Rescue: a poetry-verse drama

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Emilia yells, running at me.

I can't see the problem, but

it's thrown her into tizzy.

She screams some more,

slamming into me, and

knocking my glasses onto the ground; I

pick

them up, placing the glass frames over my eyes,

sending the rioting world

into clarity. Or near clarity.

Nothing is clear right now.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Emilia grabs my shoulders and shakes me a little.

"What's

wrong?" I ask.

Oh, nothing, nothing, NO-THING except

SAMANTHA-JAE was

just TAKEN AWAY

BY SOME GUY!

CALL THE POLICE! CALL

THE U.S. ARMY! CALL

THE U. K. ARMY! CALL

THE IRISH ARMY!

RUN

FOR THE HILLS! I TRIED

TO RUN AFTER THEM, BUT

HE DROVE TOO FAST!"

She spins around,

falling over.

Emilia

Brushed dust from her jeans, standing up, her hair

falling out of its messy bun, her own glasses,

fogged by her huffing breath.

"Hold up. There's

been an

abduction? An alien abduction?"

"I don't think he was a

martian, but

yes; Samantha-Jae was taken by him. We

HAAAAVE to act now."

"Did you call the sheriff?" I ask, fiddling with

the button

on my jean jacket, a

nervous habit of mine.

I brush my straight,

brown hair out of my eyes, blinking at Emilia. She begins to sob

uncontrollably,

tears streaking down her cheeks, in trails

of pitch-black

mascara.

"I didn't! I didn't! I'm such a

failure! Everyone knows that

You're supposed to call

9-1-1 if you witness

a crime! Choco,

I'm so sorry!

I let our

friend

be

stolen!

If I could

go back in

time and save

her, I would have

thrown myself at the

man! I would have broken

both his legs, if I had to! Oh,

Chocolate, I'm so, so, so sorry!"

I touched Emilia's arm.

"You didn't know what to do. You panicked and

went to the first person you could trust.

That's okay. You tried

to help her.

We'll get her back, I

p

r

o

m

i

s

e

.

I promise."

I start laughing, and

I can't stop.

"What's so funny? Our friend

was just--"

"You said 'Irish Army."

"Why's that so stupid?"

"It isn't, except we're in Oklahoma, a state in America.

They wouldn't be able to come. And, well, this is

an American problem, right?"

"I suppose."

I reach out and touch Emilia's arm gently.

"We'll find her. We'll find her."

But something in me

cannot

ever

believe

this.

We'll find her. We'll find her.

The plan is in motion.

We're leaving tonight. We can't

wait long, or

it might be too late.

We don't know Samantha-Jae's captor's intentions.

She might not be...

No. I can't

think

like

that.

10:30.

We are

leaving in

half an hour.

Emilia will drive

us out of town, in

the direction that she

saw the car driving away

in. There are six roads that

head away from our town, and

the abductor was heading north,

up by a forest that borders half our

town. We're in the middle of nowhere,

so unless A) he's taking Samantha-Jae far

away, B) there's some cabin in the woods or

secret hideout that we've never seen, or C) he

lives out there. I think that there's a manor house 

56 miles from here, but the abductor likely wouldn't

need any ransom money or something, since the manor

owner would be rich. But there could be other motives, too.

Emilia described him to me: young-looking, no older than

twenty-five, but she wasn't really sure. She didn't get a

good look at his face. He could be a young-looking

thirty-five-year-old man, since she didn't get a

clear glimpse. he had short-shaved brown 

hair, a muscular build, and white skin.

The odd thing, Emilia told me, was

that even though she only saw

him leading Samantha-Jae

away, it looked like she

had gone willingly...

Samantha-Jae

had shown

up in

our

small

town all

alone, so

maybe she

was running

from him? He

could have told

her something to

make her come, or

threatened her. But

Samantha-Jae was not

the kind of girl you could

threaten. Samantha-Jae was

brave and strong. Unless he said

something to her that really made her

weak, she wouldn't leave. He didn't have

any visible weapons, as far as Emilia could

tell, so force wasn't an option. I have figured

out that he was in a white van, from the year

2016, and Emilia told me that the license

plate number started with A9442, but

that was all that she had memorized

as she ran after them. She didn't

have the brand, but she knew

that only three of the six

windows were tinted.

She knew this because

she saw Samantha-Jae

through one of them.

And that's all the info

we have. However, the

tracks seem follow-able, 

and whoever it was had an

oil leak, leaving a trail behind

them, one that we would still be

able to see if we had really good

headlights, so maybe, if we--

"Choco. Hey, Choco. Are you

there? Can you hear me?"

Emilia's voice rings

through my phone.

"I hear you. Loud and clear. I was just thinking

about this. What do we do? If we can't--"

My voice drops into the abyss opening inside of me.

"We will." Emilia assures me, the screen of the phone

lighting up. "Besides, once we're past town limits, I'll

alert the sheriff. All the information. Just in case they have

guns or something."

I did not think of that.

Although, now that I do,

I really realize what we're doing.

We're charging into a criminal's lair.

Trying to get a friend back, instead of

trusting the authorities.

What.

Have.

We.

Gotten.

INTO?

"Ems? You there?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm right here. Come outside. to

my house. Just a few down the block. We miiiiight

have a transportation issue."

I do not like the sound of that.

"Be right there, Emilia. Over and out."

We only have a motorcycle.

"This?"

"It's not that big of an issue, except you're a little too big to ride

on my back for hundreds of miles. Besides, the

headlights are a little dim. We'll need a car."

"Who has a car we could borrow? I mean,

not many people in Bridgebrook, O.K., even own them.

There

isn't enough room,

you can practically walk from one side of the town to the other in twenty minutes."

"Maybe that would be me."

I jump a foot in the air, panic, scream, and fall over,

crouching down like you're supposed to do in an earthquake.

"NOT US, TOO!" I screech.

Emilia,

on the other hand, is waving a stick and

threatening the mysterious figure.

"And me!" says a young female voice, high and sharp.

I almost start sobbing with fear.

Two of them. We don't even outnumber the

mysterious people.

Hold on.

One of them sounds

familiar...

Emilia's constant stream of motion, waving her stick

like it's a lightsaber,

turns on a floodlight-bright, motion-sensitive porch lamp and

garage light.

It's John Kazzer, the young man who Samantha-Jae accused of stealing our bakery's secret spice.

And Sherry Solomon, an annoying teenage girl, about

as tall as me, with messy blond hair, a

snappish attitude, and big, adorable, anime-like eyes.

Her face is an explosion

of freckles.

Really? Them?

Could they be related

to the criminal?

Samantha-Jae's

abductor?

They didn't seem like

criminals themselves, though.

"Really, you two, why are you

doing that?" John asks.

Sherry snickers.

"Okay, we need your car and I'm the adult here, so

I'm driving." Emilia announces. The purple streak woven

into her two black braids

winks

at me in the light.

"Can we come, too?" Sherry asks loudly.

"Shhhhhh..." I hiss.

"Why're you all dressed like robbers?" Sherry continues.

She's right. I'm dressed in a black turtleneck,

black texting gloves,

black jeans,

black sneakers

with the shiny laces pulled out

and the treads on the bottom

etched with little X's so the brand is unidentifiable,       

and a black, puffy, hooded jacket over it all.

Emilia is wearing a literal mask,

like some kind of supervillain.

"We're catching a kid napper." I say, bluntly

and shortly.

"I think it's one word, Choco."

"Whatever."

"Nah, I think you were talking about a

person who makes baby goats sleep."

"WHATEVER!"   

I frown and cross my arms.

"Can WE come, too?"

Sherry asks, a giant smile

opening across her lips.

"No. Too

dangerous."

"The more the safer," John Kazzer says.

I hate to admit he's right.

"You are dressed like a

bunch of incredibly see-able clowns. We are

dressed for this."

Emilia smiles,

black lipstick looking purple under the bright lights.

"We'll change." They both announce.

They come back dressed like

weird robbers in a funny movie.

I admire the bandanas and hats, to cover

their blond and light-brown hair, which

is way more visible than mine and

Emilia's.

"I can not believe I'm saying this, but

You guys look like you know what you're doing. Now we need

to cover up the car license plate," Emila says.

When John Kazzer gives hr a look, she adds: "So your

mom doesn't get in trouble because of us... or do you want her to

get all the blame?"

The do what she says

pretty speedily.

Soon we are flying away into the night.

The road is dark

and we are only small humans

in the vast, empty Earth.

We slow to 2 miles per hour once

we're a good ten miles out there.

Here, the tracks are

hard to find.

Oil shines

in our headlights, but then, that

d i s s a p p e a r s.

We keep going.

We get out of the car,

looking.

Then:

we find a deep skid mark in the road, the mud around it drying

on the edges,

water pooling in it at its depths.

It's old,

but not too old.

We follow the off-roading tracks,

the same pattern as the pattern of the grips on the abductor's van,

I notice,

and they lead to a dirt road.

We follow the dirt road for at least three miles,

before we see it turn to hard pavement,

and then we see lights.

A big manor house--not big, huge-- sits

in a giant manicured lawn.

The lights are bright, but we see a pocket

of darkness beyond them.

We crawl through the shadows until Sherry whispers

Why are we doing this?

I shake my head, trying to signal "no talking".

Emilia "shhhhhh"s at Sherrry, who

becomes silent as stone.

We go around to the side of the house, behind big bushes. The

place looms in front of me

like a giant, white climbing wall--

climbing wall?

I think I can climb this place.

I could climb up

and rescue Samantha-Jae!

I could be a hero!

I step over a spiky, prickly, hedge.

Adrenaline and determination course through my veins.

I reach out

touch the smooth siding

take a breath

then another breath

another

another

another

another

I reach out

And

begin

climbing.

I reach the third floor, balancing

my toes who-knows-where,

holding on

to the siding and breathing gently.

My hands tire and my feet wear out, so I

lean onto the frame of a nearby window. I look in,

gasping.

Samantha-Jae

is sitting is a nearly featureless white room,

with a bed, desk, and chair in it.

She has her back turned to me, but

we have the same sleek, brown hair.

Her! It's her!

The window is pretty high, but

She could climb out if she tried.

The window is on the third floor, though. The fall is

far, if she were to slip.

The door is locked, but there's

another, unlocked door.

It's ajar and leads to

a colorless bathroom,

I think.

Samantha-Jae turns around, and I see

that she is holding a cloth to her right cheek, for

some reason. She removes it,

and I see a cut slashing across her cheek,

blood oozing out as soon as she removes the cloth.

The whole thing is turned red on the inside.

Oh, no. Whoever hurt her

is gonna PAY.

I bang on the window, trying not to topple down, down,

down, down,

down

d

o

w

n

.

.

.

"AhmigashurhereInewudcome!" she shouts. The thick

glass makes her speech almost unrecognizable as English.

"YEAH! I'M HERE TO RESCUE YOU!"

I fiddled with the window,

opening it.

"From my stepbrothers?"

"Your stepbrothers kid napped you?"

"One word, gal.

One word. But anyway, I'm fine. I went

on my own, with no one forcing me to, hoping that

they'd become nicer. But

as you can see, they

aren't.

I ran away from them two years ago. Thanks

for getting me out of here, but--"

She shoves me out the window.

A million butterfies of panic

invade my stomach.

I reach out and grab the windowsill with

two fingers

Two fingers are

all that's keeping me

from falling down

into the pricker bushes

from a hundred feet up above them.

Two.

Fingers.

I swing my other hand up, dangling from the ledge.

Samantha-Jae slams the window shut

before I can climb back up.

Shock. I am shocked.

So shocked that I

F

A

L

L

off the side of the building.

I was never knocked out, I think I was just

shocked from the fall.

I am not that badly hurt!

And there's an unfamiliar boy's face floating above mine.

Brown hair

blue eyes

white skin

concerned look

He's kind of cute...

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING CHOCOLATE!? My brain says

to me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah! Fine! Jammy! All good!" I say,

standing up and dashing away. He's about my age,

really skinny,

nervous.

Did I already say nervous? Well, he is.

"AAAAAAAH! DID I KILL YOU, CHOCO?

IF I KILLED YOU, I'LL NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF!

I WAS TRYING TO MAKE SURE BRYAN DIDN'T SEE YOU!"

"I'M OKAAAAAAY!" I yell.

The boy stares at me.

"Are you trying to--"

"I'm trying to un-kid nap Samatha-Jae!"

"Two words.

And you can't un-kid nap.

That's not a thing, okay?"

"WHATEVER!" I say.

I look up at Samantha-Jae, leaning out the window.

"Are you--" I begin.

The boy takes me to the ground. I slam

my knee into his stomach, but

My kneecap hits something hard instead.

Armor?

I can't escape from his grip.

No matter what I do, he

can match me move for move.

I have one secret weapon...

Time. To.

Use. It.

I lean forward,

and my lips touch his.

Weird boy,

consider yourself

KISSED.

"EEEW!" he shouts. He leaps off of me, runs toward

a prickly topiary,

hits it hard, runs for the wall,

hits that, then

runs away, a big guard dog

(coming for Emilia and Sherry,

who are running towards the car)

slamming into him,

tripping, getting back up, hitting the wall of the house, then stumbling into another topiary

and then the hood of the car.

I stare at the palms of my hands.

Did I just do that?

I

did.

The kid was cute.

I'd kiss him even if I wasn't fighting him.

Eww.

Samantha Jae is climbing out the window on

a rope Emilia threw to her, swinging down to the ground,

running for the car,

which John Kazzer is driving towards us.

I hop non the back with the others,

opening the trunk and climbing inside.

Seven strong-looking, brown-haired boys

are running towards us.

The cute boy

is chasing in a gangly way, falling over his own feet and tripping on stones.

"So long, sucker!" I call to the wind,

flying back home.

After an hour of panicked driving in circles, trying to lose them--

We make it back

home, with no stepbrothers following.

Status: all here,

all okay,

all really, really, really proud.

And hopefully no

real adults saw us....