Page 2 of Terminal Voyage

From the moment I got up this morning, I had that weird feeling. I just knew something bad was going to happen. But in my eternal quest for optimism, I just pushed it aside.

I needed optimism now more than ever.

Still dazed by it all, I was stuck in my head, trying to process what had happened, how it had happened, and what was going to happen next. My brain went into overdrive, trying to think of a way out of this. I screamed, my shrill voice echoing off the walls in the stairwell.

CRACK!

Earl pistol-whipped the back of my skull, sending a jolt through my brain and down my spine. It opened a gash, and I felt the warm blood trickle down the back of my scalp.

Earl barked, "I told you to keep your dumb mouth shut!”

I got the message.

We pushed into the parking garage, and Earl forced me into a white cargo van. He hopped in with me and pulled the door shut with a rumble.

I swallowed hard, my eyes round with fear. What was going to happen next? I had made it this far in life without getting… you know. I didn’t want this to be my first.

Earl looked at me with hungry eyes.

He drew near, and I scooted toward the back of the van. Soon, I ran out of room to scoot. At the rear cargo doors, there was nowhere to go.

My eyes welled with tears—a mix of rage, fear, and helplessness. "Tyson’s going to kill you!"

I felt like a child making idle threats. But I had no doubt, if Tyson ever found this man, he would kill him.

Earl grinned as he closed in.

I kicked him.

His grin faded, and a diabolical scowl twisted his face. "Don't make me hurt you.”

"Stay away from me!”

A car pulled into the parking lot, and the headlight beams raked across the garage.

Earl closed in, and I kicked and flailed.

It didn't do any good.

Before I knew it, he was on top of me. With his dirty hand across my mouth and the gun to my temple, my eyes widened. Earl stank, and his foulness washed over me. The whiskey on his breath hit my nostrils. He whispered, "You keep your mouth shut, you hear?”

The car parked, and a door opened and closed. Footsteps walked across the parking garage to the elevators. A moment later, the bell dinged, and the door slid open. The footsteps walked aboard, and the door closed.

The garage went silent again.

Earl rolled me onto my stomach and pinned me to the floorboard. He holstered his pistol, grabbed my wrists, then flex-cuffed me to a tie-down D-ring.

My heart punched my chest.

Earl climbed off me and scampered toward the front of the vehicle.

I breathed a little easier.

For the moment.

The dirtbag slid behind the wheel, cranked up the engine, and put the van into gear. The tires chirped as he pulled out of the space and hurried through the garage. The automatic gate opened, and Earl gunned it. Tires squealed as he turned onto the road, leaving my apartment behind.

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