Page 6 of Klora (Mates of the Mylos #6)
CHAPTER 6
ADRIAN
“Blindfold him,” the driver ordered.
“The kid?” the blond dumb ass asked.
“No,” came the irritable reply. “The teacher. He’s from around here so he’ll recognize where we’re going. Seeing as we’re going to take him along with us to drop him off somewhere else, where the kid is definitely going to be very far away from, we don’t want that.”
Relief flooded me. That sounded like they were not going to kill me. That was good. But splitting us up at some point? Yeah, that most definitely was not good.
“Okay. Um, I see nothing else back here except a tool box.”
“Look inside it for a rag or something” the woman suggested.
“There’s a roll of duct tape here,” the guy in the passenger side seat said, reaching down towards the floorboard.
In the end, they came up with a dirty, balled up paper shop towel which they placed over my eyes and eyebrows before winding the tape over my head. It sucked, but small mercies, I supposed, thinking how much worse it would have fucking hurt if they’d taped across my eyelids directly.
“Don’t think you’re gonna get off scot free,” the blond man hissed in my ear. “I’m gonna carve a message on ya before we dump you in the middle of nowhere.”
I swallowed, knowing he meant he planned to slice my skin using the utility knife he’d also found in the small toolbox and which he’d used to cut the tape.
“No you won’t,” the woman hissed. “What if he bleeds out or gets an infection and dies, you idiot? Then if they somehow figure out who we are and find us, we’ll get charged with murder or something.”
“So? He’s a species traitor. They all deserve to know what happens to people like him in this war.”
“We’re not at war yet,” came the retort, this time from the driver. “Not that kind, anyway. Still a cold one, so no killing. We’re not like the deep state, man. We educate and correct, not kill.”
“Fine,” Blondie got out.
I felt Tyrone’s small hand find mine once more, clasping it for reassurance or solidarity or both. I didn’t know anymore. The kid was pretty zen, and I was starting to suspect it wasn’t all shock. It could be the fever making him feel disconnected somewhat, I supposed.
The van kept moving for several more minutes before stopping.
“Toss the bag in there,” the driver ordered as one of the front doors opened. “Then pull some of the other trash over it.” Several moments and the sound of faint clanging nearby was followed by, “That should be good. Someone will likely come out in a bit and throw more in there. Get in and let’s jet.”
The aroma of garbage reached my nose, making it twitch.
“Whiff-o-rama,” Louise compiled. “Did you have to climb in?”
“If we wanted it buried deep enough, yeah,” came the reply from the front seat passenger as he clambered back in and shut his door.
The driver had kept the van’s engine running, so once the door closed, he took off again, without even waiting for the guy to belt back up, probably.
“I’m wearing a pair of coveralls, so don’t you worry. We get to the gas station, I’ll take it off. My clothes are still clean under it.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t get rid of the stink.”
“If we stuff it in a garbage can, it will.”
“Too noticeable,” she replied. “Bathroom trash cans aren’t that big and if you take it off in here, the ones at the pumps aren’t either. Plus it would look weird. They have cameras on the forecourts.”
"Probably had cameras where we just left too,” Blondie said. “To deter retail theft, ya know? Workers hiding boxes from shipments for their boys to come to pick up or passing it along in person, that sort of shit.”
“I had my hat pulled down,” came the defensive reply.
“Same,” added the driver, “but we will be ditching the coveralls and hats and changing plates in a few.” He laughed before singing about going to the carwash.
These guys might not all be the brightest bulbs, but the ones who’d planned this? Diabolical masterminds who seemed to have accounted for all the possibilities, including me. Except for the blindfold, but I was sure they’d have tied Louise's bra to my head if it had come to it. Thank heaven it hadn’t. My own stomach lurched then at the thought of being even boob adjacent to that vile woman.
The sound of a helicopter caught my attention.
“Lay them on the floor and cover them with one of the tarps. Get under it with them,” the driver ordered.
This trip got better and better at being the absolute worst.
“No, I’ll get under with the boy,” Louise said, as I felt them pull his hand away. “Look at him, holding the kid’s hand, cuddling up to him. Fucking groomer! Are you gay?” she demanded. “Are you not just a regular traitor but one of the gay ones who are taking our children up there to brainwash and do whatever?”
Oh yay. Now with added homophobia.
“I grabbed his hand,” Tyrone bravely spoke up. “He’s a teacher and I’m scared.” His voice wobbled on that last word.
Great. He was finally breaking and I was unable to comfort him.
“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you,” Louise crooned. “I know foster care probably sucked for you, but those nasty aliens and the human traitors who gave you to them are not going to be able to hurt you anymore. We’ve found you a real nice human family and you’re getting a little brother. You’ll get to have a real life and no one will ever touch you in bad places ever again or teach you to think you’re an alien.”
“No one ever touched me like that,” Ty told her adamantly. “I lived with my brother and his mate and they’d never.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” she said in that same fake sugary voice. “But don’t you worry. You’re with your own kind now.”
I snorted, knowing by their own kind, she meant straight, probably white, homophobes with strong racial biases who definitely hated aliens more than they did anyone else.
My head rocked from a hard hit to the side of my head.
“Don’t hurt him!” Ty screamed.
“Cut that out!” Louise shouted as I heard the sound of an open handed slap. “What is wrong with you, bro?”
“I’m dropping you off at the corner, bro,” the driver barked. “Walk to the nearest subway stop and pay cash for any tickets you buy to get the hell home. Nope, don’t say how you’re doing that.”
The van came to a stop and Blondie presumably got out.
The door slid closed.
“That’s one liability down,” the driver muttered. “Now the rest of you back there get under the damned tarp!”
I was shoved down and felt plastic sheeting tugged over me, the smell of Louise’s hair a mix of floral shampoo, rank sweat from the wig, and hair spray as it pressed against my nose. I began to breathe through my mouth, trying desperately to keep the acrid stench at bay.
“Good. now stay there until I tell you to come out.”
I felt the van pull away from the curb.
“Hopefully no one noticed them and there wasn’t a camera,” the guy in the front seat grumbled.
“There’s not. I used to work at that shop there. The owner is too cheap to buy a real one, so it’s a dummy and we were facing away from the traffic cam.”
Fuck! Even luck was on their side. Shit, shit, shit!