Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Dystopian Trilogy Book 1)

Angels Mark Chapter 13

13

Bryce was terribly uncomfortable crunched up in the trunk of Clyde’s car. His long lean frame was contorted over a now-full bladder. His mind raced until he hit upon something a former girlfriend once babbled about. What was it she’d said? She saw it on Oprah, or got it in a forwarded e-mail, something like that. It was about if you are ever stuffed into a trunk of a car, what to do. Ah! He remembered. Kick out the taillight. Someone would notice. Hopefully the police.

Bryce kicked and kicked. He had no idea if he was anywhere close to the taillight area, but his foot was hitting on something. He struck out again and again until his heel popped some kind of latch. What was that? Had he popped open the trunk? Yes, the road noise and the rush of air confirmed it. He was free!

He was not bound, gagged, or restrained in any way. Clyde had simply pushed him into the trunk, held him down, and slammed the lid over him. Nothing hurt really, except for his pride. All he needed to do now was climb up and jump out, and hope he could get far enough away before Clyde noticed the trunk lid was open. His opportunity for escape came right away, when Clyde slowed for a four-way stop.

Bryce didn’t wait for the car to stop. He hoisted himself up onto his knees, then, as quickly as he could, he climbed out of the trunk and jumped onto the road. He didn’t look behind him, but ran on nearly-numb legs, hoping the adrenaline would give him the strength and speed he needed to slip away before Clyde could get to him.

Clyde, confident that Bryce wouldn’t be able to get out of the trunk, was unaware of his escape. Not a big fan of defensive driving, Clyde didn’t make much use of mirrors or overall attentiveness. His driving time was his down time for personal recreation. He was currently snacking from a new bag of Peanut Butter Bugles while quoting along with “The Notebook”. He didn’t notice the trunk was open until he parked the car in the garage.

“What’s that?” asked Tom.

Paul froze. He could hear Clyde slamming around in the garage, cursing, throwing things. “That would be my brother in a foul mood. I better go see what’s going on.” As he headed out to the garage, using the door located in the back of the kitchen, Serena returned to the kitchen.

With Paul gone, she could speak freely, but she whispered to be safe: “Tom, he has the e-mail, the one from Karen’s friend in Iran.”

“The kids are in the car.”

“I know, we have to get them out of here.”

Tom rose to leave just as Paul and Clyde came in. Clyde snarled, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Clyde, calm down, he just finished his coffee. I haven’t talked with him yet…” Paul placed himself between Tom and his brother.

Clyde pushed Paul out of the way and grabbed Tom’s arm. He pulled him back into the chair. “Toss me some duct tape. It’s in the junk drawer.”

“I don’t think this is—“

“Necessary? Necessary Paul? That’s what you were going to say? Well I didn’t restrain that idiot Bryce and now he’s gone. Won’t make that mistake twice. Give me the tape!”

Paul rooted around in the drawer, found the tape, and handed it to Clyde. “There’s not much left.”

Clyde secured Tom to the chair by wrapping the tape around Tom’s middle and the back of the chair, over and over again until the tape was almost gone. He gave Paul the rest of the roll. “Tape his ankles to the chair legs. I’m getting more tape.”

As soon as Clyde left the room and Paul was bent over, working on the ankle taping, Serena leaned close to Tom. “Hang in there honey, it will be ok,” she said. She tried to give him a meaningful glance but his eyes reflected puzzlement. What was his wife up to? Whatever the secret code was, he didn’t get it.