Blood and Thunder: Part 2: So Close, and So Far.

Warning - Content may be inappropriate for younger children.1

Blood and Thunder: Part 2: So Close, and So Far. 2

    “I... I...” the man panted as he ran through thick branches. “Mus-t...” He steadily ran faster and faster. The sun was coming up, he felt the warmth rush through his skin. “F-i-in-d,” he darted through the bush, and finally found the end to the wood. He looked back and forth. The man spotted a road just past the field he was in. He was beaten and scratched from the trees and thorns, not to mention the several bruises and cuts he had obtained... earlier. He rushed to the road. He was almost there. He would make it. He... tripped... on a root. The man lay on the side of the ditch, clenching his stomach. With one hand, he grasped the dirt and managed to heave himself up onto visible ground. With one last breath, he uttered: “F-Fra-an.”
    ***
    3 kilometres North was a semi-large town. Where a recent kidnapping had taken place. The kids were young, a boy and a girl. The local police had spared no officer in trying to find them. Every officer was on the street, looking for them, or suspicious behaviour - to their presence. 3 weeks had passed, and no luck, all they had was 1 phone-call. Stating that the man who took the children, was asking for a ransom, and would meet the mother - and only the mother - at the abandoned warehouse. Just off the harbor. If anyone accompanied her, he - or they - would kill the children.
Francesca gathered the money for the ransom. But at a dire cost, she now worked at the bar below, as a waitress... all day long. She would get her kids back, only to see them at nights. Like most stereotypical ransom cases, the money was in a suitcase.
    “You all ready to go?” Stevenson greeted Fran as she prepared to enter the warehouse.
    “Yes, I think so.”
    “You need help, just holler, we’ll have police stationed near her, ok.”
    “Okay.” Fran ran off to the warehouse, and opened the door.
    “Hello?” Fran questioned the atmosphere, and out of thin air came an answer:
    “Stay where you are!” a voice sang, demanding yet, poetic. Then Fran remembered the voice. It drummed in her heart. She heard the very same voice everyday, in that damp tavern, of which she has called home for the past 3 weeks.
    “Where are my kids! I have your money, take it and leave my kids and I alone!” Fran offered.
    “Set the case down, and back away.” came another voice, extremely harsher than the last. Fran could feel the anger in his voice. It was as if he was angry at getting 10,000 dollars. She couldn’t imagine how he treated her children.
    A door opened and out gleamed a strong ray of light, with 2 small black figures standing in front. “Mom?” said the smaller one. “Is that you?”
    “Tom! Bethany! Come here babies!” Fran cried, but only one figure moved to her. “Tom?” she hollered, then ran over to his position. “You’re hurt!”
    Bethany was standing there crying, and Tom was on his side. Fran had eaten hardly anything for the 3 weeks and she had no strength left. “Tom, hunny, be strong.” Tom’s leg was broken and was bleeding badly. He was weak and delusional from blood loss, she had to get him out of there and quick. Fran grabbed Tom, and with the little strength she had left, started to drag him toward the exit. “Bethany, grab his legs.”
    “You have 5 minutes before we blast your heads off.” sounded the harsh man
    “You broke his leg, how do you expect us to get out that quick!?” Fran gasped, as she kept hauling tom towards the door.
    “You broke his leg!” the bartender whispered to the harsh man.
    “He was grabbing at me. What was I supposed to do.”
    “Not break his damn leg, he’s just a child.”
    “Who asked you! He might be trying something.”
    “Or he could have needed the bathroom!” the poetical man reasoned.         “Did that ever occur to you?”
    “Who cares! He’s not your kid.” the man’s eyes were red as blood. He had lost all sanity.
    “But a child nonetheless!” the barkeep reasoned, but it was no use.
The harsh voice pulled a gun from his pocket. “Time’s Up!” he hollered out a window at the family.
    “NO!” the poet lunged for the gun. It fired.
Silence is golden. Too bad nothing gold can stay. There was one more gunshot. Sirens started, and grew louder as the vehicles got closer. Fran, Tom and Bethany were just about out the door when bright lights flickered on. Officer Stevenson was behind them, holding a gun. “What are you doing?” Fran shrieked, and Stevenson nodded his head forward. The owner of the tavern was holding a gun high at Stevenson. Behind the bartender were several officers.
    “The kids don’t need to see this, sir.” a cop holding a flash light, behind the barkeep commanded. His arms shaky.
    “I saved their life, my partner was about to kill them! I only wanted the money so my bar could stay open.” the barkeep switched his aim to Tom.     “Let me go or... I'll kill them!” he looked deep into the officer’s eyes. Then into Fran’s.
    “Stun him!” and Stevenson did so. With no hesitation, the bartender was on the ground twitching. The other officers rushed Fran, Tom and Bethany off the scene.
    ***
    “Golly-gee-willikers! Pap! Come ova’ here!”
    “Wh-where am I?” the man asked.
    “We betta’ rush ya to a hospital!” the local chocked as he saw various cuts up the mans face. “Where ya git those scratches? Son, get tha truck! You gonna be alright see. Just stay still.
    “But...” he lost consciousness again.
    “Son, lift his legs. I’ll get his head, lift him in tha back of tha truck.” the local instructed his son.
    “Yes sir, Pap!” the boy quickly got to his legs and pulled them up.
    “Wh-”
    “He’s awake!” the nurse yelled and a doctor came in.
    “Sir, you’re in a Emergency Room. You broke a couple of fingers and have a slight concussion.” the doctor professionally stated, while overlooking several deep cuts.
    “Where?” he questioned.
    “You’re in a Hospital, sir. Please, go back to sleep. You need the rest.” the doctor looked over to the nurse. “Find out who he is, and contact family if he has any.”
    ***
    “Mommy! It hurts!”
    “Tommy, hush, you’ll be fine. Bethany, come with me. Tom, hunny, we’ll be in the waiting room, stay brave.” Fran hollered, disturbing several patients, as Tom was carted down the hall to the emergency.
    “Mom!”
    “Bye Tommy, we’ll see you soon!” Fran sighed and sat down with Bethany.
    “Mommy?” Bethany asked.
    “Yes... hunny?” Fran replied, hastening to add hunny, as she hadn’t talked to her in 3 weeks. 3 long miserable weeks, that felt like an eternity. But then Fran realized something, if the barkeep had taken her kids... then...
    “I’m hungry.” Bethany wined
    ...then Tom and Bethany were likely in the bar all along. Fran clenched her fist. Rage built up in her. She felt a tear run down her cheek, and repented the rage. ‘Under my nose the whole time. I was so close to them, and... so far... the little f-’
    “I’m hungry too.” Francesca replied3