Project Vigilante

Five

“Distracted them?”

            I turned to face Flynn, who managed to sit up despite being tied. He shot me a dark look and shrugged. “I was trying to buy you time.”

            A gust of embarrassment suddenly surged through my body. I managed to squeeze a smile, “Yes, about that… I wanted to thank you for ---”

            “Take off my shoe,” interrupted Flynn, clearly wasn’t listening.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “My left shoe. Take it off.”

            I exchanged a curious glimpse with Chip, “Uh, why?”

            “Do it and you’ll find out.”

            Cautiously I reached down and did what he asked. Dropped from his shoe on the floor was a foldable, silver switchblade. Neat trick. I’ve only ever seen stuff like this in detective fiction.

 “My dad is ex-military,” he said, “I always carry it as a precautionary measure.”

            Legs tied, he grabbed it with his feet and tossed it to me. “Do me a favor?”

            He turned to his back as I reached over and picked up the blade. With a swift swoosh, I cut loose the knot that tied his hands together and he broke free. I watched as him wriggled out of the rope before leaning over and reaching for my head. I clutched his arm midway in alert as defense mechanism.

“What are you doing?”

            “Relax, cupcake. I just need to borrow your bobbing pin for the cuffs.”

            Hesitant, I let him. He played around the pin in his hands until it was a sharp enough to prick through locks. Inserting it into the holes on the handcuffs, he twisted back and forth until the lock broke apart with a crack. He did the same with mine and Chip’s, before we all turned to the olive skinned guy, still passing out in a corner.

            “What’s his name again?” asked Chip.

            “Billy something, I think,” replied Flynn.

            I asked, “Shouldn’t we wake him up?”

            Before any of us could answer, the van came to an abrupt halt. The impact knocked us over. I heard doors slamming and the footsteps approaching. Did they hear us? We weren’t really worrying about the noises down. I exchanged an alarmed look with Flynn and Chip.

            “Get back down!” I whispered in urgent and dropped to the floor.

            The other two barely made it before the metal back door yanked open and a bright light shinned into the trunk. I remained still, pretending to be asleep.

            “See?” said a husky voice, “I told you it was nothing.”

            “I definitely heard something.”

            “It’s been a long day, Bob.”

            I slanted my head undetectably and squinted my eyes. Two men stood against the night sky like silhouettes. One of them, the taller of the two, was the redheaded man from the interrogation room. I clutched my fist and readied myself. Worst came to worst, I’d fight my way out again. Next to him stood a stubby looking man, he gave out a stench of tobacco so strong that I could smell all the way from here.

            The stubby man turned to the redheaded man, “You’re saying I’m hearing things?”

            “I’m saying we probably shouldn’t stop the car every time a squirrel makes a sound.”

            “I don’t see a squirrel.”

            “No, but boss wants these kids over before dawn. We’re already running late.”

            The implication of that last remark put the conversation to an end. The stubby man shrugged and backed away, all along mumbling to himself that he still thought he heard somebody talking. The redheaded man discretely checked his surroundings before closing the trunk door. Everything went dark. I heard key twisting in the lock and footsteps walking away.

            Chip peaked up immediately, “Damn, that was close.”

            “We could’ve taken them on anyways,” said Flynn, dusting off the dirt on his Brook’s Brother’s sweater. “Assuming you two can put up a fight.”

            I was about to mention my martial arts background, but Chip, a little upset by Flynn’s attitude, beat me to it. “Of course we could put up a fight. We may not have a military dad, but we’re not any less capable than you.”

            I felt a sense of satisfaction, hearing Chip confronting Flynn and saying what I’ve been wanted to say.  Flynn turned away and didn’t reply, or didn’t care to. In all honesty, I’d much rather to be stuck in a trunk with Chip than Flynn, who seemed to me a little conceited. At least Chip can carry a conversation without making me feel like an idiot. But of course, I knew this had a lot to do with the stunt Flynn had pulled earlier. I had never been a social butterfly. I liked doing everything on my own and I’d never been a good team player in anything. Growing up, making friends wasn’t my priority and I didn’t do it easily. The thought that someone liked me enough to risk his life for me was both flattering and a little awkward. Flynn made sure I felt plenty of that awkwardness and more.

            But right now, as the three of us catching our breath after barely being caught in the middle of our escape plan, I couldn’t help but feel a looming sense of uneasiness. Oddly enough, it again had something to do with Flynn: just before the redheaded man closed the door, I could’ve swore he turned to Flynn and paused his gaze for a moment. It was obvious why, because despite our effort to lie still, we failed to hide the rope that was used to tied up Flynn. Even more troubling was the fact that the switchblade was on the floor the entire time. It was right in front of them.