Alone The Girl in the Box

Two

I looked back and saw Oldie coming around the edge of the car. He had the gun up and pointed, and was almost to me. My only thought was – Damn, he’s slow. I blasted him with a roundhouse kick, minding my footing, and made solid contact, kicking his arm aside. I stepped in and delivered an elbow to his midsection, bringing my hand around with a perfect twist to pull the gun from his grasp. With a last effort I brought my knee up to his gut and then dropped him with an elbow to the back of the head.

He landed on all fours and grabbed at my foot, so I whipped him in the top of the head with his own gun, sending him facedown into the slush on the driveway. I turned back to the handsome man in the SUV and pointed the gun at him.

“Still want me to get in? Now it’s on my terms.”

His hands rose in surrender and a slight smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

I got in and shut the door. “Where to?” I kept the gun pointed at him.

Brown eyes stared back at me, the color of the dark cherrywood our kitchen table was made of. “Where would you like to go?”

“Away.”

His lips turned into a full-blown smile. He stomped on the pedal and we started moving. I’d seen a car move on TV, but it was nothing like the real thing. I felt the acceleration push me back into the comfortable seat. The whole car smelled good, with an aroma I couldn’t define but that reminded me very vaguely of the times Mother would bring home flowers on special occasions.

My eyes stayed on him, even as we turned a corner. I darted a look out the window and then back to him. He kept that same faint smile but he watched the road. Houses passed us on either side in a blur of colors overwhelmed by the white of the snow. We shot through an intersection and the traffic light made me stare. I turned back to him. “What’s your name?”

He looked over at me for a flicker before turning back to the road. “Reed.”

I nodded. It was a nice name. I was suddenly conscious of the fact that Mom must surely have had a rule against talking to strangers, but we never discussed what to do if you’re driven out of the house by men with guns. My hand ached where I had landed on it after my slip. “I’m…Sienna.”

“Nice to meet you, Sienna.” He moved one of his hands off the wheel and proffered it to me.

I shook it. “Thank you.” It was the first time I had been out of my house since I was five years old. I hadn’t talked to another human being besides Mom for that long. I wondered if this was how people talked? Had conversations?

“Where should we go?” His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, and I could see the knuckles of his darker skin turn white from the pressure.

My head was still spinning from all that had happened in the last ten minutes, but I had an idea. “Somewhere public. With lots of people. A grocery store.”

“Fair enough.”

We rode in silence. I studied him, looking at the lines of his face. He couldn’t have been much older than me. Other than through TV, I hadn’t seen another living soul in years except Mom. When your only human experience in life is through the TV, it warps your sense of reality. The people on TV are so flawless that you don’t see the little blemishes on the skin; the little mole below his eye, the freckles that barely showed on his cheek.

We pulled into a parking lot and I marveled at the size of the sign out front. I stepped out of the car and the bite of the chill hit me. My black turtleneck didn’t do much to protect me against the deep freeze that was the outdoors. I knew it had to be cold outside from the draft through the windows at home, but I didn’t know it was this cold. My leather gloves felt like they weren’t even there and the clouds covered the sky above, bathing the scene before me in a dull light.

The melted snow under my feet in the parking lot surprised me. Now that I wasn’t having to run, I took my time, listening to the oozing, splashing sound it made as I brought my shoes down into it, then felt the cold of the icy slush go into my socks. I cringed. Not exactly how I pictured my first time out of the house: I assumed I would run barefoot through a meadow, with the sun shining bright above, the warmth on my skin, bright colored flowers and green fields around me. Silly, clichéd, I know. But that’s what I wanted.

If I ever could have gotten out of the house.

We walked to the front doors and they parted for us. An involuntary grin split my face. Very cool.

Reed laughed. “Never seen an automatic door before?”

“Nope.” I stared at them, almost afraid that if I took my eyes away they’d vanish and I’d be back in the house, alone and dreaming.

“Come on.” His hand wrapped around my upper arm with a gentle pressure and I felt a slight tingle as he guided me inside – not pushy or demanding, but with…care. I could feel the warmth of his hand through my sweater and the weight of the gun in the front waistband of my jeans. The heated air of the store blew down on me as I walked through the entry, a pleasant feeling to counteract the chill.

We stopped inside and the smell of roasting chicken hit my nose. My mouth started to water; Mom hadn’t shopped for at least a week before she disappeared. Last night I picked at the remainder of what was in the fridge. It was a little desperate; I was over ramen noodles and ketchup.

A big counter of clear glass stretched across the wall of the store. I could see a huge selection of meats and cheeses waiting inside it. My eyes wandered to the big freezers with boxes and bags of food, and I felt like I was going to start drooling. There were booths arranged near the deli counter – like a restaurant right there in the store.

“You hungry?” Reed’s eyes found mine and I nodded. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

I stopped him. “Why are you being so nice to me? It’s not like you pick up strangers on the side of the road every day who have someone pointing a gun at them.” I paused. “Or do you?”

He blinked. “It’s not a usual thing. But you have to understand…there are a lot of people looking for you.”

“For me?” A doubt caused me to shiver. I hadn’t believed he was someone driving by my house at random, but having the gun made me feel like I was still in control when I went with him. Still, it worried me when he confirmed what I suspected.

“Yes, you.” He looked to either side. “Let me get you something to eat. I doubt you have any money.”

“I don’t.”

He bought one of the big chickens that came in a cardboard box. I ate without consideration for how it looked, and he watched.

“Who are you?” I asked him between bites.

“Reed.”

“Smartass.” I glared at him, but it lacked intensity. I had a hard time being mad at someone who was feeding me.

He shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Beyond that.”

“Someone who’s concerned about you.” His face grew serious. “There are dangerous people after you, Sienna.”

“How do you know?” I sighed. “Beyond the obvious fact that they shot at me.”

He hesitated. “Those guys…the young one’s name is Zack Davis; the older one is Kurt Hannegan.” He must have seen me stiffen in surprise, because he leaned back from the table. “I wasn’t sitting outside your house by coincidence.”

I felt the flush of blood running to my cheeks. “Are you with them? Are you one of them?”

“No.” He shook his head, hot with indignation. “I’m not. But there are worse things after you than those two.”

“Who are they?” I asked. “Who are you?”

He placed his palms on the table. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”

“Oh?” My eyes narrowed. “What question should I be asking?”

“The question you should ask is ‘What am I?’“ His eyes darted left and right. “Do you think it’s normal for a mother to lock her child in a house and not let her out for years? Even in your limited experience, that can’t seem quite right—”

“Mom said it was for my own good—”

“I bet,” he interrupted. His face barely concealed disdain. “Putting that aside, I know your mother disappeared—”

“How do you know that?” My fingernails dug into the soft wood surface of the table, leaving marks. “Do you know where she is?”

“No. But she goes missing and suddenly you have a host of people after you?” He wasn’t smiling. “You realize that’s not coincidence.”

“I do. I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were. I—” He stopped midsentence and his eyes widened as he looked past me. I turned my head to follow his gaze as Oldie walked in through the sliding doors with a thin young guy at his side – the guy I had hit in the groin earlier. He was limping. And he was hot.

“How did they find me?” I turned to Reed, and he wore a stricken look.

“Some sort of tracking device, maybe,” he murmured, sliding out of the booth. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Nuh uh. I want answers.” My hand slid to my waistband. Mom had taught me the basics of how to use a gun, though I had never fired one. Tough to practice shooting live rounds in the house.

His eyes almost exploded out of his skull. “Are you crazy?” His voice was just above a whisper, but it was delivered with the force of a shout.

“I bet they know about my mom.”

I started to advance on them, but he brushed against my arm. I looked to his eyes, and they were wide with fear – for me. “You don’t know what they’re willing to do.” He tugged on my arm. “Please. Let’s leave before they see you.”

The gears were grinding in my head. I’d been left alone for a week, and these guys came for me, armed. Mom was missing and I didn’t know where she was. Lots of questions. I looked back at him and a hint of pleading was obvious in his brown eyes. Seeing the world on TV was different than seeing it like this. And for some reason I couldn’t define, I trusted him – a little. “All right. Let’s go.”

We watched as the young man (so tempted to call him Hottie) and Oldie split up, each headed in a different direction to search the store. We waited until Oldie had walked down an aisle and Hottie had his back turned before making our move. We walked out the entrance door and into the parking lot, and Reed’s pace quickened. The snow sloshed beneath us and the cold bored into gaps in my clothing that I didn’t know were there.

As we approached his car, I looked up. The sun was still hiding behind the clouds; I had yet to see it. I looked over my shoulder. The two stooges weren’t following us. I turned to Reed to make a wisecrack and stopped, my mouth agape.

A monstrous hand with long, pointed fingernails was wrapped around Reed’s throat. His olive skin was turning purple and there was no sound coming from his mouth, which was open. His eyes were locked on me and his hands were wrapped around an arm that looked bigger than my torso. My eyes followed the arm to a man, at least a foot taller than me, built thick and muscled like a pro bodybuilder.

His head was huge, hair tangled and matted, dark with streaks of gray running through and it almost covered his brow. Furrowed above his black eyes were two eyebrows that were shaped like knife blades. His sideburns rolled down into a scraggly and unkempt beard that ran around his mouth.

Oh God, his mouth.

Pointed teeth. I’ve never seen anything like them – and his lips upturned in a cruel smile, his tongue lashing back and forth, not quite concealed by his incisors.

“Hello, little doll,” he growled in a voice barely audible above the wind as he crept toward me. “My name is Wolfe. I’ve come to collect you.”