As the car started and lurched forward, all of the men were silent.
“I warned you. You thought I was bluffing, but I meant every word,” Doc confirmed. “Once we arrive, I will take the bag off your head. I wouldn’t want you to suffocate,” he snorted. “If you’re trying to figure out what type of car you’re in, you can relax. You’re in a Jeep.” His voice sounded cocky.
My oxygen stores were fading. I didn’t know if I would make it to the destination. I closed my eyes and said a prayer, and I feared my body might shut down any minute.
I focused on trying to inhale then exhale through the bag and not pass out. My adrenaline spiking through my body wasn’t helping. My knees were clenched together as were my hands as I kept my arms tucked in tight over my chest. My head was spinning and I kept struggling to keep consciousness due to the bag over my head. I was sure Doc was having a field day with my terror. I was exposed in every way possible.
I’d watched enough true crime documentaries to know, the best thing for me to do was to listen for sounds. I strained my ears to see if I could pick up any of the locations we were going past. I kept gasping for breath. I seeped in any small pockets of air I could. My ears pricked up as I heard the carnival rides. This gave me hope. The road was smooth sailing initially, but then it started to turn rocky as I felt the car rocking underneath.
“Turn here,” Doc commanded.
That had been the last of what he said because not long after the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, I jolted forward.
We were in broad daylight and people would be able to see us. I would be able to identify something in the place they were taking me. Holbeck was my hometown and I knew it back to front, I would find a way out. My last wind was starting to blossom into fierce anger.
The car door opened and one of the men yanked my wrist and pulled me forward out of the car. My knees buckled under me as he sharply yanked me up.
“Come on. Let’s go!” the guy with the weird-ass moustache was jostling me out of the car.
I struggled to find my feet as I rallied for oxygen. I wanted to scream, but the air was non-existent. The world was going black and not only in the bag. I primed my ears for sound as they creaked open a large door. The door opening took a long time so I took it to be a sliding door of some sort. I felt the ground tapping with my feet as all the other footsteps synced in with mine. A screeching sound that hurt my ears made me curl into myself.
A chair. A rickety one by the sounds of it.
“Are we doing it now? Is this where?” I heard the weasly one hiss.
The other big burly guy didn’t utter a word at all. He must have been one of the heavies in case something got out of hand.
My lungs were hurting from the strain and I wanted to crumble, but the grip on my air pipe was too tight.
“Yup. I got my phone,” Doc answered him. “We’ll send it from mine.”
I closed my eyes and worked on my breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I felt one of them untying the black bag over my head.
You never know how valuable something is until you lose it. Air. I sucked in hard, my hair unruly around my face. I was rasping and greedily gobbling up oxygen as my throat opened up. I spluttered, and coughed. My eyes bulged in fear as they assimilated to the light. I shook my head to get my hair out of my face to see where things were. My heart was about to explode through my chest, and my eyes were stinging as I blinked rapidly.
At the same time, the big mute guy tied my hands behind my back to the chair so I would be immobile.
The rope was thick and cut into my wrists a little as I winced through the pain.
“That better?” Doc stroked my hair.
I jerked my head away from him. We were in some dark, dank warehouse with heavy tractor machinery, and other parts strewn all over the place. I didn’t dare turn my head to try and see something else for fear of being slapped. My head was still spinning from lack of oxygen, and a headache had taken its place. I sucked in again, breathing through my nose this time.
A sick laugh came from Doc’s lips. “That’s it, breathe it in. You’re going to need all your breaths because we need you to send a little video to your boyfriend ? the accountant.” Doc pulled out his iPhone and turned it sideways. He set the red button on play as the other two stood in front of me.
The weasel guy puckered up his lips and made a square with his fingers like a photographer, letting go of a devilish laugh. “Haha! Looking good.”
I felt sickness in my stomach and my tongue was dry like cotton. I coughed several times trying to build some mucus in my throat.
“Here we go. You’re up. Now I want you to look right in here and say that you’re okay, but you will be dead by midnight if that accountant doesn’t turn himself in for the overdose in his club. Once we have confirmation that he’s done it, we’ll let you go. Got it?”
I was going to die in a dusty-ass warehouse. Despondency took over my body. That firepower I thought I had didn’t come through. “G-got it,” I croaked out.
He held the camera up again, pressing the red button to start.
In the background I heard the carnival rides start up. “Hi Rebels,” I gasped. “This is Mia Copeland on June 18, 2020. The Devil Riders have requested that Numbers turn himself in for the overdose at the Wheelz bar. Once that happens, I will be released. Please. Help.”
Doc moved the camera away before I could say anymore. “You should be an actress, that was a great performance,” he chided. “I’m sending this through to the Rebel Saints. I’m sure they’ll come back with a timely response. Your life depends on it after all,” Doc mocked in a slimy, hoarse voice. He kneaded my left shoulder as the others laughed.