Chapter Three: Baking Powder and Chloroform

As I pulled out from the parking lot the next morning, I wondered – for the first time since I started my job – if what I was doing now was really worth it.

The night ended soon after Justine threw up on her own dress after consuming one too many alcoholic drinks. All of us were tipsy therefore rendering none of us fit for driving, which also meant no after party at the club house. I'd stumbled out of the club with Lars' arm draped casually over my shoulders. Brittany kept shooting me subtle dirty looks as soon as she saw me with Lars. No idea why because she had another guy on her own arm. He looked delicious, too, so her jealousy was really uncalled for. I ended up allowing Lars to send me home, risky as it may have sounded. Pitied the guy though. He actually walked me right up to my door and after a kiss that I didn't much remember, I slammed the door in his face, struggled to rip the dress from my body and crawled under the covers at half past three in the morning.

Being the obedient little right hand that I was, I walked into base at nine sharp.

Waking up was a miracle in itself. I had a bass drum pounding away behind my temples and at the base of my neck behind my head. My eyes were extra sensitive to the light and I felt sick to my stomach. All I managed to do for myself was take a couple pills and chug down as much water as I could before shoving several individually wrapped chocolate wafers into my pocket. Danny briefed me on what I was to do and what I was not to do, making it a point, as was his usual practice, to ignore the way I shrank away from the light under my cheap plastic sunglasses and gray jumper. Then he walked me to a truck parked near the tunnel entrance. My palms began to sweat the moment I saw some of the guys and the churning in my stomach began. They were loading the truck with an incredible amount of drugs packed up in boxes with false advertising.

Baking powder my foot.

"You're a delivery woman on your way to town. Specifically, you're delivering an order put out for baking supplies from Fresh Farm Groceries. Use the country roads. I have good faith that the police are keeping an eye out after that fiasco with Greg last month." Danny then looked down at me. Like, really looked down because I was more than a good foot shorter than him. "When you get there, Parker will send someone to escort you. After that you can come back here."

"May I ask again why I can't have someone accompany me?" I braved in a small voice. Partly because I was hung over and was having a hard time just standing up. Mostly because I was afraid of doing it on my own with no backup should things go south.

"I want my right hand to be tough," came the simple response.

Once the guys were done with the loading, they shut and secured the back. I clambered up into the driver's seat, straightening my baseball cap and pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. Danny knocked on the door from below so I leaned out the open window.

"Mess this up and your life will never be the same again," he deadpanned. Somehow, his flat tone made the threat all the scarier. I swallowed and started the engine.

After I had passed the first traffic light, my muscles bunched themselves up and I squirmed in my seat. The sweat on my palms made the steering wheel slippery, which in turn made it hard for me to get a grip, figuratively and literally. Some pop song was playing on the radio, something about not having to go to work, work, work, work, work, work, work. I'd heard it countless times, blaring from Yolande's radio, occasionally Brittany's, and I still couldn't understand the meaning of the song. Lyric-wise, it probably meant that the girl was the one pulling the load while all the guy had to do was sit back and relax. Watching the MV threw me off kilter, confusing me even more. Both guys and girls were working. At a construction site. Looking like they didn't take the safety precautions too seriously.

I took the first exit out to the country lanes. Usually, these back roads were deserted, with the occasional car going up or down. Fields and clumps of trees stretched out on both sides of the road, giving one the impression of a quiet countryside when in reality, it was where most unrecorded robberies and kidnappings happened.

I stepped on the gas, gaining more confidence as I drove on. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster after all despite the hangover. The working song ended awhile ago. The radio had back to back hits and had me belting out the next tune wholeheartedly.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22!"

Not exactly my cup of tea but I couldn't help it; when Taylor comes on, you sing.

My fingers started drumming a beat on the steering. Ever since Danny told me about the transfer, I was a jumble of nerves. Now, however, I was starting to think that travelling alone with a truck of drugs wasn't the worst that could happen to me. I could have been in a dank alley with rats scuttling about and the smell of human faeces mixed with days-old trash assaulting my olfactory nerves while waiting for dealers to look for me. Instead, I was cruising along at a leisurely speed down old country roads. The surroundings were serene, I could sing to my heart's content, I could accelerate then take my foot off the gas without anyone having to chide me . . .

In fact, I had just started to lean back when my eyes so happened to glance up at the rearview mirror. My foot came down so hard on the gas - yes, the gas, not brakes - that I lurched forward and bumped my head on the steering, knocking my cap off my head and my sunglasses sliding down my nose.

"Holy freaking chicken," I swore quietly.

That was the closest I ever came to swearing.

Not a hundred meters behind me was an ever-familiar car with its' blue and red sirens flashing. Flashing, not wailing. I shut my eyes for one second, praying to whoever it was that would listen that they wouldn't let out the warning wail. The universe, however, chose to interpret my prayer the wrong way because sure enough, I heard the warning.

"Oh, holy saints in heaven, please, no," I whispered, gripping the steering tightly. The police car sounded its' warning siren once more. I couldn't ignore it even if I wanted to so I rolled to a stop by the side of the road. It was this built-in mechanism I had in me that was triggered every time I had the choice to be a good person or to do the right thing. I never strayed too far from the lines. The police car rolled up behind me and stopped. I glanced nervously at my side mirror as an officer exited the car and made his way towards me.

Without waiting for him to rap on my window, I rolled it down and frantically fixed my sunglasses, fitting my cap back over my head, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. The shades would hide the lie my eyes would be telling. Unless my stupid voice gave me away.

"Nice weather we're having, sir," I said in a strangled voice as the uniformed law enforcer reached the driver's door.

"It is, isn't it?" The policeman who stood just outside my door was young with a bright smile and a cheery voice. "The sky is brilliant!"

I relaxed a little at his demeanor. Friendly officers always excused drivers who had menial to no driving violations, right? Then another guy came up beside him, looking much scarier (although just as good-looking) than the first one. The first policeman's friend elbowed him in the stomach, hard, making him double over.

"Excuse us, miss, but I'm going to have to ask you to step out of your vehicle." The second officer's voice was as smooth as chocolate but he spoke in a clipped tone, the way businessmen spoke. Come to think of it, he sounded like Chris Pine from Into the Spiderverse.

"I really can't, officer. I have to rush to – "

"Miss, step out of the vehicle. Now," he ordered. The authority behind his voice was unmistakable. Hesitantly, I opened the door and lowered myself to the ground with much difficulty.

"Registration and ID, please."

I froze.

"Registration?"

Oh, no. No, no, no. I overlooked this. I forgot to ask Danny about the papers. And my licence expired a month ago. There weren't enough funds in my savings to renew it.

The second policeman eyed me suspiciously at the sound of my squeaky voice; the first officer was peering into the truck's interior. My eyes darted to and fro nervously.

"Registration and ID," he repeated, more firmly this time.

"Here's a crazy story. Uh, I actually forgot my papers and my wallet isn't with me so how about a rain check?" I squeaked in a mouse-like voice.

The second officer turned to his companion who merely shrugged and nodded.

"Well, then, miss," officer number two said. "You've just made this job easier."

One moment I was looking at his handsome face and the next, I was seeing black spots before somebody drew a curtain over my vision.

The last thing I heard was, "Did I hit her too hard?"

+++

I stretched as my eyes slowly flickered open and adjusted to the dim light in the room. Oddly, I couldn't bring my hand down to my face to scratch the itch on my cheek. Why would I even have to bring my hands down though? They felt elevated and numb. My foggy mind was still having trouble registering things, struggling to process whatever my skin felt or my eyes saw. I seemed to remember that I was a drug dealer so at least I knew I was still sane.

Then it came tumbling down on me, in chronological order.

I was a drug dealer and my boss had trusted me to deliver a truck full of drugs. He had instructed me to use the country roads, which I did. And then I got pulled over by a couple of cops who –

Instinctively, I yanked my hands down towards my face and realized that my wrists were bound to something by rough rope. I angled my head so that I could look up to see my hands and what I was tied to, bumping the back of my head. There seemed to be a lump there, a painful one at that. The sight of the thick brown rope around my wrists activated fight-or-flight mode. Panic gripped me.

This wasn't usual. I wasn't lying on my own bed nor was I in my own room. The room I was in wasn't even remotely similar to mine and I was sure as hell it wasn't the little room we had back at the base because that room had an annoying bare white light bulb that hung loosely from the ceiling. This was a completely different room with warm white lights.

I struggled to lift my head to see more of the place I was in, careful in considering the now-throbbing lump. I was on a soft bed with pillows and a quilt. There was a cupboard in one corner and a dresser in another. Some pale coloured curtain hung limply from the curtain rods, covering the window. There was also a chair, a desk, a chest of some sort and a door.

Locked in a strange room while tied to a bed with no means of escaping, unless I could magically make the ropes disappear. I laid my head to rest on the soft surface again.

Calm down, D. You've been in this situation before. You've got this, you've got this.

"HELP! I'M TRAPPED IN HERE! HELP, OH MY GOSH, AM I GOING TO DIE? I DON'T WANT TO DIE. HELP! HELP ME! HELP!"

Paranoia engulfed me like smoke from a fire, slowly choking me. I was finding it hard to breathe and my throat was already getting hoarse from all the screaming. Bound (thankfully not gagged) to a bed like this reminded me of a video a friend showed me once. Some guys had bound a girl to a bed – just like my captors had done to me – and they had set up cameras in various corners. One by one, they filed into the room and took turns raping the girl. She wasn't against it, however. Holy chicken, she enjoyed it, even begging them for more. I recall my friend saying that things like that were called BDSM. Terrified that I might end up in that same position with no means of escaping, I tugged wildly at the ropes that bound me, hoping that they might come loose.

No such luck. Even the bedpost was sturdy. The only good sign was, unexpectedly, my still-present hangover. It meant that I'd only been out a few hours, at most.

After what felt like eons of squirming and screaming, the only door in the room flung open. The light from outside was blinding but a male figure was silhouetted against it. As he stepped closer and my eyes adjusted to the change of light, I recognized him as the friendly cop.

"You're awake!" he said cheerily, bringing his hands together in a single clap.

"You kidnapped me!" I accused him immediately, a wave of fear and anger crashing over me. I scrambled madly on the bed, pulling my legs closer to my body, attempting to make myself as small as possible. "You hit me and then kidnapped me! HELP, I'M GOING TO GET RAPED!"

The so-called cop held his hands up in defense. He was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt with a Sunshine Bear on the front. It contrasted oddly with his physical appearance: tall, evidently physically fit, boy-next-door good looks.

"Whoa, there. Calm down, love." He raised his hands up in the air in what I assumed was assurance, causing me to recoil in fear. "Rape is a sick thing done by psychopaths. I would never mistreat a lady."

Oh, is that so?

I glared at him until he turned red.

"I'm sorry for hitting you," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck, instantly reminding me of my own head injury. "There really wasn't a choice. We ran out of chloroform."

"What?!" I screeched, tugging more at my restraints. "What sort of lousy excuse is that? How do you even say sorry for knocking a person out?"

The guy looked at me, his nose scrunched up a little. "You shouldn't move your arms so much. Your wrists are already bleeding."

"I don't give a damn about my – " I stopped yelling when the sting of my broken and bleeding skin broke through the mist of fear and confusion in my head. "Oh." I raised my eyes to my captor, just only fully realizing how helpless I was and how my life depended on me not screwing things up.

"Could you please just let me go?" I pleaded, overcome with a sudden exhaustion. Honestly, I felt like I had PMS, jumping from one emotional ship to the next. The guy's features softened with sympathy, surprisingly.

"I'm sorry. I can't do anything unless Tommy says so."

I reckoned 'Tommy' was the other guy, Scary Cop.

"Well, tell Tommy that I want to go home," I said petulantly.

"Can't do that, too. He needs you."

Needs me? What in the world is this, some sort of lab with sicko scientists?

The reality of my situation finally dug its claws in. All my scattered emotions came hurtling into me one by one. Anxiety, hunger, regret, confusion, anger . . . hunger. I hadn't eaten since this morning, I guessed. They all came together and were mixed up like some sort of disgusting mystery stew that had the potential to melt the lining of my stomach.

"Oh, don't cry," the friendly cop said, worry lacing his voice. I shook my head and looked away, furious that I was unable to control my emotions. I had a really good poker face and I always had it on in front of my friends, so crying wasn't exactly my thing, nor was showing my emotions. Friendly cop was looking concerned but clearly, he couldn't go against his superior's orders. So instead, he approached me and sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Please don't cry," he begged me. "I don't like seeing girls cry."

"Then don't do things to make girls cry," I shot back in a broken voice. He reached out to touch me then pulled back, thinking better of it.

"I'm Adriel, by the way."

"I wish you'd drop dead, Adriel."

There was some awkward silence from him after that. I guess that really wasn't a nice way to say hi to someone you've just met. That was what you get for knocking random people out and kidnapping them to use as lab experiments.

Adriel sat with me for a long time. He didn't say a thing nor did he do anything else. He just sat there, waiting for me to calm down, stealing the occasional glance at me. I would have liked to cry alone. I also would have liked to choke him with the rope around my wrists. Alas.

"I should go now. I'm not allowed to be with you until Tommy's talked to you." He gave me a crooked little smile with a head tilt, looking really cute, like a curious little kid. "I'm sorry we kidnapped you."

And he left.

I stared at the closed door, as if at any moment he was going to open it and say, "Kidding. This is just a silly prank. We'll let you go now." I wouldn't have been so confused if he hadn't been so nice to me.

Who kidnaps people and apologizes after?