“Should we just start the game? Make him sit out the first hand?” Patton said, returning to the chair beside mine with what looked like Captain Morgan and Coke in his hand.
“You driving?” I drawled, giving the glass a pointed stare. Yeah, I sounded like an old man, but he was one of mine. I wasn’t about to let one of mine screw up his life over a couple drinks.
“I’m crashing on the couch,” he replied.
I nodded and let the subject drop. I wasn’t a nag and I took him at his word. Besides, he knew I would come down on him if he got behind the wheel of his car. Marines were never really “off duty.” Marines were on call twenty-four seven.
Acting like an ass wasn’t part of the job.
Patton started dealing the cards, and I glanced at the door once more. I wasn’t what I would consider friends with the guy bringing the beer. Lex was more or less and acquaintance that I saw every Friday at our poker games. I knew him well enough that if I saw him out in town or at a restaurant, I would stop and say hi, maybe make a few cracks about poker or something. But he wasn’t someone I would go watch a game with either.
I fished my cell out of my pocket and called up his name in my contacts. All of the regular poker players exchanged numbers a while back, in case of a location change or if something came up and someone couldn’t be there. It was common courtesy to let the others know because we usually held up the game until we were all around the table.
Which made his tardiness that much more peculiar.
“Anyone hear from Lex?” I asked. Maybe he wasn’t coming.
No one spoke up; everyone shrugged. “It’s not like him to be late,” one of the guys said as he adjusted his chips into neat stacks.
“Shit comes up,” Jinx said matter-of-factly, sitting down with a huge ass glass of some kind of liquor concoction.
Bottom’s up, I told him silently. The faster he got hammered, the faster I would start winning. I hadn’t lied when I told Patton I was feeling lucky.
I fully intended to walk away with full pockets tonight.
I hit the message button and shot off a quick text to Lex.
You’re late. U coming?
Hopefully he would reply with a yes or no and we could get on with the game. And someone could make a damn beer run.
How Jinx could have that bar and no beer was beyond me. ‘Course, last weekend we were all here watching football so I guess I kind of knew where the beer had gone.
I dumped the phone in my lap and picked up my cards as the game began. I grabbed up a handful of peanuts and tossed them into my mouth, crunching away as I studied my cards. Not a completely worthless hand. I could work with this.
A few minutes later, the basement door opened and Lex came into the room carrying two paper sacks, which he set on top of the bar. A series of “heys” and “what ups” sounded around the room.
“Beer’s here!” Patton called and elbowed me.
I grinned and laid my cards facedown on the table. “No peaking,” I told him.
He snorted and started talking smack. “Please. Your mom could play a better hand than you.”
I grinned because he was right.
Lex was pulling out a case of Miller Light from the bag as I approached. “Thanks, man,” I said, reaching in to grab one.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch and the liquor store was packed.”
“No worries,” I said, popping the top and letting the beer flood my mouth. Ahhhhh.
Lex grabbed a beer and chugged about half the can in one gulp. I eyed him. He seemed a little fidgety, not quite as steady as he usually was. He was usually more friendly, more prone to smile.
“Everything okay?” I asked him.
“Hmm?” he said, pulling the beer away from his lips. “Yeah, totally. Long day at work is all.”
“I hear that,” I said and saluted him with my beer. “TGIF.”
Lex grinned. “Deal me in!” he called, and then we both went over to the table to start the game.
I completely forgot about the text I sent him…
Until a few moments later when I got a reply.
7
Honor
The sound of beeping woke me. I jerked awake, blinking against the dark as reality came crashing over me. I scrambled to my feet, looking up toward the top of the hole. The sun was no longer in the sky. It was dark. It was night. I was in the center of the woods.
Even down in this hole, I could hear the wildlife singing in the night. I heard the rustling of leaves and wondered what was up there, praying it wasn’t him.
The beeping sound cut through the darkness again, and I noticed how the screen on the phone illuminated the hole, casting a bluish tone over everything.
It was a text.
My knees sagged in relief, and I felt my lower lip wobble. Finally, I would be able to get help. I glanced at the screen, hungry for contact with the outside world. There was no name for the person texting, only a number. The area code was one I didn’t recognize.
You’re late. U coming?
I had no idea what kind of person my kidnapper could be friends with, but right about now I’d take my chances with anyone.
Please help me.
The signal was still very low and it took the text forever to send. It took so long that I began to lose hope. I began to think it wouldn’t go through. But then the phone made a little whooshing sound and the message posted.
It took even longer for the person to reply than it did for the message to send. I waited, clutching the phone, praying I would get an answer.
What’s wrong? Shitty hand?
I was kidnapped by the owner of this phone. Plz help me. Call 911.
That’s a sick joke.
I’m not jkin! I swear! I typed furiously. My stomach churned. What if this person thought I was just pulling a prank? What if they thought the man who owned this phone was being funny.
I swiped an angry tear off my cheek and cleared out of the texting screen to pull up the keypad and dial 9-1-1. The phone rang.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” said a calm voice over the line.
I gasped, so grateful it worked.
“State your emergency.”
“My name is Honor Calhoun. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m being held against my will.”
“What is your location?”
I’m sorry, but I was offended. She didn’t gasp in outrage. She didn’t ask me if I was okay. She was like a damn robot on the other end of the line, asking me to take some stupid survey about orange juice or vitamins.
Hell-O! I wanted to scream. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?
But I didn’t. Instead, I replied, “I have no idea. I’m in the woods. In a hole in the ground.”
The operator paused. I figured that was the biggest “Oh shit!” reaction I was going to get. I could hear her clicking away on a computer and I imagined her assembling the cavalry, riling the troops.
Go save Honor!
I’m a writer. I’m dramatic. Let’s all move on.
“Stay on the line while we try to locate your phone,” the woman said. Clearly, she never wrote a thing. She probably didn’t even like to read.
Ring. Ring.
Hello?
I’ve been kidnapped. Someone wants to kill me!
Hold please.
I’d get better service at McDonald’s.
“Listen to me,” I said, ignoring her. “I’m in the woods. I’m scared. My name is Honor Calhoun. I live on Main Street in Slatington. Please come find me. Send help.”
“Hello?” the operator said. For the first time, emotion showed in her voice. “Ar… you… th…?” Her words broke up, the connection failing.