Frank started to bounce in his seat a little and his eyes glistened. "Here! Here!" He pointed to a warehouse that looked like all the others, and I pulled the car up to the office door. "Stay, friends." Frank got out of the car still keeping the gun trained on us, but making furtive glances at the office windows. "Out," he ordered.
He motioned with us to make our way to the office door and said, "the key with the red tag."
I found it on Frank's keyring and tried it on the door. As soon as he heard the small click, Frank pushed his way into the office and turned on the light. For a moment he lowered the gun as he began to ransack the desk, tossing aside papers looking for something. I glanced at Cindy who, though standing, had collapsed in on herself. We'd been awake for 36 hours, without a shower, without rest, and with little food. We'd been chased and still had the grime from the dumpster all about us, and we'd been kidnapped by a man who seemed straight out of the pages of a pulp detective novel. No wonder she couldn't keep her head up, I could barely keep my eyes open.
But this could be our moment to get away. I edged toward Cindy, and lightly grabbed her arm. She looked at me with glistening eyes, red-rimmed, framed by matted and dirty hair. I imagined how I must look, unshaved, dirty, torn shirt, and I'll never be able to explain it, for it ruined any thought of escape at that moment, but I began to laugh.
It was that blasted tired laugh from being awake too long and too tired to do anything else but laugh. Frank lost all his slackness and immediately trained the gun on us, his whole body tense, angled in straight lines with perpendicular angles. It was the first time he didn't seem like the whole thing was a bit of a deadly joke. He had a slip of paper in his other hand, but laughing and the gun kept me from knowing what it could be. Cindy looked between me and Frank and now she was grabbing my arm, so hard that it hurt, but I couldn't stop laughing.
Then, Frank started laughing, but it wasn't tired or jolly, it was just insane, but it made me laugh even harder to hear it, even as part of me flooded with terror at the sound of it. So we laughed for thirty seconds, a minute, quarter of an hour, it felt like forever, one of those laughs that goes on too long. Cindy's eyes betrayed that she thought I'd lost it.
Then I got too tired to laugh any more, and as I started to slow to soft chuckles, Frank stopped laughing. "Keys," he said, coldly. I was able to shut up, and handed him the keys. He selected one with a blue tag and unlocked the inner door into the war
He motioned with us to make our way to the office door and said, "the key with the red tag."
I found it on Frank's keyring and tried it on the door. As soon as he heard the small click, Frank pushed his way into the office and turned on the light. For a moment he lowered the gun as he began to ransack the desk, tossing aside papers looking for something. I glanced at Cindy who, though standing, had collapsed in on herself. We'd been awake for 36 hours, without a shower, without rest, and with little food. We'd been chased and still had the grime from the dumpster all about us, and we'd been kidnapped by a man who seemed straight out of the pages of a pulp detective novel. No wonder she couldn't keep her head up, I could barely keep my eyes open.
But this could be our moment to get away. I edged toward Cindy, and lightly grabbed her arm. She looked at me with glistening eyes, red-rimmed, framed by matted and dirty hair. I imagined how I must look, unshaved, dirty, torn shirt, and I'll never be able to explain it, for it ruined any thought of escape at that moment, but I began to laugh.
It was that blasted tired laugh from being awake too long and too tired to do anything else but laugh. Frank lost all his slackness and immediately trained the gun on us, his whole body tense, angled in straight lines with perpendicular angles. It was the first time he didn't seem like the whole thing was a bit of a deadly joke. He had a slip of paper in his other hand, but laughing and the gun kept me from knowing what it could be. Cindy looked between me and Frank and now she was grabbing my arm, so hard that it hurt, but I couldn't stop laughing.
Then, Frank started laughing, but it wasn't tired or jolly, it was just insane, but it made me laugh even harder to hear it, even as part of me flooded with terror at the sound of it. So we laughed for thirty seconds, a minute, quarter of an hour, it felt like forever, one of those laughs that goes on too long. Cindy's eyes betrayed that she thought I'd lost it.
Then I got too tired to laugh any more, and as I started to slow to soft chuckles, Frank stopped laughing. "Keys," he said, coldly. I was able to shut up, and handed him the keys. He selected one with a blue tag and unlocked the inner door into the war
