I was not thrilled about this. Not at all. Every instinct in me was trying to back out, my brain kept shouting the warning, "Don't take rides from strangers!"
Krista could see it on my face, I could tell by the way she was looking at me. She had that pouty, wide eyed look of sympathy. The kind that parents wore as they took their toddlers to get a round of vaccines. "I know you don't want to do this and it won't be any fun, but it has to be done." I was aware I was the big toddler in the equation.
"It's just, you know how I let my mind go wild. We both watch Bailey Sarian, we know how things can go wrong," I said.
"Look, Lex, I already looked up his Facebook. His name is Timothy Stubbs, he drives a Kia, and he's a server at Cracker Barrel when he isn't driving people around."
She flipped her phone around to show me the images of an average-looking dude. Black rimmed glasses, short brown hair, very normal smile that didn't make my skin crawl or raise any red flags. An older woman in his photo came up to about his shoulder, She was grinning up at him like he was a knight in shining armor. Probably his grandma. Grandmas always think their grandkids are the whole world, but there was just something about her that made me feel like she would know better. If there was something dark about him, she would sense it, she wouldn't smile so widely, wouldn't lean into him as if he was a protector.
"I've got pepper spray," Ronnie said. She held up her keys by the light pink bottle, with its keyring coming from the bottom so she would always have it with her when she was out and about. Her medium sized nails matched the color of the pepper spray holder. She always had her nails done. I was jealous for a second of how pretty they were. I spent a lot of time crafting and broke my nails too often, so I just quit getting them done.
I glanced from the spray to Timothy and his grandma on Krista's phone.
"Come on," Ronnie said, "You don't want to wait here with my car while we go alone do you?"
No, I didn't. I wanted to be far away from there.
"Fine," I grumbled. "I'll go in the Uber."
Krista pulled her phone back, a huge, grin on her face. She loved talking people into trying new things. Usually it was calamari or a new shampoo—things much less potentially dangerous.
A dark red vehicle slid up next to us and the driver window came down. It was the guy from the photo, for sure. It must have been a recent photo, because hair was still the same style, or maybe he just didn't do well with changes, like me, so he kept it that way for years. He had a boy-next-door grin, not perfect, but not bad, and he said, "Is any of you Krista?"
"I am," Krista spoke up. "Is it okay if my friends come along?"
"No problem, the more the merrier," he replied.
He didn't seem to be offended by our number, which might make one person intent on doing harm angry, because he knows he's being blocked, or at least hindered.
"We'll all sit back here, if you don't mind," Ronnie said.
"That's cool," Timothy said.
I opened the left back door, sat down and slid to the middle of the back seat. Krista went around to the right door and sat beside me, Ronnie sat to my right and the doors shut almost simultaneously. The locks looked perfectly normal and didn't engage to keep us inside against our will. He and Krista must have already worked out a destination, because he started driving.
"You guys in college?" he asked.
"High school. Seniors." Ronnie said.
"Oh, cool. I'm attending the university. Got some side jobs so I can pay for books and whatnot."
"What's your major?" Krista asked, taking over the small talk from Ronnie.
"Social work," he said.
That put a big smile on Krista's face. She gave me a quick eyebrow raise, as if to say, "See, a job that helps people."
I rolled my eyes. There was a faint scent of lavender. I looked at his rear view mirror and sure enough there was a little brown pouch with a lavender emblem on the side. It looked homemade. Hanging next to it was a rosary with blue beads and a white cross.
I looked down at my phone while they prattled away. He and Krista were really hitting it off. Good for her. She hadn't had a boyfriend for a long while. Not since her last boyfriend moved away and they decided to be friends. That had been at least six months.
I felt the car slowing and looked up to see stalled traffic. I couldn't see how far the line of cars went.
"What's going on?" Ronnie asked, craning her neck to attempt seeing around the cars.
"Looks like some kind of wreck ahead," Timothy said. He put the car into park. "I'm going to see if I can help."
He got out of the car. Anxiety was creeping up on me. Anything could have stopped traffic, but I hoped it was nothing serious. I hoped nobody was hurt.
"I think I'm going to get out, too," Krista said.
She barely got the door open and it slammed back shut. She gasped, looking out her window and up, someone looking back at her. He was tall, bent at the waist to press his face close to the window. My mind logged descriptive information quick: scruffy beard, dark, short-cropped hair, wearing a black tee, dark eyes. He held up a leather glove covered finger, wagging it back and forth, nuh-uh.
Without thinking I pressed against Ronnie, urging her to open her door, but someone was blocking it, someone else wearing black. His leather gloved hand was wrapped around a gun. I felt all the air leave my body. The world spun around me.
Is this really happening?
Only thumps and grunts brought me back to my senses, and I found the source. Straight ahead were two more people. They were taking turns punching Timothy. He didn't fight back, probably assuming he wouldn't win against the two anyway. When he fell, they began kicking him, then they picked up his limp form, an arm for each of them, and they walked toward us, dragging his feet in the pavement.
I think we were all screaming, having been taken by surprise and knowing we were in deep trouble. The scruffy man at Krista's door moved to the front passenger seat and opened the door, pointing a gun at us.
"Please," Krista begged, snot coming from her nose. "Please let us go, we won't tell—"
"No," the man said calmly, "I don't think I will."
The driver door opened, it was the person who'd been standing by Ronnie's door, hand still wrapped around the gun. He had shaggy dirty blond hair and was wearing a black mask across his mouth and nose. He bent over and popped the trunk.
I felt the car shift as the other two threw unconscious Timothy in the trunk and shut the lid. Mask sat down in the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition. Scruffy kept his gun trained on us and we whimpered.
"What do you want?" I asked. "We have money, we'll give you money."
"Hmm," Scruffy said, pretending to think, "Nah, you couldn't give us enough."
Behind us, two doors shut. I looked back to see a dark blue car with tinted windows. The other two were going to follow us.
"You don't have to do this," Ronnie tried. "Whatever problem you have with the driver, we don't even know him, he was just giving us a ride. Please..."
"We won't tell anybody," Krista said.
It was a lie, of course. If they let us go we would run to the police immediately.
"Get their IDs," Mask grumbled.
"You heard him, hand 'em over," Scruffy said.
A sea churned inside me. Panic and desperation. Never let them take you to another location. If you do, you're dead for sure. Do anything, fake something.
"Oh, oh no," I said. "My heart!" I put my hand over my chest, fingers gripping my shirt. "Oh God—"
"Shut up," Scruffy said. "What are you, like sixteen? You're not having a heart attack."
"She has a weak heart," Ronnie countered, catching on quickly.
If I could get away, I could contact authorities, tell them everything so they could find the others. Scruffy watched me a second, as the car began to move. I didn't have to take hard, I was panicked and scared for real so I let it all show on my face, I gasped for a breath.
"Maybe we should toss this one, Gav," he said.
"She'll be okay," Mask—Gav said. "She's not having a heart attack. She's having a panic attack. Now do what I said and get me the IDs."
"IDs now!"
Krista fumbled her small purse beside me, fishing out her license. Scruffy grabbed her purse and the license, then he reached for mine. It felt like he'd taken my lifeline away when he took my purse. My cell phone was inside. I felt fresh tears falling, knowing I would be going wherever they wanted and I wouldn't be calling for help.
"Nice try, though, honey," he said. "Get it? Honey, because if your skin tone."
I wanted to puke in his face.
"Now yours!" he shouted at Ronnie.
"Mine—mines in my car—"
"Are you shitting me? Come here!"
He grabbed Ronnie's hair, twisting her curls in his fingers. The car swerved.
"Hey, easy," Gav complained.
Then I realized that I knew the driver's name, or part of it at least, Scruffy had openly said it in front of us. My heart sank. We weren't going to get out of here. They'll never let us go knowing who they are.
"No! Get off her!" I screamed and I lunged at him.