Connection

Chapter Three: Cliff

—

Chapter Three: Cliff

—

Every part of Cliff's body hurt. His head was pounding and his tongue was dry. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered hands grabbing at his waist and yanking him to the wet ground. And then a vast white ball was flying toward him and immediately after, his world turned black. The next thing he could remember clearly was this moment.

He was acutely aware of the steady rumbling beneath him. The surface on which he rested his head was cold, shaking in the same manner the floor was.

Taking a deep breath, Cliff opened his eyes and his surroundings started to grow lucid. Through a pounding head, he surveyed what was around him. The first thing he noticed was the rain streaking swiftly down a window across from him and blurred pine trees outside of wherever he was. As his head swung to the right, he noticed two rows of seats in front of him with bars separating him and a group of five people. While he attempted to piece together what was happening, he decided they must have been captors.

After thinking for another brief moment, he deduced that he was in a van, and they weren't going slow. In the row of seats nearest him sat three nearly identical people exchanging jokes with one another. Two were male, one was female. The men both had buzzed brown hair and thin glasses. Their warm and playful smiles completely contradicted the sharp, cold features of their faces. The woman had synonymous caramel brown hair which fell to her collar bone in thick curls. Her smile was uniform with those of the men beside her. The only true difference between them was the woman's warmer features. They were even dressed in similar plaid shirts. But this wasn't what set Cliff's nerves on edge; it was their electric yellow eyes which were what finally brought emotion back to his body-his heart was pumping faster than a sprinting cheetah.

Cliff racked his brain in attempt to figure out why they felt so familiar but he came up with nothing. He focused his attention to the front seats now. He couldn't make out many identifying characteristics but could see a male with blonde, greasy hair that rested comfortably on his shoulders. Driving the vehicle was a woman with a short, black bob that swung furiously as she argued with the man. The most miraculous thing about the whole situation was how little security they seemed to put on Cliff. With a smile, he realized he could easily escape. Looking to his left, his jaw dropped. The long blonde hair and bright green eyes felt far too familiar for Cliff's liking. But there was no way that Charlotte Swiftless was sitting next to him.

"Charlotte, how did you get here?" he asked after a moment of hesitation. What hadn't she said anything to him? Was she afraid the captors would hear her? The more cliff thought about it, the less he could believe it-that was too out of character for her; she was supposed to be the daredevil-the one who would do anything no matter what the risk.

Despite the fact that he spoke, Cliff received no answer from Charlotte. In fact, she went on acting as if he wasn't there at all. This sent a part of anger rocketing through Cliff's body to the point where he had to clench his fists to prevent himself from doing anything irrational. Even now, when they were both in danger, she thought he was too below her to acknowledge.

"Look," Cliff said, trying to subdue his raging anger, "I get you think you're better than everyone, but you might as well recognize I'm here because we're stuck in this situation together. And trust me, I hate the idea of working with you too, but what choice do we have?"

Even at this she didn't respond. Charlotte continued to stare inquisitively toward their captors as if Cliff was see through.

Suddenly, Charlotte's thin eyebrows scrunched together as if she was going to be sick. Sure enough, just moments later, she was flung forward by a turn in the dirt road which they followed and she began to vomit all over the floor of the van. The noise caused the heads of their captors to turn.