A Long Way From Home

Chapter 5: In which the kidnapping becomes something else

Lakeside Park: Clarington, Canada—Thursday, 3:00am


Layla could barely move under the burlap sack. Her arms hurt, her legs hurt, and there was enormous bump on her forehead. But her resolve was unshaken. She was going to get out of here no matter what it took. But first, she needed to take a nap.


The car jerked to a stop, shaking Layla awake with it. She waited. She was no longer bound underneath the sack, since there hadn’t been any more duct-tape and she was knocked out anyway, but the driver of the van didn’t know that. All she had to do was wait until he took the bag off and she could run. There was a pause, then a shuffle as two hands hit her with a thump. She tensed her fists, waiting. Suddenly, the bag was off and the man’s face was inches from hers. POW! She let loose on his nose and struggled to the car door. Swinging it open, she ran as fast as she could, trying to ignore the pain. She couldn’t stop now. She had to keep going.


Her feet pounded against the pavement as she followed the dirt road they’d come on. After the car was long out of site, she paused to catch her breath. She looked behind her: it seemed like she hadn’t been followed. Still, she couldn’t make herself easy to find. Her surroundings were so different from back home and she didn’t know who she could trust. It would be best to run undetected by anyone until she knew where she was.


She didn’t know how long she kept running. Her head was still pounding, the bruises from her latest escapade rubbing against those from her fall in the storage unit. When she got tired, she hid behind bushes, in ditches, wherever she could. There were barely any cars on the road: something that scared her even more. Who knew? She could be in some kind of mob-town.


The next twenty hours were spent the same way: walking, falling, sleeping, crawling, anything to get as far away as possible. The terrain went from rural to suburban, but she still didn’t ask for directions. Finally, in the distance, she saw a lake. The water filled her with both relief and dread. Where was she? She stumbled towards the water, ducking her head down to take a long drink. Her stomach growled in anger, her head thumped, her bruises rubbed against her clothes and, above all, her feet hurt like hell. Suddenly, her vision went fuzzy, her knees began to buckle. She slowly tried to position herself as comfortably as possible, vaguely aware that she was losing consciousness.


Toronto General Hospital: Toronto, Canada—Friday, 12:00pm


Was this heaven? Layla stirred a little in the neatly tucked in white sheets. No, not even heaven would smell this clean, this…hospital-like. She sat up slowly, blinking down at the IV connected to her vein. Did she just imagine it or did Viktor carry her to his car?


She rubbed her eyes and took in the room around her. The clean white laminated floors, the pale blue walls, and the kidnapper sitting in the only seat in the room. He looked different: his shaved head was now covered with thick blonde hair, and a realistic-looking goatee covered his chin. She started, eyes wide, and began groping around for the nurse-call button.


“Don’t bother,” he said. “We need to talk.”


“Why should I listen to you?”


“Oh, be quiet. I know where you live. And you still got family over there. So shut it.” Layla squirmed backwards, trying to get as far away from the man as possible. She glanced towards the door, but there was no one there.


“Who are you? What do you want?”


“I’m Frank. Now listen, you are worth $40,000 to me and I’m not going to let that go. We’re leaving. Get up.” He moved a step closer.


“Stop!” she cried out, both arms outstretched. “You can’t sell me.”


He chuckled. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what’s going on. I kidnapped you. You don’t have a choice. I know everything about you, Layla. I know where you live, where you go to school, who your friends are: I know everything. How else do you think I found you? How else did I know you’d be at the guitar store? You don’t have a choice. One word from me and both your parents will be dead. And what’ll you do then, Layla, even if you do get home?”


Layla froze. The very idea, the very thought that such a thing could happen stunned her. Part of her said to go with him, but the other half refused. He was probably just bluffing to get her to go with him. He could have just waited for her by the elementary school and followed her to guitar practice. He didn’t necessarily have to have called someone and asked them to find her. It didn’t mean he knew any of the stuff he said he did. But how else would he know her name? She tried to change the subject, to somehow get a few moments to think.


“How did you find me anyway?”


Toronto General Hospital: Toronto, Canada—Friday, 12:10pm


Frank wanted to just bag the girl and go. But part of him was rather proud of how he’d found her in the first place. He’d spent all of Thursday searching, but she’d shown up on the Friday morning news. Some washed-up pop star was seen rushing her into the Toronto General Hospital. They hadn’t mentioned her name, or even shown a clear picture of her face. But he recognized the clothes and the hair.


There had been so many reporters clamoring outside the entrance, that he blended into the crowd easily. Once inside, all he had to do was ask one of the younger assistant nurses if it was true Viktor was here. The teenage intern was flushed with excitement as she whispered breathlessly that they weren’t supposed to talk about it, but she’d heard that he was outside Room 103. Upon reaching the room, Viktor had been missing, but the girl was inside.


“Listen,” he said impatiently. “I don’t give a damn what you want to know, all that matters is that I want my $40,000 and we’re leaving. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and was about to wrench the IV out of her arm when he heard a noise behind him. He turned, and found his nose in the chest of what was probably the best looking man he’d ever seen. Not that he was gay or anything. This must be that washed-up pop star. What was his name…ah, Viktor. No wonder the intern was flustered. A list of possible lies raced through his head, but Viktor interrupted him.


“Ah, are you her father?” Frank’s hand slipped away from the spot in her arm where the IV was connected.


“No, no. Actually I was looking for my daughter, but this doesn’t seem to be her.” He turned to Layla. “I’m so sorry to bother you, miss. But it was nice talking to you. I have a lot more hope about my daughter’s surgery.” He wiped the dry corner of his eye and leaned down to hug Layla. “You tell the police and your parents die. I’ll be back.” He turned and began to walk out of the room. Viktor followed.


Did he know? How much of the conversation had he overheard? Frank decided that if he’d heard the conversation, father would be last thing Viktor would say. Frank turned around, putting a fake smile on his face.


“Wait, you’re that Viktor guy, aren’t you?” The man looked down sheepishly and nodded. Frank smiled slightly. The guy didn’t seem to have heard a word, and even if he was suspicious, soon he’d be eating out of Frank’s hand.


“Yeah, I recognize you from my daughter’s wall. She’s got tons of posters up there. I’ll have to tell her I met you.” With a snicker, Frank turned and walked away. Sure his plan had been thwarted yet again, but the trap was slowly closing in. It wouldn’t be long before he caught her. It wouldn’t be long at all.


Toronto General Hospital: Toronto, Canada—Friday, 12:20pm


Viktor watched the kidnapper walk down the hall. It was ironic that the one time over the past 24 hours he had stepped out of the hospital room to fill Clarice in on what was going on was the moment that man had come looking for her. Still, he’d heard enough to know what was going on. The girl was going to be sold for $40,000. And if she didn’t go with him, her family would be killed.


He knew what he had to do. The girl may be too scared to call the police, but he wasn’t. But first he had to take care of something else.


He began walking to the registration desk. Well, he’d do what he could. The receptionist sat there, the phone clamped between her shoulder and ear as she scribbled something on a notepad, a strand of short blonde hair resting on a perfectly lipsticked mouth. After a few minutes she looked up.


“Can I help you?” Viktor scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t the best liar.


“I’m registering for the girl in Room 103. She’s my cousin.”


The next step was to make sure the girl had somewhere to go. He didn’t care if the girl was too scared to call the police, but he wasn’t. But first, he wanted to fill Clarice in. He stepped outside and made sure no one was looking as he dialed the number.


“Clarice?” he asked. “You remember that girl? Well, it gets weirder.” There was a laugh on the other end.


“Weirder? How much weirder can it get?” He filled her in on the little he knew, and there was a shocked silence on the other line.


“We need to help her!” Clarice exclaimed. “You need to call the police.”


“I know,” said Viktor, glad she thought so too. “She gets out of the hospital tomorrow, and I doubt she has anywhere to stay.” He paused. “Do you think she could stay at your place?” He could hear Clarice smiling on the other end.


“It’s okay, honey. You know how small my apartment is. I won’t get jealous if she stays at your place. Besides, if the kidnapper comes looking for her, you’re the only one with enough room to hide her.” Viktor couldn’t help but smile. She always knew exactly what was on his mind. Then the second half of what she’d said hit him. How could he suggest the girl stay at Clarice’s place? Of course the kidnapper would be looking for her! He could have kicked himself. How could he put Clarice in that kind of danger. Absentmindedly he began walking towards Room 103.


The girl was sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap, a worried look on her face. She turned to him as he walked in, a look of utmost shock on her face.


“So…so I wasn’t dreaming?” she asked in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. Viktor was confused.


“Dreaming?”


“You…you carried me to your car, didn’t you?” Viktor looked down sheepishly.


“Well, yeah. I mean, it was the least I could do.” She sat up straighter, peering into his face in shock.


“Y-you’re Viktor, aren’t you?” She sat back suddenly. “God, Trina, look what you’ve done to me?” She looked at him in complete seriousness. “You have all your fingers, don’t you?”


Viktor looked down in confusion. “Um…yeah. I suppose.”


“Good keep it that way. Though I think I already took care of that part.”


She was insane. Completely and totally insane. Whatever she’d gone through to have her washed up on the shores of the lake unconscious had really done something to her.


“Why don’t you lie down,” said Viktor, approaching the bed. “I took care of all the paperwork and payments and the doctors say you can leave tomorrow morning. Do you…” he paused. “Do you have anywhere to go?”


She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to take care of me. Besides, I’m pretty sure someone will be coming to get me soon.” There was a long pause, and when she spoke again she seemed to be choking back tears. “I-I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go with him. I—I can take care of myself.”


Viktor sat down on the edge of the bed and scratched the back of his neck again. “You know, I think it would be best if you stayed at my place.”