He'll come through

Chapter Two - What do you want?

Lilah had loved the time she’d spent in the Smith household. Maria was everything you’d hope for in a little girl, bright, funny and SO endearing. She’d inherited warm brown skin and curly black hair from her mother Imelda, Gavin had met her when he’d been working in Zimbabwe ten years earlier. She already had malaria but had never told him, Maria was two when Imelda died. Lilah sensed a light had gone out in Gavin’s life then, his eyes seemed to gloss over whenever he mentioned her. And so Maria had become his everything, but despite that, she wasn’t a spoilt or overindulged child. She’d enjoyed doing things with Lilah; they’d worked through basic schooling, then celebrated with swims in the pool, TV, or walks around the secure compound. Another five families had adjacent homes, so they’d visited other children too. When Gavin was home he would take them out to dinner, but he wasn’t happy with them really being around the City, the recent unrest was still simmering and he was concerned that they may need to evacuate if things got any worse.

So why had he let her make her own way like this if things were so bad? Lilah was struggling to control the shaking in her legs, she’d never felt fear like this, never been this close to a gun, this close to death.

Quinn pulled her into his arms, his lips pressed to her head, but rather than a secure protective gesture, he was using this chance to talk to her.

“I don’t think this is random, they’re looking for someone, something. Do you have anything to hide blondie?” the whisper seemed to vibrate against her scalp.

She shook her head, “typical you think it’s me. It may be you.”

“Well it’s not the locals and the boys seem to have been given the once over already. Leaves me and you.” She looked across and saw that he was right; the men were making their way strategically through the group.

No sooner had he said that, the four assailants stood between the group and Lilah watched in dismay as the thirteen people got back on to the coach. No one knew who she was, no one could warn anyone.

“It’s a good sign they’ve let the others go...” he whispered as the driver with an apologetic yet relieved look started the engine. “Shit!” He shook his head, “they’ve just told the driver we left our hotel without paying a thousand dollar bill!”

Lilah snapped her head to look up at him, “what?”

“They’re making this seem justified, that this may be a little rough form of justice, but that’s not unusual here.”

“I’ve not been to a hotel!”

He shook his head, “me neither blondie, but it seems that they want one or both of us, without raising any suspicion.”

At that moment, three of the gun wielders came towards them, “What do you want?” Quinn asked them, “we haven’t got much money...”

The butt of a gun was embedded in his stomach and he doubled over trying to catch his breath.

A voice prattled in what she presumed was Arabic as she was separated from Quinn. The two men flanking her were the shorter two; they probably guessed she was ill equipped to defend herself. As they bundled her into the sports car, she looked back briefly at Quinn and her fear, the nausea, the panic eased a little as he mouthed, “We’ll be ok.”

In the car her hands were tied and some sort of coarse sack, stanching of petrol was tugged over her head. She slumped into the seat. She always thought she was a panicker, that at the first sign of trauma she’d collapse in a neurotic heap, but here she was actually wondering how she could escape, how she could get home.

The terrain was uneven and the car had little in the way of suspension, every bump pained her, and the petrol smell was starting to make her dizzy, the journey seemed interminably long, it could have been five minutes or three hours, she had no idea. So she started to log what she did know. It had been just after midday when the bus had stopped. She’d had a large breakfast ninety minutes before the bus, so hopefully hunger wouldn’t be an issue, though she was parched. Water sounded like heaven. She was dressed to handle the cool evening. Her long linen trousers and tunic weren’t as thin and insubstantial as they could’ve been.