This’ll be my first Christmas with Mike, she mused.
Footsteps snapped behind her. “Veronica. What are you still doing here? No point both of us staying on duty—we’re not going to have many customers this late.” It was Archie.
“Oh, I already clocked out. I’m just waiting for Mike to get done in the office so I can say goodnight to him.”
Archie paused. “Mike left an hour ago—”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
Veronica noticed only now that very few employees remained on duty. Even the Greeter was gone.
“Well, the Greeter should be here,” she said for no reason she understood.
Did Archie stall? “Oh, no, I cut her an hour ago—”
Veronica tensed up. “You just said Mike left an hour ago… Mike didn’t leave with her, did he?”
Archie laughed but, you know what? It was a forced laugh. “Jesus, Veronica. Get your head out of the sewer. She’s sixteen. You’re not implying that she and Mike got something going on, are you?”
Veronica slumped. I’m overreacting again. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Don’t know what came over me, that’s all.”
“Mike’s really stressed now; that’s why he left without saying goodnight,” Archie offered. “His job’s not easy, you know.”
Now Veronica felt selfish and stupid. I need to have more consideration. “Yeah, and he told me about all that year-end accounting he has to do.” She shuffled away. “See ya tomorrow,” but then she snapped around. “Do you think I should call him?”
Archie made a face. “Well, you probably shouldn’t. I mean, he’s neck-deep in that paperwork.”
“Yeah.” She blinked. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight—oh, and congrats on that dynamite camera sale today!”
“Thanks…”
Veronica left the store. But why should she be so disappointed? What, because Mike—overwhelmed with take-home work—was too harried to say goodnight? Poor guy’s got so much on his mind, running a big store during Christmas and all. Yes, she should be more considerate.
But suddenly the cheery, blinking Christmas lights that constellated the town didn’t seem quite so cheery. She scarcely felt the chill air as she rounded the store to the back parking lot that the employees used.
“Oh, drat!” she complained, her breath gusting. The high security lamp in the back lot was out, leaving most of the lot plunged in darkness. Did she notice bits of glass on the pavement? Yes, she did, but what she didn’t notice was the steel ball lying several more feet away, yet even if she had, she never would’ve suspected that it was a pellet from a slingshot.
She wasn’t worried. Pulaski had low crime rates…although she had heard of a rising drug problem in the bad section. Then again, had someone mentioned something about a dog-killer? Something about torturing puppies? No, that must’ve been in Radford or someplace like that. Killing puppies? Only a crazy person could do such a thing, and Pulaski was a sane town.
She paused to muse: God, I can’t wait to see Mike tomorrow—
Her abduction happened so fast there was no time to scream. She side-glimpsed wedges of darkness darting about in more darkness. A hand slapped across her mouth. Someone said, “I done got her, Unc,” and she was lifted off her feet. Her thoughts raced to a logjam, then—
She fainted.
The terror buzzed through her body even as she was unconscious. “Don’t dillydally,” she thought she heard. Men’s voices, yes. A loud metallic SLAM! The roar of an engine, then…
Motion.
Veronica’s eyes opened. She felt jostling. The hand remained pressed to her mouth. Was she in someone’s car? Finally, her synapses began to re-fire and thoughts that scarcely seemed her own said, I’ve been abducted by rapists or crazy people! and then that roaring sound defined itself: she’d definitely been put in a vehicle, and the vehicle was moving, but why, even with her eyes wide open, could she see nothing? She couldn’t be in a trunk, unless her abductor had gotten in with her…
“Good, son,” came an accented voice. A redneck accent, yet Veronica remained so dazed and terror-jolted, she was unable to thus far put two and two together. “Back roads now…”
At last, she began to squeal beneath the pressed hand. It was no doubt a man, in the dark, holding her up from behind as she squatted, and as more reason filtered back, she thought she felt a lump where the man’s groin would be…
“We’se okay,” rang what seemed the oldest of the voices. Did she recognize it? She squealed again, heaving against the arms wrapped about her. A younger voice whispered, “Shhhhh, shhhhh, hon. You’se all right.”
“Dumar. Turn that light on in back…”
In a flash, Veronica’s eyes could now see. Her gaze panned in stops. It seemed she’d been spirited away into a large metal compartment that had to be the back of a large truck or step van. Its foremost feature was a dented metal table bolted to the floor. A couple of plastic milk crates could be seen, plus a folded-up metal chair, and in a forward corner sat a HOME DEPOT bag on its side. Next to it lay a Black & Decker power drill, and from this an electrical cord extended and disappeared into the front of the vehicle. Battery charger? she wondered. In the back sat some additional grocery bags, and to Veronica’s left there lay stacked three dingy sleeping bags, rolled up. But when her eyes panned to the opposite corner…
Oh my God…
She saw a Bescor bowl-mount tripod and—
Veronica stared.
—a Sony HVR-S27 digital video camera.
The familiar shaggy head appeared in an opening up front. “Why, hey there, Veronnerka!” greeted Helton.
“You!” she yelled when the hand came off her mouth.
“That rascal behind ya’s my nephew Micky-Mack.”
The muscular arms around her loosened. Shuddering, Veronica craned her neck and saw a lean, 20ish man with choppy blond hair and a ragtag jacket. He grinned, showing bad teeth. “Hey there! Good golly, you’se a purdy one!”
It now occurred to her that Helton was sitting in front on the passenger side of the mysterious truck. “And this here,” he said, “is my son, Dumar.”
Now the driver looked back: a creepily skinny redneck with long, stringy black hair and a thin face. “Howdy, Veronnerka! My Paw done tolt us all about ya! Says you was a mite nice sellin’ him that fancified camera.”
The truth finally set in. I’ve been abducted by crazy rednecks! and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
The truck weaved. Helton and Micky-Mack palmed their ears. “Dang, girl!” the younger man yelled.
“Let me ‘splain!” Helton barked.
When Veronica stopped screaming, her heart felt ready to explode.
“Sheee-IT, missy!” Helton climbed in back and sat his large frame on a milk crate. Micky-Mack, erection in his pants and all, slipped out from behind her and took a crate next to her.
“Ya scream louder’n a blammed train whistle,” Helton said. “Ain’t no call fer screamin’.”
“What else can I do?” she yelled. “You’ve abducted me!”
“Aw, no, hon, now see, ya just don’t understand. We ain’t abductered ya, we only, kind’a, borrowed ya fer awhile.”