Page 22 of Sinful Lord

“Shit!”

That single shout cuts through my haze, plummeting me back down to earth. But it’s what comes next that truly shocks me awake.

The sounds of squealing tires rip through my ears. A split second later, I’m flung against the van door. It partially collapses against the force. Then someone falls beside me and I hear a sickening crunch. It’s followed by a deep wail.

Glass breaks. Metal dents. Suddenly, everything goes silent. But only for the briefest moment. I hardly get a chance to gasp before chaos erupts.

The van starts to flip. I’m thrown around like a ragdoll. Somehow, though, I don’t hit the hard metal walls again. Instead, my falls keep getting cushioned by the men who dragged me in here.

Ironically, they’re the only things that keep me from shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. And by the time the van stops flipping, I hardly feel any worse for wear.

That is until I try to move.

It’s like trying to push myself up from the bottom of the ocean; like I’m being weighed down by an invisible force.

“Help…” I mutter. But a harsh ring has invaded my ears, and I’m not sure if the plea even escapes my lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. No here is going to help me.

Slowly, the bodies strewn around mine start to move again. They crawl over me and push open the twisted van doors, falling outside before disappearing into the darkness.

A gust of cold air rushes inside. It’s enough to slap me out of my daze, if only partially.

It still feels like there’s an anvil crushing my head, but I somehow manage to push myself up and crawl toward the light. A sheet of white snow greets me outside. As does a pool of blood.

By the time I manage to stand, my hands and knees are coated in a layer of frost. The world spins. I pinch my nose and blink, desperately trying to regain some of my senses.

It’s no use.

“… What’s happening?” I mumble to myself. I’m already falling back into the daze that pill has pulled over me.

My eyelids begin to flutter. I’m filled with a warm apathy. It’s almost peaceful. No matter how hard I try to shake it, every part of me just wants to shut my eyes and let whatever happens to me happen.

But then an ear-piercing shriek rips my attention outwards again. My vision dances in and out of focus as I stare ahead. Pieces of the van litter the street, but otherwise, it’s empty.

Another cry snaps my neck to the left just in time to catch a pair of bloody hands desperately clawing at a building's brick wall. I blink and they disappear, yanked into a black alleyway. All that remains is the echo of their cry and a pair of crimson hand prints.

“Shit.”

A blast of fear wakes me up the rest of the way. The ringing in my ears fades and I start to notice what’s really going on.

A gunshot blasts off around the corner. A terrified curse rises up from behind me. I twist around to see the driver climbing out of the toppled van. His face is covered in blood and he wobbles on his feet as he shouts into the alley.

A dozen or so yards behind him, I see a thick black jeep idling on the corner. Its headlights blast through the night, light sliced into thin strips by a cage fitted over the front bumper.

“Come out here and face me like a man,” the driver calls into the darkness of the alley. Reaching under his belt, he pulls out a gun.

But his left arm has been mangled, and his body trembles as he tries to aim it forward.

All I can do is watch as he fires the first wobbly shot. I’m still frozen in place as he fires another bullet into the darkness. And then another.

It’s only after the third volley that my brain starts to work again.

Run.

Whatever’s happening, it’s given me a chance to escape my cruel fate.

I’m about to do just that when another sound yanks me back into place.