An Abducted Date By Christopher Estrada An Abducted Date Published by Christopher Estrada at Smashwords Copyright 2012 Christopher Estrada. ISBN: 978-1-476-28476-7 This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. I'd like to take a moment to thank three people that have helped me along the way with these short stories. Stephanie. You've been there from the beginning. Don't worry, I'll finish the original. Elisabeth Pethybridge. You've made the editing process enjoyable and your comments have helped me get better. Lauren. You're right. I'll try to make them longer. Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four About the Author Preview of On the Track of Loss Chapter One "So, class, who can tell me the correct combination of dots and dashes to say, "My name is... Jason Peirce?" I hadn't been paying much attention to the lecture. But the human mind has this magical ability to recall the context of a sentence or two surrounding its own name. So I immediately sat up straight and thought for a split second before starting to speak out a string of dots and dashes. In total there are twenty two dashes and twenty five dots in that phrase. I had known Morse Code since I had turned seven. Well, I had started learning it at that point. My father is a former police officer from a city down the Arrowhead Mountain. He loved his job and the job, or the other officers, loved him. He made me learn the outdated code just because it was good knowledge to have, just in case. It took me a few months to memorize each letter's combination, and a few more weeks to be able to form complete messages. "Yes, that is correct, Mr. Peirce, good job." He didn't look so thrilled to say that. I laughed to myself. "Okay, so homework tonight is to translate a page from a book of your choice. Make sure to write in the author's name and the title of the book." The bell rang just as he finished speaking and everyone started getting up to leave. Everyone but my friend Wendy. "Something wrong, Wendy?" I asked as I stood, picking up my backpack and taking a few steps toward her desk. "Huh? Oh, yeah! I was just thinking about how quickly you recovered on that surprise question." She laughed. "The look on his face was priceless!" She seemed a little nervous. Wendy and I had been good friends since elementary school. We started out the door into the main hall of Rim of the World High School. Classes were out for the day and there was the ever present party attitude in the air. Forget the fact that it was only Wednesday. "So Jason, what are you..." "Wanna go out sometime?" It was an impulse. I'd been planning to ask her for forever, but that wasn't the way I envisioned it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off like that." I hung my head in a bit of shame. "Oh my gosh! It's no wonder we get along so great together. I was about to ask you the same thing!" So that was why she seemed nervous. She was positively beaming as I looked into her light hazel eyes. I turned my frown upside down as I asked, "So, that's a yes?" "Of course! Where and when?" We had stopped next to her car. A '71 Camaro RS in bright orange with a white rally stripe. The car always reminded me of the time in second grade when she went on a carrot binge. Her face was orange for a week. Only once did she smile that week. When the teacher decided to come into class wearing blue face paint. "Well, I was thinking this weekend. Dad is taking a trip down to Riverside. I thought it would be cool to get off the mountain for a day too. We could walk around main street and well, find something to do there." I laughed. "It's a date then." With that she leaned forward, kissed me on my cheek and jumped into her car. I just stood there watching as she pulled out of the parking lot, spinning the tires as she took to the highway. "It's a date. It's my first date." I smiled and started walking toward my Crown Vic. When I got home I saw my father washing his F-250 in the driveway, so I parked just off the street. "Hey Dad. What is this? The third time you've washed the truck this week?" He laughed at that and started hosing the soap suds down. "Try the third time this month." It was only the fourth of March. "I have some chicken in the oven. It should be ready in another ten minutes. Start some potatoes or something, will ya? And tea!" He yelled that last bit as the front door closed behind me. I tossed my backpack and Dickies jacket onto the sofa by the front door and headed into the kitchen. Our house was decently sized and really more than enough space for just the two of us. We kept it clean, but it was essentially a bachelor pad. The dishes would pile up until the weekend and the same went for the laundry. There was no art and very little in the way of fashion in any of the rooms but mine. Opening the oven door I saw that it was my mom's special chicken recipe. Mom had died a year and a half earlier. A severe consequence of my Dad's profession. He had tried to arrest the wrong guy's son. Tried and failed. The bad guys figured out where we lived, Big Bear at the time, and drove by with automatic weapons pointed and shooting out the window. Dad and I had been in the back and didn't get hurt, but Mom had been vacuuming in the foyer by a window. She took a 9mm bullet to the parietal lobe and was gone before the bullets stopped raining down on the house. We both took it hard, but how else could we take it? She was my mother, and they had been married for three years before I was ever even thought of. Dad took on the jerks afterward. The police got them and they were rotting behind bars with no possibility of release. He retired and we moved to Crestline. Not too far from Big Bear, but far enough. I got out two pans, one for the instant potatoes and the other for the tea. A few minutes later and my contribution was ready. Dad walked in and plopped onto the sofa. "Anything interesting happen?" He called from the front. "You could say that. I got a date with Wendy Gravens." "Gravens? Tom's daughter? Cool. Nice pick son." He laughed a bit and walked into the kitchen to join me. Wendy's dad was also a cop and it was through my dad's friendship with him that I came to meet Wendy all those years ago. "Where are you going to take her?" "I figured we could join you in Riverside this weekend. Walk around the Galleria or Main Street or something." "Sure, and then dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory to close off the night. Sounds like a great idea. I'll be sure to leave you two alone for awhile." He hit me softly on the arm. More of a pat on the back type of hit, just, on the arm. "So, how about that dinner?" I suggested as I pulled open the stove a second time. I took the chicken out and we sat down to eat. The next day at school seemed to fly by. I seemed to be whizzing through every class until sixth period's Military History where I would see Wendy again. We went to the front to turn in our homework and she sneaked a note into my hand as we briefly brushed together. Her brown hair was blown into my face by Mr. Duncan's fan. It smelled faintly of cherries and vanilla. When I got back to my seat towards the back of the class I surreptitiously opened the short letter. ~I can't wait for this weekend. Stay back after class, I want to talk to you again. Work out the details. -W.~ Her handwriting was curly and precise. I had seen it before, and would have recognized it anywhere, but I'd never really looked at each letter before. The majority of her script was printed but every capital was written in cursive. A few seconds later and Duncan was droning on again about Morse code. Instantly bored, I put my head on the desk. Then I smelled the vanilla again. Wendy had sprayed a puff of her perfume onto the note. Wow. I looked up again, and found myself studying her. She wasn't the hottest girl on campus. But she was above average in my opinion. Her brown hair was cut just below the shoulder and she wore it in waves today. She had on a tee-shirt which she had received at band camp in freshman year. She had since quit the band and moved on to the school's Photo Club and Book Club which both put together the school's big projects. She had a hand in the yearbooks, the literary magazine, the monthly paper, and the school website. Her shirt had been slightly outgrown in the two years since she got it. She had about B-cups hidden beneath the white cotton shirt. She wore blue boot cut Levi's and a glittering pink belt with a cowboy sized buckle. Her footwear was a simple pair of white Sketchers. She glanced my way and smiled at my attention. Her teeth were straight and bright white. Her eyes were even lighter than the day before thanks to her white shirt. I grinned back and got busted. "Mr. Peirce!" Damn... "Yes, sir?" "Please tell the class about the page you translated into Morse's code." That's not so bad a punishment. "Well, I picked a page of The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum. The page is from a point in the book where Jason," I paused for the irony to set in, and continued after a few laughs. "learns that he can speak several languages, but he doesn't know why. He also learns that the doctor that saved his life is an alcoholic that only sobered up enough to extract the bullets from Bourne's body. The doctor had lost his practice due to his drinking and Bourne is trying to work out how he could still be alive. That was page fifteen in my paperback copy." I smiled up to Mr. Duncan as he regretted calling on me for the second day in a row. I certainly was not that teacher's pet. I again set my head on my desk and inhaled the sweet perfume for the last twenty minutes of class. After the bell rang I approached Wendy. We walked out together again talking about our approaching date. "So, Saturday at eleven you and your dad will pick me up at my house. Okay, I'll be ready." She tossed her jacket and bag into the back of her car and gave me a quick hug and another peck on the cheek. This time I returned the favor. Chapter Two The drive down to Riverside was painless enough. Traffic was light for a Saturday and we arrived at the Tyler Mall at about a quarter after twelve. Wendy and I walked around the huge complex for an hour before getting tired of the crowds and noise. Lunch was taken at a small restaurant just outside the Galleria. I had a simple cheeseburger and Wendy had a grilled cheese sandwich with a small salad. She was a Thousand Island girl. It was different. She had forgotten to tell the waitress that she didn't care for cabbage and avoided it as she picked at the lettuce. Her sandwich lasted only a few minutes as she claimed it was just "sooo good." Is it weird that I studied her eating habits? In many ways, she acted like a guy. Unlike most girls, she didn't cover her mouth with her hand when she spoke after a bite and chewed. She took great bites and big gulps of her Dr. Pepper. We finished eating and decided to walk down Tyler Avenue. We went into the Best Buy and looked at all the latest gizmos. "I've been waiting forever for Nikon to come out with a new camera. Well, one that I like and can afford. I'm even considering a Sony if they don't get one out soon." She said as we entered the digital imaging department. "Not a Canon fan, I take it?" She got a little red in the face. "I used to be. They have great cameras, but I had a terrible experience when I tried to have them fix my old Rebel X film camera. I sent it to them as instructed, with just the body cap, and it came back to me with a scratched mirror, and the shutter wasn't timing right. I'd set it for half a second and get a 5 second exposure. Then they didn't want to fix it again. So I gave them the finger through the phone and tossed the camera in the trash." "Ouch. Sounds like I would have done the same thing. I don't know if you know this, but I've been into cameras myself for a few years. First it was a waterproof film camera and then an old Spotmatic. I've thought about making it my career, but I've actually been leaning more towards being a cop like our dads." "Do you really like photography though? Enough that you can see the world in more ways than one?" She was getting a little excited. "Yeah. It's fun looking around through the viewfinder. Sometimes I find myself lying down and clicking away at things from a lower angle. I'm not the best, and I still have no clue how to control the background, but I'm getting there." I picked up a Sony camera. It's badge read "a900". It felt good in my hand. Light, yet heavy enough to let you know it's still there.. "That's currently Sony's best. Full Frame, and full priced." Wendy took the camera from me and looked through the eyepiece. She held down the shutter release button and the camera clicked away. "Five frames a second. If only I had the money." She set the camera back down and we continued our tour through the store. "Yeah, we're at the Best Buy down Tyler. Off the freeway, take a right and it will be a mile or so down on the left. See ya soon." My dad and I hung up our phones. "He's going to take us down to Main Street and Mission. There's a bit more to do down there." "Sounds great. So, Jason, what are your plans after school? Are you gonna go to college somewhere?" Wendy grabbed hold of my left arm as we walked out of Best Buy. She was hugging me sideways with her head on my shoulder. "I'm still thinking about it. I don't know if I can stand another two or four years of school just yet. Maybe, for criminal justice or something. To help as a cop. But even that is still undecided. I've got some thinking to do over the next eighteen months." We were standing outside of the Best Buy when a group of guys, mostly Hispanic, walked by. "Dudes look at the nice ass on THAT one!" One of them said rather loudly. "Yeah man, it's nice. Hey chica, why don't you leave that white boy and come see what real men can do?!" another said; they were right behind us. "Why don't you go find your own girlfriend, one who can put up with your degrading friends!?" Wendy said loud enough for them to hear without facing them. "C'mon, let's just walk away," I whispered and started moving. "Oh, what? You think you're too good for us? You need to keep your girl in check, whitey." I continued to ignore them and felt Wendy squeeze my arm a little tighter. "Hellooo. I'm talking to you white boy." "And I'm not talking to you." I said sarcastically. Then I felt one of the four guys grab my shoulder and turn me around. "No one talks to me like that, cracker. You wanna get hurt?" He had his hands up in fists. I immediately pulled Wendy behind me and started backing us farther away, stepping into the parking lot. Just as the guy started to make a swing we heard my dad's truck screech to a stop behind us. He jumped out of the truck and the little gang started backing off. I looked around and saw that my six foot tall old man had his .45 caliber USP handgun in his hand pointed at the feet of our would be attackers. "Jason, Wendy, into the truck now. You four, start walking." As Wendy and I climbed into the truck we heard a few people start to yell about a man with a gun. Some started screaming and my dad finally got back into the truck and took off. Within a minute of screeching out of the Best Buy complex we were onto the freeway heading to Mission Inn Avenue. Dad hadn't said a word. He was letting the adrenaline run out. I had gotten into the back of the crew cab when we took off and was holding Wendy tight. She was staring at the unloaded handgun that was sitting on the center console. Dad was bluffing with it, but the clip was always nearby, in his pocket perhaps. I knew that he carried the weapon with him everywhere. He was licensed and usually had a holster on his belt, but I hadn't noticed it today. "Thanks for getting there so fast, Dad." I barely heard the words from my mouth. "Yeah. You're a real hero, Mr. Peirce. Thank you," Wendy added. When we pulled onto the off ramp my father broke his silence. "We were all just lucky this time." He sighed a deep breath. "You two could have been hurt really bad. I recognized one of their group as a local gang member. A violent one. I'm lucky no Riverside PD guys were around. Otherwise I'd be heading into a cell for brandishing a firearm, maybe attempted murder if they really wanted to make an example out of me. Like I said, we got really lucky." Wendy and I stayed quiet as dad parked just off of Mission. We exited the truck and walked to just outside an art gallery. "Okay, you two head on down to Main Street. I've got to meet a friend over at the Mission in a few minutes. I'll meet you in an hour at the Gandhi sculpture. Five o'clock." I nodded and Wendy said, "Okay, see you then!" We parted ways, walking to University Avenue and then down to Main Street. Since it was right there, Wendy led me to the UCR Museum of Photography. "I've been here a few times and it's always so amazing to see all the pictures and cameras. Some of these people like to waste space though. They put one inch photos into huge frames and matting. It just doesn't make sense to me." I smile and open the door. "I know what you mean, I've been in once. What's the admission?" There was a university girl sitting at the reception desk who looked up when we entered. "Do you go to UCR or RCC?" We shake our heads in answer. "Three dollars then, each." I pulled out my wallet and handed her a ten. I got this funny feeling as she handed me back the four dollars in change. "Sorry, we're out of ones right now. I hope you don't mind the quarters." "Yeah, sure. It's no problem." I had turned to look outside, but didn't get to see anything beyond a huge cannon of a camera in the foyer. "Jason, are you okay?" "Just had this weird feeling. It's probably nothing, let's go." We walked into the main gallery and started looking at all the different portraits and landscapes. Eventually we worked our way to the top floor where they had several cameras arranged in a large circle, encased in glass cubes. It was like the history of photographic equipment. It was incomplete, of course, but a decent collection. My favorite part of the museum was a cartoon inside of a wheel that had slots to look through. You would bend down, or squat, and look through the slots while spinning the wheel. It was like a huge flip book. When we had our fill of the photo world for the day we exited and started down Main Street. It was already five when we walked out and I popped open my phone to text my dad. ~We're on our way. Coming from University by the Wells Fargo.~ He texted me back a minute later. ~Okay, I'll meet you half way.~ "I'm thinking that the plan is to have dinner right now, and then head back up the mountain." "Sounds like a plan. Where to for dinner?" We were waiting for the signal to change at the University and Main Street crossroad when I saw my dad about fifty yards away. It was a split second of a glimpse of him as a white panel van burned rubber coming to a stop in front of us. Two guys with their faces covered threw the doors open and grabbed Wendy and me. "What the hell! Here, just take my wallet!" I yelled as I was being shoved into the van. Then something hit me over the head, I saw bright lights and then nothing. Chapter Three Darkness was all around me. And I was cramped in a strange fetal position. I heard a slight ringing coming from the back of my head. I turned, trying to look left and right and felt something light touch my face. I focused on it and saw a very slight glow and the printed words "Pull to open". I was in the trunk of a car. Kidnapped, knocked out. Dad had to have seen. What would be his first actions? Police. But I couldn't move. My hands were bound behind my back so I shifted around as much as I could to reach the pull cord. My hands flailed around in one failed attempt after another. I was left breathless after the fifth reach. Knowing that time was of the essence I took a short minute to breathe and give it all my effort. I reached and almost missed it, but just as I was about to fall back and re-thrust towards the cord I felt my fingers close around the tab and my body weight freed the lock and latch. The trunk was still only partially popped, so I shifted onto my back and took another minute to regain my strength and to prepare myself for what might be outside the trunk. Our kidnappers might have been sitting, waiting for me to escape. Where was Wendy? My mind raced as I imagined how scared she likely was. What might they have done to her while I was unconscious? I had to stop and concentrate on the here and now. When I decided that I was ready, I rolled over and maneuvered so that I could push the lid open with my aching head and stand up in one fluid motion. In theory it was a good idea designed for an element of surprise. In practice, it made my head throb even more. I pushed up, which was painful enough, but then I hit the rear end of the trunk lid which curved down. I felt a little trickle of blood start to leak out of my tender head. I was met with a view of a work bench in a large garage. There was nobody else around. Then I heard the pounding of a fist on glass. Wendy was locked in the van parked next to the car that I was locked in. I hopped down and took a second to look at the plate on the bumper of my recent cell. ~SOL383~ Then I walked over to the rear doors of the van. I tried pulling the latch and got nothing. So I went to the side doors that we were thrown in through. These were unlocked from the outside and had a child lock preventing Wendy from exiting. "Hey there gorgeous. Besides the obvious, are you okay?" I asked, trying to make light of our predicament. "I- I'm fine, I guess. They didn't touch me. Just took my phone and tossed it out the window when they grabbed us. They kept yours though." She toppled out of the van into an awkward hug. "I was so scared Jason! I thought they were going to kill us. The way they hit you, and how they were looking at me." "Did they say anything? Did you see any faces?" I could tell that she didn't want to think about it, but I needed as much information as I could get to form a plan. "They were the guys that bugged us at Best Buy. I didn't see their faces, but their voices were right for it. Is this because your dad threatened them? Or because of our behavior?" She let go of me but stayed close as we walked a few steps away. "Probably both," I replied. At least they didn't just run us over or something. Kidnapping meant that they wanted something. Money, drugs, respect, sex... But they hadn't touched Wendy. At least that's what she said. "Are you sure they didn't hurt you? How long have I been out?" "About an hour, and yes I'm sure they didn't hurt me. What are we going to do Jason?" She was scared. So was I. But I couldn't let that fear mess with my thoughts. "First, I need you to get my hands undone. Then I'm going to start thinking." "About what?" She turned me around and dug her nails into the rope. When she loosened the knot and set my hands free I answered. "Well, they haven't hurt us. So they want something. They're probably using us for ransom. That means they'll need us to speak on the phone briefly, probably." "Probably?" "I'm sure that's what will happen. That's what has to happen. My dad won't have it any other way. He won't budge unless they give him confirmation. I need to get him as much information as I can without tipping the bad guys off." My mind was racing to find a possible solution. "Well, there really isn't that much we can give. A garage fifteen minutes away from where we were abducted. A white van and a brown, what is that anyways?" She was looking at the car I had come from. "It's an old Impala, my Chevy driving friend." I smiled a sarcastic look at her. "Oh. Well then, a van and an Impala. Could you get him the plate numbers?" "That was my first idea, but that would be very hard. Obvious even." I put my hands up to my forehead and massaged my temples. I was on the verge of an idea when a heavy sounding door opened and closed with a loud thump and an even louder locking sound. "So you managed to get out after all. Get off the car pindejo!" It was the guy that tried to hit me. I was sure of it. His paintball mask couldn't hide his voice. I jumped off the Impala as quick as I could and got a fist to the gut. "I wouldn't be moving that fast if I wanted to live through this day like you do." I clutched at my stomach and gasped out the first, obvious question. "What do you want?" Wendy had moved away from the car and was a few paces behind me. I could see our kidnapper's eyes stretch as if he were smiling, laughing. "I want that shiny gun that your old man pointed at me. I want that big truck that you all drove away in. I want your girlfriend's ass in my bed." He started walking back to the door and said, "Get ready to talk to your dad. And no trying to trick us, we ain't as dumb as you think." I saw a chance to get a message across, and to use the bad guys to send it. "He won't listen to a word you say unless he gets a code from me." It was a long shot, but I had to try. "What the hell are you talking about? You guys some schizophrenic idiots? Codes!?" He laughed. "He used to be a cop. He made me memorize a code to say that I was okay. He won't believe anything unless he hears it." Our captor just stood there, staring at me. "Why do you think he had a gun? He's allowed to carry because he was a cop." He just kept standing there. When he finally moved it was to the work bench where he found a slip of paper and a pen. "Okay, come and write your stupid code." He backed away from the bench and me as I approached. I picked up the pen and began writing. ~ ...---.-.. 383 ~ "There, that's it." I moved back to Wendy and gave her a little hug. A reassuring hug. Then I whispered, "I hope this works." "Like I thought, you people are loco." He walked back to the door and knocked twice. It opened and he disappeared for a minute. When he came back he was carrying my cell phone. He brought it to me. "Talk to your old man, he says he wants to hear you say the code." I slowly took the phone and brought it to my ear. "D- Dad?" "Jason? What does it mean? Are you okay?" I spoke slowly, with carefully planned pauses. "Okay, I'll repeat it. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dash dot dot, 383. Did you get it?" "But what does it mean?!" "I have to go, S.O.S." Then the phone was taken from me and we were left alone again. Wendy spoke softly as the door was closing. "Did you just speak in Morse Code? What did you give him? It was too short to be anyth..." She got it. "Let's give them ten minutes to figure it out, another five to track the number. That leaves fifteen to get here, unless this isn't the guy's house. In thirty minutes I'm going to try to raise an alarm of some sort. Were we still in the city or in the suburbs?" "City, but it was different. More industrial than touristy." Once Wendy figured out my code she seemed to relax a little. "Good, that means there will probably be some other people around nearby. These guys think they're smart, but they never seemed to process that this garage is full of tools. Thirty minutes from now, assuming we're alone, we'll make our escape." "Where to, though? We don't know much about this place." "You said there were other buildings around?" "There was a gas station at the last intersection we turned on. Another couple of garages surrounding this one. Not much else though." "The gas station might help us out. Whatever we do, we do not run to the station. That'll be the first place they look. We run in the opposite direction, around one of the other garages and we stay there. Hopefully the police will be getting here by the time they figure out we didn't go that way." "What if they don't? The cops I mean." "If the cops aren't getting here, then someone else will be." I was confidant, but added, "I hope." Wendy and I sat in silence on the floor holding each other while waiting for something to happen. For the kidnappers to come in, or for the time to run. The kidnapper's came first. Or the kidnapper. "You guys might just get to sleep in your own beds tonight. Your old man is doing what we tell him to." "Yeah? And what's that?" He had to be bluffing. "Would you believe that he is just down the street from here, putting his gun in a trash can? I'm about to go get it, and then I'm going to have you two dropped off where we got you from." "What makes you think that the police won't just arrest you after you get the gun?" "Like I said, we aren't as dumb as you think. I walk down there in my mask here and get the gun. The whole time I'll be talking to my guy that knows to come in and kill you two if I get cuffs, a bullet, or a tail." "All of this for a gun? Really? Why?" "Because I want it, that's why. Stay here and shut up, in ten minutes you'll be on your way back downtown." With that, he turned his back on us and walked out. When the door latched again I turned to Wendy. "We make a run for it in five minutes. My guess is that the police already know where we are. Dad got the message." I waited a minute before going to the work bench and picking up a heavy pry bar. I used it to force the padlocks on the sliding garage door open. Then I returned to the bench where there was a long section of heater hose. Chapter Four There were thirty seconds left before the five minute deadline I had set. Using the heater hose, I siphoned some gas out of the tank of the Impala and let the hose keep the flow running into the passenger compartment through a window. I had carefully forced two screws into a power outlet and ignited a gas covered shop towel, which I carried with the pry bar. With ten seconds left I said, "Okay, lift the door about two feet." With a little effort Wendy managed just that. "Get down and get ready to go." I walked to the window of the Impala. Three seconds. "Go!" I tossed the flaming bar and towel onto the seat and the car instantly erupted in flames. I sprinted faster than I ever had before. I dived under the garage door just as the flames reached the gas tank. The explosion rocked the ground while the garage began to crumble. Cinder blocks seemed to melt into the building. "Run Wendy!" She needed no more encouragement and led the way. From the garage we ran a hundred feet to the street and hung a right, towards another garage across the street. When we got to the building we stopped and caught our breath. Listening to nothing and everything at the same time we could hear the sounds of the ruined garage. Not too far off we could hear sirens. Police sirens. "OH WHITEY!" Damn, that was too soon. Where had he been? He should have been a 6 minute walk away. He must have been bluffing. "You owe me GRANDE for that one! I'm gonna find you and your little girlfriend. Then I'm gonna make you watch me make her mine! Then I'm gonna KILL YOU! Stop hiding like a burro." At least he didn't know where we were. And the sirens were getting closer. "We don't move, we don't make a sound," I whispered. Wendy nodded. As the sirens grew louder and louder we saw our pursuer appear in the middle of the street looking around. At first he didn't see us crouched low, but then he picked out our shapes. "HA! I found you! Come out and play, jackass!" I saw no other alternative, so I stood as straight as I could. My five feet nine inches matched my attacker as he started walking towards me. I held Wendy's shoulder down as I started to form as good a plan as any. I would run and attack with all the force I could muster. I took a step forward when I saw a knife materialize in his right hand. I hesitated, and took another step. Then I started making long, fast strides. Twenty feet from him and I heard the loudspeaker. "This is the Riverside Police. DROP your weapon, now!" I stopped ten feet away and saw two patrol cars blocking the street. Four officers all had their service pistols trained at the two of us. "DROP it!" After the second order my masked attacker tossed the knife a few feet away from himself and dropped to his knees staring at me. He put his hands on his head and the officers moved in. One of them ordered me to the ground as well. It turned out that I had been ignoring and then smart mouthing a member of the local gang Casa Riva outside of Best Buy earlier that day. The gang was known to have ties to several Mexican drug and trafficking cartels. They were a violent bunch. Several members were known as cop-killers in addition to their other murders and abductions. Wendy and I got lucky. The guy that decided to have us grabbed was still a new member of the gang. The police claimed that it was his intention to kill us whether he got my Dad's gun or not. The rest of the gang was letting him run the entire show. The three others that had been with him when we first met had all gotten stuck in the imploded garage. The fire fighters found their bodies in the room behind the door that we had only seen from one side. The only other exit had been barricaded long before our abduction. I felt conflicted about this information. On the one hand, I was responsible for their deaths. On the other, they would have killed Wendy and me before another hour passed. The police let us go. They wanted us to remain available for more questioning, but for all intents and purposes our short lived nightmare was over. My Father, Wendy, and I all walked out of the Riverside Police Department on Mission Inn Avenue at nine o'clock Saturday night. Walking between Wendy and me, my Dad pulled us into a close embrace. He squeezed and chuckled as he said, "So, how about some spaghetti?" "Really Dad?" I elbowed him jokingly in the stomach. "What? I'm hungry! So, how about you Wendy? Up for some pasta?" I looked around to see her hazel eyes looking at me. "Sounds like a date." She smiled and we continued our interrupted first date. "So, how long did it take you to figure out my Morse Code?" I asked. "I got that it was Morse when that gang banger first said it. But I couldn't figure out the letters until you had said it slowly. Even then I had to listen to the recording from the police a couple of times." Strolling down Mission Inn Avenue we came across the sculpture of Gandhi and Wendy smiled. "So, where is this place that we'll be breaking our fast?" * * * About the Author My name is Christopher Estrada. I'm a Mexican-American, California kid from the Inland Empire area. Writing fiction has been a passion of mine since the age of twelve. My first few attempts started strong, but always fell through. I blame it on a lack of planning, but it could be any number of things. I grew up absolutely hating books and reading until I caved in and read the first Harry Potter novel in 1999, fourth grade. Now I can't stop reading. During the summer of 2005 I attended the Cambridge College Programme at Cambridge University in England. While there, I took my first Creative Writing course under the direction of Professor Steve Waters. Back in the States; I continued to learn, read, and write. I attend the Riverside Community College District majoring in Photography with plans to continue with a degree in English as well. Capturing light and writing fiction are only a part of who I am though. Throughout high school I was a member of the AFJROTC and I intend to enlist in the US Air Force in the not too distant future. To learn more about me and to find out about my upcoming works, visit my blog, send me an email, or follow me on twitter. Blog Estrada-Chris-Writing@live.com Twitter: @Chris-writing * * * On the Track of Loss (Chapter 1) I was running. My feet were pounding the ground in long, fast strides. There were only another two hundred meters left in the race. The win was mine if I just kept up the pace. My nearest competitor was hot on my tail, though. He was taller than me, but it looked as though he hadn't run in a few weeks. Even out of practice, he was fast. Fifty meters. I could feel my calves burning, screaming for a break. But I couldn't stop yet. Just twenty meters were all that remained as I changed form slightly. I adjusted to run on just the tips of my toes. Ten meters, I could feel the roar of the crowd running through my body. I was about to win. Then my world crashed down all around me. The ground seemed to roll under my foot and I slipped. I tumbled down and came to a rolling stop half a foot from the finish line. I tried to lunge over, but it was too late. I was passed. Second place. The first to lose. It was about a year later when I found myself training for the same race. I was the fastest runner on the Rim of the World High School Track and Field team. The main school day had ended and Track practice had started. In addition to running distance, I was trying my foot at sprinting. A recent bad day had shown me that I could move pretty quickly when under the right motivation. "GO JASON!" I looked around to see my girlfriend Wendy standing among a few friends at the finish line. It was only practice, but the cheer had an effect. I was at the two hundred meter mark when she yelled, and I sped up upon seeing her. Within twenty two seconds I was at her side. "Hey gorgeous." She wrapped me in a quick hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I'm almost done I think. I'm not so sure about the whole sprinting thing, Coach hasn't been sounding very optimistic." "Well, you're just giving it a try right? So there's nothing to worry about." "Too true. So, where were you thinking for this weekend?" "Oh, just The Village. No need for a big trip this time." She was still a little shaken over our first date. Not even a month before we had found ourselves kidnapped by an Inland Empire gang. It was pure chance that the gang was dumb enough to let a rookie call the shots. Nobody was watching us, and we escaped mostly un-hurt. "Peirce! I want another mile before you leave today." The Coach was being generous lately. Word had traveled pretty quickly about our incident and I had this feeling that he was only letting me try out for sprints because of it. "Sure thing Coach." I looked back at Wendy and started backing away towards the track. "I'll meet you at the car in a bit." "Oh, I'll wait, it's no problem." I nodded and started off my last run for the day. I needed to keep my head in the zone. The next track meet was the upcoming Monday. I would be racing against the same guy that beat me the year before. I was determined to win this year, even if it was just a normal meet. It wasn't CIFs or anything, but I had to win. I had bought new shoes and was breaking them in on the past two practice days. New tread meant less chance of slipping on the dirt track down the mountain. * * *