floods the interior of the van. It’s Thomas…dressed as a priest. He’s wearing long black robes, a funny little hat, and that white collar thing.
What the hell?
He pushes a large hotel-style laundry cart to the back of the van.
“Anna, you and your sister go first. My associate will stay with Ethan. Once we’ve quietly gotten to our destination, we’ll bring him up. Do you understand?”
I squeeze Teeny tight and nod.
Thomas pulls out the familiar knife and removes the zip tie from around my wrist, leaving a ring of red skin. After removing Teeny’s bindings, he motions for her to climb inside the cart. She hesitates for just a second or two before jumping in.
Ethan looks defeated and I try to not let that scare me to death. He was right, we’re being separated. I give him a small smile before climbing into the cart. Vader moves closer to the cart and I can see through the hole in the mask that he wants to say something. Thomas puts a hand on his arm and squeezes, silencing anything he might have said. I may have just found the weak spot of this situation.
Thomas covers us with several layers of sheets and I say a little prayer that this isn’t the last time I’ll see Ethan’s face.
The trip is bumpy and includes what feels like a short elevator ride. The second the sheet covering us is yanked away, a gross smell fills my nose.
Old. And mildewy.
Peeking over the rim of the cart, I take in my surroundings. The ceiling of the small room is short with rough wooden beams running like stripes from one side to the other, and the faded plaster walls are missing big chunks. The floors are old, scuffed wood, a minefield of splinters, and coated in dust. The only furniture in the room is a bare mattress and the only source of light is an old sconce with one of those little pull cords. A few stray rays of light make their way through the closed wood shutters covering the only window and making it too dark to see what’s on the other side of the interior door.
Thomas pulls Teeny out of the laundry cart and she sprints to the other side of the room, as far as she can get from him, the second her feet touch the ground. He tries to help me out but I knock his hands away.
It takes me a few minutes to get out of the cart on my own. My body is battered and exhausted and not cooperating at all. Thomas doesn’t offer to help me again.
I nearly collapse when I finally make it out of the cart. Thomas takes the sheets we hid under and throws them on the mattress.
“There is a bathroom through that door,” Thomas says as he points to the small opening.
He steps out of the room long enough to retrieve a small ice chest and a brown paper bag.
“This should be enough for now.”
Finally, he shuts the door and we hear the turn of the lock.
Teeny goes straight for the food while I throw the sheet over the old mattress and eye the room. Door: locked. Shutters: locked. Ethan’s instructions play on repeat through my head. I’m looking for something, anything that I can use against Thomas. The room is bare.
Teeny pulls out a long, skinny loaf of bread and a package of lunch meat.
“I guess we can make a sandwich with this.” She turns toward me and asks, “You want one?”
“Sure.”
I don’t know if I could actually eat right now but I’m happy for anything that will keep her busy. Truthfully, I’m waiting for her meltdown. I know there’s one brewing.
I get the bed made, as much as you can with just a couple of sheets, and crawl toward the food. Teeny breaks the bread in half and then pries it open. Since there’s no knife, the bread is pretty butchered by the time she piles the meat inside.
I hug my knees to my chest and try to process what’s happened. This feels wrong on so many levels. Why the priest costume? Does he pull that off as well as he did the U.S. Marshals act?
“Maybe let’s not use all the turkey. We don’t know how often he’ll feed us,” I say. I don’t trust him, no matter
What the hell?
He pushes a large hotel-style laundry cart to the back of the van.
“Anna, you and your sister go first. My associate will stay with Ethan. Once we’ve quietly gotten to our destination, we’ll bring him up. Do you understand?”
I squeeze Teeny tight and nod.
Thomas pulls out the familiar knife and removes the zip tie from around my wrist, leaving a ring of red skin. After removing Teeny’s bindings, he motions for her to climb inside the cart. She hesitates for just a second or two before jumping in.
Ethan looks defeated and I try to not let that scare me to death. He was right, we’re being separated. I give him a small smile before climbing into the cart. Vader moves closer to the cart and I can see through the hole in the mask that he wants to say something. Thomas puts a hand on his arm and squeezes, silencing anything he might have said. I may have just found the weak spot of this situation.
Thomas covers us with several layers of sheets and I say a little prayer that this isn’t the last time I’ll see Ethan’s face.
The trip is bumpy and includes what feels like a short elevator ride. The second the sheet covering us is yanked away, a gross smell fills my nose.
Old. And mildewy.
Peeking over the rim of the cart, I take in my surroundings. The ceiling of the small room is short with rough wooden beams running like stripes from one side to the other, and the faded plaster walls are missing big chunks. The floors are old, scuffed wood, a minefield of splinters, and coated in dust. The only furniture in the room is a bare mattress and the only source of light is an old sconce with one of those little pull cords. A few stray rays of light make their way through the closed wood shutters covering the only window and making it too dark to see what’s on the other side of the interior door.
Thomas pulls Teeny out of the laundry cart and she sprints to the other side of the room, as far as she can get from him, the second her feet touch the ground. He tries to help me out but I knock his hands away.
It takes me a few minutes to get out of the cart on my own. My body is battered and exhausted and not cooperating at all. Thomas doesn’t offer to help me again.
I nearly collapse when I finally make it out of the cart. Thomas takes the sheets we hid under and throws them on the mattress.
“There is a bathroom through that door,” Thomas says as he points to the small opening.
He steps out of the room long enough to retrieve a small ice chest and a brown paper bag.
“This should be enough for now.”
Finally, he shuts the door and we hear the turn of the lock.
Teeny goes straight for the food while I throw the sheet over the old mattress and eye the room. Door: locked. Shutters: locked. Ethan’s instructions play on repeat through my head. I’m looking for something, anything that I can use against Thomas. The room is bare.
Teeny pulls out a long, skinny loaf of bread and a package of lunch meat.
“I guess we can make a sandwich with this.” She turns toward me and asks, “You want one?”
“Sure.”
I don’t know if I could actually eat right now but I’m happy for anything that will keep her busy. Truthfully, I’m waiting for her meltdown. I know there’s one brewing.
I get the bed made, as much as you can with just a couple of sheets, and crawl toward the food. Teeny breaks the bread in half and then pries it open. Since there’s no knife, the bread is pretty butchered by the time she piles the meat inside.
I hug my knees to my chest and try to process what’s happened. This feels wrong on so many levels. Why the priest costume? Does he pull that off as well as he did the U.S. Marshals act?
“Maybe let’s not use all the turkey. We don’t know how often he’ll feed us,” I say. I don’t trust him, no matter
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