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“Shut up,” he snarls before jerking me to my feet. The bright glare of sunlight makes me squint and I look around, expecting to see … well, I’m not sure what. I suppose I expected a clubhouse of some type with a pirate flag and some skulls on bloody spikes for good measure. But instead, I see a diner called Sal’s. It’s really normal looking, with a faded blue awning and deserted parking lot. It looks like the type of place you might go for brunch with your family.
But then I look more closely and see that in fact, there don’t appear to be any people inside. There are no cars in the parking lot either. Other than the cement structure and the black asphalt sizzling in the desert heat, there’s no one here but us. It’s just acres and acres of sand all around. Where the hell are we? It’s the middle of nowhere. But who comes to a diner in the middle of nowhere? Wouldn’t Sal’s be better off located near some gas stations and maybe a highway entrance?
Squinting in the light, I see a faded red “Closed” sign in the window of the restaurant, and my shoulders slump. My kidnappers clearly aren’t taking me to lunch. Something nefarious is going to happen, like me being murdered in this lonely place and my body left in a giant dumpster in back. Oh no. What do I do now?
But before I can formulate a plan, one of the guys grabs my elbow and drags me, stumbling, to the front door of Sal’s.
“Open it,” he grunts at one of his friends.
“This isn’t my fault,” the smaller man whines while unlocking the door. “I didn’t ask to bring her. It all happened so fast, and no one knew where the hospital was except her!”
“Shut up,” my captor grunts. “Come on,” he says.
We step into the interior of Sal’s, which looks like the set of a diner from the fifties that no one’s set foot in for years. The leather upholstery on the booths is faded and cracked, with foam stuffing popping out in some places. The counter’s the kind that makes a U-shape, with bar stools placed along one side, and in back I can make out an ancient refrigerator that’s long stopped working. Dust an inch thick covers every item of furniture, not to mention the floor.
“I have asthma,” wheezes one guy. “We need to get out of here.”
“Shut up Wiz,” says my captor, “Just shut up. Fuck, you guys are like schoolgirls instead of a crew. Damn.”
He hustles me to the back of the restaurant and through a set of doors. We move down a hallway with peeling linoleum floors and paint cracking off the walls.
“Come on,” he says, stopping before a gray door.
“Rmmm?” I grunt through my gag.
“Someone take it off her,” he says tiredly. “There’s no one here. No one’s going to hear.”
Invisible hands tear my gag free and I cough at first, bending over and hacking. There really is a lot of dust in this place.
“Where are we?” I manage in a hoarse whisper, tears smarting my eyes. “What is this place?”
“You’ll see,” says one of the guys dryly. “It’s no place you want to be, but I guess it’s too late for that now.”
Suddenly, the door before us whisks open and I start in shock. It looked like a normal door, but in fact, it hid an elevator. I’m hustled into the small cube with three of my grimy attackers, and then the door shuts once more before locking with an ominous click.
“All the way down,” says my captor grimly, still grabbing my elbow for good measure. “We’re going deep for this one.”
One man presses a button on a box he has in his hand, and with a jolt, the elevator begins to move. Or more accurately, it begins to descend into the bowels of the Earth. How is this possible? I thought we were at Sal’s Diner, which should have a kitchen, a dining area, and maybe a rest area for the staff. Plus, a basement where they keep supplies and whatnot. But instead, we’re descending at light speed, so fast that we must be a few miles beneath the surface. What is going on?
I shrink into the corner of the elevator, warily eyeing my captors. The three men are weak-looking in their black outfits, their balaclavas pulled up to their foreheads. They’re stringy and small, with rough hands and dirty fingernails. Can I take them? I’ve heard that when you’re kidnapped, you have to fight your hardest at the beginning, otherwise you risk being dragged into even more danger. And clearly, that’s what’s happening. I’m being escorted into some underground dungeon, where escape will be even more difficult if I don’t act now.
So despite my curvy shape, I give myself no time to think it over. I have to try, or risk even more danger to myself. Lifting my elbow, I smack one guy in the face with simultaneously kicking his friend in the balls.
