Dangerous Surprise

• Zoe Currie, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2013

A black van gives me shade for several seconds before I pass it completely and turn the corner. I come to notice that neither the front nor back have number plates. Add in the tinted windows and you get one of those cars you see on cop shows like Castle or bones. Another black van, same model, was parked not too far ahead of me. Confusion clouds my thoughts and covers my face. This one had no number plates as well. In wonder, I walk to the nearest drive way, look both ways and cross the road; catching a glimpse of the first van moving in behind the second. If this is a joke, consider it played. My heart races as I can’t help but think of the worst possibilities of outcomes. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but this doesn't happen every day. Fear quickens my pace, but I’m stopped when I see another van stopped opposite me at a give way sign. And to no surprise, no number plates.
My pace turns into a trot to the corner and I turn on my heel to get a quick good look of my street. There were fewer cars than usual for a Saturday. I should make it back alive. I can’t help but continue my trot towards the end of the street. It was a long street and this paranoia was getting the best of me. I take a few deep breathes before jogging, then running my way down to my house. The earphones had fallen out of my ears, but it didn't matter when all I can hear is my heart thumping its way out of my chest.
Please tell me this is a dream I tell myself as I look behind me. All three vans passed me and I've stopped in relief. But relief soon diminishes as the three vans pull synchronized to a stop outside my house. I've never felt so trapped. Was it worth trying to go in the front door? Or is it easier to see if I still fit through the wobble wooden plank in the back fence? I catch my feet pacing towards my house. At the moment I've only got another house to pass, but I’m only a meter or so away from van number three. No drivers step out, which worries me more. They’re waiting for me. I could sense it.
I reluctantly edge closer to the front gate. At the corner of my eye I catch all three sliding doors of the vans opening and men in suits surrounding me. I’m in shock. The only words I can gather are stuttering which easily turn into screams. Two men stand either side of me and grab my arms. Two more men stand in front and behind me while the rest surround us all. The four men guide me into the middle van. I try and struggle, but these are professionals and their grips are fierce. “Miss, don’t struggle. You’re in danger….”