The Tour Bus

Chapter 9

Harry•

It was a scary thought, actually. My girlfriend has been kidnapped. Even scarier, it was my fault. It was my fault from the beginning, everything was my fault. If I would have been on that damn tour bus, she wouldn't have been here to be taken. Not to mention if I would have just let her come with me outside, she wouldn't have been kidnapped. I wanted to scream and yell and punch something, but I didn't. I was trying to stay calm for her. How could I find her if I couldn't even find myself? I kept my breathing slow. The dark van crept closer to her, though it seemed to be taking forever. What if we don't make it time? That question kept haunting my mind but I pushed it away. I'm almost positive the whole world knew Camila was gone now, but I felt as if I was the only one trying to get her back. I watched the drivers as they hissed mummers at each other. I sighed.

"Harry, how many strips are back there?" Someone called.

I looked around and counted. There were eight of them.

"Eight," I replied, picking one up.

It was lined with multiple dangerous weapons. A small gun, explosives, a taser. It scared me that we need all this stuff to get Camila back.

"Send up two," he said.

I passed forward two of the strips and one of the men in black handed me my own, teaching me how to use it.

"Boys, are you ready?"

The men in black all replied with yeses and filed out of the car. There were already men surrounding the door, wearing different uniforms with guns in their hands. The man in charge, George I believe, walked up to the door followed by his men and me. There were beeping noises and the metal door opened. I wish I could see what he did. I was going to tell Camila how we got her back, eventually. I didn't want to keep it from her. We all walked in the building, George's men with their fingers on the trigger guarding George and I. It was quiet and we stopped.

"Upstairs," George says.

"Ah," an unknown voice said.

The lights flicked on revealing the room that looked like a lab.

"Just as I suspected. I'm sure you're looking for the girl, yes?" He asked.

"Hand her over, and no one gets hurt," George ordered.

He had such a deep voice, it was hard not to do what he asked.

"Oh, but I can't do that. I'm afraid we just got rid of her," I chocked and felt everything in me shatter "Besides, I'm the only one who knows where your precious little girl is. Killing me wouldn't help you find her," he says.

She's not dead. She's not dead. She's not dead. My mind kept repeating those words over and over again. Nearly two seconds ago I was convinced she was dead. It was short, but I've never felt so much internal pain in my life.

"We aren't here to play games with you. What do you want?" George asked.

"I want him," he said, his long finger jabbing at me.

I felt my eyes widen as George looked back at me. That didn't seem like a good idea, but then, I realize, I could see Camila.

"Only if you let me see her first," I say.

His face twisted into an evil grin.

"Of course, that can be arranged. George, hand him over," he said.

"I'm afraid I can't d-"

"No, it's fine. If he's not going to hand her back then I don't want to be without her anyways," I say, pushing past him standing in front of the George.

I pulled my phone out of my strip just high enough for George to see. He tapped my hand telling me he saw it. I push it back down and wait for whatever happens next. The lights turn off and the room resumes pitch black. Two pairs of hands grabs my arms and lead me somewhere. They stab my arm with something before I pass out.