Objective: Out of the Car

"And so you never did intentional harm to the child?" Marlena posed, tone shrewd and displeasure within her stare and in the bite of her lip.

"Who would do something so awful!" Emile gasped, aghast at the very idea.

*************************

Kids needed quite a lot of sleep.

And Abel, more than any other child his age, would need his strengths.

So, he slept the last meager hours of evening away.

He went back when the sky was still a foggy, cautious light shot with raspberry lemonade pink.

Sunrise was coming earlier and earlier. By the hot glare now upon his cheek Abel could estimate it had to be two, perhaps three hours out. Enough to broil the air and for the seats to absorb into a scalding rise of temperature.

Sitting up he sure enough found the roads were utterly different than he knew.

He could remember jolts and traffic lights. The rumble of large rigs that seemed to inordinately follow.

Emile had not made all the many abrupt turns from what he could guess.

There was no map obvious, so, he mostly knew where he was going.

"Abby! Finally, I was worried I'd have to wake you. Can't have you missing breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"Well yes, of course. I wouldn't be a responsible caretaker if I let you skip meals."

Abel raised his brow, "how?"

Any sense of unease stricken from his thoughts.

Emile would take him out all the time.

Seldom with approval and always for the most inane reasons to "treat him," for breakfast or lunch, or brunch, or desserts.

This was just another one of those times.

They were just an upper class child and his help.

"Well a gas station of course Abby, that is how cars run," he joked. "No, no I'm kidding."

"Oh then I will go. I need the restroom."

Emile then winced, remorse now obvious on his face. "Gee I'm sorry," and he sure did sound it, "look if you can just hold it for a couple more stops."

"I-- I suppose?"

"Look I don't want you doing something brash and running away from me. I mean you a little kid at a gas station out in nowhere." He then shook his head, sighting the facilities, well separated from the business. "I'm sorry, I just don't think it would be safe right this second."

Abel said nothing, simply putting his forehead to warm glass.

"I won't be long," he assured. "Be good."

He shut the car completely to its mechanical sleep. One last sigh of the engine.

With the click of the lock Emile was gone.

Abel kept close eye, until he could be for absolutely certain that Emile could not see out the window.

Technically he could not confirm if Abel remained still, he had not told him to, then again from the entire encounter it was well implied.

And once it was locked into place, he positioned himself by his back and kicked out his feet.

Putting a litany of force toward each strike, trying and trying and trying and trying... and failing to get the door to give.

He moved to his elbow against the glass. The blows coming weak within that tender line to contact.

It neither would give. Not even to the force of his entire right side.

Until it was his upper back that made a cracking noise.

In fact, his entire body was throbbing. Each pulse growing stronger and more harried as he breathed hard, suffocating in slowly condensing heat. Slowly turning sticky and smothering across his face.

Obviously, the problem lay in his bare feet. That click would not resound, without the added force. Of something with equal durability and hardness instead of soft flesh.

The glove compartment between the front seats was somewhat high.

Abel could notice he was beginning to sweat through his shirt.

A heavy object would have to serve his purposes.

It took a bit of a climb to plop himself atop it. Hmm, not too different to a cat.

And, within that vein it was on all fours that he made to where another opening flap was in the car. Right at the fingertips of a front passenger.

However, he checked the more obtrusive first. Grappling his hands soon stumbled onto the gap, allowing it to POP open.

Simply normal amenities. Plastic spoons and forks, napkins. Some straws, and a map. He could tear it up, but, better he leave things as they were. He put it back, closing the compartment to move on to the next.

Where he found half-melted candies Emile often had on hand. Just for him.

Abel was beginning to taste a slow rise of bile. Swiping the candy aside then, Abel grabbed a paperback car manual. Thick and coming to over six hundred pages of sheer weight.

Surely, surely if he hit it hard enough the window would give. And if nothing else, the few drivers filling their pumps, paying for the gas, would hear the commotion. Ask questions.

Same as Abel had to ask, just what was taking his captor so long?

Maybe better he didn't question it too much.

With everything he had left, wincing only a little as his shirt clung wet and humid on his back, Abel gave it one go then two then three and four and five.

Furiously and with vigor each time.

Until he was breathing hard.

Until he had tried the spine or the other side, the other windows.

His mouth had turned dry.

Tongue chapped and he could feel ragged as sandpaper.

He tried striking at the handles or the crevice.

A good idea in theory to operate the use of a fulcrum...

Or... was it the burn?

A horrible throb pulsated and pushed upon the sides of his head.

His labored gasps came with a horrid rasping sound at his throat.

Dizziness was beginning to take hold.

His hands hardly found the handle again to put the book back.

Abel knew... Abel, Abel, Ab-e-l--

One blink and two.

A dazed heave to take himself over back to his own side.

So Emile didn't suspect.

Emi-- his captor-- hadn't done this. He couldn't dare, right?

No. Not on--

BDUMP!

BDMMP!

What did the cartoon say? The one with the talking dog. He'd liked that one. Liked that particular one very much, teaching him words.

"Try laying on the floor."

He found the sticky air a little less thick.

"It's cooler down there."

"Good girl."

Objective: Failure.