The Chase

13 Evie

I awoke slowly, my heart racing from the sound of motorcycles all around me. My head was absolutely fucking killing me. I went to move my hands to try and get a feel for how bad of shape I was in. Only for my left hand to rattle a short length of chain.

I squinted in the dark, I could feel I was moving, could see brief sparks of light in the gaps made by poorly sealed rivets in the sides of the cube truck I found myself to be chained up in. A rev of bike engines as they circled the van, I had seen Rocket do this formation a few times, last time they had been moving drugs across the border. They dressed me up in normal clothes to drive a van just like this. Using me to move the goods, coaching me to tell the border guard I was going to university, to flirt and get through easily.

I gingerly touched my head and face all over with my fingertips. Investigating my injuries. My cheekbone couldn't handle the slightest bit of pressure without me seeing stars behind my eyes and feeling like I might retch. The side of my head tender along the same side. Cheek was the worst of the head trauma so far. I hoped my skull wasn't fractured, I thought that was the kind of injury that could kill someone. Thinking of the several unfortunate people I had seen Rocket and the crew beat to death.

A gasping sob leaving my throat. Whip, he had knocked me out. I was sure Dog was with him. More faces I didn't know. They were taking me back to Rocket. Suddenly dead didn't seem like the worst option. Not compared to the living hell Rocket would make me suffer for what Sara had done five years ago, for me leaving him.

On top of everything, I still felt like I was drugged. The feeling that only gotten worse after sleeping with Luca. I was consumed by thoughts of him. Fervently hoped that he was on the way, that he knew I was in trouble and was coming for me. I felt so strongly connected to him that I wanted to believe this drug and head injury induced, all consuming hallucination and false feelings were real.

Nothing in my life had ever been a fairytale. Not one single moment. I was Emliy Violet Hawthrone, abandoned at a fire station as a newborn. No one ever claimed me. The eighth baby to be 'saved' in the city by the safe surrender laws. So I was given a last name that started with the eighth letter of the alphabet. At least I wasn't the first, Alpha was a terrible last name. No adoptive parents picked me, no long term foster family stuck. Group homes were endless nightmares. Rocket knew exactly what to do to lure me in until I was too tangled to know how to get away. No way to leave even if I could have thought of a place to go.

I slammed my fist against the floor, a stream of curses I had learned from Sara's family leaving my lips in a scream. Until it changed to a terrified squeak when someone hit the side of the van, hard enough to make my head bounce. I barely held back the vomit that time as the nausea from the almost assured concussion suffered another blow. Bouncing my brain around in my skull in a way that certainly was not good for it.

My head was spinning now. I felt too sick to think clearly. I thought I was hearing more bikes, but between the motion sickness of traveling in a mostly dark space, sat sideways no less. On top of the recently bounced around again concussed brain I was not ok. I think I needed actual medical attention. In my still drug addled brain I would have sworn on my own beating heart that Luca was somehow much closer to me now. I was never this optimistic, another sign that someone must have drugged me, a mood altering something.

I tried to focus. I could hear shouting, and there were more bikes now. Lots of them. The first pop of a gun didn't even register over the noise until I looked over my head at the new, bright spot of light in the side of the van. A matching one on the other side, not far enough away from my head for me to feel safe. I tried to make myself small, but I couldn't lay my head against the floor without the vibrations and bumps from the wheels against the rough highway making me feel significantly worse.

I didn't know what to do. I almost wanted one of the bullets I could now clearly hear to hit me. Just to end this. Whatever was happening it wasn't good. There weren't any sirens. If it was the police, there would be sirens, a loud speaker and all kinds of things.

This had to be a confrontation between equals. Another gang. No where was safe. Two more bullets crisscrossed over my head. Just one, I only needed one to hit me just right and this would all be over. The long joke I called my life would be done. If Sara never got over being mad at me, no one would miss me, or notice I was dead.

One more thought of Luca, and the pretty life I could have made with him if I was normal and he could have loved me after I ran away twice. The truck slammed the brakes. Wheels locking up underneath me. Making me ricochet around with my wrist as the pivot point. The metal cuff digging deeper into my flesh.

The van rocked to a stop. Leaving me disoriented after so long with the rumbles and vibration of driving. The door was forcefully wrenched open. A clawed hand breaking something on the other side of the door, forcing under the rolling door. Crushing the metal as it was wrenched up.

I couldn't stop the scream as I cowered back, trying to scrabble away from whatever was walking towards me. Backlit by the too bright morning light. Clawed hands obvious on the shadowed form. It was a monster.