An Abducted Date (Jason Peirce Series #1) Read online

  "Jason, are you okay?"

  "Just had this weird feeling. It's probably nothing, let's go." We walked into the main gallery and started looking at all the different portraits and landscapes.

  Eventually we worked our way to the top floor where they had several cameras arranged in a large circle, encased in glass cubes. It was like the history of photographic equipment. It was incomplete, of course, but a decent collection. My favorite part of the museum was a cartoon inside of a wheel that had slots to look through. You would bend down, or squat, and look through the slots while spinning the wheel. It was like a huge flip book. When we had our fill of the photo world for the day we exited and started down Main Street.

  It was already five when we walked out and I popped open my phone to text my dad.

  ~We're on our way. Coming from University by the Wells Fargo.~

  He texted me back a minute later.

  ~Okay, I'll meet you half way.~

  "I'm thinking that the plan is to have dinner right now, and then head back up the mountain."

  "Sounds like a plan. Where to for dinner?" We were waiting for the signal to change at the University and Main Street crossroad when I saw my dad about fifty yards away. It was a split second of a glimpse of him as a white panel van burned rubber coming to a stop in front of us. Two guys with their faces covered threw the doors open and grabbed Wendy and me.

  "What the hell! Here, just take my wallet!" I yelled as I was being shoved into the van. Then something hit me over the head, I saw bright lights and then nothing.

  Chapter Three

  Darkness was all around me. And I was cramped in a strange fetal position. I heard a slight ringing coming from the back of my head. I turned, trying to look left and right and felt something light touch my face. I focused on it and saw a very slight glow and the printed words "Pull to open". I was in the trunk of a car.

  Kidnapped, knocked out. Dad had to have seen. What would be his first actions? Police. But I couldn't move.

  My hands were bound behind my back so I shifted around as much as I could to reach the pull cord. My hands flailed around in one failed attempt after another. I was left breathless after the fifth reach. Knowing that time was of the essence I took a short minute to breathe and give it all my effort. I reached and almost missed it, but just as I was about to fall back and re-thrust towards the cord I felt my fingers close around the tab and my body weight freed the lock and latch.

  The trunk was still only partially popped, so I shifted onto my back and took another minute to regain my strength and to prepare myself for what might be outside the trunk.

  Our kidnappers might have been sitting, waiting for me to escape. Where was Wendy? My mind raced as I imagined how scared she likely was. What might they have done to her while I was unconscious? I had to stop and concentrate on the here and now.

  When I decided that I was ready, I rolled over and maneuvered so that I could push the lid open with my aching head and stand up in one fluid motion. In theory it was a good idea designed for an element of surprise. In practice, it made my head throb even more.

  I pushed up, which was painful enough, but then I hit the rear end of the trunk lid which curved down. I felt a little trickle of blood start to leak out of my tender head. I was met with a view of a work bench in a large garage. There was nobody else around. Then I heard the pounding of a fist on glass. Wendy was locked in the van parked next to the car that I was locked in. I hopped down and took a second to look at the plate on the bumper of my recent cell. ~SOL383~ Then I walked over to the rear doors of the van. I tried pulling the latch and got nothing. So I went to the side doors that we were thrown in through. These were unlocked from the outside and had a child lock preventing Wendy from exiting.

  "Hey there gorgeous. Besides the obvious, are you okay?" I asked, trying to make light of our predicament.

  "I- I'm fine, I guess. They didn't touch me. Just took my phone and tossed it out the window when they grabbed us. They kept yours though." She toppled out of the van into an awkward hug. "I was so scared Jason! I thought they were going to kill us. The way they hit you, and how they were looking at me."

  "Did they say anything? Did you see any faces?" I could tell that she didn't want to think about it, but I needed as much information as I could get to form a plan.

  "They were the guys that bugged us at Best Buy. I didn't see their faces, but their voices were right for it. Is this because your dad threatened them? Or because of our behavior?" She let go of me but stayed close as we walked a few steps away.

  "Probably both," I replied. At least they didn't just run us over or something. Kidnapping meant that they wanted something. Money, drugs, respect, sex... But they hadn't touched Wendy. At least that's what she said. "Are you sure they didn't hurt you? How long have I been out?"

  "About an hour, and yes I'm sure they didn't hurt me. What are we going to do Jason?" She was scared. So was I. But I couldn't let that fear mess with my thoughts.

  "First, I need you to get my hands undone. Then I'm going to start thinking."

  "About what?" She turned me around and dug her nails into the rope. When she loosened the knot and set my hands free I answered.

  "Well, they haven't hurt us. So they want something. They're probably using us for ransom. That means they'll need us to speak on the phone briefly, probably."

  "Probably?"

  "I'm sure that's what will happen. That's what has to happen. My dad won't have it any other way. He won't budge unless they give him confirmation. I need to get him as much information as I can without tipping the bad guys off." My mind was racing to find a possible solution.

  "Well, there really isn't that much we can give. A garage fifteen minutes away from where we were abducted. A white van and a brown, what is that anyways?" She was looking at the car I had come from.

  "It's an old Impala, my Chevy driving friend." I smiled a sarcastic look at her.

  "Oh. Well then, a van and an Impala. Could you get him the plate numbers?"

  "That was my first idea, but that would be very hard. Obvious even." I put my hands up to my forehead and massaged my temples. I was on the verge of an idea when a heavy sounding door opened and closed with a loud thump and an even louder locking sound.

  "So you managed to get out after all. Get off the car pindejo!" It was the guy that tried to hit me. I was sure of it. His paintball mask couldn't hide his voice. I jumped off the Impala as quick as I could and got a fist to the gut. "I wouldn't be moving that fast if I wanted to live through this day like you do."

  I clutched at my stomach and gasped out the first, obvious question. "What do you want?" Wendy had moved away from the car and was a few paces behind me. I could see our kidnapper's eyes stretch as if he were smiling, laughing.

  "I want that shiny gun that your old man pointed at me. I want that big truck that you all drove away in. I want your girlfriend's ass in my bed." He started walking back to the door and said, "Get ready to talk to your dad. And no trying to trick us, we ain't as dumb as you think."

  I saw a chance to get a message across, and to use the bad guys to send it.

  "He won't listen to a word you say unless he gets a code from me." It was a long shot, but I had to try.

  "What the hell are you talking about? You guys some schizophrenic idiots? Codes!?" He laughed.

  "He used to be a cop. He made me memorize a code to say that I was okay. He won't believe anything unless he hears it." Our captor just stood there, staring at me. "Why do you think he had a gun? He's allowed to carry because he was a cop."

  He just kept standing there. When he finally moved it was to the work bench where he found a slip of paper and a pen. "Okay, come and write your stupid code." He backed away from the bench and me as I approached. I picked up the pen and began writing.

  ~ ...---.-.. 383 ~

  "There, that's it." I moved back to Wendy and gave her a little hug. A reassuring hug. Then I whispered, "I hope this works."
>
  "Like I thought, you people are loco." He walked back to the door and knocked twice. It opened and he disappeared for a minute. When he came back he was carrying my cell phone. He brought it to me. "Talk to your old man, he says he wants to hear you say the code."

  I slowly took the phone and brought it to my ear. "D- Dad?"

  "Jason? What does it mean? Are you okay?"

  I spoke slowly, with carefully planned pauses. "Okay, I'll repeat it. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dash dot dot, 383. Did you get it?"

  "But what does it mean?!"

  "I have to go, S.O.S." Then the phone was taken from me and we were left alone again.

  Wendy spoke softly as the door was closing. "Did you just speak in Morse Code? What did you give him? It was too short to be anyth..." She got it.

  "Let's give them ten minutes to figure it out, another five to track the number. That leaves fifteen to get here, unless this isn't the guy's house. In thirty minutes I'm going to try to raise an alarm of some sort. Were we still in the city or in the suburbs?"

  "City, but it was different. More industrial than touristy." Once Wendy figured out my code she seemed to relax a little.

  "Good, that means there will probably be some other people around nearby. These guys think they're smart, but they never seemed to process that this garage is full of tools. Thirty minutes from now, assuming we're alone, we'll make our escape."

  "Where to, though? We don't know much about this place."

  "You said there were other buildings around?"

  "There was a gas station at the last intersection we turned on. Another couple of garages surrounding this one. Not much else though."

  "The gas station might help us out. Whatever we do, we do not run to the station. That'll be the first place they look. We run in the opposite direction, around one of the other garages and we stay there. Hopefully the police will be getting here by the time they figure out we didn't go that way."

  "What if they don't? The cops I mean."

  "If the cops aren't getting here, then someone else will be." I was confidant, but added, "I hope."

  Wendy and I sat in silence on the floor holding each other while waiting for something to happen. For the kidnappers to come in, or for the time to run.

  The kidnapper's came first. Or the kidnapper. "You guys might just get to sleep in your own beds tonight. Your old man is doing what we tell him to."

  "Yeah? And what's that?" He had to be bluffing.

  "Would you believe that he is just down the street from here, putting his gun in a trash can? I'm about to go get it, and then I'm going to have you two dropped off where we got you from."

  "What makes you think that the police won't just arrest you after you get the gun?"

  "Like I said, we aren't as dumb as you think. I walk down there in my mask here and get the gun. The whole time I'll be talking to my guy that knows to come in and kill you two if I get cuffs, a bullet, or a tail."

  "All of this for a gun? Really? Why?"

  "Because I want it, that's why. Stay here and shut up, in ten minutes you'll be on your way back downtown." With that, he turned his back on us and walked out.

  When the door latched again I turned to Wendy. "We make a run for it in five minutes. My guess is that the police already know where we are. Dad got the message."

  I waited a minute before going to the work bench and picking up a heavy pry bar. I used it to force the padlocks on the sliding garage door open. Then I returned to the bench where there was a long section of heater hose.

  Chapter Four

  There were thirty seconds left before the five minute deadline I had set. Using the heater hose, I siphoned some gas out of the tank of the Impala and let the hose keep the flow running into the passenger compartment through a window.

  I had carefully forced two screws into a power outlet and ignited a gas covered shop towel, which I carried with the pry bar.

  With ten seconds left I said, "Okay, lift the door about two feet." With a little effort Wendy managed just that. "Get down and get ready to go." I walked to the window of the Impala.

  Three seconds.

  "Go!" I tossed the flaming bar and towel onto the seat and the car instantly erupted in flames.

  I sprinted faster than I ever had before. I dived under the garage door just as the flames reached the gas tank.

  The explosion rocked the ground while the garage began to crumble. Cinder blocks seemed to melt into the building.

  "Run Wendy!" She needed no more encouragement and led the way. From the garage we ran a hundred feet to the street and hung a right, towards another garage across the street. When we got to the building we stopped and caught our breath. Listening to nothing and everything at the same time we could hear the sounds of the ruined garage. Not too far off we could hear sirens. Police sirens.

  "OH WHITEY!" Damn, that was too soon. Where had he been? He should have been a 6 minute walk away. He must have been bluffing. "You owe me GRANDE for that one! I'm gonna find you and your little girlfriend. Then I'm gonna make you watch me make her mine! Then I'm gonna KILL YOU! Stop hiding like a burro."

  At least he didn't know where we were. And the sirens were getting closer.

  "We don't move, we don't make a sound," I whispered. Wendy nodded.

  As the sirens grew louder and louder we saw our pursuer appear in the middle of the street looking around. At first he didn't see us crouched low, but then he picked out our shapes.

  "HA! I found you! Come out and play, jackass!" I saw no other alternative, so I stood as straight as I could. My five feet nine inches matched my attacker as he started walking towards me. I held Wendy's shoulder down as I started to form as good a plan as any. I would run and attack with all the force I could muster. I took a step forward when I saw a knife materialize in his right hand. I hesitated, and took another step. Then I started making long, fast strides.

  Twenty feet from him and I heard the loudspeaker. "This is the Riverside Police. DROP your weapon, now!" I stopped ten feet away and saw two patrol cars blocking the street. Four officers all had their service pistols trained at the two of us. "DROP it!"

  After the second order my masked attacker tossed the knife a few feet away from himself and dropped to his knees staring at me. He put his hands on his head and the officers moved in. One of them ordered me to the ground as well.

  It turned out that I had been ignoring and then smart mouthing a member of the local gang Casa Riva outside of Best Buy earlier that day. The gang was known to have ties to several Mexican drug and trafficking cartels. They were a violent bunch. Several members were known as cop-killers in addition to their other murders and abductions. Wendy and I got lucky. The guy that decided to have us grabbed was still a new member of the gang. The police claimed that it was his intention to kill us whether he got my Dad's gun or not. The rest of the gang was letting him run the entire show.

  The three others that had been with him when we first met had all gotten stuck in the imploded garage. The fire fighters found their bodies in the room behind the door that we had only seen from one side. The only other exit had been barricaded long before our abduction. I felt conflicted about this information. On the one hand, I was responsible for their deaths. On the other, they would have killed Wendy and me before another hour passed.

  The police let us go. They wanted us to remain available for more questioning, but for all intents and purposes our short lived nightmare was over. My Father, Wendy, and I all walked out of the Riverside Police Department on Mission Inn Avenue at nine o'clock Saturday night.

  Walking between Wendy and me, my Dad pulled us into a close embrace. He squeezed and chuckled as he said, "So, how about some spaghetti?"

  "Really Dad?" I elbowed him jokingly in the stomach.

  "What? I'm hungry! So, how about you Wendy? Up for some pasta?"

  I looked around to see her hazel eyes looking at me. "Sounds like a date." She smiled and we continued our interrupted
first date.

  "So, how long did it take you to figure out my Morse Code?" I asked.

  "I got that it was Morse when that gang banger first said it. But I couldn't figure out the letters until you had said it slowly. Even then I had to listen to the recording from the police a couple of times."

  Strolling down Mission Inn Avenue we came across the sculpture of Gandhi and Wendy smiled. "So, where is this place that we'll be breaking our fast?"

  * * *

  About the Author

  My name is Christopher Estrada. I'm a Mexican-American, California kid from the Inland Empire area. Writing fiction has been a passion of mine since the age of twelve. My first few attempts started strong, but always fell through. I blame it on a lack of planning, but it could be any number of things. I grew up absolutely hating books and reading until I caved in and read the first Harry Potter novel in 1999, fourth grade. Now I can't stop reading. During the summer of 2005 I attended the Cambridge College Programme at Cambridge University in England. While there, I took my first Creative Writing course under the direction of Professor Steve Waters. Back in the States; I continued to learn, read, and write. I attend the Riverside Community College District majoring in Photography with plans to continue with a degree in English as well. Capturing light and writing fiction are only a part of who I am though. Throughout high school I was a member of the AFJROTC and I intend to enlist in the US Air Force in the not too distant future.

  To learn more about me and to find out about my upcoming works, visit my blog, send me an email, or follow me on twitter.

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  Twitter: @Chris-writing

  * * *

  On the Track of Loss (Chapter 1)

  I was running. My feet were pounding the ground in long, fast strides. There were only another two hundred meters left in the race. The win was mine if I just kept up the pace. My nearest competitor was hot on my tail, though. He was taller than me, but it looked as though he hadn't run in a few weeks. Even out of practice, he was fast.