having his mouth taped shut sent his stomach rolling again.
“Good.” Ian turned back towards the steering wheel and the van picked up speed again.
Jackson let his gaze wander through the van once more, searching for something sharp to cut his wrists free. By now his family had to know that he was missing. He’d skipped out on bringing back Tyler’s stuff and dinner with Ryan, things he’d never done before. He was very reliable and everybody knew that. His dad had probably already alerted the police and they were looking for him. Missing kids always were a high priority. Then he realized with a stab of panic that he wasn’t a missing child. Not anymore. As of last week, he was legally an adult and allowed to take off without notifying anyone. The police probably wouldn’t look for him tonight. They would be searching for Casey, though. He was a minor. They might make a connection between their disappearances, but unless someone had taken notice of a strange van at the swimming hall, they wouldn’t know where to start looking. His eyes fell on Tyler’s bag. If Ian hadn’t searched it yet, Tyler’s phone was still in there and if he could get a hold of it, he could call 911. Surely they’d be able to track them down fast.
He glanced towards the front, then slowly rose onto his knees and started inching over the floor towards the chest. Casey made a sound of protest at his departure and Jackson gave him a reassuring look before moving on. Next to the bag he slumped down again and searched for the zipper, then turned around and tried to catch it with his bound hands. It took him a few tries until his fingers got a secure grip. The sound of the zipper was loud in the otherwise silent car, almost overriding the noise of the engine, and he felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He chanced a glance at Ian. Don’t look back, please.
Ian didn’t look, but his head was cocked to the side again. He was obviously listening and trying to figure out what was going on. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, sounding irritated.
Jackson froze, fingers clutching the zipper tight. “N-nothing. Just - just trying to find a comfy spot.” When Ian didn’t say anything else, he slowly opened the zipper another inch, grimacing at the noise. Then his hands were inside the bag and he felt around frantically between the balled up wet towels. His fingers grazed a set of keys and a bottle, but no phone. After a couple more seconds, the van slowed down again and Ian took a look over his shoulder, taking in the scene. Jackson stared back at him, pulse beating rapidly in his throat. Then Ian stepped on the brakes and the van lurched to an abrupt stop.
Jackson lost his grasp on the bag and tumbled forward onto his face. Before he could straighten up again, Ian was on top of him, pinning him down with a knee to the back and searching his hands. When he came up empty, he went for the bag, still keeping Jackson on the ground with his weight.
“What were you looking for, huh?” He accentuated the question by leaning on his knee.
Jackson felt his chest constrict. The air left his lungs with a whistle. He gasped, trying to breathe in again but barely succeeding. “Please,” he managed to squeeze out. “I can’t breathe.”
Above him, Ian hummed while rummaging around in the bag. “I know.” He dropped a towel next to Jackson’s head. The bottle followed, then another towel. “Now, I’m asking you again. What were you looking for?” He dropped the keys onto the growing pile of Tyler’s stuff.
With the bag securely in Ian’s hands and not enough air to hold out any longer, it made no sense to keep silent. “Phone,” he rasped. He was starting to feel little lightheaded. His lungs hurt, screeching for air, and black spots started to dance in front of his eyes. He desperately kicked his legs and shook his head from side to side in a last effort to get some air. A moment later, a second that felt like an eternity, the pressure on his back eased up and he gulped in a mouthful of air, then started coughing into the floor.
Ian grabbed his arm and roughly shoved him onto his side. “Don’t fret, it’ll pass.” He reached into the bag again and produced a pair of wet swim trunks, Tyler’s library card and then, from the very bottom of the bag, Tyler’s phone. “Fuck,” he said, “you have another phone.”
Jackson, still panting, stared at the phone longingly. If only it had been a little further up, he might have gotten it and help would be on the way.
Ian turned it over in his hands, removed the back cover and pulled out the SIM card and the battery. He held the card up in front of Jackson’s face and broke it with a snap of his fingers. Then he set the heel of his boot onto the phone and crashed it. Jackson felt tears of frustration and hopelessness tickle at the back of his eyes and he fought them back. Not now. He raised his eyes from the shards of the phone to Ian, who was studying the library card.
"Since there’s no way you’re fourteen, I assume you’re not Tyler M. Roberts and this isn’t your stuff. Is it, Jackson?”
Jackson shook his head. “It’s my little brother’s.”
“I thought it was yours, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken it along. I frisked you and left your phone in your car. Figured I’d be safe. Damn.” An almost self-conscious look flittered over his face. Then he shrugged. “See, even after all these times I’m learning new things.”
After all these times? How many kids had Ian already taken? And what had he done with them? Jackson suppressed a shiver and shoved the thought aside with determination. He really didn’t want to know.
“Okay then.” Ian looked at his watch. “We have to get going. Your friend back there,” he pointed to Casey, “has an appointment in twenty minutes and we’ve still got a few miles ahead of us. We were already running late because of you anyway.” He stuffed everything back into the bag and threw it onto the passenger seat. Then he picked up the roll of duct tape and moved towards Jackson.
Jackson shook his head. The thought of having an airway cut off shortly after his experience with near suffocation made him queasy. “Please don’t. I’ll be quiet.”
Ian hesitated. “Feel like throwing up?”
He didn’t, not anymore, but he nodded anyway.
Ian studied him sharply. “I’m not sure I believe you, but I really don’t want you choking to death on your own vomit, so I’ll let it go. Sit up.” He pulled Jackson up by the arm and wrapped the duct tape first around his knees, then around his ankles. “We don’t want you getting any other stupid ideas, do we?” He tossed the duct tape into the plastic chest and started the van again.
Jackson studied his wrapped legs. There was no way he’d get away like this. Hell, he’d be lucky if he managed to make a break with all his limbs free. He leaned his head against the wall and allowed the tears he’d been holding back to fall. Across from him he could hear Casey crying and pulling up his tear clogged nose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
The answer was a soft sob.
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