The Kidnapping

           "You know, I'm starting to think fate takes that as a dare." I glared Greg. He hung upside down next to me, his seat belt holding him to the seat attached to the floorboard that had become the ceiling. His blonde hair, which was always combed so neatly and slicked back hung downwards towards the roof.

The world outside the windshield was upside down. We had landed in a canal of sorts. It seemed designed to sluice water through out the city during the rainy season. Too bad a rainy season hadn't been seen in this part of the world in several years.

"Oh come on! How was I supposed to know?" He reached upwards to the switch on his seat belt. When he pressed the red button, the roof raced upwards to meet him. He collapsed down upon it in a loud grunt. From his slow movements I could tell he was still more or less in one piece. That was good, he was not good injured. I'd hate to have to leave him behind.

I pressed my hands against the roof, hoping for a more graceful exit of the once beautiful Cadillac. As my thumb reached up to press the red release on my seat belt, I mocked 'Oh! What's the worst that could happen?'"

The roof raced up to meet me as I released the button. My face, my back, my neck, just about every part of me was sore and angry at being put through such agony. Turning, I kicked out the window. It shattered into a thousand diamond pieces, scattering across the cement bottom of the dry canal.

"Still got your weapon?" I scanned the horizon for threats. He pulled a Glock from behind his belt to show me. I nodded in approval as he slid it back into my belt underneath my shirt. Greg maybe cocky at times, and sometimes even a little too prone to act without thinking, but he always was good with a weapon.

Rusted fences and trees pressed up and over the banked concrete walls. I looked towards the hole in the old fence that we went through. It had been a dead-end street, a forced detour brought on by a truck taking an unexpected left turn at a red light. The climb back up to that hole looked to be a thousand miles up. How in the name of all that's holy would we ever get back up there in time?

"How long before they notice?" Greg asked, slicking back his hair again. I looked at the horizon and the setting sun to avoid glaring at him. It always felt as if it was setting just a bit faster when you were racing against daylight.

"I'd say they noticed by now. We got maybe a half hour max before they catch us." I walked over to the trunk and gave it a swift hard kick. An infant's wail came up from inside, one of pain and fear. A small flame of hope lit in my heart at that sound. At least it was still alive. As long as it was living, we had a chance. A small one, but a chance.

"What the hell are we going to do?!" Greg asked, gripping his pistol.

I wheeled on him, grabbing him by the throat. "We're going to survive. We're going to drag that little ankle biter up to the street and make the rendezvous. If we have to we will steal a car." I walked around and looked into the back of the old Cadillac; sitting on the roof where the rear passengers would have been crumbled into a bloody pulp because of our accident was a small black gym bag. I looked over at Greg with a dark smile as I pulled it out. "Things are looking up." I tossed it at Greg who caught it numbly.

"You're serious about this," he cried as he held the bag in front of him like a ward against evil. We didn't have time to debate this. That sun was setting fast, and with the darkness would come trouble. Big trouble.

"Well, you want to live, don't you?" I reached under the dash and pulled the key out of the ignition, then headed back to the trunk. "As soon as I open the trunk, grab the little monster." I paused in front of the trunk, pressing the key against the lock, but waited just a moment, my heart in my throat.

"On three." He nodded in response as I slid the key into the trunk lock. Greg knelt down, holding the bag in front of him. He shook as he held it, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "One. Two. Three!"

The trunk lid popped downward, and his hands flew inwards, holding the black bag open. I heard a couple thumps before he shouted "Gotcha!" and dragged out his prize. It struggled and writhed in pain inside. The strange markings on the gym bag gave a dim glow for just a moment before the little ankle biter became still. Once the movements inside stopped, the markings went dim again. Only gentle snoring could be heard from inside by now.

"That should buy us some time," I said, pulling my weapon out of its holster. "We have maybe fifteen minutes left before we'll be caught. We better get a move on and get that car now."

"Wait," Greg grabbed my arm to stop me. As I turned, I could see the gym bag slung over his shoulder like laundry. "Isn't this thing," He said shaking the bag, "supposed to prevent the little monster from calling out? You know for help or what not?"

It would have been funny if Greg's question hadn't been so stupid. "What?" He asked, as I turned back towards the side of the canal and began to climb upwards.

"Greg, how many times do I have to tell you, never trust a witch!" The soles of my shoes fought for purchase for a moment before they finally gripped.

"She said," He began as he climbed up after me.

"I know what she said!" I shouted down at him. "But that would only make sense if this were a normal ordinary ankle biter, wouldn't it? What you have my friend is the prince. Not only a prince, but the prince! The one that they've all been raving about. The one that's supposed to give them ultimate power and spell our ultimate doom."

By the time we made it up to the street, my blood began run cold. The sun had set on us. We had little time left. "Come on!" I urged Greg, "We got less than five minutes before we're going to be neck deep in vampires."