Written for the Mother Combs Twisted Endings challenge prompt. Find all the details here.
October 25th, 2011- 6:30 pm- Pensacola Fla.
“You guys won't get away with this. You're all gonna rot in jail! I know how this story ends. As soon as you get the money, I'm going to die anyway, I've seen all your faces.”
“Someone shut this asshole up! Gag him, tape his mouth. I don’t care! Just shut him the hell up!”
In an instant, your life can hang in the balance. No one is immune to the unpredictable actions of criminals... Five of them to be exact. From all walks of life, this mismatched group of adamant thugs, abducts Michael Sinclair, a business mogul from the parking garage of a busy office building. He's tied tightly to an old beat-up, metal folding chair in the back of a speeding white van. He is being driven to a remote location off the grid to await the drop off. The squeaky chair cringes as it rocks back and forth due to the many curves and turns the vehicle makes. There are just enough hints of light in the back of the van to where the victim can see the odd and emotionless faces of his captors. None of them speak, except the driver who is the oldest and obviously the one in charge. Trying to fully grasp his predicament, Michael begins to pick their brains; he is determined to find out who's behind this.
"Hey, you over there with the red bandana. You don't look like you belong here, how did you get yourself in this mess?" The young guy looks to the ground and makes a frown. "And you, the big one! You look more scared than me. Does your father know where you are?" All the young man did was twist his body toward the front of the van so their eyes wouldn't meet! "Can I at least tell you a story, it may be my last chance to talk some sense into you?" Still no reaction as the van speeds on.
“I thought I told you to shut him up!” The driver yells. He reaches into the center console to retrieve a roll of duct tape and tosses it to the nearest accomplice. “And bag his head up too, we're almost there!”
Two of the men stable the chair while one holds Michael’s head still and the last one tapes his mouth shut. Next, they take a burlap sack and cut a mouth hole big enough for air to enter. Michael’s world becomes an even darker hell as it's lowered over his head.
Now, completely incapacitated, Micheal begins shedding unseen tears. What did he do so awful in his life to deserve this? That’s when he remembered an incident with a client several months ago that ended with a police report. Of course, Desmond Crawford has to be the one behind this, he surmises. According to Desmond, Michael cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars. The restrained man desperately wants to talk his way out of this but can't.
He feels the van come to a stop. A few seconds later he hears the back doors open. He is cut out of the chair and taken from the van. The sound of gravel crunching under his shoes gives him no clue of his whereabouts. They shove him along, forcing him to pick up the pace. He begins hearing waves hitting the shore and thinks about his life ending by drowning. His hopes and dreams are fading away. If only he can talk and they would listen, he could make them a better deal than whatever the payout is.
“Alright! Get ready to step up! There are about six steps!” One of the men directs him as they prepare to enter the hideout location.
The door shuts behind them. Michael thinks wherever they are there is no electricity because he can't sense any light coming through the mouth hole and can smell something burning like an oil lamp.
“Okay, this is the end of the line, take a seat! And Someone tie him up! Your people have eight hours to comply if they ever want to see you again.” Michael struggles to talk but can only make groaning sounds through the tape.
The one in charge begins to walk circles around the chair that Michael sits in. The only light source is a flashlight he carries with him.
"So, Mr. big shot, Michael Sinclare...You don’t feel so big now, do ya? I bet you have deep pockets and a pretty wife and some cute kids. Too bad none of that matters if they don't come through... Someone grab that burner phone. We're gonna do a little video call to your people so they can see how desperate you are, give them some drama so they know we are serious."
Suddenly the bag is ripped off his head and the lights come on.
The room is filled with family, friends and co-workers. Michael is breathing heavily through his nose. He is drenched with sweat. His eyes are as wide as they can stretch. They express anger as soon as realizes what’s going on. Several people rush over to untie him. Once the tape is removed, he barfs on the floor then slowly begins to laugh with gracious relief. He stands up from the chair and brushes off his suit.
"I almost shit my pants! Fuck all of you! Whose idea was this!"
He laughs again while shaking his head. The kidnappers walk up, introduce themselves, and apologize. His wife walks over with a cake, candles ablaze. Ahh, that’s what that smell was he thought. He frantically grabs handfuls of cake and throws it everywhere including his wife's face. His delirious laughter continues.
Tomorrow is Michael's 45th birthday. One he will never forget... He never once suspected this was an evil prank orchestrated by his best friend!
Thank you for stopping by 😍
About the Creator
Creative writer in the Northeast US who loves the paranormal, fiction, mystery, articles and the occasional poem. Take a chance, you'll be thoroughly entertained.
"Life is Love Experienced" -LW