Page 57 of Dead Rockstar

I stood back up, my stomach lurching, turning back toward Phillip, who was still fiddling with the ignition, cussing up a storm. I opened my mouth to tell him what I’d just seen, but no sound came out. Suddenly I was overcome with dizziness, an unwelcome, nauseating feeling of being bound – I tried to call out again, to move my arms, to wave, to shuffle my feet forward, but I was stuck to the spot. I couldn’t even reach forward a couple of inches to open the truck door or tap on the glass and get Phillip’s attention. I watched helplessly as Phillip continued to fiddle with the keys, not looking at me, not sensing my sudden terror. How was it that for once he couldn’t feel me? Why wasn’t he in my head?

I had the sensation of something looming heavy behind me, creeping up like a black cloud of smoke over my eyes, nose and mouth. I could feel the thud of Phillip's heartbeat – he was full of the same sense of foreboding and I could feel it – and realized, staring in mute horror, he wasn’t actually fiddling with the keys at all, but was rather staring straight ahead at the steering wheel, one hand suspended in the air, clutching the keys, the other in his lap. He wasn’t moving. He was bound - terrified and paralyzed, just as I was. I tried to scream but I could do nothing but stare ahead, voiceless, trapped in the immobile cage that was my body. I heard a sudden rustling of feet behind me, and that was the last thing I knew before my world went black.

Thirteen

Drip, drip, drip. My eyes opened, but all I could see was pitch black dark. Wherever I was, it was very quiet, except for that incessant dripping. It sounded like a faucet, but I couldn't be sure. I tried to move, gingerly – I was afraid that something might be broken. I didn't know what had happened to me, I had no memory of it. But my head ached something fierce, and it felt tight up top, like a wound that had opened and scabbed over. If I tried to make an expression, it pulled and hurt. There was something wet on the side of my face; was it blood?

I tried to roll myself up. At least I could move again, but I was afraid to test out my voice in case someone heard me. I managed to sit up, and my head began to pound. Okay, so I'd lie back down. The floor beneath me was cold; I was pretty sure it was tile. I felt around in the dark with my hands and felt a cabinet, a threadbare rug, and finally a large chunk of porcelain - a toilet. So I was locked in a bathroom. But where?

I focused myself, trying to pay attention to my surroundings, positioning my head in a way where I might be able to hear something. At first, there was nothing but the drip drip drip of the faucet and the slow rumble of the pipes under the floor. But as my eyes began to adjust to the dark, I thought I could make out the smallest crack of light. I inched my way slowly toward it, which wasn't easy lying down, and tried to crane my head toward it. Silence.

But then, I heard a very muffled sound that seemed to be a man's voice. I listened for several frustrating minutes but couldn't make out a word that was being said, nor whose voice it was. I hoped to god it was Phillip and that he would find me any minute. What had happened to him? The last I'd seen he was sitting in our dead truck, his hand on the keys, immobile. Then someone had bashed my head in, and I'd seen no more. I knew Phillip, and I knew he’d have moved mountains to rescue me if he’d been able to. The fact that I was wherever I was meant that maybe – probably – Phillip was not okay.

I tried not to think about that possibility. I swallowed the bowling ball in my throat and pressed my face up against the door, struggling to listen, to hear anything that might give me a clue.

Another muffled voice. This time it was closer, and it sounded angry. I craned my neck to the crack in the door, ignoring the pounding pain in my head.

“Shut the fuck up. Like hell I'm listening to you, after the way you fucked that up.”

“I didn't fuck it up. She's here, isn't she? And that big fucking lumberjack of a motherfucker is right where you want him.”

“I didn't tell you to hit her. In fact, you fucking numb nuts, I specifically told you not to hit her. She was bound, she couldn't have fought you. Your orders were to do no harm.”

“Aw, how sweet, Lee's got a crush.” The voice was taunting. “Hate to tell you bro, but you're not getting in there. That bitch fucking hates you.”

“Don't call her a bitch.”

“Why do you care? She's with him, isn't she? She summoned him. Do you really think she's-”

“You know, Shank, I've had just about enough of your mouth. Guthrie might have let you have free rein over his affairs, but I'm not Guthrie. And if you don't fucking like the way I give orders you don't have to work for me. Got it?”

“Work for you? I think you might be overstating your position.”

The voices faded away and I heard a stifled slam; they'd gone to another room or outside. I felt cold with horror. Lee and the creepy, ominous Shank, who I remembered standing behind Lee, like a hovering, dark storm cloud, in my yard. So they'd kidnapped me, then, and brought me somewhere. And what did they mean about Phillip? “Where they wanted him.” Where was that? Was he safe? What were they going to do to him, and how on earth, knowing his strength, had they managed to subdue him?

It was silent for a long while as I lay there trying to get my bearings. My head hurt so bad I could hardly think. Shank had dealt me a righteous blow. I made a vow to get my revenge on him, one way or the other. Bastard.

The drip drip drip was driving me crazy. I gingerly tried to sit up again, and the pain was still there, but not quite as bad. I grabbed onto the cabinet and pulled myself up, little by little, until I was in a crouching position, and felt around for the sink. Once I found it, I tightened each knob as hard as I could. Now that I'm standing, I thought nervously, I could try opening the door. Just a little bit.

It was risky, but I had to. I felt around for the door and finally grabbed the handle, turning it gently. I half expected it to be locked from the outside, but it wasn't - the knob turned easily. I opened the door just a crack, praying it wouldn't squeak. It was dark outside, and the only light was coming from what I figured was a muted TV in another room, emitting an occasional flash in the hall. I peered out, trying to get a feel for where I was. It was definitely a house, and a nice one from the look of the ornate, darkened hallway. In the shadows, I thought it looked like there was a rug on the floor. I opened the door a little wider. At one end of the hall there was a series of doors, all closed. The other end opened into a large room, likely a living room, where the TV was. I could only make out a third of the room. The rest of it was hidden behind the wall, so I didn't know if there was anyone in there or not, making it much too risky to try and leave.

But what else could I do? I certainly wasn't going to lie in the bathroom with my head bashed in, waiting for Lee and Shank to come back. What if it was Shank by himself? I got the impression if he was willing to smack me over the head, he'd be willing to hurt me in other ways. There was no love lost there. No, I wasn't going to wait around to see what else they had in store. Besides, I had to find Phillip. He might need me.

So which way? To the left, with the TV, or the right, with the doors? I took my chances and turned left, stumbling down the hall, trying my best to be quiet. The floor was creaky, and I held my breath the entire way. When I reached the room, I stepped slowly, on tiptoe, and let my head just peer around the wall, only one eye visible.

There was nobody in the room, but there were two open beers on the coffee table, both dripping with condensation. Shank and Lee were probably just having a smoke break or outside finishing their argument. They'd be back soon. I needed to split, and now.

I could suddenly hear voices on the other side of the door by the TV, and I froze. They were coming back in. I bounded back down the hall as fast as I could without making noise and into one of the rooms at the end. I heard them come through the door, still throwing obscenities at each other, as I pulled the door shut behind me. I prayed they wouldn't go directly to the bathroom to check on me.

“So what do we do now?” Shank asked. “Do you even have a plan?”

“I have a plan, but I'm not going to tell you the fuck about it.” Lee was grumpy.

“She's bound to wake up soon. Might want to figure it out. She's only good for another hour at best.”

“It doesn't concern you either way.”

“I'm just sayin', you're crazy if you think she's gonna do your bidding after all you've-”

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