Two on the Run
by Margaret Watson

            As she locked the door of the Manchester, Illinois Public Library and stepped into the evening heat of the parking lot, Eleanor Perkins realized that once again, she was the last to leave.  All her colleagues had left long ago.  But then, she told herself, they all had someone waiting for them at home.  All she had to look forward to was a quick dinner and the mystery she’d begun reading the night before.

            Clouds drifted across the moon, deepening the shadows that surrounded her car.  A chill danced across her skin and slowed her steps, but she gave herself an impatient shake.  “For heaven’s sake, don’t be a goose,” she said out loud.  “This is the library.  What could happen here?”

            Holding her keys firmly in her hand, she headed for her car, a sedate, four-door sedan.  It was just like the rest of her life, she thought suddenly.  Boring, predictable, and beige.  Far too beige.

            For a moment she imagined a snappy red sports car sitting in the place of the sedan.  She would get behind the wheel, shake out the pins confining her hair in a prim bun, lower the convertible top, and roar through the streets of Manchester, letting the wind comb wild fingers through her hair.

            She shook her head as she approached her car.  It would take more than a sports car to change her life.  It would take a miracle.  And she’d never believed in them.

            As she inserted the key into the lock, she heard a rustling in the bushes beyond the car.  Her heart leaped into her throat and she froze.  Then she rolled her eyes.  “Don’t be an idiot.”

            “You’re not an idiot,” a voice said into her ear.  “I saw you hesitate before you walked over to your car.  You should have paid attention to your instincts.”

            She jerked her head around.  A man was standing far too close to her.  He crowded her against the car, and she opened her mouth to scream.

            “Don’t do that,” he said in a low voice.  Slowly he raised a gun.  “Come around to the other side of the car, and don’t make any sudden moves.”

            “What do you want?”  Stupid question.  What do you think he wants?

            “I want you to get in the car.  Then I’m going to get into the car.  And then we’re going to drive away.”

            She stared at the gun in his hand.  Moonlight glinted off the dark metal, making it appear huge and deadly.  A spasm of fear shot through her, paralyzing her with dread, but she managed to shake her head.  “I’m not getting into the car with you.  That’s what all the self-defense classes say – never get into a car.”

            Her heart beat frantically against her chest and her legs wobbled like soft Jell-O.  But she forced herself to meet his eyes.  “So you might as well shoot me right here.”

            If she hadn’t been so terrified, she would have sworn a tiny grin flickered across his mouth.  For a fraction of a second his eyes twinkled with humor, then they hardened again.  “I don’t have time to discuss your options.  I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.  “I won’t hurt you as long as you get in the car.  I need to get out of here, and I need to do it now.  Move!”

            She threw the keys toward the ground.  “Take the car.  Go wherever you need to go.  You don’t need to take me with you.”

            He caught the keys without taking his eyes off her.  Slowly he shook his head.  “And let you call the police as soon as I’m out of sight?  I don’t think so.”

            “I won’t call them.  I promise.”

            He snorted.  “And I bet you’d tell me that the check is in the mail, too.”  He froze for a moment as if he was listening to something, and she heard the distant wail of a police siren.  Then he clenched his jaw and grabbed her arm.  “Let’s go.  And we’re going together.”

            He pulled her around to the other side of the car and she grabbed at the antenna, trying to prevent him from forcing her into the car.  Her purse smashed against the taillight and pieces of plastic spattered onto the asphalt.  Her attacker peeled her hands away from the antenna and pushed her onto the seat.  She twisted to face him and managed to kick him in the thigh.  He stiffened, sucking in his breath as if she’d hurt him. 

            Yes!  She tried to lunge out the door.

            He raised the gun again.

            “Move over into the driver’s seat.”

            His voice sent a chill up her spine.  His dark eyes were flat and cold, hard as granite.  Any trace of humanity, including that hint of a smile, had disappeared from his expression.  All that was left was cold resolve.  And the gun that was now pointing steadily at her.

            There was no way past him.  And looking at his shadowed face, his expression hard and bleak, she had no doubts he would use the gun.  “All right.”

            Watching him carefully, looking for any momentary advantage, she slid onto the driver’s seat and waited as he eased his way into the car.  He winced as he pulled the door shut behind him, then turned to point the gun at her again.

            “Get going.”

            Her hands shook so badly that it took two tries to start the car before the engine turned over.  Finally the car was running, and she looked over at him.  “Where do you want me to go?”

            “Start driving west.  I’ll tell you where to turn.”  He shifted in the seat so he was facing her.  “And don’t speed or run any red lights or flash your headlights.”  His voice was icy and pitiless.  “Don’t pull any of those tricks they taught you in your self-defense class.  I know every one of them.”

            She chanced a look over at him.  There was no humor in his eyes now.  They were as cold as his voice, and just as determined.   “Can I ask where you’re taking me?”

            “You can ask anything you want.  That doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

            She glanced down at the gas gauge.  “I hope you’re not planning on going too far, then.”

            “Why?”  He leaned toward her.

            She nodded toward the gas gauge, where the needle was hovering close to the large red ‘E’.  “Because I’m almost out of gas.”

            She heard him swear under his breath, a short, ugly word.

            “Don’t you know you’re supposed to fill your tank when it’s three quarters empty?”

            “Sorry.  If I had known I was going to be carjacked, I would have stopped to fill up on my way to work,” she snapped at him.

            Too late, she realized she’d let her fear and her temper get the better of her.  She expected him to explode in anger, to shove the gun into her side and tell her to shut up.  To her surprise, instead of snarling at her he leaned back in his seat.  When she glanced over at him, she saw that half-grin hovering around the corners of his mouth again.

            “You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

            It was the last response she had expected from him.  But it was good, she told herself as she struggled to subdue her fear.  She could bond with him.  Wasn’t a criminal less likely to harm a victim he’d bonded with?

            “I’m a children’s librarian,” she told him primly.  “I know the value of being firm.  Children respond well to firmness.”

            She could have sworn he smothered a chuckle.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

            She would remember that chuckle, she promised herself fiercely.  Just as she would remember that glint of humor in his eyes.  She would remember everything about him, from his hard, angular face to the breadth of his shoulders beneath his shirt to the lean, sinewy length of him.

            And she’d identify him to the police when she got away from him.  She glanced over at him again.  His dark hair was a little too long, and it looked like he’d run his fingers through it more than once tonight.  He was more than a head taller than she was, which would make him a little over six feet.  She thought his eyes were dark blue, but she couldn’t be sure.  And his face was seared into her mind.  That combination of toughness with a hint of tenderness would be hard to forget.

            She would have no trouble identifying him in a mug shot.

            The thought comforted her as she drove, the car filled with a taut silence.  Tension vibrated from her captor, sucking up the air in the car and making her hands sweat.  Energy poured from his body in waves as he alternated his gaze between her and the buildings flashing past the window.  But at least he wasn’t looming over her anymore, intimidating her with his wide shoulders and wiry muscles.  Although he kept the gun pointed at her, he leaned against the seat.

            “Turn here,” he said abruptly, gesturing with the gun.

            She obediently turned to the right, onto a street that wasn’t nearly as well-lit.  They were on the west side of Manchester now, in a run-down industrial area.  Empty buildings and cold smokestacks were all that remained of the once-thriving factories that had built the city.  Now the industrial district was as deserted and spooky as a ghost town.  There wasn’t a soul in sight to help her.  Even the derelicts that lived in this part of Manchester knew better than to roam the streets after dark.

            Every block had at least one abandoned building.  They stared at her with sightless eyes, their windows broken, the bricks crumbling.  Fear trembled through her again.  What did he want in this part of Manchester?

            “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again.  He must have sensed her fear.  “I need to get something before we leave town.”

            “What do you mean, ‘we’?  I’m not going anywhere.”  She tried to sound confident, but she couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice.

            “Yes, you are.”  His glance flickered over their dreary surroundings once more.  “This isn’t a pleasure outing.”

            “Just take my car and go.  Why do you have to take me with you?”

            “I can’t take the chance on you calling the police.”  His voice had gone hard again.

            “Then drop me off here.  By the time I got to a phone, you’d be long gone.”

            “You think I’d leave you in this part of town?”  His voice was incredulous.  “Do you know how dangerous it is around here at this time of night?”

            She glanced over at him, disbelieving.  “Yeah, there are all kinds of bad things that could happen to me.  A man with a gun might even try to carjack me.”

            Amazingly, she thought he smothered another chuckle.

            “You never know.”

            They drove past more abandoned buildings, and he instructed her to turn a few more times.  After she made the last turn, they spotted a police car coming toward them.  As it got closer, she felt his tension building as he slid low in the seat.  “Be careful,” he warned in a low voice.  “I’m watching you.”

            Her hand trembled on the steering wheel, but she didn’t reach for the bright lights switch or press her foot onto the gas.  She felt his gaze boring into her, felt the presence of the gun too clearly.  When the police car cruised slowly past, she looked in the rear-view mirror.  The police officer hadn’t even spared a glance back at her car.

            “Is it gone yet?” he asked.

            “It just turned a corner.”

            “You’d better be telling me the truth.”

            “Or what?  You’ll shoot me?”  She wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her voice from trembling.

            He ignored her and turned to look over the seat.  When he saw that the police car had indeed turned the corner, he sat up straight again.  “Turn left here.”

            The maneuver would take them in the opposite direction of the police car.  Reluctantly she turned and headed down another grim, dark street.

            “Why me?” she asked.  “Why did you take me?”

            “Because you were there.  And you were alone.”

            “My husband is expecting me home.  What if he calls the police and tells them I’m missing?” she bluffed.  “They’ll be looking for this car very soon.”

            “Good try, but you’re not married.”

            “How do you know?”  She moved her left hand into the shadows to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a ring.

            “First of all, you’re not wearing a ring.  I looked for one before I grabbed you.”

            “That doesn’t mean anything.  There are married people who don’t wear rings.”

            “You’re right.  But if you were hurrying to get home to your husband, why did you come out of the library an hour after it closed?  There’s no one waiting for you at home, not even a date.  If there was, you wouldn’t have stayed so late at work on a Friday night.  I don’t figure anyone is calling the police to report you missing tonight.”

            Even though they were the truth, his words stung.  Even a carjacker, a lowlife criminal, knew how empty her life was.  Was she so mousy, so plain and forgettable that a complete stranger knew no one would be waiting for her?  “I guess you’ll be surprised when the police stop this car, then.”

            “I guess I will be.”  His voice was mild, but she could tell he didn’t believe her.

            Her hands tightened on the steering wheel again, but this time with anger.  She’d show him, by God.  She’d get away from him and call the police, and the next time she saw him would be in a line-up at the police station.

            “Stop here,” he said, interrupting her fantasy.

            She pulled over to the curb but didn’t turn off the car engine.  She would wait for him to get out of the car, then she’d drive away.

            “Turn off the engine,” he said, steel in his voice.  “And give me the car keys.”

            She hesitated for a moment, but after glancing at the gun, she twisted the key until the engine stopped, then yanked it out of the column and threw it in his direction.

            “What’s your name?” he asked in a low voice.

            “What difference does it make?”  She turned to give him a defiant stare, and was startled when she saw the understanding in his eyes.

            “Look,” he said, “if there were any other way of doing it, I wouldn’t have grabbed you.  But I had no choice.  I want to know your name so I know what to call you.  If I need to give you instructions, I don’t want to have to yell ‘Hey you’.”

            “It’s Eleanor,” she finally said, her voice clipped.  “Eleanor Perkins.”

            “Thanks, Eleanor.  Now let’s go.”

            “Wait a minute.  What’s your name?  Or am I just supposed to call you ‘Scumbag’?”

            He shook his head, but she saw a glint of appreciation in his eyes.  “That’s good, Eleanor.  That’s very good.  But I hope you don’t talk to those kids at the library that way.  A mouth like that, you might scare them.”  To her surprise, a tiny grin flashed across his mouth, then disappeared.  “You can call me Michael.”

            Staring at him with shock, she didn’t resist as he pulled her out of the car on the passenger side.  He eased the door closed behind her, and she looked up to see that they were standing in front of another abandoned building.

            This one wasn’t as bad as others they had passed.  Some of the windows were still intact and there were only a few bricks missing.  But the building was completely dark and obviously empty.  The thought of walking into that darkness made her shake so badly she could hardly stand.

            “I’m not going in there.”

            “I don’t remember giving you a choice.  And we’re sure as hell not going to stand on the street and discuss it,” he said.  “I need to get what I came for and get out of here.”

            He gripped her arm more tightly and started moving toward the building.  The door hung crookedly on broken hinges and she stared in horror at the darkness beyond it.  The impenetrable blackness shimmered as if alive, its hot breath waiting for her like an animal crouching there, poised to attack.

            Panic and dread pressed down on her, crushing her chest.  Her vision grayed and her head spun.  Oblivious to his hands holding her, she turned and stumbled away from the door.  “I’ll wait in the car,” she said, her voice high and thin.

            He snorted.  “Forget it.  I may be a scumbag, but I’m not a stupid scumbag.”

            When he tugged on her arm, she wrenched it away from him and ran blindly down the street.  She had no idea where she was going and didn’t care.  She had to get away from the darkness.

            It took only a few moments for him to catch her.  He grabbed her upper arms and held on tightly, the calluses on his palms rasping over her skin.  The heat from his hands seared through her.  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice a low snarl.  “I told you I’m not going to hurt you.”

            She couldn’t answer.  As he pulled her closer to the door, she struggled frantically against his grasp, lashing out blindly with her hands and feet.

            “Hey, take it easy,” he said.  His hands gentled on her arms and confusion replaced the anger in his voice.  “What’s going on?”

            When she continued to struggle he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her against his body and immobilizing her hands.  “Stop it, Eleanor.  Listen to me!  I’m not going to hurt you!”

            She tried to push him away, but his body was solid and hard against her back, a wall of muscle and determination. 

            When she continued to fight, he merely tightened his hold on her.  Finally, when she was squeezed intimately against him and suddenly too aware of every ridge and contour of his body, she stopped struggling.  “You can let me go now,” she muttered.

            “Not until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”

            The heavy summer air swirled around her, making her too aware of the heat radiating from Michael’s body.  His pungent male scent and the hardness of his lean muscles surrounded her.  Sudden, acute consciousness of his masculinity flooded her.  The sensation was as uncomfortable and unwelcome as her previous terror.

            She jerked herself free of his grasp, telling herself the unexpected awareness was just nerves.  “You mean other than the fact that I’ve been kidnapped and manhandled?”

            “Yeah.  Other than that.”  He held her gaze steadily.  She could have sworn she saw sympathy in his eyes. 

            “I’m afraid of the dark, all right?  Are you happy now?” she said, ashamed to admit to her childish fear.  But she couldn’t control it.  As she stared at the darkness her awareness of Michael faded away and memories crowded in around her, enveloping her in a smothering blanket of terror.

            “Damn it!”  He let loose with a string of curses in a low voice.  “You can mouth off to a desperate man with a gun, but you can’t walk into a dark building?”

            “No.”

            He swore again viciously, then sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  “Why did I have to pick a neurotic woman who’s afraid of the dark?”

            “I didn’t ask you to pick me,” she retorted, feeling her panic ease since he wasn’t dragging her toward the door of the building.

            “Yeah, well, I made a mistake,” he muttered.  “But there’s nothing I can do about it now.  You’re just going to have to suck it up and come with me.  We won’t be in there for very long.”

            Before she could refuse, he’d grabbed her arm again and dragged her through the door into the inky blackness.

            Easing the door shut, he stepped closer to her.  “I’m right here,” he said in a low voice.  “Stay close to me and you’ll be fine.  Here, take my hand.”

            Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she hardly heard him.  But his hand brushed hers and she grabbed for him without thinking.  She needed contact, needed to know she wasn’t alone.  His fingers twined with hers, and he held her hand in a firm but oddly gentle grasp.  Her need for contact overpowering, she pressed her palm against his.  He hesitated for a moment, then clasped her hand more tightly.  In the inky darkness, alone with a criminal, her fear eased slightly.

            “All right now?”

            His words echoed loudly in the darkness and shattered the fragile spell between them.  Once again she was trapped in a dark place with a man aiming a gun at her.  Eleanor swallowed and tried to focus on the weak light filtering through the broken windows.  “I’m fine,” she lied.

            “Then let’s go.  I have a flashlight close by.  But you’re going to have to take a few steps with me.”

            She tried to banish the fear and will her legs to move.  As she turned away from the windows, the inky blackness was complete again.  She faltered once, then forced herself to keep moving.  It wasn’t completely black inside the building, she told herself.  Weak light from the streetlights at the corner reflected through the broken windows.  After a moment, her eyes began adjusting to the darkness and she could make out ghostly shapes in front of her.

            “That’s the old shelving,” Michael said in a low voice, as if he could read her mind.  “This used to be a factory.  It’s been empty for several years.”

            “Why are we here?” she said, forcing the words out of chattering teeth.  She wasn’t sure which made her more afraid, the darkness or the possible reasons they were in this empty building.

            “I told you, I have to get something.”  He stopped moving and turned to her.  The whites of his eyes gleamed in the darkness, his face nothing more than a shadow.  “I meant it when I said I don’t intend to hurt you.  I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not why we’re in this building.”

            “What do you have to get?”  She didn’t believe him, she told herself flatly.  What could he possibly need from this place?

            “You don’t need to know that.”  He continued to watch her.  “Can you keep moving?”

            Somehow she nodded.  “Yes.”  She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative, which was standing in the darkness listening to the terror thundering through her blood.

            “Good.”  He gave her hand a squeeze.  “I knew you were tough, Eleanor.”

            Her heart jumped in her chest with an odd flutter of pride.  The next moment she told herself not to be an idiot.  What did she care about words of praise from Michael the carjacker?  All she cared about was getting away from him as soon as possible.

            Gathering her wits, she saw a large broken window on the other side of the building.  If she could get to that window she could escape from this building, and from him.  And if she could get enough of a head start, she could find the spare key she kept in a magnetized box under her car.  With a little luck, she could be away from this nightmare in a couple of minutes.

            Could she run through that darkness?  Yes, she could.  She had no choice.  She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then turned to look at him.  “You don’t have to hold onto me anymore.  I’m not going to fall apart.”

            He turned to study her.  “Are you sure?”

            “Yes.”

            “All right.”  Tentatively, he let go of her hand.  He was probably afraid she was going to get hysterical on him.

            She watched him steadily, and as soon as he turned his attention away from her, she shoved him as hard as she could.

            He lost his balance and fell to the floor with a grunt of pain.  She faltered for only a moment, then turned toward the large broken window and began sprinting toward it.

            “Eleanor, stop!”  His desperate whisper echoed off the walls.  “Don’t move!  This place isn’t safe!”

            She didn’t look back or slow down.  She kept her gaze fixed on the yawning window in front of her and tried not to think about the darkness pressing in on her from all sides.

            “Eleanor, don’t go any farther.”  She heard his footsteps behind her, but he was moving carefully.  “Stop!  The floor is rotten.  I don’t want you to fall through.  You could get hurt.”

            He didn’t raise his voice above a whisper, but she heard the urgency in his words.  She slowed down, staring down at the floor, but she could see nothing but blackness.  Her stomach rolled and she searched desperately for the broken window and the reassuring glow from the streetlight.

            “Stay there and I’ll get the flashlight,” he said behind her.  “I don’t dare come closer.  We might both fall through.”

            She heard him retreating and she closed her eyes.  This was her chance.  He was giving her even more of a head start.  She was almost there.  Another thirty feet and she’d be at the window.

            She took a step forward and heard an ominous cracking sound beneath her.  She froze, but it didn’t matter.  Another sharp crack echoed around her, and suddenly the floor dropped away.

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