Untraceable

Survival Skill #45

The best way to handle any attack is to try and get away. Never be taken to another location.

~

“Leave her alone!” Mo screams.

I look over to see Mo struggling with a couple of men from my town.

He jerks an arm free and punches my dad’s barber, Ned, in the face. Then he kicks our real estate agent in the gut and moves in my direction. Before Mo can reach me, a third man pistol-whips him across the temple. His eyes roll back in his head. Then he doubles over on the ground and curls into a ball, like a little boy, vulnerable and scared. A trickle of blood dots the corner of his mouth.

We lock eyes and he mouths the words, I’m sorry.

A bunch of hands grip my armpits and drag me out of the shelter, my legs scraping the ground behind me. I try to scream, but only a moan escapes. Rocks and sticks tear at my knees. The pain returns and sprays through all my limbs.

As soon as it registers what’s happened, I fight back, kicking and screaming. Little stars flicker across my vision, but I manage to muster up one last dose of energy to flail. This time, I break free and kick Tony in the kneecap. Then I sweep my foot across the ground in a wide circle, taking out another pair of legs. Ned flops backward and lands on his butt. A third man from my church jumps on top of me, pinning me down with his knees. I buck like a wild horse until someone presses a damp cloth over my nose and mouth.

My vision is affected first. The leaves outside the cave morph into butterflies that seem to flit off into a blurry backdrop. I gag at the pungent smell and a bitter taste fills my mouth.

Soon, my world dissolves into blackness.

* * *

The only point of light I see is high above me. It’s either the moon or a distant star. When I sit up, my stomach churns as every place on me throbs. My fingers graze over a bump on my cheek. I groan and push through the sharp pain in my torso, feeling my way along the moist wall. Jagged rocks formed into some sort of underground tomb.

Where am I? In a cave? Maybe deep underground.

Buried alive.

Panic wells in my chest as claustrophobia kicks in. I cry out to the dark space. “Help! Is anyone here?”

Then a familiar noise floats through the cramped space.

Whistling.

My body trembles. I know that sound. How could I forget it?

A door opens and a shaft of light illuminates the black space. A huge figure crouches through a man-made door and holds up a lantern. I shield my eyes until they adjust.

The first thing I focus on is Al’s evil grin.

“I’m baaaaaaack.” He bursts into laughter as he glides closer to me, dragging a large blob behind him. “And I bear gifts. Who says I’m not a nice guy?” He tosses the mound on the floor.

I stare at it, expecting a dead body until a cough pierces through the darkness.

“Mo?” I crouch down and pull back the sheet. His face is battered and swollen. Duct tape is spread out over his mouth, and one eye is swollen shut. Dried blood dots his chin, and a small gash across his eyebrow drips down his face. He moans through the cloth stuck into his mouth and struggles against the ropes hog-tying him.

I mask my fear and glare at Al. “Let him go.”

Al pretends to think for a second. “No.” He sneers and gives Mo a kick in the gut.

I shield Mo’s body and scream. “Stop it!”

Al chuckles and glides toward me. He clutches onto my arm with his talons and smells my hair. His voice sizzles like drops of water splashing into a hot pan. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you another chance.” He presses me against the wall and twirls a piece of my hair. “Wouldn’t want you to be lonely down here.”

Mo moans under the material and flips around on the sandy floor. His eyes flash dark, and he wraps his legs around Al’s ankle, pulling him down.

Caught off guard, Al stumbles backward but catches himself against the wall. He pulls a gun from his holster and presses the muzzle against Mo’s cheek. “Check, mate.”

I yell. “Wait!” Al sneers at me, so I try softening my voice. “Please don’t.”

Al seems amused. “You know what, Mo? She’s right. Why don’t you watch our little party first? Then, I’ll kill yah.”

Behind him, someone bellows. “You’ll do no such thing!” Les appears through the door, holding a gun. His face and shirt are drenched in sweat. “Didn’t you learn from Billy’s mistakes? Drop the gun, Al.” Al lets his gun clunk on the ground as Les hobbles over to me and shines a light in my face. “You okay, Gracie?”

I shove against his blubbery body. “Get away from me, traitor!”

Les appears shocked. “I came here to help you. I warned you to stay out of this.”

Tears well in my eyes. He’s right, but what other choice did I have? “How could you be involved in all this? Dad loved you!”

Les keeps his gun on Al who’s eyeing him like a lion does a lamb. “I don’t have time to argue with you now. Come with me.”

Mo watches me but remains still on the floor.

I lift my head and speak emphatically. “No.”

Les frowns and grabs my arm, pulling me toward the door. “Gracie, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Now you have no choice but to come with me, or you will die.”

Just then, someone hits Les over the head, and he drops to the floor with a grunt.