Chapter 9

Pretzel sticks. Holy shit, pretzel sticks. I haven’t had these in forever. I’m not a big pretzel fan. I mean I like them and all, but I wouldn’t purposefully go buy them or anything. If I had people over I’d buy some for beer food, but I’ve always been more of a cracker guy, like Cheez-its and Wheat Thins. But still, when you’ve had nothing but plain bologna sandwiches on stale bread with a bottle of water for the past two weeks or whatever, a bag of pretzels between me and Trace and a juice box each is a fucking gourmet meal.

When she offered it to us I didn’t think twice and shook my head yes with a smile. She seemed so happy to share, grabbed herself two handfuls from the bag, put them on her bed with her juice box and left us the rest of the bag as she watched Dumbo. I never really liked this movie as a kid, but it’s pretty good. I mean, the crows are horrible stereotypes but that song they sing is great. I started singing it and she giggled. It was weird, though. When she did it she seemed different. Her giggle was childish but she didn’t squeal or bounce up and down or dance or clap her hands. She just giggled and smiled at me, stuffing a pretzel stick in her mouth.

When I woke this morning she was already up, on her bed, coloring quietly. There was an empty plate on her bed and two bottles of water in front of our sleeping bodies. I didn’t ask her, but I assumed she moved back to her bed when she woke and since I could still breathe I figured she must have done it before Keem came down.

“Ya know, I wonder where that other guy went?”

I pull the small straw from my mouth and ask “who?” to Trace before sucking some fake orange punch back in my mouth.

“The white guy, with the accent, Bernie or whatever.”

“Oh…yeah.” Interesting, something to think about. “Hmm.” Maybe he got caught. Maybe they’re questioning him now and he’s gonna tell them where we’re at. God, I hope so.

“Hey,” I feel a little elbow nudge and look at him. “I’m sorry we’ve been fighting.”

“It’s ok.” I shrug and reach for another handful of the thin pretzels. If I get out of this I’m gonna buy out RoldGold. They’re saving me right now.

“You’re right.” He shakes his head and stares off at the screen where Dumbo is. “We gotta get out of here.”

“What? You don’t like Dumbo.” I start to laugh and he groans.

“Don’t be a cock.” His eyes are narrowed, but I can tell he’s amused. He sighs and nods. “You’re right, though. We gotta use her to get out of here. Sorry I’ve been weird about her. She’s just, fucking nuts.”

“Shit man, help me find a way!” Yes, he’s into it now. He wants to get out of here. Hopefully, he’ll be able to stick through and not panic and yeah, we’ll we’ll figure something out. We just will. We use to get in the biggest shit back in Tennessee and we’d always find a way out of it. We can do this.

Of course, people weren’t threatening to kill us in Tennessee.

“Well maybe she can remember the code and we can sneak out.”

I shake my head and wish I could be that easy. I wish we could just break a code and bust out and run away, but we wouldn’t get three feet out of that door before we’d be lying in a pool of blood. “There’s a fucking three-hundred pound bodyguard with a huge ass rifle sitting outside the door. Unless of course they’ve dropped their guard outside the hostage room, which I doubt. And when they took me up there for phone calls and shit, there’s so many people with guns man. There’s no way.”

“Well,” He hits his head back on the cement wall and stares at the ceiling, grabbing a few pretzels and munching on them. “Then we gotta get her to do something for us.”

“What?” I laugh and shake my head at him. I know I’m being the pessimistic one now but we gotta be realistic. We gotta get out of here, but we gotta stay sane, too and we can’t be jumping the gun on risky ideas that have no hope for success. “Call the police?”

I laugh but he doesn’t. I look up at him and he’s staring at me with wide eyes. Slowly it dawns on me. Police, calling, a phone. If there was a phone down here we could call. But there’s not. I mean, maybe if we could go upstairs and get a phone it’d be one thing but…

Sarah can go upstairs.

Sarah can get us a phone.

Sarah.

My eyes widen and he’s nodding with a smile. We both look over at Sarah who’s furiously shading something on her paper. “Shit, why haven’t we thought about that until now?” He asks.

“Because it would have been impossible until now!” I say. Sarah wouldn’t have been able to do anything for us before. She was interested in us, but she wasn’t trusting. But now she is. Hell, she said last night that she loves me. God, she LOVES me. As sick as that is, I can use it. I can use it. I look at him and pat his knee excitedly. “But we gotta open up Trace. I know she freaks you out, but look, she’s fucking harmless.”

He clears his throat and says in a low voice, not looking at me. “I heard yall last night. You’re getting in too deep.”

“I’m getting inside her head.” I try to explain and start to get worried he heard too much. I wonder if he knows she kissed me. God, he’s freaked. “Look, we gotta keep her mind out of the clouds, out of his room and outside. I tried playing up Disney World so that maybe she’ll get so excited she’ll wanna go and leave.”

“Be careful man, what if she brings that shit up with that guy?” He looks at me now and shakes his head at me. “What then? We’re dead.”

“I know, I know!” I throw up one of my hands and the other one comes with it. “Plus, do you think she’d know how to use a phone? I mean she can’t read.”

“She could bring one to us.”

“Can they track cell phones?” I ask. “Cause I doubt he has a landline. And we sure as hell don’t know the damn address.”

“Yeah, if hell has an address.” I nod in agreement. Ya know I wonder if police and FBI can trace any call. I mean he’s made ransom calls. He’s gotta have a scrambler or something. I don’t know. All I know is what I’ve seen in movies and I’m sure none of that shit is true.

I laugh and say to him, “You’re the one that loves CSI and shit.”

“They don’t track phone calls, dumb ass. They look at crime scenes.” He sighs and pulls his legs up so that his knees are bent and his arms are resting on them. “I hope Elisha has taped the episodes I’ve missed.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, but it makes me feel better to think so.” I start to think about Cameron and I try my best to push the thought from my head. I haven’t really thought about her. I’ve been trying to get out of here and trying to get to know Sarah. I don’t need the thought of her wearing me down. I don’t need to have to worry about how anxious this is making her and how she’s having to deal with all the press. And I’m sure the paparazzi are crazy on her now that I’m “missing.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see movement and turn to see Sarah moving to the TV and changing out the videos.

“What’ya doing Sarah?” I ask.

“Putting in Aladdin.”

Trace groans quietly. “God, not again.”

I look at him. “It’s her favorite movie, man.”

“I’m going back to sleep.” He shakes his head and rolls over on his side. “Maybe I’ll dream of having sex with ‘Lish.”

“Keep it quiet.” I hit him the best I can with having both my hands cuffed together. I think he’s right, at least for him. Rest is the best thing he can do. It’s so weird cause in my life outside of this Trace was always the calm one with a solution, but now, now he’s so panicked and anxious. Now I have to be the savior.

“Hey…” He says, looking up at me over his shoulder. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. God, we might not get out of this and-“

“Shut up Trace.” I cut him off before he can say anything else. We will not say our last words dammit! We won’t! “We’re not thinking that way.”

He looks at me and then turns back around so his whole back is to me. “R-right.” I see him nod, trying to convince himself. “Right.”

I sigh and watch her as she sits on the bed and looks at the opening credits of Aladdin. I wonder what she’d be like if she weren’t in this situation. If she was just a normal girl that didn’t act like she was eight, would be a fan or be someone that I was interested in or, or something.

I wonder where she’s from.

“Wanna come sit?”

I shake my head and snap out of my daze as my eyes focus on her, now looking at me and smiling from her bed. I return her happiness and push myself off the floor to shuffle towards her. “Yeah. Thanks again for the snacks Sarah. They were wonderful.”

“Yay!” She hugs me when I sit myself on her bed and then pulls away. I wonder if she remembers any of our conversation last night about Disney World and, and that kiss. “You’re my best friend now so we can share everything. Wanna color?”

I watch her pull her pad back into her lap where she was making another picture of her name. She rips it off and lets it float to the floor. “No that’s ok. Why don’t you just color for me?”

“What do you want me to color?” She asks, finding a pretzel that had gotten lost in her comforter and popping it into her mouth.

“What ever you feel like.” She smiles and picks up a crayon as I lay back and watch the movie. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve seen this movie over the past well, however long we’ve been here. I mean, it’s a good movie and all but how many times can you watch this damned thing. I feel myself dozing off and then I’m startled back awake when the song “Friend Like Me” blasts through the tiny TV speakers. I yawn and stretch and she’s still coloring furiously, singing along quietly.

I clear my throat and say, “So you watch this movie a lot don’t you.”

“Almost every day.” She bites her lip and smiles. “It’s my favorite.”

God she’s so messed up. She looks so lost and sad, forcing herself to make her believe that she is happy. I know now, I know she’s not happy. But she thinks she is, cause she doesn’t know any better. She knows nothing about life or what’s out there. It’s so incredibly heartbreaking to watch her. I hope if we get out of her she will too. I really hope so. “I know. I bet you know a lot about it.”

She shrugs.

I figure I should try and see how smart she really is. Like, how good she is at remembering things and what not. If we’re gonna get her to get us a phone or something we’ll need her to have a sharp memory. One little mistake and we’re toast. “What’s the last thing someone says in the movie?”

She immediately responds, “’Made ya look.’ The genie says it.”

“Why do you like this movie so much?”

“Cause Jasmine is pretty.” She doesn’t look up from her drawing. I try to lift my head to see what it is, but she’s blocking my view. “And I like Aladdin.”

I yawn. Maybe I should go back to sleep. “He’s a cool guy.”

She stares at the screen for a bit and sighs, then starts drawing again. “Ya know his things on his pants changes colors a lot.”

“Huh?”

“That thing.” She points to the screen with a purple crayon.

“The patch?”

“Yeah. Sometimes its blue sometimes it’s yellow.”

I stare at her hard. I mean, I know she’s watched this movie a whole heck of a lot but damn. I mean the past few times she’s watched it she doesn’t even look at it. She just colors and sings along and every now and then glances up. My stomach starts to ache and I wonder if I ate too many pretzels. Shit, I bet all that salt on them is gonna make me have the runs or something. “I never noticed.”

“And the toys that the sultan has, the Beast is in there.”

“The Beast?”

“Yeah,” She looks at me and smiles. “Belle’s beast.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No..” She gets up and it’s the next scene. I see a stacked pile of little toys the sultan is playing with and she picks up her paper and runs to the TV to point. “Look,” Sure enough, there’s a little toy that looks like a silhouette of the Beast. I think this movie came out before that one. That’s pretty cool. “Did ya see?” She asks coming back.

It starts to hit me. That scene went fast and, and unless someone had pointed that out I would have never, ever noticed it. I don’t think anyone normal would have. She’s…she’s got a damn good memory. “Y-yeah.”

“And I think one of the elephants from Dumbo is there too but I’m not sure.” She pulls her drawing back into her lap and continues to shade.

“So you really know this move in detail don’t you.”

She shrugs. “I guess.”

The movie continues and I keep on staring at her back and the side of her face as she draws and colors, trying to figure out what goes through her head. I keep trying to picture her in jeans and a cool t-shirt, with her hair combed and pulled back and a bit of a tan. She looks goth-like pale. But she doesn’t wear black eyeliner or have black died hair. Her hair is the color of fall, a deep brown with golden orange hints here and there. I wanna run my hands through it. I mean, not to sound perverted but it’s just so ratty. I guess, I guess I just feel like her big brother or something. God, I better not say that to her, though since she thinks she’s supposed to sleep with family members.

God, what a fucking psychotic pig. How can you do that to someone?

“You like it?”

I meet her eyes and sit up a bit to look over her shoulder at her drawing. It’s an exact replica of that city in Aladdin. Agra-something. Like, exact replica. It looks like an animator did it and it’s colored perfectly. “Damn…”

“Is it good?”

“Do you…” I stop myself and stare at her. She barely looked at the movie. She’s has a really, really good memory. Ya know I heard once that people who are traumatized, especially at a young age, or people who have their mental growth stunted sometimes end up forcing all their mental ability into one type of thing. Her’s must be art. “It’s great Sarah. You’re really good at remembering stuff.”

“I am?” She asks. She’s completely confused.

“Here.” I get an idea. I gotta see how good she is at remembering stuff. I mean, if she’s like really good maybe she can remember the code or something she sees out side or maybe I can teach her how to use a phone. It’s not like I’m trying to teach a toddler. She’s a grown woman. She just doesn’t realize it. I reach across to her nightstand and grab the juice box she had put there. It’s empty and I straighten myself again and say, “Lets play a game.”

“YAY!”

I smile at her and hold the box to her, letting her see the side label. It has pretty small print and I let her get a good look. “Look at this box.”

She looks at me weird for a moment and then does what I say. “Ok?”

“Done?”

She shrugs, confused, but its ok. I just, I have to know. “I guess.”

I pull it away and put it behind my back. “Now draw all you can remember of it.”

Her eyebrows bunch and she turns to get her pad of paper and a pencil she has. “That’s easy.”

I watch her, in amazement as she quickly makes a replica of the side of the box. A few minutes later she rips off the paper from her pad and hands me a rough, quick sketch of the side of the box. It’s perfect. Every detail is there. Every word, even if she doesn’t know what they mean, it’s there. I pull the box out and compare the two. The ounce thing is perfect, all the nutritional information and the ingredients are there. Even the manufactures address is there and a 1-800 number. It’s…it’s amazing.

She’s got a photographic memory.

My breathing quickens and I know somehow I’ve just made a breakthrough. Yeah, she’s gonna get us out of here somehow. She just has to. “Yes….”

“What?” She asks me but I don’t respond. I’m so amazed. I’m trying to think about what I can do, how her ability will get us out of here. What could she remember? A phone number. No, no uncle would kill her if he saw her on the phone. And then he’d kill us.

“Justin…”

I give her a hug and say, “Thank you Sarah, this is really nice of you.” I pull away and turn towards my best friend, who’s sleeping ten feet away. “Trace…Trace wake up!”

He stretches and I say his name again. He rolls over. “What?”

“Come here…”

He gives me a funny look at first but must see the seriousness in my face. I watch him push himself up off the floor and shuffle towards us. “What?”

“Look what Sarah drew.”

I show it to him. He nods but doesn’t quite see what I’m getting at. “That’s amazing.”

“What’s more amazing, I didn’t let her use it as a model.” I wave the empty juice box at him and he takes it, looks at it and then at the picture on the bed. “I let her look at it for a few seconds and then put it behind my back.”

“Are…” He looks at her and then at me. “Are you serious?”

“Photographic memory.”

He’s breathless. “Really...” He takes in a big breath and says to me, “If she can draw us an address...”

Yes! That’s how to think Trace. If she gets an address somehow and brings us a phone we can call mama or Elisha or someone and tell them where we are! “And get us a phone!”

“Holy…” He pulls his hands up to run through his hair and shakes his head roughly. “No, no, this isn’t gonna work. No, no we…”

“Trace…” I try to calm him down. It’s too much for him. He’s panicking.

“What...what’s going on?” I ignore her and reach out to clasp Trace’s wrist. I don’t say anything and we just stare at each other. This is it. This is our ticket out of here. “You guys are scaring me.”

“Sarah,” I turn to her and smile. I’m beaming. We…we’re gonna make it. “You remember how I told you about Disney World?”

“I wanna go!” She starts to giggle.

“I know,” I try to calm her down. I can hear Trace breathing heavily and it’s making me nervous and she looks like she’s about to squeal with delight and I don’t need her getting too excited and sharing this information with anyone. “I know you do. And I wanna take you but I have to call a friend of mine so that he can take us.”

She looks at me confused. “Call?”

“You know what a phone is?”

She nods, her big brown eyes staring at me. “Yes.”

A hand is on my shoulder. “Address first Justin, they’d notice if a phone was missing.” Great thinking Trace! Good, he’s…he’s coming back to me. Using that head of his and figuring out this problem. He was always good at that, problem solving and shit. Always did my homework in middle school for math.

“Where’s she gonna get it?” I ask.

He licks his lips and searches the air for some answer. I hear his finger snap and he looks directly at Sarah. “Does your uncle get mail? Do you know what mail is?”

She gulps and I know she’s terrified. It’s the first time Trace has really made an effort to talk to her. I’m sure she’s so confused and lost right now but if, if she can just hold it together and do this for us, we can all get saved. All of us, Trace, me and her. She nods slowly and stares at him, reaching out and holding onto my arm. “Yeah, I think.”

“Can I borrow that?” I ask and she holds me tighter, staring at him and then at me. Finally she eases her grip and slides the pad to me and puts a pencil on top of it. I to my best to draw a rectangle and then a stamp and the return address in he corner and the sending address in the center. I show it to her. “Have you ever seen something that looks like this upstairs?”

“Yes, on uncle’s desk.”

We both suck in a breath and I hear Trace say, “Fuck, I need to sit down.” He stumbles over against the wall and slides down, staring in shock at the far wall. He really thought he was going to die here. He really thought I wasn’t gonna get us out of this. No buddy, I’m not ready to die just yet.

And it’s not just us anymore. I gotta get her out of this, too.

I look at her and grab her hand. “Next time you go upstairs, will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“But don’t tell uncle you’re doing this. And don’t tell him about Disney World.”

“Why not?” She asks.

“Cause…” I search for a reason and bull shit my way through. “Cause it’s just our secret. We’re best friends, remember?”

“Trace knows the secret, too.” She whispers.

“Yes, we all do.” I look at him and he’s looking at us. “Cause see, me and Trace have this club.”

“A club!?” She exclaims.

“Yeah!” I hear Trace say, he’s getting excited again. Man, buddy just, just calm down. “And we want you to be a part of it.”

Good thinking man! See, I knew if we just worked at a team everything would be figured out. I just wish we could have done this sooner. I turn to her and squeeze her hand in mine. “But you can’t say anything about it to anyone but us.”

“Oh k.” She nods, eager to be part of our club, happy she has friends. God, I love her right now. She’s gonna fucking save us.

“And we need you to do this for us.” She nods and I point to my envelope drawing. “So next time you go upstairs, take a look at one of these things, and I need this part right here.” I point to the center address. I wrote my own. I miss it. I miss my house. I miss my dogs and, and I miss… snap out of it! I circle my address. “It’ll look like this, but there will be different letters and stuff.

“I don’t understand.” She says in a pathetic voice.

I sigh. I’m going to fast. She doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Ok Sarah, this is how you spell your name right.” I write her name and she nods. “Well my name is Justin and I spell it like this.” I spell mine on the paper and she nods. “So it looks different. And so uncle’s address, this thing,” I point again. “We’ll look different from this one.”

“Oh…ok.” She nods, I think she’s starting to understand. God I hope so.

“So I need and envelope, this thing.” I point to my drawing again and then to the center address. “And I need to know what it says right here. It’ll probably have uncle’s name right here, spelled like this,” I write out “Patrick.” “And if they’re opened up top then that’s really the ones I want.” Yeah, yeah, good thinking, cause yeah. She might find an envelope that he’s sending out. And if it’s opened and ripped up top then they were sent to him. Right? Ok, this might not work, but…but I gotta take that chance.

“I’m gonna get in trouble.” She whispers to me. God, I’d hate that. I’d hate it if she got in trouble because of us. If the fucker started beating her, I don’t know what I’d do. What a sick bastard!

“No, no you aren’t.” I reassure her and try to reassure myself at the same time. If this works we’re out of here, but if it doesn’t… I’m not gonna think about that. “Just don’t tell him. And don’t let him see you look at it, ok? And then you come down here and you can draw what you saw. It’s a game, ok?”

She looks at me, still confused, still unsure if this is the right thing to do. We’re screwed. “Ok.”

I rush to make everything ok in her mind. “And if you do it and you win, I’ll take you to Disney World, I promise.”

“Really?” She lights up and I wonder if I had said, Los Angeles, or Detroit, or anything other than Disney World if she would have acted the same. I wonder if she just wants to be taken out of here.

“We’ll all go,” I hear and look over and nod appreciatively at Trace. He might be panicked but God, this is so much easier with him helping me. I just feel better ya know?

“And we’ll meet Aladdin.” I add. Her eyes look into mine and I get lost in them. She’s trying to tell me something, something she herself doesn’t even know. I wanna ask, I wanna find out but I just don’t know what it is. I mean, I guess I’m getting a little obsessed with her, but she’s just so different and weird and dammit, she doesn’t deserve this. No one does. And there’s just something about her, ya know? It’s like she’s begging me, without asking, to figure out what’s with her, but she doesn’t even know and that’s why she’s asking someone else.

“Shit Justin!” I turn and look at Trace who’s staring at the door. The red light turns green.

I grab her hand and say, “Promise me Sarah. Next time you go upstairs.”

“Ok,” She nods. “I promise.”

“Justin!”

I try to stand up and run over to where Trace is but it’s no use and I trip. I brace myself against the way and quickly slide beside trace before Keem comes down and sees me with Sarah. That wouldn’t be good. Not at all. I try my best to control my breathing, using all my techniques I’ve learned through singing and stuff, but it doesn’t work. My side starts to ache and my lungs and I wonder if that kick to my stomach a few days ago has really done some actual damage. I hope I’m not like bleeding internally or something. I suck in a breath as the door opens and then I let it out slowly, staring at the steps as my pain slowly dissolves.

But it’s not Keem that comes down. Its uncle and it makes me want to throw up and makes all the pain rush back. He’s in one of his fucking white suits. So gay. He’s back early. I thought he was going to be gone longer than just a day or two, but I guess not. He walks down and has something in his hand. I can’t see what it is. There, now he’s close. It’s a fucking Polaroid camera. He smiles at us.

“Say cheese.” He rasps out at us and snaps the picture. It’s fed out of the mouth and he shakes it a moment before going over to Sarah. I guess that’s for proof or something. I wonder how he’s gonna send it to the policemen. Or maybe he just likes to have photos of his hostages. Fucker.

“Hey Sarah. Have you missed me?” Gross.

I watch her and she just nods but she looks scared. Really scared. God, maybe, maybe me trying to get into her head isn’t working. It’s making her not trust this guy and as much as that might help us, someone with a mind as fragile as hers, well, I don’t know. This might have been a bad idea.

“Come on, I’ve got presents for you upstairs.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek and I shake my head when I see her smiling, lighting up at the mention of presents. She’s a child, a poor fucking child.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.” He pulls her up off her bed and she snatches Abu. “Come on.”

As they pass us and walk up the stairs, Sarah looks over her shoulder at me and stares. She’s scared and I know damn well she probably won’t remember the address thing. God, what was I thinking?

He pushes Sarah out of the door at the top of the steps and turns around and smiles at us. I feel sick and he says, “Oh, you’re girlfriend is wiring us an installment. So don’t worry, you two won’t be down here much longer.”

The door shuts and the light turns red. Moments later the overhead lights are shut off and we are surrounded by darkness.

A minute passes. I don’t really know what to say and I figure we will just lay down and sleep or something like we always try to do when the lights are out. I mean, unless he wants to brainstorm some more or unless I come up with another idea.

“It…it was a good idea.”

I clear my throat. “What?”

“I mean, it was a chance ya know.” I hear him laugh but it’s a sad laugh. “At least we tried.”

Fuck. He’s psychotic now and thinks we’re gone and thinks we’re gonna die. I mean, we might but…no! NO! We’re not gonna die dammit. We’re NOT! “Trace.”

“Even if she did get an address, it’d been too much and she’d tell him. It just wouldn’t work and, and there’s no point trying when we already know we’re gonna…”

“NO!” I yell and I can hear him. He’s crying. Shit. I don’t need this now. I don’t…I don’t need him to cry. It’s just gonna make me cry. I reach over and touch him. I scoot over and lift up my hands and blindly try to circle my arms around him. I do and I hold him tight.

He’s crying so hard. God, buddy. We’ll be ok. We will.

I feel his fist grab my shirt and I say to him, boldly, strong, shaking him as I speak. “We’re. NOT. Going. To. DIE!”

He keeps crying and I force myself to keep my eyes dry. I can’t give in and I have to think ahead, think about Sarah getting an address and coming down and saving us. I have to. I have to.

I have to.

I can’t give him like him. I can’t. Cause if I do…