Noble (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter 4

Dedicated to Blessy7, who is an avid reader of my book and comments on every chapter! I really appreciate it. :)

Next thing I know I'm waking up in the back of a car.

I slowly open my eyes, my vision muddy and a sharp pang in my left arm. I immediately cover it with my hand, finding a bandage already there. Slowly lifting the bandage, I ascertain a little bit of blood, making me cringe. I can't stand blood, just the thought of it is starting to make me feel faint. Immediately I stick the bandage back on, and the sound of two deep voices drifts to my senses. I don't dare make a move, not wanting them to realize that I am conscious.

I take in my surroundings, resisting the urge to move my head as I look around. I lay on the soiled car floor, and about me are briefcases, backpacks, and a couple of laptops. The pungent smell of dirty laundry permeates the moist air, and I do my best not to gag. The kidnappers were considerate enough to leave me a pillow, but, judging by the extreme heat in this piece of crap vehicle, the air conditioning must be broken. My eyes gaze to the side as far as they can go, and I discover that the back seats are missing, only the two front seats present. I try to identify the two men, but unfortunately, only the back of their heads are visible.

The driver pivots the wheel, turning the car to the right, onto a small dirt road. Oh, no. This could mean anything. My mind is racing, thinking of all the horrendous possibilities, when my eyes drift down to the driver's hands as he grips the wheel.

The driver is in what should be the passenger's side of the vehicle.

This must be the guy that showed up at my house the other day!

I am thrown to the side and my head hits the back of the passenger's seat as the car jerks to a stop. My eyes water and I cover my mouth, trying to conceal my agonizing cry.

"Incompetent Americans," the driver mutters under his breath, as he cautiously releases the brake. The other man drives his fist into the driver's left arm, calling him a couple of bad names.

"What do you think you are doing?" The passenger scolds as he veers his head around, squinting at me. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping he didn't catch them while they were open. "She's still under the sedative, and it looks as though she only bumped her head, but you need to be careful!" He reprimands. "She's not strapped down, she could've been flung across the vehicle! She could have died. What the hell would we tell the King if something tragic happened to her? We have one mission, and one mission only: To keep her safe, and retrieve her as soon as possible."

King? King of what? And where? And why is their first priority keeping me safe? Isn't this a kidnapping? And retrieve me to who? My head is swarming with questions and I clutch harder to my jeans. Wait.

It's not my jeans I am clutching to, but a backpack. I inspect the blue backpack, and off the bat I find an emblem.

The emblem. It's the emblem that was on the satchel.

I give up. There are too many unanswered questions, and these men are supposedly trying to keep me safe, so there's no harm in talking to them, right? Before I can stop myself I sit up, causing the men to jump, obviously startled by my sudden action.

"Why am I being kidnapped? And where are you taking me? And why did you break into my room? And who is the King? And why--"

"All of your questions will be answered once we reach our destination," the driver says slowly, enunciating every syllable, as if I were a foreign exchange student or a first grader.

"No." I say firmly.

The two men raise their eyebrows at me, and start babbling reasons as to why they can't explain when I interject. "I demand to know now." I sit straighter, intaking a sharp breath.