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Stuck by a Drummer- The Adventure Continues
Steve kept one protective arm around my waist as we ran up a flight of cracked cement steps and made for a set of double doors at the other end of the hallway. Afternoon sunlight beckoned beyond them, promising freedom. I half expected someone to leap out at us from one of the doorways that lined the corridor, but luck was on our side; we made it. But when Steve grasped the handles and tried to pull them open, they held tight. Apparently Lady Luck wasn't done shitting on us yet.
"Locked!!" I half sobbed, half gasped. In the background, I heard footsteps racing in our direction.
Steve pulled off his jacket and held it against one of the windows. He drew his other fist back and punched the fabric covered glass, hard. The dusty panes shattered under the impact. He tossed the jacket under one arm, allowing a warm blast of summer breeze to hit our faces, and reached through the broken window to fiddle with the outside lock.
The footsteps were almost at the bottom of the stairs. "Steve, hurry!!" I whimpered.
"Hang on, Babe....there!"
The door opened. Steve grabbed my hand again, and we raced outside.
Just as I'd suspected, our temporary prison was an old school. We found ourselves in a sunlit parking lot, separated from a quiet residential street by an abandoned playground. We didn't take much time to sightsee, though; hand in hand, we hurried across the lot, dodged through an army of swingsets and see-saws, and found ourselves back among humanity. I don't think I was ever so thankful to be jostled by crabby business types and impatient housewives. Steve rummaged in his trousers for his wallet, saw with relief that his money hadn't been removed, and steered me into a coffee shop.
"Stimulants first," he said, "and then we're cabbing back to the hotel."
I said nothing, just let him seat me in a booth and tuck his jacket into the small of my back. When he slid into the seat across from me I whispered, "Steve, what the fuck happened to us?"
His pale face was grave. "KC, I don't know. I never saw any of them before in my life. One possible hint though: when I was lying there, pretending to be still unconscious, one of the two blokes said something about hoping that the boss would be over soon, as he was nervous keeping us there."
"Boss? You didn't piss off the mafia, did you?" I was only half joking.
"No." He paused at the waitress' approach. After ordering two coffees, he drummed his fingers against the checkered table top and looked deep in thought.
"We're going to go to the police, right?"
"No."
"NO?" I could scarcely believe my ears. "What do you mean? First some freak nearly drives away with me at the airport. Then someone actually DOES drive away with us at MacDonald's. Someone is out to get us."
"I know that." His eyes locked with mine. "But this isn't the sort of thing the cops can help us with, KC. Trust me on this one. These people successfully kidnapped us on a London street in borad daylight; they're first class talent, and I've always believed in fighting fire with fire."
"Meaning?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he stared past me towards the street. I followed his gaze and choked back a gasp at what I saw.
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