Project Vigilante

Four

Everything seemed to have suspended in mid-action, me pushing away my assaulter and Malone trying to cuff my free hand to the assist handle. The sandy haired guy, holding the driver like a human shield, defiantly gazed at us as we turned towards him. I also caught a quick glimpse at the other passengers: a teenage looking kid with curly, almost bushy chestnut hair and a taller guy with an olive skin tone.

            In the end, it was Malone who spoke, his voice husky and hoarse, gone were the gentle and unctuous attitude. “You don’t want to make this worse, Flynn.”

            “I won’t and you let her go!”

            “Not a chance, she’s coming with us the same way as you are.”

            I looked at the sandy haired guy by the name of Flynn, and tried to make eye contact with him. But he glared directly at Malone, ignoring my attempt to communicate. The man pinning me down looked back and forth the Malone and Flynn, as though he was waiting for further instructions.

            Flynn tightened his grip and leaped the chain closer to his hostage’s neckline, “I’m serious, Terry, let her go or your man will get it.”

            Malone shot him a spiteful look, turned to my assaulter and nodded curtly: the man immediately let go of me, and I felt his weight lifted off. I rolled up and turned just in time to see one of Malone’s colleagues sneaking up and knocking Flynn down from behind. He yelled and collapsed on the floor - his hands were cuffed together with the very chain he used to hold the driver. 

            I watched powerlessly as Malone ordered his men to contain Flynn. Brutally, they dragged him across the floor and, without any warning, kicked him on the stomach. He howled in pain and rolled to the side.

            I was shocked by the sudden outburst of violence. Without contemplating what I was doing, I cried out in anger and leaped for the men. It took three of them to pull me back, before I felt a tiny prick on the back of my neck. Syringe. They tried to drug me.

            The effect was instantaneous. I began to see double visions almost immediately. Lightheaded, I brandished my fists aimlessly in the air and fell to my knees. The last thing I saw was Malone’s face looking down at me. The shinny reelection from his specs made his expression ambiguous. I had little time to think of anything else before my world ceased to exist.

When I flickered my eyes open, I was disappointed to discover I was still in the van. Somehow I had hold on to a tiny hope that what happened was all but a dream.

            I didn’t know how much time had passed. But somehow I doubt I was out for more than a few hours. Whatever they injected me with, it wasn’t meant to last long. My head was aching, and my eyelids were heavy from the drugs in my body. I sat up from the floor and realized my hands were chained. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Flynn passing out on the floor next to me, with nylon robes tied around him. Malone had taken extra precaution to ensure Flynn wouldn’t stir troubles again.

            Neither Malone nor my assaulter was in sight. We must’ve been shoved into the cargo area of the van because there wasn’t a single window. Inch by inch, I tried to move closer to backdoor to see if I can figure out a way to pick the lock. But my cuffs restrained me after reaching certain distance every time. Frustrated, I struggled with the chains, trying to work my arm free.

            “It’s no use, we all tried.”

            The voice almost made me jump. I wasn’t expecting someone else to be awake.

            I turned and found my self face to face with the kid with the curly hair. Like me and everyone else, he was cuffed. Unlike me, though, he didn’t seem the least bit worried. Now that I got a closer look at him, I realized he wasn’t as young as I initially thought, but he wasn’t that old either:  sixteen, maybe seventeen tops. Granted, he wasn’t at all hard on the eyes - though he still bared an innocent looking baby face - but it was his overly confident demeanor that served as a stark contrast to the seemingly more impulsive Flynn.

            I looked at him and didn’t speak. He sensed my reservation and continued, “You were pretty brave to take on that big guy. I mean, I didn’t expect that from someone like you.”

            “Why, because I’m a girl?” I defended in a prickly manner, “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

            “Well, let’s change that. I’m Chip.”

            “Chip? What kind of name is that?”

            “Short for Chipper.”

            I raised an eyebrow. Chip shrugged, “My actual name is Charles, but I hated it so everybody calls me Chipper.”

            The explanation was rather juvenile, but it was strangely amusing. I relaxed a little and made an effort to ease the tension. “I’m Tammy.”

            “As in like Tammy Wynette?”

            “Yes, she’s my mom’s favorite singer.”

            Chip nodded at my cuffs, “So what got you into trouble with the Feds?”

            “You don’t really think they are Feds, do you?”

            “Of course they are, didn’t you see their badges?”

            I frowned. There was a sense of naivety to Chip that made me almost question my logic. How was he not worried at all? I mean, with the way Malone and his men treated Flynn and me, maybe he’d be at least a little guarded. Instead, he talked about them as if all this ought have happened. Maybe Chip was here for a different reason than me? Or perhaps he didn’t know what Malone accused me of being? Could it be that he didn’t know anything? But then, why was he here?

            “They… told me things,” I said, testing his reaction. “Thing about me that couldn’t possibly be true.”

            “Like, you’re the daughter of some super villain?”

            “So you know…”

            “We’re all here for the same reason, Tammy.”

            I shook my head in disbelief, “Then how are you sitting here and acting like nothing’s wrong? I mean- I mean-”

            “I’m not, Tammy. You just missed my emotional breakdown earlier.”

            I stared at him blank-eyed, unsure if he was joking. In the end, he simply grinned and gave me a pad on the shoulder.

            “Look, I’m sure this was all a mistake,” said Chip reassuringly, “I mean, we can’t do anything now, can we?”

            “We can try to escape.”

            But it was Flynn who answered. Despite our whispering, we seemed to have woken him up.

“Good luck with that, babe. You should’ve escaped when I distracted them.”