There For You - The Intern & The Daughter pt. 2

ch. 5 - to infinity and beyond

 It takes everything I have to wrestle my way to a sitting position. Despite my best efforts, I succumb to exhaustion. My body is beaten and feels bruised from being repeatedly slammed into the water earlier in the day, not to mention the strike across the face that flung me to the hard floor in the first place. When I awake, I try to put together the puzzle I face. The recording didn't say my dad's name, or mine. In fact, it said "they" instead of he or she. These people must be kidnapping multiple kids to get ransom money from their parents. Are they choosing just anyone, or only kids they know whose parents are rich? If so, do they also have Alaina, Lily, Ian, Marisa, and Jane somewhere? Or, God forbid, Peter? I pray that them having been separated from me is a good sign.

What I guess is about an hour after me waking up, the door above me opens up and the guy who hit me yesterday creeps down the stairs to drop off a tray of food. He has a phone in front of him like he's filming or maybe even live-streaming the whole thing. He sets down the tray and takes a pair of wire cutters from his pocket. He reaches back and clips my zip tie off. Immediately I rub my sore wrists and stretch my arms, which are in immense pain from being tied behind my back. He trains the camera on me.

"Don't even think about trying to escape," he says. Then he kicks me in the knee so hard I feel like I can't breathe. I guess that was to keep me from walking away, and another video to show my family to elicit a ransom. I wonder if they've even made my family aware. Do my friends know that something's up? It has to be the next morning. Where are they? Dad would have paid any ransom in no time. Unless...oh God. Unless he thinks they're going to kill me either way and wants to try and find them - and me - first. Like I said, this is like an episode of a crime show. How many times have the bad guys on those shows promised someone's safety but murdered them anyway so they can't rat them out? Cue a fresh dose of terror.

I scare myself so badly that I can't eat for a while, but eventually hunger wins. They gave me a banana, a few cheese cubes, a small stack of crackers, and a bottle of water. It's not much but, well, abductees can't be choosers. One thing I'm grateful for is that this room seems to be air conditioned. Even so, I can feel the room warm up as the sunlight bears down on the boat through the course of the day. After eating, I stand up and explore my dungeon (maybe brig would be a more appropriate term?) a bit more and find a small, airplane style bathroom in one corner. I take advantage of that particular amenity before sitting back down to wait some more.

No, this is stupid. I can't just sit here. My dad didn't. I'm just on a freaking boat. I have to figure out a way out. I stalk back into the bathroom. The cover on the soap dispenser pops off easily. The bag inside is full. Good. I wait some more until they bring me what I assume is supposed to be dinner, as the sunlight outside is clearly dimming from what I can tell in the brief moments the door is open. I guzzle the water from the bottle and then refill it at the sink. The sink even has a label that warns the water is not safe for drinking. That's fine - I don't need it for drinking. I wait...and wait...and wait some more, until I'm pretty sure it has to be between 1 and 2 a.m., which is probably when there will be the least amount of people awake. I anticipate that at least one person will have been tasked with guarding me through the night, but hopefully no more than that. I tuck the water bottle in my waistband and hold the soap bag in my hand. A wave of fear rolls over me. Am I crazy? I don't know if these guys are armed! This could be supremely stupid. I take a deep breath - stupid is better than nothing.

One mistake these guys made after kidnapping me was not searching me. My athletic shorts have a zippered key pocket in the back. This particular pair happened to have a couple of bobby pins inside. I'm a teenage girl, we leave those things everywhere. Goodness knows how long they've been in there. Now, I know that people unlocking things with bobby pins is, for the most part, a myth. Worth a shot, I figure. I climb the stairs and set the soap bag on the top step. The door is like a trap door, but I can see one side of the locking mechanism. It almost looks like the lock on a bathroom stall. Back in middle school at Hewitt, some kids had taken to going into bathroom stalls, locking them, and then crawling out from underneath so they'd stay locked. Some kids even went so far as to spread soap on the bathroom floor so whoever unlocked the door would get covered in goo. A few of us girls quickly figured out that a bobby pin on both sides of the outer part of the lock created enough force to turn the flat side of the lock and pull the pin out far enough to open the door. I was hoping the same idea would work here.

The door swung open. Not due to my amazing lock-picking skills, but because the camera guy pulled it open. He must have heard me messing with it. I try to react quickly and throw the soap bag in his face. The bag knocks him back long enough for me to crawl out and run across the boat deck. He's much faster than me thanks to my sore legs and throbbing knee. He catches up quickly. When he does, his meaty hands grasp my shoulders and he easily flings me to the ground.

He sits on me to keep me down and he places a hand over my throat. He presses down just enough to keep me down. It's a struggle, but I can breathe. He pulls his phone out and I hear the small ding that indicates a video being taken.

"Look what you've done now! Tried to be brave and escape. Bad idea, little girl!" He begins to press down harder on my throat. The pain doesn't last long. Something explosive blasts the guy off of me. I quickly roll to my knees and stand. It's dark out, with only a little light from the top of the boat and the dock illuminating the deck. A quick glance to my side shows two black figures grappling with one another. I can't see who it is, but I assume at least one of them is camera guy. Whoever is fighting with him gets in a good left hook, knocking camera guy out. My savior stands, revealing someone with a tall, muscular figure.

"We're clear," a voice behind me says. I spin to find myself face to face with none other than the Natasha Romanoff. Her hair is bleached and she looks more tired than I've ever seen her, but it's definitely her. I can't resist - I run to her and practically collapse into her.

"Hey, hey baby girl. It's us, you're safe." I'm sobbing with relief. She rubs my back consolingly.

"Em, are you okay?" comes another familiar voice. I pull away from Natasha and turn to face Steve, this time in his old uniform, though it's heavily damaged and blacked out. I nod, though I know I must look a mess with tears streaming down my face and the remnants of the blood from my nose still on my face, some of it even staining my sweater.

"I told you that you were in danger," Steve says, putting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent.

"I didn't...I just thought.." I stammer.

"Come here," he says, gripping my shoulders and pulling me to him. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"What's going on?" I ask, wiping tears from my face.

"There's a ring of traffickers kidnapping teenagers all over the state, mostly to sell them into a human trafficking ring. If it turns out their families have money, they're held for ransom, and then sold into human trafficking," Natasha replies.

"We've been tracking them for a while, trying to pinpoint the perpetrators. Your friends-"

"Oh my gosh, are they okay? Were they taken too?" I burst out.

"No. They said they were dropped off shortly after you all were picked up, they were told there was an emergency so they were getting off on a warning. They searched for you but when they couldn't find you, they called the actual police, who of course didn't show that anyone had been dispatched to the beach to pick up seven underage drinkers." There was some inflection in his voice with the last few words. He sounded disappointed. "Your disappearance hit the news by the morning and we knew you had to be part of this mess."

"Th-thank you," I say. "What now?"

"Now we take you home."