Taken (2 page)

Wasting no time, he quickly hoisted the waitress’ drugged body through the driver’s side door of his rig. Jack hopped up into the cab and pushed her into the spacious sleeper compartment. It required little effort as he guessed she didn't weigh more than a hundred and five pounds soaking wet.

The sleeper was spacious, and allowed him ample room to rapidly secure the girl, duct taping her wrists and ankles. Despite her diminutive size, Jack still worked up a sweat laboring over his captive. Mentally, though, he was keeping himself together quite well. He had never done anything like this before, and he was vividly aware of the risk he was taking.

The waitress was dressed in a pink t-shirt imprinted with the diner's logo, a short black skirt and tennis shoes
sans
socks. Dianne would undoubtedly chastise the girl her for her lack of fashion sense; Jack, however, was pleased to find that her choice of clothing worked to his advantage as he taped her ankles together.

Jack patted down the fanny pack that was tied around her slender waist; he wanted to be sure she wasn’t carrying any weapons. He felt a wad of cash, soft and harmless, a tube of lipstick, and a key ring with a few keys on it. He fished the keys out and popped them into his glove box along with the duct tape.

Satisfied with his work and dripping with sweat from exertion and adrenaline, Jack laid the girl on her back and stuffed a pillow under her head.

He scrutinized the girl one final time; her arms and legs had been rendered useless and she was snoozing heavily. Her innate beauty still shone through, despite her compromised position. He knew the time
would
come when he would need to conceal her more thoroughly, but he was desperate to make tracks.

He knew it wouldn’t be long before someone on the Long Haul Diner’s staff started wondering where their coworker had disappeared to; people in the diner had seen him talking to her, and they might even be able to identify him as the last person Rayne was with. Jack wanted to make sure he was at least halfway home by then.
             

He clambered back into the cab, leaving the waitress to her drugged slumber as he cranked up the Freightliner, accelerated out of the parking lot and pointed the windshield towards home without looking back.

I’m coming, baby.

Jack was still unclear as to why Dianne had insisted he steal away an innocent girl; he wondered if she was insane.  It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. Should he even want to be with her at all?

She had told him this was a test of
his
mettle, which had nothing to do with the girl, ultimately. She had promised the girl would be fine. It was all very reassuring in theory. As he committed the act, though, theory jumped right out the window.

The waitress began to come around when they were close to the
Louisiana border. According to Jack's research into the effects of the sedative he had injected, he had expected it to wear off around that time. He was glad to hear her begin to stir, happy that he had avoided killing her with an overdose.

She yawned quietly and tried to stretch, clearly unaware of where she was or what had happened to her; but when she realized she was bound, she pushed herself up into a sitting position in the corner of the sleeper, an icy glaze filling her eyes and remaining there.

“Well, you warned me, didn't you, mother fucker?”

The unexpected sound of the young waitress' voice startled Jack and started his heart hammering. He realized that in his haste to put
Louisiana behind him, he had forgotten to tape her mouth shut as he had intended.

“Warned you? What are you talking about?” he asked.

Jack looked over his shoulder and smiled his most winning smile. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, hoping to sound amiable, but his voice was tinged with unmistakable unease.

“Don’t say my name ever again, asshole,” she said, still sounding groggy.

“Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t answer, and instead attempted to break the ice.

“My name’s Jack.”

She looked around the dim cabin interior as her eyes adjusted to the light, taking stock of her situation.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, “You really are sick, aren’t you?”

“I feel fine, actually,” Jack replied nonchalantly, and turned up the volume on the stereo.

“
Where the hell are you taking me
?” the girl demanded again, her voice betraying no fear at all.

“I am taking you to the Goddess. Don’t worry; you’re going to be fine.” He attempted to sound as though he was in control, but his voice still wavered slightly. He didn't feel like talking.

The girl was flummoxed, and shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Goddess?” her tone was incredulous, “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? And I’m not fine.  You hurt me.”

“I did
not
hurt you. I've been very gentle.”

“You
kidnapped
me! You
drugged
me!” she shrieked.
“
People will be looking for me - I was right in the middle of a shift.”

Jack glanced at her in the rearview mirror and smirked.

“Nice try, but your shift was over - and
you
came on to
me
at the diner. I don't think anyone’s going to be looking for you at all,” he said, grinning.

“You’re new at this sort of thing, aren’t you?” she asked sarcastically. Her eyes were fixed and cold. “I'm not just some stupid slut you can tape up and carry away, you know.”

Jack decided that was the last straw. He had had enough of her mouth.

“Listen close, little lady. I'll pull over right now and tape your mouth shut if you keep cracking wise. I did you the courtesy of leaving your flap-trap open, but if you don’t shut up right now then you’ll leave me no option.”

He glared at her in the mirror hoping to drive his point home.

“So what’s it gonna be, missy?”

She quit talking and eyed him coolly, detached, an almost blasé expression on her face.

“We have a long ride ahead of us, and I intend for it to be a peaceful one, so do like my sweet Dianne says: ‘don't open your mouth unless you have something important say.’”

He glanced at her again and saw her weighing his words. He had not expected her to handle the situation so calmly. She displayed no sign of fear at all, only a look of steely resolution and a stolid “fuck you” attitude.

She remained quiet for awhile. Perhaps the futility of her arguments had sunk in. Perhaps she was considering the sincerity of his promise not to hurt her, wondering how psychotic he really was. She was most likely remembering all the news stories she had heard about young women being abducted and hacked into pieces, or found strangled and raped in fields in the middle of nowhere.

Jack realized that he might have captured himself a real live firecracker, and decided not to light any more matches. He left her to her thoughts as he concentrated on the highway.

She was silent for so long that he thought she had fallen back to sleep, but that turned out to have been wishful thinking.

“So….” she said. She let the word stretch out about four times longer than it normally should. “Who is this ‘Dianne’ you mentioned?”

“Dianne is my Goddess,” he responded hesitantly.

“Goddess, eh?”

Rayne sounded dubious.

“And you’re taking me to her…why?”

As the waitress waited for his response, Jack looked back at her and felt a pang of compassion.

He cleared his throat loudly before he spoke.

“She thinks I did her wrong, thinks I tried to get laid by a hooker in a truck stop, but I didn’t. I told her the truth - I got robbed; but she didn’t believe me. Now this is a test of my loyalty to her, that’s what she says. She wanted to see if I had the guts to snatch a beautiful girl for her, to prove that I do love her. She made it clear that no one would get hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”

The waitress fell silent again. Several minutes went by as they both sat in contemplative silence.

“It’s funny, but you look a lot like her,” he said eventually.

“You’re a sick-o,” she replied, and laughed at him.

Now, the weigh station loomed ahead, glowing yellow
in the darkness of the interstate. Jack tapped the brakes gently and veered ever so slightly to the right, maneuvering the rig carefully onto the bumpy shoulder where it came to a jerky stop.

“What are you doing?” the girl asked, the first tinge of unease creeping into her voice. Her eyes darted furtively around the sleeper, her temporary prison cell.

Jack put his index finger to his lips. “It's okay. I have to hide you. There’s a weigh station ahead.”

He attempted to be both comforting and menacing at the same time, and failed miserably on both counts.

“You try to get anyone's attention, and I'll kill you,” he stated, in a matter of fact tone. “And if someone finds you, they die, too - their blood is on your hands. Got me?” he said as he climbed into the sleeper with her.

He didn’t wait for her response; instead, he yanked a four inch strip of duct tape from the roll and used it to make sure her mouth was no longer an issue. She didn’t struggle as he muted her, but there wasn’t anything she could have done, anyway. He had bound her well.

Jack inspected her wrists and ankles, to make sure she had not started to wriggle herself free, and then pulled a tarp from the floorboard in the sleeper.

He then rolled her up like a human burrito, leaving only a small opening just big enough for her to breathe through. She shot a homicidal look at him as her face disappeared beneath the tarp.

That look on her face frightened Jack at some base level; he had never been the target of someone else’s murderous intent. He reminded himself to control his emotions and get down to business.

There were no other drivers waiting in line at the weigh station. Jack maintained a calm demeanor as he exchanged pleasantries with the inspectors as they hastily checked his truck. They waved him through quickly, and he let out a huge sigh of relief as the officers bid him a good night, and safe trip.

Jack hated that more than anything. He hated people telling him to have a safe trip; as if that was something he had any control over. Sure, he could be as cautious as a city transit van carrying a bunch of senior citizens to their doctors appointments, and that would guarantee
he
was being safe; but any drunken, sleepy or inattentive driver could wipe out all his hopes and dreams as easily as the tarp-wrapped girl could surely erase any evidence of a table full of truckers who had devoured a sloppy breakfast of pancakes, hash browns and gravy biscuits.

Have a safe trip, indeed,
he muttered to himself, indignant. He rolled out in a hurry, hitting the highway like a bat out of hell.

He had to pass through two more weigh stations along the way, and both times he feared his heart might burst from the anticipation of being found out. Each time an inspector approached he slid his hand beneath his denim jacket and touched the handle of his eight-inch hunting knife sheathed underneath.

Fortunately, no one showed an iota of interest in Jack; they just checked his stickers and sent him on his way. To them, he was just another long-haul trucker trying to get back home.

After several hours of driving, he was almost home; less than half an hour separated him from his dear Dianne. He missed her so much. His stomach churned in anticipation of holding her close again. He was ready to get all this behind him, get his passing grade, and return the waitress back to her life unharmed.

Jack glanced down to check his gauges, and with a profound sinking feeling realized he was nearly out of gas. There was no way he would make it back to Jacksonville without stopping to refuel.

Jack pulled the rig and its precious cargo into a truck stop at the next exit, and opted for the most desolate pump island, which still was not nearly as secluded as he would have liked. Anxiety snaked through his guts.

Good fortune, by nature, was fleeting, and, even though he was close to the end of his long drive, he knew it would only take one slip to bring on his undoing. His father used to say that discretion was the better part of valor.

Jack wondered if that statement applied to this situation.

Probably not
, he decided.

Two days prior to this haul, the worst crimes Jack had e
ver committed were petty misdemeanors: the occasional consumption of amphetamines to help him stay awake during a long night of lonely driving, a shoplifting incident back in junior high school.

But now he was a felon, a kidnapper; he had gone over the waterfall at the end of the world. He knew that after tonight he would be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

But the Goddess had insisted, and Jack had obeyed; had there been an alternative? If she would have instructed him to embark on a killing spree to earn her affections, he had no doubt that he would have gleefully opened a thousand throats to appease her demands.