Authors: L. J. Kendall
Their famous and expensive
DJ
wound up at ten pm, but left his specially-curated track selection running. But soon after that, Leeth began to worry. She felt… strange. The music started kind of zooming in and out of focus, and she swayed on her feet.
Dehydrated?
She looked around, but saw everyone else had the same kind of, kind of….
She fell, to her knees. Blinking.
What?
Everyone… everyone else was… sleeping. On the floor.
Mark Dennis, his body wavering like a candle flame, walked towards her….
Her eyelids crashed down.
Chapter 38
She woke to a hard floor in a dimly-lit space, her body bumping and swaying, and her arms stretched above her head by… chains. Heavy chains. She blinked. At her feet, a plastic bucket. Across from her lay Ms Sorensen and Mr Beckman, heads lolling, arms chained to a railing above them.
She was in a long, narrow rectangular room that jolted and shook. A moving vehicle? Yeah: outside, she could hear the steady burr of tires on a road. From the sound, it was a pretty heavy truck, too; maybe a cattle car? Looking around, it seemed like the whole school was here.
Where was Marcie? Oh: by her right side, pressed up against the rear wall. Which consisted of two doors running the entire width and height. The subtle washes of colors through Marcie’s dress provided plenty of light in the darkness – for her. Delta and Sam, she saw, lay slumped to her left.
Tara and her companions rested like drunken dolls halfway down the “room,” their faery-light dresses glowing with enough softly-shifting illumination for her to see the whole space.
Mr Dennis was also present, chained at the far end of the room in the middle of that front wall. The caterers, too, were unconscious, at his side.
Everyone
was here. The whole school! All asleep: drugged. Then she noticed her wristlink was gone. And her glasses! She looked around, but didn't see any ’links: not on any wrists, or fingers, or dangling as necklaces.
Something brushed her face, and she flinched back before seeing it was just a length of clear plastic tubing, swaying with the motion of the truck. A drop of clear liquid dripped from the end. She ignored it for now; ignored the fact that a bucket had been carefully placed between each pair of people, even though that sent a chill through her for some reason. She kept looking for anyone with any kind of commlink. Didn't one of the kids have an antique Nexus 16 “smartphone”?
Oh! Some of the students had communication augments. As soon as one of them woke up, they could call for help.
But what was going on? And how had they gotten here? And why would someone kidnap a whole school? It made no sense.
Mother and Father’d be pissed off, too.
I bet this doesn't happen to normal girls.
At least her legs weren't bound. She pulled them under her, and stood up – only for the room to spin as dizziness struck. Gray swam through her vision, and she would have fallen if not for the chains looped around the cuffs between her wrists. She swallowed, feeling sick in her stomach. Propped against the wall, her back pressed into a handrail, which she gripped while drawing in deep breaths. Gradually the nausea passed and she tried straightening up again, more slowly.
This time she managed it, and twisted around to examine her bonds. She'd become something of an expert in bondage.
Her fists clenched.
The chains were strong, looped around her cuffs and then the thick metal bar bolted at regular intervals to the wall of the truck. She rapped the wall with a knuckle. Metal, she judged, and quite solid, too. Pressing her head against it, she shut her eyes and listened, focusing on the sounds from outside; the
putt
sound as the tires crossed the gaps between the road's concrete slabs.
She focused, concentrating; picturing it all…. She could hear the front pair of wheels, and the rear pair, just below her; but also two more pairs, close together and close behind. Was the truck towing a small trailer? Yeah: a metallic squeaking, with a slightly rattling jumble and rumble, came from behind. And something else, too: a low hum… like a refrigerator?
She heard the sound of another set of wheels, a lighter vehicle, move up swiftly on their left, overtaking and moving steadily past them: the faint high-pitched sound of powerful electrical motors. Some kind of car.
She kept listening, and slowly the mental picture came clear. They were in a large truck, moving at a steady, high speed, towing some kind of smaller – refrigerated? – trailer behind them.
Why would there be a refrigerated trailer? Food supplies? She opened her eyes, studying the situation in the bright starlight from the Terrible Trio's dresses.
There was no food she could see. But tubing ran along the metal bars, a length forking off between every second pair of… captives. The tubes ran from two large plastic jerry-cans set on elevated shelves on the same wall Mr Dennis was chained to.
She felt a chill settle in the pit of her stomach. She eyed the tubes. Drugs? Somehow, she felt not. She took hold of the end of the tube dangling between her and Marcie, and crouching, put her lips to it. Tentatively sucked, ready to spit it out at the taste.
She realized she was thirsty: very thirsty.
She sucked.
Not much taste: a bit plastic-y. Faintly chlorine. It seemed like water. Her body cried out for her to swallow it. But she could imagine what Mother and Father would say if it
was
drugged, and she slipped back under its influence. Stretching out one leg, she swept the bucket closer and spat the liquid into it.
At least her mouth felt better.
She examined the restraints. Metal handcuffs, and a heavy gray iron chain looping between each person's cuffs, chaining them all to the long metal bar running down the length of the truck. The same on both sides; the same for everyone.
The end of the chain? In the corner by the rear doors, above Marcie's head, a massive bolt ran through a shackle. She bent closer: something clear and hard shone in the seam where the nut screwed up against it. Screwed so hard against it the metal had buckled. She tried to loosen it with her fingers anyway, but failed.
The truck swayed, and she bumped Marcie.
Who groaned.
Leeth sank to her knees beside her friend, yanking at her own cuffs as she tried to pat her, comfort her. But she couldn't reach.
'Wha-…?' Marcie's eyes fluttered open, and she blinked, peering around as if struggling to see. 'Jane?'
'I'm here. With you. I'll protect you. We'll be all right. I promise.'
'Wha-…' Marcie licked parched-looking lips. 'Thirsty.' She tugged at her wrists. The heavy chain rattled, and she seemed to come fully awake, her head turning this way and that in the darkness. 'What the fuck? Jane! I'm- I think I'm chained up!' Her voice rose higher. 'Jane? What's going on? Why am I chained up? Where are we? What's going on?'
'I don't know.' She knelt down beside her friend, pressing against her as best she could, trying to hug her without arms. 'I think we were all drugged, at the party. The whole school. We're all chained up, in the back of a truck I think.'
'What the fuck is going on? Who did it?'
'I don't know. I think you and I are the first two to wake up, so far.'
For some reason, that seemed to help calm Marcie. Who peered at her in the near-dark, squinting like she was struggling to see her. Leeth turned, sinking back down to the floor, and scooched over until they were pressed side by side, her arms once more tugged up above her head.
'Is everyone all right?' Marcie asked. 'Where's Sam and Delta? Is Tara here too? I bet that bitch is behind-'
'Tara's here too. And Ava, and Beth. They’re the faery-lights you can see over there. And Mr Dennis. Sam and Delta are just to my left. Hey, you said your father runs a trucking fleet. Do you know anything that might help us get out? Can we open the back doors from the inside? When someone with a comm augment wakes up, they can just call for rescue, right? They could triangulate the signal source, yeah?'
'I am
so
thirsty. But… no, the doors are electronically keyed. And…' she rapped her knuckles on the floor, then the walls. 'You ever hear of a Faraday cage?' In a wash of emerald light from her dress, she saw Leeth shake her head. 'It blocks signals. They could even have a jammer, too, if they've gone to all this trouble.'
'Rats.'
Across the floor, she heard a male groan. Mr Beckman was coming around. Suddenly he doubled over, and heaved.
A strong smell of vomit washed out in a cloud, and beside her, Marcie groaned.
It had been better, in many ways, before everyone woke up.
The air now was heavy with the smell of vomit and the sound of sobs, crying, moans, and angry complaints. Tara was screaming out, demanding their captors make themselves known; demanding to be released right now or her Daddy would have an army of security down on “your sorry coward's ass.”
Several conversations were running in parallel, too; speculations about who was behind this; the hapless caterers demanding to know what was going on, and how if this was a prank they'd be suing Dennis, or the School, or both.
Mr Dennis, when he woke, had of course been completely calm. Leeth had kind of hoped that maybe the shock might be what he needed to cure him of his emotional paralysis or whatever it was. But he'd just asked a few questions: did anyone know who had done this? Had there been any communication, any contact? Could anyone get a signal out, call for help? Did anyone know why this was happening?'
That had taken a long time, since each question was met by a chorus of confusion, anger, wild guesses and wilder accusations. His final words had quieted things down, briefly.
'The most logical target would be the wealthiest person, for kidnapping.'
'You?' Tara had hissed. 'But why kidnap all of
us
, in that case?'
'The kidnappers may assume that bonds of friendship had formed. They may assume that by torture, they can extract the pass-codes to secured accounts.'
After his words, there was just the faint sound of the whooshing of the tires against the road surface, outside.
'Which would work, right?' asked Tara, sounding suddenly much younger.
Long seconds passed.
'No. Friendship is illogical. Nor have any mutually beneficial arrangements been formed.'
The silence echoed with dismay.
'But we could form one right now, yeah? My father's wealthy. If you give them a pass-code to buy me free, Daddy’ll give you a million creds.'
Outraged shouts met those words. “Coward.” “Bitch.” “What about the rest of us?”
'The smallest account holds eighteen point three million. Such an arrangement would not make financial sense.'
‘Then he’ll give you nineteen million,’ Tara bluffed.
‘Eighteen point three million is only the smallest account.’ After a few seconds, he continued; still sounding as disinterested as ever. 'Does anyone have a plan for escape?'
His question spurred a session of wild scheming; including everyone pulling together on the chain, trying to wrench it free of the wall. But it appeared the structure had been designed to cope with fastening enormously heavy containers, and their efforts were fruitless. A susurrus of moans, curses, and insults settled in.
And no one had been able to get a signal out.
At least the tubes appeared to deliver water. Few of the others had resisted drinking, and they all still seemed fine. Leeth thought she could wait a little longer, though, before she’d have to give in, too.
Marcie had been very quiet through the whole thing. Like she knew something the others didn't: something bad. Which, given their current circumstances, was pretty worrying.
'What can you tell about the truck?’ Leeth whispered. ‘Any ideas for escape?' She sank back beside her friend, trying to ignore the stomach-wrenching smell of puke, as the two pressed up side by side, talking quietly.
'Truck-driving got completely automated before it was even halfway popular with cars, Jane. Almost every truck these days is auto-drive. It’s cheaper and safer. See that red glow up there? That marks a camera, watching. Whoever took us are probably watching and listening. They could be anywhere on the planet. It could be anyone. And if they wanted, and if they've hacked the auto-drive, they can just drive us off a cliff or into the ocean if they want to.'
'Oh. That'd suck.'
'You're taking this pretty calmly.'
'We'll get out of this.'
'I'm not so sure. But I….' Marcie stopped, lips pursed.
'You what?'
'Nothing. No point worrying you.'
'Marcie. Anything you know, could be important. I already think-' This time
Leeth
stopped. How much food was in the refrigerated trailer behind them? How long might they be held captive? But she didn't want to frighten Marcie.
'What?'
'Doesn't matter. It's just a… worry.'
'Now who's not sharing? Jane, look… you tell me your worry and I'll tell you mine.'
'You first.'
'Oh, alright. These buckets; the water supply; and… the way the rear of the truck moves on some of the potholes: the way it jerks back, like something's kind of whiplashing it?'
Leeth nodded. Then said 'Uh-huh,' when Marcie failed to see.
'My sister and I sometimes nicked one of my dad's remotes, to order one of his trucks to take us on rides. Sometimes it'd have a trailer behind it. That's what this feels like. But not a heavy one, I'd say; not one full of stuff.' She paused, giving Leeth time to digest that. 'Why would you tow an empty trailer behind a truck full of kidnapped people? I think whoever has us is planning to keep us for a long time; and the trailer is so they can take people out, and… do something to them without the rest of us seeing, and panicking.'
Leeth went cold.
She'd
thought the refrigerated trailer was carrying food supplies. But if Marcie could tell it was
empty
… that made the possible use much, much scarier: it wasn’t to take stuff
out
of; it was to put stuff
in
; stuff that had to be cooled.