Holiday in Handcuffs

Chapter 4

Thirty minutes ago Derek had been a freezing cold popsicle, hoping that someone other than an axe wielding murderer would rescue him from the side of the road. Now, he was a sweaty, nervous mess, hoping that this woman with the gun to his head would somehow be possessed by the Christmas spirit and spare him his life so that he could live to see another Christmas. Preferably a happier, less gun inflicted one.

As his life flashed before his very eyes, followed by different scenarios of the ways this tiny gun carrying woman would carry out his gruesome demise, he tried desperately to breathe with even, normal breaths. But, some things were just not possible with a gun pointed at your head. Hence, the heavy hyperventilating.

"Oh, God... Oh, God... Oh, God..." He panted between breaths as he fought to regulate his breathing. "What do you want? I'll do anything." He said as he exhaled out and sucked another deep breath in. "Money? Is this about money?" He asked, turning his head to face her. He squinted his eyes at the gun and forced his gaze past it to the woman's face. Surprisingly, she looked almost as nervous as he imagined he looked. But, then she noticed that he was staring at her and her face hardened.

"Don't look at me." She said quickly, waving the gun in his face. "Don't look at me." She repeated.

"OK." Derek replied, nodding his head as he turned to face forward again. He ran his palms against his jeans, drying the sweat away as they brushed against the tops of his thighs.

"Don't do that!" The woman said frantically.

"What? What? Don't do what?" Derek asked nervously as he turned to look at her again.

"Just.... don't drop your hands into your lap. Put them up where I can see them." She ordered. "And stop looking at me!" She screamed as she shifted her attention back and forth between him and the icy road.

"Okay. Okay. Sorry." Derek said, keeping his hands up in the air as he turned forward again.

"That's better." The woman said quietly with a nod.

For fifteen minutes they drove in silence, a heavy intensity hanging in the air around them. Derek didn't dare look in her direction. She still had the gun pointed at him. He imagined her arms had to be tired, because his certainly were. He had his elbows bent, his hands straight up, like in one of those old western movies when the bad guys rob a bank and tell the innocent victims to 'stick 'em up'. His arms felt like dead weights and it took a lot of strength to keep them in that position. But, he didn't dare drop them into his lap for fear that the gun pointed at him would sound off and that would be the end.

Derek shifted his gaze to stare out of the passenger window. Through the darkness, he could just make out the snowy embankment on the side of the road. It looked as high as five feet now. The snow seemed to be coming down a lot harder than it had been earlier. He imagined that his mother was worried sick that he hadn't arrived yet. His heart ached inside of his chest as he thought about what must be going through her mind right now. Whatever it was, he was sure that she wouldn't be thinking that he was anywhere near the position he was in now. Somehow, that didn't help to ease his mind.

He turned his gaze forward again, squinting his eyes through the front windshield. If he peered out hard enough, he could see the outline of a road sign up ahead. As the car advanced further, he was finally able to see that it was the sign informing passing cars to keep straight if they were heading North, or take a left toward his hometown of Westfield. And just like that, they sped past the road sign as if it hadn't even been there. Derek's chest tightened.

"Where are we going?" He asked frantically, sitting up straighter in his seat. "You missed the turn! Where are you taking me?" He demanded to know. Going against his own advice, he turned his attention to his left and glared at the woman with the gun in her hands.

"We're... taking a detour." She said matter-of-factly.

"A detour?!" He yelled. "There is no detour to Westfield! There's only one turn... and you just passed it up!" He seethed. He knew he was pushing the limit by getting angry, but he had somehow moved past fear and tumbled into rage.

"There's been a change of plans." She told him.

"Oh, well... glad to know." He replied sarcastically. "When you first put the gun to my head, I thought for a minute that maybe you weren't thinking clearly. Apparently, I was wrong." He said as he rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. "Looks like you've got this all figured out, don't you?"

"Just shut up and keep your hands where I can see them." She scowled at him. "This doesn't have to be painful if you don't want it to be."

Derek snorted angrily and faced forward again. "Oh, no..." He replied, "Having my life flash before my eyes is not painful at all." He snarled as he resigned himself to glaring out of the front windshield again.