The Deadly Series

Chapter 3

The van stopped moving.

Isabella's heavy eyes fluttered open. She tried to take a deep breath and coughed. Stale cigarette smoke, dust, and old-car smell filled her nostrils. She tried to move her arms and legs, but they were stiff and felt weighted down. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to remember. She had a brief recollection of something about a man helping her into his van to take her home.

She blinked her eyes open, and she squinted, trying to bring her surroundings into focus. She attempted to sit up, swallowing to keep down the rising bile. Turning her head to look out the window, she didn't recognize the railroad tracks or the blinking red vacancy sign of an old, oddly named motel. Not my neighborhood, that's for sure.

She sank back into the seat and closed her eyes surrendering to the black clouds swirling behind her eyes. Where the hell am I?

Her head felt enormous and her vision was blurred as Joe half led, half dragged her up the porch steps to a two- or three-story house with two dark blue doors, one on each side. Or maybe she was seeing double, she couldn't be sure.

He guided her through the door on the left and pushed her down onto a small bed. The mattress smelled sour and a spring poked at her hip. She concentrated on lying still, trying to stop the room from spinning. She blinked her eyes and probed at her surroundings, glimpsing the bare outline of three or four single beds in a small room, no night tables or lamps. When her attention settled on Joe sitting in a chair beside the bed, she tried to sit up, but he shoved her back down, his burly, hairy arm stretched across her chest, restraining her.

"What are you doing? Get your filthy hands off me," she screamed, slurring her words, fighting against him with her arms. "Where am I?"

Joe snarled. "Just shut up an' don't give me any trouble. I've got a job to do, and I'm gonna make sure it gets done right. You got that? Now drink this."

He pressed her head back against the pillow, cramming a bottle into her mouth, forcing her to swallow a few sips of foul-tasting soda. She had to swallow or choke. Some ran down her chin dripping onto her clothes. Soon the heaviness signaled the onslaught of black oblivion.

***

"Can I have a bottle of water?" Isabelle asked Joe as she sat, dazed, on the bed munching a granola bar. Whether she'd been gone a few days or a few hours, Isabella had no way of knowing. She'd slept most of the time. Days turned into nights, nights into days as time continued to go by.

"Too bad, soda's all we got. Get used to it," he curtly answered her while cleaning his fingernails with his pocketknife.

There were two abrupt knocks on the door, a pause, then two more knocks.

Joe walked to the door, peered through the peephole, unlocked, and opened the door. He whispered something and then stepped aside.

When Isabella saw who arrived, she choked, spewing out most of the contents from her mouth all over herself, the bed, and surrounding area. She was stunned, exhilarated. The emotions hit her at the same time.

Amanda came to get me out of here! I'm rescued!

She tried to catch her breath as she sat up on the bed. But when she looked again at the woman standing inside the door, Isabella recoiled. Amanda's expression exuded menace, danger. There were no happy-to-see-you's or don't-worry smiles on her threatening face. Amanda's eyes flashed, her nostrils flared, and her mouth compressed as if to bite back words on the tip of her tongue.

Isabella jumped off the bed with intentions of seeking comfort in Amanda's arms, but walking toward her, Joe lifted his hand as if to strike her. She backed up until she felt the bed against the back of her legs.

"Sit down and shut up. I'm warning you girl. You're gettin' on my last nerve," he snarled as he loomed over her in a successful attempt to intimidate her.

Confused and frightened, Isabella trembled. Cowering in the corner of the bed, she pleaded in a whisper, "Amanda, help me. Why did you let him bring me here?"

Raising his hand ready to smack her, Joe bellowed, "I said shut the hell up, damn it! One more word outta you an' I'll knock your teeth out."

Amanda walked toward Isabella pointing a finger at her. "Shut up and stop your bawlin'. I've been workin' on you for over six months now for the boss, so just shut up. Do what you're told, and no one gets hurt." Her words were sharp, crisp through her tight lips.

Terror ripped through Isabella, her hands fisted, her chin trembled in disbelief. She withdrew from Amanda's imposing form, curled into a protective ball on the bed, and wept.

Betrayed. Alone. Trapped.

Isabella struggled to listen to the whispered conversation in the kitchen. Why would Amanda do this to me? What would make her do this to another woman who was her friend? Was she poor and needed to make some big bucks to live the fancy lifestyle she wanted? Or had she been kidnapped and given money for a new identity of wealth and affluence.

* * * *

What seemed like hours or days later, Isabella opened the door to the bathroom and was surprised to find an attractive blonde woman about her own age inside. The woman held her finger to her lips warning Isabella to be quiet and pulled her inside shutting the door.

"Shhh! They hear everything," the woman whispered.

"What's your name?"

"Megan. What's yours?"

"Isabella. We have to get out of here."

"There's no way out. Believe me, I've tried."

"How long have you been here?"

"About a week, I'm not really sure. They keep telling me they're waiting for some kind of 'word' and then I can leave. I'm so scared," Megan said through trembling lips.

"So am I. Why haven't I seen you before?"

"I'm usually across the hall, but my shower is broken today so they let me come over here to 'get ready,' whatever that means."

"Where are you from?"

"Right here in Denver."

"Me too."

Both seemed a little stunned.

The door burst open, was almost torn off its hinges. Joe reached in, grabbed Megan by the arm, and jerked her out the door.

"Stop, you're hurting me," she screamed, but Joe only covered her mouth with his hand as he slammed the bathroom door shut.