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The first thing that Alex notices when he wakes up again, is the radio playing. He probably should have focused more on the fact that his hands are bound uncomfortably behind his back or that he’s lying on his side in a moving vehicle. But it’s the radio that he latches onto first. It’s a terribly kitschy Michael Bublé rendition of I’ll be home for Christmas . And well, Alex can’t help but think it’s a bit funny. Here he is in a car with the kidnapper of the month, listening to this song, while they do their utmost to ensure that he isn’t home for Christmas. It’s just, there’s a certain irony about that situation, that he feels needs to be, if not appreciated, at least pointed out.
Alex waits for the next commercial break before engaging with his kidnappers. “So, not that I don’t appreciate the ride, but any chance you could tell me where we’re headed? And if it’s not a terrible bother, why we’re headed there? It’s just, I’ve been a bit out of it today, you see and I can’t quite remember what we agreed on when I decided to catch a ride with you lot.”
The comment earns him a glare and a snarled, “shut your mouth brat, and you stay quiet if you know what’s good for you.” from the man in the passenger seat, who Alex decides to dub Thug 1. The man is clean shaven, with short brown hair and a gold chain around his neck. No mask – or makeup for that matter as far as Alex can tell. Either the man is an amateur or he doesn’t intend to let Alex live. Alex tests the material securing his hands. By the feel, it’s probably duct tape. Probably an amateur then. They had the sense to secure his hands behind his back, which points to them for having watched an episode or two of TV, but they didn’t have the sense to use something sturdier like zip ties or metal cuffs.
Alex considers whether it’s worth provoking the other man again. On the one hand, there’s only so much he can do to Alex from the front seat while the car is still moving. He might even spill valuable information if Alex can push the right buttons. On the other, it almost doesn’t seem worth the bother. With a bit of maneuvering he can probably reach the fountain pen still in the back pocket of his uniform trousers and once his hands are free, it doesn’t really matter that much where they’re going. The longer he’s been awake, the more Alex is convinced he’s gotten caught up in amateur hour – the criminal equivalent of open mic night.
The first time Alex had been kidnapped, he’d been scared. Maybe not terrified – Ian had prepared him too well for that in more subtle ways than Alex generally cares to think about – but certainly he’d been very frightened. The second time too. But Ian had been there afterward, telling Alex how brave he’d been, how proud Ian was of him. It had helped take away some of the fear. Made the ordeal seem more like just another of the games they’d played together. The third time it had happened, Ian had been dead. And Alex, Alex hadn’t handled it so well. It had somehow felt more real then, knowing concretely that there was no way Ian had organized it. That if he failed to escape, there wouldn’t be someone to call it off or find him. But he’d made it out. And after that the whole thing had kind of lost its charm. Alex still went through the motions of course, but it had become routine, boring.
Deciding, it would at least mix things up a bit, Alex opened his mouth again. “So, the thing is, I don’t think anyone in my life has ever accused me of knowing what’s good for me, and I think it would set a terrible precedent if I were to figure it out for the first time here. Not that you aren’t lovely road trip buddies, but I hardly know anything about you and I always did want the first time to be special, you know? So maybe we could-”
“Paul, no! The boss wants him unharmed!” Thug 2 interrupts Alex, reaching over to the passenger seat to grab Thug 1 – Paul’s – wrist which had been reaching inside his jacket, no doubt to grab a weapon. Which means two things: 1) Alex and Thug 1 are now on a first name basis and 2) Alex has a pretty good idea where they’re keeping their weapons.
“So, as we’ve just established, I’m a romantic at heart, but I have to say there is a fine line between secret admirer and stalker/kidnapper. And obviously at 15 I don’t have a wealth of experience here, but it seems to me your boss might have crossed the line a couple of kilometers back.”
Thug 1’s jaw ticks, but rather than respond, he just turns up the radio, blasting Mariah Carey’s classic: All I want for Christmas is you . A pity. Alex was just starting to have some fun. Still, with the man’s gaze fixed rigidly ahead, Alex has the time to wriggle into a position where he can reach the fountain pen. With only a little more effort, he’s able to pull off the cap, and rotate the pen tip-side up, so he can poke enough holes in the tape to pull his hands apart. It’s a shame about the pen though. And the backseat of whoever’s car this was. Alex had replaced the ink cartridge just that morning, a cheery blue because he found that a bit of color could liven up even dull assignments, and whoever had chosen the car had favored gray seats.
Hands free, if covered in more blue ink than even he’d expected the pen to hold, Alex waits. Eventually they’ll approach somewhere with enough civilization for traffic signals and then he’ll be able to make a break for it. Probably. These two don’t seem to be the sort to believe in child locks.
Except they don’t. It’s just cornfield after cabbage field after sunflower patch. Finally Alex can’t take it anymore. “Not that I don’t appreciate the tour of rural England, but is there an actual goal here, or is this more of a “the journey is the destination” sort of thing? Just so I can set the right expectations, you know. I don’t want to be disappointed.”
“You mouthy little shit. Can you not stay quiet for five bloody minutes? I swear we will stop this car and gag you if you don’t shut up,” Thug 1 yells, turning back around to face Alex.
“First, kinky, but I’m not really into that and second,” Alex counts on his fingers, “I was quiet for more than two songs and Christmas songs are normally at least two and a half minutes.”
Alex has about 30 seconds to savor the look of bafflement on Thug 1’s face turn into horror before the man speaks again.
“Ed stop the car! The kid’s gotten out of his restraints. I don’t know how he managed it but-”
The car stops and Thug 1 draws his gun, “How did you manage to get out?” he yells more than asks, which rude.
“I guess it must have been a Christmas miracle,” Alex answers grinning brightly. And then, because this is all starting to get really tiring – and he does have an English assignment to finish tonight if he can figure out where they’ve stashed his backpack – Alex relieves the other man of his gun and continues. “But that’s neither here nor there. Since we’ve already established that neither of you are really planning to kill me and I unfortunately can’t exactly say the reverse is true at the moment, I want you both, Paul and Ed to get out of the car.”