(no subject)
Francis spun his body in a slow circle, scanning the surrounding area, as if for some reason he expected to see the man he was speaking to. His heart started pounding inside of his chest and in just three seconds since answering his cell phone, his mouth had become devoid of all moisture. His words were cracked with fear and panic. "Who is this?" he asked the unfamiliar voice. Francis wasn't sure if his ears, or simply his imagination relayed the sounds of woman struggling in the background.
The man on the other side of the conversation had a taunting tone when he spoke. His words came out with small chuckles interspersed, and he admonished Francis for his query. "It seems to me, Mr. Day, that the question of more importance would be, what do I want? We can worry about who I am later. Right now, this is what you are going to do. I'm sure you're familiar with the area. I want you to get over to the Croydon Train Station. Once your there, go...shhhh...third...shhhh...and...shhhh...me to...shhhh..."
"Hello? Wait, what? I can't...FUCK!" Francis pulled the phone from his ear and checked the display. No signal. He picked his head up and looked around to regain his bearings. He was still on the same corner, but facing the opposite direction, staring south, down Frankford Avenue. Francis turned himself around, looking up Frankford toward Bristol. Croydon was about five miles away, and Francis decided it was better to find a car than to wait for the next shuttle. He grabbed his bag and started sprinting towards the university parking lot. He wanted to throw his phone to the ground, shattering the useless device into a million pieces, but thought better of the idea. He resolved simply to stab the "Can you hear me now?" guy from the Verizon commercials just as soon as this was all over. Once he was well camouflaged among the students' automobiles he took his time to find one that didn't have an electronic ignition, and preferably didn't have an alarm. He settled on a mid-nineties Toyota with dessert silver paint. He tried the handle on the driver's side and thanked whatever divine presence he could think of at the time that the vehicle was unlocked. He quickly situated himself into the front left seat, and set his green duffel bag down on the passenger's side. Francis unzipped the worn nylon bag hurriedly and pulled out his lock picks. Being a petty thief had never really paid off for Francis, as he was generally too kind hearted to actually steal anything of worth. At a time like this however, he had no regrets as to what he was doing. Leaning over and maneuvering the tiny metal shards into the ignition lock cylinder, Francis listened carefully with an expression on his face that made his concentration apparent. Finally hearing the tell tale "click" of the tumbler, Francis Day turned the engine over, and sprang straight up in the seat. He dropped the gear selector into reverse, and backed the small Toyota out of it's parking space as quick as he could. He slammed the little import into drive, and set his foot upon the accelerator with all the pressure that the narrow rubber pedal would allow.
Without bothering to try and decipher what kind of racket the owner of the car preferred to assail his ears with, Francis switched off the radio and again checked the display on his cellular. Still no reception. He sped the little sand colored Toyota along at dangerous speeds, stopping only when he couldn't get by traffic using the shoulder of the road. First Woodhaven, then Hulmeville, then Street Road, by the time he had made it to Bensalem Boulevard, he had run four red lights. The train station was only about a mile off now, and Francis started dialing Jenny's cell without bothering to check again if the reception had returned. As his fingers moved diligently over the buttons, making sure to establish contact with each digit, lest he have to start over. He thought about what she must be going through right now. How scared she must be. He knew that they both wanted the same thing, and that was to be together at this very moment. Preferably some place tropical, to be sure, but just being together right now was all Francis wanted. He was afraid to think about what this man might have already done to her, what he was going to do to her, or what he was capable of doing to her. He lifted the little handset to his ear, as he made the hard right turn into the station's parking lot. He heard the phone start to ring, and by the third, he had parked the car. Midway through the fourth ring, just as Francis was afraid he had gotten Jenny's voicemail, the man's voice came back onto the line. "Welcome back to the land of cellular service Mr. Day." The man's voice was cool and calm, and the tone chilled Francis to his bones.
"Where is she? What have you done with her?" a panicked Francis asked. He looked out the windshield of the car, looking for some sign of hs fiancee or her abductor.
The menacing voice responded with a laugh. "Relax Mr. Day, nothing has happened to her...yet. And as long as you can follow directions, I promise you nothing will. Although, I have to be honest, she's a gorgeous young woman, and there is a small part of me that hopes that you fail, so that I don't have to worry about keeping my end of the bargain."
"I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Jenny, there will not be enough of you left..."
"Now, now, Mr. Day," the voice responded. "I don't think that you want to be angering me. You see, only one of us here is in a position of power, and that person isn't you or pretty Jenny. Now here's what you do. First, we get off the airwaves. There's three pay phones directly outside the north entrance. Now, if you entered the parking lot from Bristol Pike, as I suspect you did, then they should be directly in front of you."
Francis threw the car door open. He saw the public phones, and after slamming the door of the little Toyota, he started in their direction. "OK, I see them," he said, "Now what?"
"Now you wait. In three minutes, I'm going to call the center phone. If it's busy, or it rings more than once, Jenny gets a scar." Francis thought he could hear the sound of the man on the other end smiling, if such a thing were possible. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I got it," Francis replied. "I'll be here." Francis flipped the cell phone closed and waited by the phone. Three minutes seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He desperately wanted to pace, but fought the urge as much as he could, for fear of getting too far from the phone. After what felt like forever had passed, Francis' ears were stung by the ringing phone. He snatched the receiver as fast as he could. "Hello?"
To be continued...
The man on the other side of the conversation had a taunting tone when he spoke. His words came out with small chuckles interspersed, and he admonished Francis for his query. "It seems to me, Mr. Day, that the question of more importance would be, what do I want? We can worry about who I am later. Right now, this is what you are going to do. I'm sure you're familiar with the area. I want you to get over to the Croydon Train Station. Once your there, go...shhhh...third...shhhh...and...shhhh...me to...shhhh..."
"Hello? Wait, what? I can't...FUCK!" Francis pulled the phone from his ear and checked the display. No signal. He picked his head up and looked around to regain his bearings. He was still on the same corner, but facing the opposite direction, staring south, down Frankford Avenue. Francis turned himself around, looking up Frankford toward Bristol. Croydon was about five miles away, and Francis decided it was better to find a car than to wait for the next shuttle. He grabbed his bag and started sprinting towards the university parking lot. He wanted to throw his phone to the ground, shattering the useless device into a million pieces, but thought better of the idea. He resolved simply to stab the "Can you hear me now?" guy from the Verizon commercials just as soon as this was all over. Once he was well camouflaged among the students' automobiles he took his time to find one that didn't have an electronic ignition, and preferably didn't have an alarm. He settled on a mid-nineties Toyota with dessert silver paint. He tried the handle on the driver's side and thanked whatever divine presence he could think of at the time that the vehicle was unlocked. He quickly situated himself into the front left seat, and set his green duffel bag down on the passenger's side. Francis unzipped the worn nylon bag hurriedly and pulled out his lock picks. Being a petty thief had never really paid off for Francis, as he was generally too kind hearted to actually steal anything of worth. At a time like this however, he had no regrets as to what he was doing. Leaning over and maneuvering the tiny metal shards into the ignition lock cylinder, Francis listened carefully with an expression on his face that made his concentration apparent. Finally hearing the tell tale "click" of the tumbler, Francis Day turned the engine over, and sprang straight up in the seat. He dropped the gear selector into reverse, and backed the small Toyota out of it's parking space as quick as he could. He slammed the little import into drive, and set his foot upon the accelerator with all the pressure that the narrow rubber pedal would allow.
Without bothering to try and decipher what kind of racket the owner of the car preferred to assail his ears with, Francis switched off the radio and again checked the display on his cellular. Still no reception. He sped the little sand colored Toyota along at dangerous speeds, stopping only when he couldn't get by traffic using the shoulder of the road. First Woodhaven, then Hulmeville, then Street Road, by the time he had made it to Bensalem Boulevard, he had run four red lights. The train station was only about a mile off now, and Francis started dialing Jenny's cell without bothering to check again if the reception had returned. As his fingers moved diligently over the buttons, making sure to establish contact with each digit, lest he have to start over. He thought about what she must be going through right now. How scared she must be. He knew that they both wanted the same thing, and that was to be together at this very moment. Preferably some place tropical, to be sure, but just being together right now was all Francis wanted. He was afraid to think about what this man might have already done to her, what he was going to do to her, or what he was capable of doing to her. He lifted the little handset to his ear, as he made the hard right turn into the station's parking lot. He heard the phone start to ring, and by the third, he had parked the car. Midway through the fourth ring, just as Francis was afraid he had gotten Jenny's voicemail, the man's voice came back onto the line. "Welcome back to the land of cellular service Mr. Day." The man's voice was cool and calm, and the tone chilled Francis to his bones.
"Where is she? What have you done with her?" a panicked Francis asked. He looked out the windshield of the car, looking for some sign of hs fiancee or her abductor.
The menacing voice responded with a laugh. "Relax Mr. Day, nothing has happened to her...yet. And as long as you can follow directions, I promise you nothing will. Although, I have to be honest, she's a gorgeous young woman, and there is a small part of me that hopes that you fail, so that I don't have to worry about keeping my end of the bargain."
"I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Jenny, there will not be enough of you left..."
"Now, now, Mr. Day," the voice responded. "I don't think that you want to be angering me. You see, only one of us here is in a position of power, and that person isn't you or pretty Jenny. Now here's what you do. First, we get off the airwaves. There's three pay phones directly outside the north entrance. Now, if you entered the parking lot from Bristol Pike, as I suspect you did, then they should be directly in front of you."
Francis threw the car door open. He saw the public phones, and after slamming the door of the little Toyota, he started in their direction. "OK, I see them," he said, "Now what?"
"Now you wait. In three minutes, I'm going to call the center phone. If it's busy, or it rings more than once, Jenny gets a scar." Francis thought he could hear the sound of the man on the other end smiling, if such a thing were possible. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I got it," Francis replied. "I'll be here." Francis flipped the cell phone closed and waited by the phone. Three minutes seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He desperately wanted to pace, but fought the urge as much as he could, for fear of getting too far from the phone. After what felt like forever had passed, Francis' ears were stung by the ringing phone. He snatched the receiver as fast as he could. "Hello?"
To be continued...