Route 2

      Ringing ears, a pounding headache, deep shallow breaths from snapping awake, only to still be surrounded by darkness. It all seemed so loud and quiet at the same time. “Where am I?”, Kennedy wondered as she tried to sit up, only to have something blocking her way. Feeling her way around, she could tell she was boxed in. The fog around her brain began to clear up, the ringing in her ears was getting lower and now she could hear a muffled song playing, feel the thumping of the speakers, the tired thudding against paved roads, someone talking loudly. Yelling maybe? 

“Am I in a trunk right now?” She mumbled to herself before panic ensued.

Then came the screaming, the banging and begging to be freed, “Somebody!! Somebody help me please!”, it didn’t help anything. It only made her loose oxygen, made her lightheaded. No one was coming to save her. Kennedy threw her head back in defeat, reinjuring the tender spot where she got hit in the back of the head. “What the hell happened?”, Kennedy wondered. 

         Meanwhile past the inside of the trunk, past the backseat that held worn construction boots, cans of energy drinks, sodas, beer, a jug of whiskey all empty. Along with the effects of Kennedy. Her purse, ID, and cellphone that kept buzzing on the floor of the backseat. In the very front of the car there were two bodies who occupied the front seats. One in the driver’s seat rocking out to some heavy metal with his foot pressed down on the gas, gunning it. 

He was going at least 90, eyes low from the amount of drinks he consumed, including the ones spewed in the backseat of his matte black ’68 Chevy Camaro. To him it was his dream car. To everyone else it was scrap metal that needed to be at the junk yard, but he would always tell them Betsy just needs a little love. On the passenger side sat a man who kept looking between his friend and the road that kept speeding at them worriedly, holding on to the bar at the top side of the door. Oddly enough he had to admit to himself that the scene of the sun rising was a beautiful sight before him. 

But now wasn’t the time for that so he shook the thought and turned back to his friend. 

“Brent! What the hell?” He screamed over the screeching sounds of the metal band. He was getting frustrated over having to over talk the music, so he reached over and tuned it down. It earned a side eye from his friend, but he wasn’t phased by it, “Have you finally snapped or something? Why would you do some shit like this?”

“I didn’t mean to man.” Brent shrugged. His attitude became nonchalant, “She wouldn’t stop screaming.” 

         The man in the passenger seat swore he was about to pop a blood vessel. Why was Brent so chill right now?

“So, you thought bashing her in her head was the best solution? And THEN you bring her unconscious body to my front door!” His voice straining in anger. There has been plenty of times where he has been furious with Brent throughout their 13-year friendship, but this one took the cake. 

“Relax Damon.” Was Brent’s only reply and that made his friend snap.

“Relax? Relax! How do you expect me to do that when there is a woman back there screaming her head off in your trunk!” Damon banged his hand on the dashboard with every word he spoke, spit flying out of his mouth from how mad he was, “What is your plan, Brent! Drop he off at the Canadian boarder and say sorry for kidnapping you, but I hope you like your new life in Canda cause I can’t let you come back here!” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Damon! Okay! Is that what you wanted to hear?” Brent screamed back. The cool demeanor gone in a spit second. It had gone quiet in the car, just the music playing lowly. Not even a scream from Kennedy. 

“Why’d you, do it?” Damon asked after a while. Looking out of the front of the car, eyes back on that beautiful sun rise coming over the Montana mountains. Damon had never seen anything like it before. The live picture in front of him almost made him want to cry.  

“I was just tired you know. Tired of hearing no. Tired of hearing I think you’re a great guy, but we don’t match.” Brent now also staring at the scene in front of him, but he wasn’t taking it in like Damon. He was thinking about six hours ago when he was on his date with Kennedy and she told him those exact same words, “We’re not a match”. Thinking about it again made him grip the steering wheel tightly. 

“So, you bash her in her head?” Damon asked again. He just couldn't comprehend what was going on. This wasn’t the Brent he knew. He knew his friend was off his game for a little while, but he thought he would bounce back. He always did, “What are we going to do Brent? We got to get ourselves out of this situation. You know she’s going to go straight to the police. You plan on killing her? Then what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, what do you know!” Damon screamed at him and the banging in the trunk stared again. The yells for help started again. It was clouding Brent’s head. 

“I don’t know! Shut up! Shut the fuck up both of you!” He banged his fist on the steering wheel, then put the music back on blast to drown out everyone and everything including his own thoughts. Picking up more speed. 

         Back in the trunk laid a scared Kennedy. Fresh tears covering her face, mixing in with the ones that had dried. Her voice was starting to become hoarse from all the screaming she had been doing. Blaming herself for getting into the situation in the first place. She had gone on a date with Brent, this one being the third one. 

She only went back out with him again because her friends had encouraged it. Kennedy hadn’t been on a date in a couple of years, so she had decided to get back out there again when she matched with Brent on a dating app. She had fun the other two times they had gone out, but there was something off about him and she was usually right about her hunches, but she ignored because her friends told her she was just overreacting. When they were on this last date Brent was acting so possessive and she decided it was time to cut it off. She thought she was letting him down gently, but he didn’t take it well or shouldn’t be here now. 

“Think Kennedy, think.” How was she going to get herself out of this situation alive. She’s seen these videos before floating on social media where if you just so happened to get stuck in someone’s trunk. Never thought she was going to need it, so she didn’t pay it much attention, “What did it say to do?”

         Oh, that’s right! You have to kick out the taillight. So, Kennedy waited and while she waited there was still some panicking involved, but when the time was right, she began to kick away. When the music got turned back up and the yelling began again. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

         A good five hard kicks, that’s what it took to get a chunk of the light out. Kennedy didn’t stop there though. She kicked and kicked till she was able to fit her hand where the light used to be, and she begun waving her hand around like a crazy person. 10 minutes…20 minutes…an hour? She wasn’t sure, her hand was tired, her arm was cramping up, but she wasn’t going to stop till she knew someone saw her. 

         Back inside the car there was still yelling going on. The music was still blasting and there was some more alcohol to be had by Brent. Damon didn’t even know where it was coming from. It was like Brnet was a magician and he was pulling bottles and cans out from thin air. 

“I don’t need any help!” Brent yelled and swerved slightly as he pointed his finger at Damon’s face. He was pissed. How could his best friend suggest that he was crazy. That he need help. 

“What do you call this then Brent! If this isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is. You kidnapped someone!” 

“I told you I’m just tired. I’m tired of being used. These women they just use you for your money and then move on to the next like you’re nothing.” He spat out in distaste.

“What money! You can’t even keep a job. That is your mom giving you money every week and it’s not enough for some broad to live off of.” 

         Damon was tired. This is what he has been dealing with for a long time. People always tell you never leave your friends when they are down. Always check on your loved ones, you never know what they are going through. But no one ever talks about when you are at your wits end and there is no helping them, you’re only hindering them at this point. 

         Brent was crushed. That’s what his best friend thought of him? Someone who just lived in his mother’s house and didn’t do for himself. 

“Don’t…don’t say that. You don’t mean that.” 

“I do. I do mean it Brent. I don’t know any other way to put it. Look at this mess you roped me in! I could lose everything because of you! Because you can’t take no for an answer from some girl. She probably seen you were lost in your head and didn’t wanting anything to do with you! I should take a page out of her book because I can’t do this anymore!” Damon said, his voice a mixture of crying and screaming. 

“Please! You don’t mean that! You’re all that I have out here in this world. The only one who is there for me no matter what.” This felt like a really bad break up, the way Brent’s heart was breaking.

“Yea. Well maybe I’m tired of being the only one.” Damon replied lowly. 

         No more was said after that. What could one say after something like that? All that could be heard was the head banging music. Heavy metal and awkwardness didn’t go together, but it didn’t last long. The sound of sirens took over and nothing they had said not even five minutes ago mattered as fear overtook them. Sure enough they could see a police car behind them in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh shit! What are we going to do!” Damon’s voice wavered.

He knew they were going to go down for this. The girl in the trunk, the bottles that littered the car and no telling what else Brent had on him. He didn’t know how he could get himself out of this since he did help his friend carry the knocked-out girl to his car and he came along willingly. What was he supposed to do? Brent seemed to be taking a different route with his fear as he gained more speed going down route 2. 

He started zipping past cars, weaving in and out of traffic. Damon looked over at his friend and saw the zoned-out look in his eyes and it looked like nobody was home. 

“Brent?” No answer came from him he just looked ahead. Doing 103 mph now, “Brent! What are you doing! Pull over! You’re making this worse than what it has to be.” Brent snapped his head towards Damon. 

“Isn’t that what I do best? I make everything worse by doing dumb shit like this. So why don’t I end it for this both of us! Put us both out of our misery!” 

“You’re talking crazy! Come on man! We can get you some help okay! I won’t leave you. I promise. I’m sorry I said that. I was upset, it happens. We say things we don’t mean. Just pull over please!” Damon cried as he said anything he could think of just so he wouldn’t die. Not even a thought about the girl in the back, he was just worried about himself at the moment. 

         It seemed to have worked. Brent’s facial expression had changed from a look of murderous determination to a look of sorry as he finally pulled over to the shoulder on the right. The cop car was hot on his tail and slammed to a stop. Not a moment later the officer was at the driver’s side window. Brent rolled it down and turned the music down. 

He looked at the officer giving him a smile. Well, he tried to, but it looked like he was in pain, “How can I help you officer?”

“Did you not see me signaling you to pull over a little ago back there?” The officer Camden is what his badge read was not pleased. One hand leaning on the roof of that busted Chevy and the other on his holster. He was ready for anything after he got the call that a few people had spotted a hand sticking out of where this man’s taillight should be. 

“I’m sorry I did not. I had my music blasting and me and my friend here were in an argument so I wasn’t paying attention like I should have been. I do apologize.” Brent spoke as he nodded his head towards Damon who was sweating bullets.

         What officer Camden wasn’t ready for was to look over at the passenger seat and see that there was nobody there. 

“Who are you talking about?” 

“What do you mean? My buddy here…” Brent turned to look at Damon, but he was right. 

“There’s no one there.” 

BANG! BANG!

“Someone help me!” Kennedy yelled. The cop drew his gun quickly and aimed it at Brent. 

“Sir I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle. Slowly.” 

“There’s no one there…”