Samantha Evans became upset. It was getting late and her husband, Bill,
hadn’t even started the list of chores she’d made for him to do during the
long Labor Day weekend. While he napped on the living room couch she took the
keys to the car and decided to go out and buy the supplies needed to complete
the chores so he could get an early start in the morning. “Hmmff,” she
snorted as his snoring grew loud, and then she closed the door. She’d be back
before he knew she was gone.
She opened the car door and tossed her purse in. But she had to swat a
few venturesome honeybees that tried to follow her as she got in behind the
steering wheel. The brown upholstered interior was still warm from the bright
sun that was beginning to disappear behind the trees lining the west side of
their property. She started the engine and smiled as she pictured Bill’s
surprised expression when he tried to weasel out of doing his chores again
tomorrow. No more excuses!
And the first chore on the list was to eliminate the honeybee hive at the
corner of the garage. All summer it had been impossible to get in or out of the
car without confronting the wrath of the worker bees.
Samantha pulled into the parking lot of the all-night department store.
She circled around trying to find an empty space near the doors. Failing that,
she parked just beyond the range of the lighting—darker than she liked, but
within shouting distance.
Two hours later, heavily laden with shopping bags, Samantha noticed that
the once crowded parking lot had thinned and her car was off in the distance.
She readied her keys on a key chain that doubled as a safety siren and clutched
her purse, which contained a spray can of mace. She felt safe, though an eerie
feeling of being watched caused her to nervously fumble while loading her
purchases into the backseat. She regretted succumbing to the shopping bug on
seeing all the summer clearance bargains.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she climbed in at last. But before she
shut the door a figure came out of the shadows, grabbed her and shoved her with
such speed and strength she didn’t have the presence of mind to make a sound
or the energy to resist.
He wrenched the keys from her hand and flung her purse against the back
glass where it remained out of reach. He wrapped his heavy disgusting arm around
her and held the point of a long knife against her throat. “Don’t make a
sound and don’t move,” he warned blowing his hot smelly breath against her
face. With the second key he tried, the engine purred like a kitten.
It never starts like that for me, Samantha thought morosely, and she
realized her mind was refusing to comprehend the life and death situation she
was in. Feeling completely helpless and frozen, she sat stiffly and watched the
lights fly by as they headed for the city limits where darkness would conceal
the actions of her abductor.
“If you want money,” Samantha ventured, “I can get you some at an
ATM.” She silently congratulated herself on suggesting an idea that would get
her within range of a surveillance camera and also get her purse back into her
hands.
“I can get plenty of money without your help,” he snapped. He pushed
a little harder on the knife, and Samantha was sure she felt blood trickling
down her neck. She stiffened and tried to take the pressure of the knife away.
Without moving her head, she looked down and tried to estimate the distance
between her hand resting on the seat and the door handle. But she knew she would
never be able to reach it. Could she use her hand to poke his eyes out before he
had a chance to slice her throat, she wondered. She had to do something before
it was too late.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I told you not to make a sound.” The moonlight reflected off the
blade of the knife. They were outside the city now where no one would see or
hear anything. They had been traveling fast. But now the car was slowing. He
turned off the main road onto a gravel road. Then he switched off the headlights
and drove slowly a short distance before coming to a halt.
Samantha heard crickets chirping and other night sounds. She saw the man
carefully position the knife on the dashboard. Then he roughly jerked her
sideways down onto the seat. His breathing quickened. She prepared to scream,
but her breath caught in her throat.
She heard a buzzing sound like a honeybee caught under a glass. Then the
man cursed loudly in her ear. He yelped like a dog and waved his hands in the
air.
Samantha saw her chance. She kneed her would-be assailant in the groin
and shoved him off onto the floor.
“I can’t see anything,” he cried. “My eyes are swollen shut.”
She reached over, opened the door and started kicking.
“Help me,” he pleaded while trying to block her assault as best he
could.
“Why should I?” she asked through clenched teeth as she continued to
kick him.
“I’m allergic to bee stings,” he whined. “I’ll die if I don’t
get medical attention.”
Samantha laughed and stopped kicking. “Why should I care if you die?
You were going to kill me.”
When he didn’t answer she realized how close she had come to being a
dead victim. She grabbed the knife from the dashboard and stuck the point
against his ribs. “You move or speak,” she warned, “you’re a dead
man.”
She closed his door and started the engine. Slowly she turned around and
drove back into the city. She didn’t stop until she was in front of the
emergency room entrance door at the hospital.
Later, Samantha found in her purse the honey do list she had made for her
husband. She read the chore that topped the list: get
rid of the honeybee hive at the corner of the garage, then she tore the list
into shreds. Bill deserved a nice long nap tomorrow.
THE END