hits a pothole hard enough to slam my shoulder against the wheel well.
Pain streaks down my arm, and I surrender a cry from deep in my throat.
Testing my limbs, I find my arms tied at the wrists with something smooth, not plastic or metal. A rope? A shoelace, maybe?
My breathing starts to sharpen. Too fast and thin for the confined space. Instinctively, I close my eyes, but it doesn’t make a difference in the nearly pitch-black darkness.
I remember the self-defense demonstration from the community safety day and Officer Calloway’s box-breathing instruction. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.
In for four.
Pause.
Out for four.
Pause.
The panic recedes somewhat. Not enough to stop my heart from beating out of my chest, but it’s a start.
The car slows suddenly. We turn right. I listen as we travel over rough bumps. What sounds like branches scraping against the side of the vehicle. This part of the road must be unused and overgrown.
Fear tightens my stomach. Sweat beads on my brow.
The vehicle slows, this time stopping altogether. The engine idles for long minutes while I strain to hear anything. Inside, I plead for Nellie to start screaming again. Not from pain, but from fear. Anything to know she’s still okay and fighting.
The truck latch clicks, a thin sliver of light splitting the darkness. I squint as the lid lifts fully open.
Two men stand over me, their faces blurry. Hands grab each half of my body and haul me from the trunk. I twist and elbow and knee whatever is in reach, landing blows with animalistic grunts.
“She’s cute,” the one holding my shoulders says. Then they hand me over to gravity, and I crash into the solid ground.
My hip and shoulder scream in pain. Tiny shards of pebbles bite into my bare skin, and I cry out behind the makeshift gag. I roll onto my back, blinking at the swirling gray sky as I fight to keep a tenuous hold on my consciousness.
“Get the bitch inside,” one of the men snarls before his footsteps crunching over the gravel fade away.
The other man casts a shadow over me. Memories come flooding back. Snapshots of the park. Being dragged to the car. Nellie screaming over and over the entire drive to wherever we are, her cries for Mamma shattering my heart and stopping my breath in my lungs.
“Where is she?” I try to demand, but the fabric in my mouth muffles the sound.
Shoving myself onto hands and knees, I lift, intending to crawl back into the car to find her.
A sharp kick into my ribs sends me sprawling. My chin smashes into the asphalt, a dull throb blooming from the contact.
Jake looms over me, his unwelcome face familiar. He taps the black glasses on his face. “That’s payback for your boyfriend.”
Rolling over, I clutch at my side.
Nellie.
Her name ricochets through my head. Her face swims behind my eyelids. Her long, wavy brown hair. Her piercing blue eyes, so much like her father’s.
Sutton.
My god.
Sutton. He’s got to be out of his mind with worry for his daughter. He’s going to hate me for getting her caught up in this. I have to find her. To protect her. No matter the cost.
Clutching my tender ribs, I roll over again, getting back on my hands and knees.
“We’re going to have so much fun, Alice.” Jake grins that same creepy smile he gave me in the tunnel while his hand covered Nellie’s mouth, glistening with her tears running over the back.
As if I weigh nothing, his fingers dig into my bicep, and he drags me to my feet. I frantically search the car's windows, but the tint makes it impossible to see inside.
“Like I told you in the first place, all you need to do is talk, and this can be over.”
I flit my gaze from the car to the squat building in front of us, with a sagging roof, a torn canopy, and boarded windows. The Closed sign on the front is tilted and weather-worn, nearly bleached white by the sun.
An old retail strip, maybe? Someone’s hard work lost to a declining population in this area.
Whatever it is, I know I don’t want to go in there. Not without Nellie.
I twist hard, driving the point of my elbow into Jake’s kidney. The momentary shock is enough for me to take off in a sprint. I circle the car, looking for a clear view, and rip open the driver’s side door.
With shaking fingers, I claw the gag from my mouth.
“Nellie!”
The car is only filled with silence.
I move to the back, looking for a latch or anything that might be concealing her within the seat.
A hand twists in the back of my shirt, the fabric jerked tight against my throat. My arms pinwheel as I stumble and fall to my back. Jake pins me to the gravel.
“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” he snaps, breathing hard now.
Shoving my arms between his chest and mine, I rake my fingernails across the sides of his neck. He swears viciously, climbing off and hauling me upright.
“You’re going to regret touching me,” I hiss, blinking back the images of Sutton’s furious face that surface.
Jake’s face twists, his nose nearly touching mine. “If you scream as much as the little girl, I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of it.”
A chill slides down my spine.
Jake drags me toward the building. Up close, I can see the obvious state of disrepair.
The rotted wood framing the doors and windows.
Strips of peeling paint and broken glass litter the cracked concrete around the perimeter.
The metal door is propped open, nothing but darkness crawling from within, warning me not to enter.
Another man appears. The hair atop his head is as white as snow. His jeans are worn and dirty, the black leather jacket covering his torso ripped beyond repair. He lights a cigarette, his eyes assessing me.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” he asks, the smoke from his inhale slowly drifting from his mouth with the question.
“I told you she’s uncooperative.”
The man smoking the cigarette just stares at me with calculating eyes. He steps aside and jerks his head toward the open door. “Inside.”
Jake starts to haul me, but I plant my feet with all my weight, forcing us both to stumble.
“What do you want from me?”
“You’ll soon find out.”
“Where’s the little girl?”
The man just smiles.
Jake takes my weight and drags me into the abandoned building. I claw at the doorframe, ignoring the pricks of slivers sinking beneath my torn nails. My gaze darts around the unfamiliar space. The dark room appears nearly black as my eyes struggle to adjust from the light outside.
“Nellie?” I scream into the darkness. “Nellie, where are you, sweetheart?”
Her terrified scream echoes back from somewhere deep inside the building.
“Let me go!” I fight against Jake, throwing my body weight toward the ground, but a fist in my hair keeps me upright.
“This is how this is going to go.” The man’s fist tightens, my scalp screaming as the roots are stretched to their limits. He shoves me onto a metal folding chair next to a long, wooden table. “I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them.”
“Just bring me the girl, please. She has nothing to do with this.”
The man pretends to contemplate my question for all of five seconds. “No.”
“If you think nobody’s looking for me—”
“They’re definitely looking.” His gaze bounces around the abandoned building. “They aren’t going to find you in this place. Nobody’s come to this town for over twenty years.”
An abandoned town. Not just an abandoned building.
With my eyes slowly adjusting, I take in the room.
The smell of dust is mostly obscured by the fresh acrid scent of his cigarettes.
The shelving units stretching across the room appear to be from a retail store.
Torn packaging litters the ground. Spilled nails.
A hammer. A length of rope. A sign reads Craftsman.
We’re in a hardware store.
My saliva turns to dust in my throat, and my stomach hollows.
“Why are you doing this? Who even are you?”
The man stubs out his cigarette on the end of the table.
“Sorry about that. Allow me to introduce myself.” He extends his hand before letting it drop with a chilling smirk. “I’m Ernest Farnsworth.”