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My head hit the ceiling of the crate when the wheels touched down. It was as if I was being tossed in the ocean, only the landing was much rougher. It was bumpier down here. Everything rattled and bounced around as Beechum slowed the engines on the runway. It seemed like we were skidding, but I had nothing to hold onto inside the crate. No frame of reference without windows.
I held my breath, wondering how much longer this part would take. Where was I going? And who was the buyer Jelly Bean Jack had sold me to?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was quiet. Eerily quiet.
I tried to turn so I could press my ear into the wooden siding, but I couldn’t get my knees to twist with the rest of my body. I thumped my head into the barrier behind me. Everything hurt.
The only thing I knew for certain was that the plane was no longer moving.
Suddenly my body was flung on its side when the crate moved. I felt the vibrations underneath me as something lifted the crate into the air. I scraped my lip with the violet hit. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Where was I being taken? Where was AJ?
I pounded on the walls. I screamed. I kicked, despite the searing pain caused by the zip ties.
“Help! Help me!” It was pointless. Other than AJ and the kidnappers, no one on the outside had a clue a person would be smuggled inside a crate in plain sight. It wasn’t even equipped for animal carry. There were no holes for air. I wondered if my air supply was limited. I stopped struggling once I realized I might need to conserve my intake of air.
I pictured the scene around me. Workers on the tarmac processing baggage. Controllers on the ground signaling planes to the jet way. Travelers watching everything unfold from their windows as if it was normal and ordinary.
I could feel the rumble underneath the crate. I was on some type of forklift. Something that rolled steadily at a casual pace. I was being taken somewhere like a piece of cargo. A piece of property that had been sold and bought on the dark web’s marketplace.
What was I going to do when the lid was pried off? I had no way to defend myself. No way to run. There was no escape or salvation ahead of me. I had to put hope in that whoever had bought me thought I was more valuable alive than dead. I needed him to want my skills. Hacking was the only thing that could keep me alive. AJ was right. I had to use it as leverage.
There was a far worse scenario: what if the lid was never taken off? Instead of being delivered, what if this was my coffin? I started to shake.
By the time the forklift stopped moving, I had convinced myself I would lie and bargain my way through anything I had to, in order to survive. If I made it out of the crate I’d lie and cheat. I’d steal. I’d hack. I wanted to live. I knew that.
I wouldn’t do anything stupid. I’d fight the instinct to retaliate. Nothing sassy or smart-assy. Losing my father had broken my mother’s heart, but losing one of her children might shatter her soul. I thought about her and Kelly as I took one deep breath after another. Breaths that were conceivably using up precious oxygen.
I hadn’t shared much about my podcast with them. I had told myself it was to keep them from being hurt. To spare their feelings, but I knew underneath my decision it was because I wanted something of my own. Something that was somehow magically mine. Alone.
That seemed selfish now. Especially if my life was going to end like this. How could I have kept it from them? None of this would make sense to them, if they ever even knew how I disappeared.
I didn’t have time to sort through my decisions when I heard the splintering of wood near my head. There was a loud thwack as it struck again, ripping into the crate. I was pinned in the corner, terrified the crow bar was going to end up prying into my skull. I shrieked when the lid was thrown on the floor.
I looked up as a large dark figure reached inside and pulled me out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Open your eyes,” the deep voice grunted.
I had squeezed them shut out of fear. Slowly, I let my eyes flutter wide. I recognized the man next to me as the second fake air marshal from the flight. We were in an airplane hangar, somewhere far from the rest of the airport. In the center was a mid-sized jet, white and sleek. I counted six passenger windows along one side.
“Hold out your hands,” the burly man instructed.
I lifted my wrists forward as he sliced through the zip ties with a rugged knife. He leaned over and released my ankles with a jerk. I whined as he yanked the plastic away from the cuts. There was a steady of stream of blood running into my shoe. It was hard to distinguish the pain in one leg from the other.
“Wh-what’s happening now?” I was afraid to ask.
“You’re going on a little ride.” He grinned.
I heard footsteps behind us. I turned to see Jeff and Cindy march into the hangar with their rolling luggage behind them. They waved as they moved past us and climbed the stairs to the jet.
“But, they—” My mouth hung open. Of course they would be the same flight crew.
“I need to get you on there.” He gripped my arm.
“I’m going,” I protested. “I’m not going to run. I don’t need any help.”
