Lucky

[midorisakura]

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.

A/N: cottoncandy_bingo round two prompt – milestone (dictionary meaning) 1. A stone marker set up on a roadside to indicate the distance in miles from a given point.

Summary: Kidnapped by a crazy man, Maddie has time to think about what really matters in her life as she watches the mile markers pass by. What really matters? Sam. (written for the second round of cottoncandy bingo, pre-romance)

 

It’s just a mile. A single, lonely, terrifying mile that seems to stretch out into forever.

A mile she spends trying to figure a way out, watching the scenery go by, listening, with half an ear, to her crazy kidnapper as he expounds on the various tortures he wants to execute upon her body.

This, Maddie decides, is not what she had in mind for her Saturday morning. Maybe she should have expected something like this, though. Since Michael had come back into her life, with his spy friends, she could no longer live life with ordinary, day-to-day expectations.

Like, for example, expecting not to be accosted, and kidnapped, while picking up milk, cigarettes, bacon and eggs for breakfast. Perhaps she could’ve done without the bacon. It had taken her an extra minute to decide between hickory and original. It’s a minute she won’t get back, and a minute that could cost her, her life.  

Now, though, as she watches yet another milestone pass by in a blur, she realizes that things like bacon and cigarettes, milk, none of those things matter. What does matter, though, are the things that she’s taken for granted since Michael’s return.

Such as: having her son nearby. Not that Michael’s handy around the house – his friend, Sam, is though. Sam’s pretty handy with a number of things, and that’s another thing that Maddie’s taken for granted. Sam.

What she wouldn’t do to have Sam come to her rescue right about now, because crazy’s explaining, in explicit detail, how he’s going to dismantle her body, using a paring knife (something that Maddie doesn’t think is possible,  not that she’s going to tell crazy that, she’s going to leave him to his own delusions – for now).

She’s not one of those silly, frail, fainting maidens who need to be rescued on an almost daily basis. No, Maddie prides herself on her self-sufficiency, on the fact that she’s not had to rely on a man for a long, long time now, not since she lost her husband those many years ago. Still, a rescue – Sam riding in on a metaphorical white horse – would be nice right about now.

Another milestone; and that makes three. Three miles from the grocery store – her bacon and milk are going to spoil before anyone notices that she’s missing, and she doesn’t even want to think about what the scent of eggs rotting is going to do to the interior of her car. Several dollars down the drain, just like that.

Money doesn’t grow on trees, she thinks, and she rolls her eyes, shifts in her seat, putting another half an inch of space between her and her kidnapper. It’s not enough space, even pressed up against the door as she is; face flush against the cool windowpane.

“Look,” Maddie interjects, interrupting the crazy man’s monologue in the middle of some unrelated diatribe on the government and tin foil. “As much as I hate to rain on your parade, I’ve got to tell you that my son, Michael, will hunt you down and kill you if you do anything to me.”

As far as threats go, it’s pretty lame, and Maddie winces as soon as the words leave her mouth. Usually, she’s wittier than that. But, as they pass the fourth mile marker, she’s starting to panic, seeing any rescue at all slipping by as quickly as the miles.

The man laughs, places a hand on her thigh and squeezes. Maddie jerks away and glares at her kidnapper.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” If you know what’s good for you, she adds silently, picturing Sam, not Michael, teaching the man a lesson in manners. She blushes, and quickly looks out the window when her kidnapper leers at her.

Mile marker number five flashes by in the blink of an eye, and fear claws at Maddie’s heart, digs its way into her throat, and she clutches at it, tries to push it aside, because this is not how she’s going to die.

Cancer. That’s how she’s going to die. She’s a smoker, and has no illusions that she’s going to pass on from this life in any other way. She’s certainly not going to die on the wrong end of a knife, especially not when that knife’s being wielded by a paranoid psychopath.

Though, she’s also reconciled to the fact that she might end up dying because of her son’s exploits someday, and oddly enough, she’s okay with that. It’s far better than being number nine, or whatever, on some serial killer’s string of murders.

“Stop the car,” Maddie says, interrupting yet another monologue where her kidnapper is expounding on the merits of various knifes. “Stop the car, and let me out, and I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise.”

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t stop the car. As a matter of fact, he talks over her, and continues his monologue, as though she hadn’t spoken at all. Dejected, and growing even more frantic as mile marker six slips by, Maddie sags back against the seat, and focuses on the green of the trees, which are flying by far too quickly.

Instead of watching mile markers, Maddie thinks about Sam, about how she’d like to have him over for dinner sometime, because life really is too short to dance around feelings. She frowns, catching her reflection in the car’s window as the surprise of the turn that her thoughts have taken registers in her mind.

Feelings. She has feelings for Sam. It’s ridiculous, and yet, it isn’t. Sam has become more of a fixture in her life than Michael has over the past couple of years, and, Sam gets her. What more does a relationship need than that – a steady presence and understanding?

Love, she thinks, and she snorts, ignores the sidelong look mister-ongoing-monologue shoots her. There’s more to a relationship than love. Much, much more. And love can sometimes overcomplicate something that doesn’t need overcomplicating.

She almost doesn’t notice the passing of mile markers seven, eight and nine, but the distance between the grocery store and wherever crazy man was taking her is ever at the back of her mind, no matter what else she thinks about to distract herself. Sighing, Maddie turns to face the man who’s nabbed her, and takes in his appearance.

He isn’t a handsome man, but he isn’t ugly either. Ordinary. He’s ordinary, and boring with his unkempt brown hair, and dull brown eyes.

His skin has almost a sickly pallor to it, and Maddie wonders if he’s done this kind of thing before, and if so, how many women he’s taken. If he has a hard time finding dates, or if he’s doing this because he’s been scorned in love.

She’s read about serial killers, has watched those pseudo documentaries which detail the lives of criminals, and she knows what motivates them, or at least what the experts say motivates them.

But, what motivates her kidnapper, and would be killer. What motivates boring, ordinary, monologue man?

“What’s your name?” she asks, and she doesn’t expect an answer, so she almost misses it.

He states it, Bill, and continues right on with his ongoing one-sided discussion on the importance of women knowing their place in the world.

“Look, Bill,” Maddie says, and mile marker number ten trails along behind them, oblivious to her mounting distress. “You seem like a nice guy.”

For a complete and utter maniac, she wisely keeps that addendum to herself.

“If you let me out of the car, I’ll forget all about this. I’ll forget all about you,” Maddie says, thinking that it’s a fair deal. “And…”

“But I don’t want you to forget,” Bill interrupts, and it’s the first time that he’s addressed her directly since this whole debacle began. “I want you to remember me for all of eternity.”

Maddie’s not sure what to say to that. There are no words, and an image of Sam – smiling, sitting in her dining room, chair tilted back on two legs, a look of mischief in his expressive brown eyes – comes to her mind unbidden.

Some might call Sam ordinary at first glance, but Maddie knows that he’s not. He’s not ordinary, and, if she survives this, no, when she survives this, she’s going to invite him over for a late breakfast, or dinner, if this unplanned trip into the unchartered wilderness of Florida progresses well past mile marker number eleven.

“Fine, let me out of the car, and I will remember you forever,” Maddie promises, trying to keep the growing anger and panic out of her voice.

“I have to leave my mark on you,” Bill says, and he gives her a look that makes Maddie’s skin crawl.

“Believe me, Bill, you’ve already left a mark on me,” Maddie mutters just loud enough for both of them to hear. “I don’t think I could forget you if I wanted to.” She looks out of the window, leaves Bill to his resumed musings about knives, and women, and leaving his mark on the world, and realizes that, in spite of her resolve to survive this, she might not.

It’s as they’re rounding mile marker fifteen that things start to take a turn in favor of Maddie getting out of this alive. Red and blue lights flash in the rear-view mirror, the alternating colors burning themselves into her retinas, giving her a welcome headache. The whining of the siren

The press of metal to her side dampens her hopes. “I’ll kill you if you say anything,” Bill says, and Maddie almost laughs out loud.

He’s going to kill her anyway. He’s told her, in great detail, every sordid thing he’s planning to do to her, prior to, and after, killing her, so this latest threat, delivered in a whispered hiss, doesn’t add to her anxiety. If anything, it eases some of the tension that’s been building up inside of her since this whole ordeal began.

The fact that he pulls to the side of the road, plasters a smile on his face, and orders her to smile (which she does) surprises her. He’s still got the knife pressed against her side, not hard enough to cut her, but enough pressure so that, if he pushes just a little bit harder, she’ll be bleeding. It’s an effective threat, but she doubts that the police will be fooled by his fake, and her forced, smiles.

The knife, being very visible, would make their smiles anything but reassuring to the police. She does her best to stay still, and prays that the police won’t be fooled, that they will look into the car, and realize that she’s in danger.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” the officer asks. All that Maddie can see of the man is the dark blue of his uniform. With the knife digging deeper as Bill spoke with the officer.

Look into the car, you idiot, Maddie thought, her hope dwindling as the officer walked away from the car, processing Bill’s driver’s license.

Praying for a miracle, Maddie metaphorically crosses her fingers and presses her index finger against the release button on the seatbelt. Elbowing her captor, she fumbles with the lock of the car door, relieved when it springs open and she tumbles out of the door, landing hard on her knees, the gravel at the side of the road jabbing into her knees.

The pain in her side doesn’t even register until after it’s all over, and Bill is arrested. The officer not shoving Bill into the backseat of the police car calls for an ambulance. Maddie doesn’t even know how she learns that Bill has killed four other women, all similar in looks to her, in the past several months.

According to the police, and the paramedics, she’s lucky. Lucky that Bill was speeding, lucky that the cut in her side is superficial, lucky that her son is able to drop what he’s doing and meet her at the hospital. Lucky that Sam replaces the spoiled eggs, milk and bacon, and makes sure that her car doesn’t stink of rotting pig flesh and soured milk. Lucky that she realizes, before she says goodbye to this life, that she has feelings for Sam, and lucky that she acts on them when she does.