Hijacked in her car – Where is she?
Margie arrives home and jumps out the car to open the gate. The barrel of a gun to her head stops her in her tracks.
A similar incident happened to a friend of mine – This is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination.
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CHAPTER 1
Margie dropped the twins at school, then parked outside the local supermarket. She hurried inside, grabbed a bottle of milk, and stood muttering under her breath as she tried to calm her inner frustration.
‘Just my luck, a trainee on the till – that’s all I need.’ She glanced at the other tills. Their queues were even longer. ‘Blast – all I want is one bottle of milk.’ She gritted her teeth; she had no choice but to be patient.
‘Oh, No.’ This time she spoke out loud. The trainee had given Sourpuss the wrong change, and, Sourpuss was holding up the whole queue wanting to see the manager. Bloody hell, hum-de-dah, keep your cool, Margie. She tapped her foot, muttering to herself. Fifteen minutes later, she paid for her item and rushed from the shop.
Margie Chalmers and her husband Philip lived in the outer suburb of Empangeni, on the North Coast of Kwazulu-Natal, South Africa.
She regretted agreeing to hold a Tupperware party at her home that morning. ‘I’m running late, and I’ve still got to ice the cupcakes before the Tupperware manager arrives.’ Her mind was abuzz, mentally ticking off what she still needed to do. She put her foot down, keeping the little panel van below the speed limit. I don’t need a speeding fine. I’m stressed enough. Turning up the panhandle driveway leading to her home, she admired the established azalea and hibiscus bushes on either side of the road.
Benjie and Dolly, the family dogs, barked, jumping up and down against the gate, eager to welcome her. She leapt from the car. ‘Quiet guys, I know you’re happy to see me, but the neighbours will complain if you keep this up.’ She had only taken two steps when she felt the cold steel barrel of a handgun against her temple. She froze.
‘Gimme the keys.’ A young voice barked. Margie turned to face an African teenage boy, sixteen, maybe seventeen. His crooked nose a blemish on an otherwise pleasing face. His eyes narrowed as he prodded her in the ribs with the gun.
She stiffened and swallowed. ‘Here, take the keys.’ She held them out to him. At this moment, she noticed three other young boys emerging from their hiding places in the shrubs.’
The dogs went crazy. ‘Shut up – I shoot you.’ Crooked-nose yelled.
‘No! Please, don’t shoot them.’ Margie begged.
‘Huh, you care more for dogs than yourself.’ Crooked-nose flung his free hand in the air. ‘I shoot you instead.’
She was terrified by his aggressive actions. ‘Just take the car and go.’ She again held the keys out to him as she tried to think. I could make a run for it and open the gate, but they’d shoot the dogs.
He snatched the keys. ‘You come with us, git in car.’ Crooked-nose spoke English reasonably well. His keen eyes told her he was no fool.
She climbed back into the driver’s seat. ‘Not there – other side.’ He pointed the gun and walked behind her to the passenger side, where he opened the door and pointed to the foot well on the passenger side. ‘There, sit like dog.’
She climbed in and sat hugging her knees, crammed into the confined space, her back to the gearbox. A younger boy with eyes too big for his thin face climbed onto the seat. He placed his bare feet on her knees – there was nowhere else to put them. Big-eyes looked decidedly nervous when Crooked-nose handed him the gun. His hands trembled as he took the weapon with both hands, and pointed it at Margie’s head. She hugged herself tightly and looked away. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; I hope he doesn’t accidentally pull the trigger.
Crooked-nose slammed the passenger door on them and shouted to the other boys who clambered into the back of the panel van. He started the engine, then made a horrible grating sound before remembering the clutch. He reversed too fast into the shrubs, grated the gears again, found first, then shot forward down the driveway. He was driving too fast to give way at the T junction, so he slung left – fortunately, there were no other vehicles.
Margie buried her head in her hands and prayed. Dear Lord, help me. She wondered if this was her last day on this earth and started to tremble. Pull yourself together. She told herself. Think Margie think. They’re not wearing masks, so they probably intend killing me anyway.
She hadn’t seen the two youngsters in the back of the panel van, but big-eyes, sitting with his feet on her knees, couldn’t have been more than fifteen. He wore shabby khaki shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeve hanging off. He appeared nervous about holding the gun, which made him unpredictable. She rubbed her arms, attempting to comfort herself.
They were picking up speed. We must be out of town by now, on a freeway or an open road. I filled up with petrol yesterday, so they’ll just keep going. Margie glanced at her watch. The Tupperware manager will be arriving soon. No one knows what’s happened to me – they’ll think I’ve forgotten.
Her captors spoke in their language and exchanged few words, but she sensed the excitement in their voices – they all listened to crooked nose. He was their leader.
Margie kept track of the time – there was little else to do in such a cramped space. They had been travelling for twenty-five minutes when the terrain changed. Bumping about, she assumed they were travelling on a dirt road. The uneven terrain jolted her, cracking her head painfully against the glove box. Dear God, where are they taking me? By now, she had given up hope of escaping and almost resigned herself to a fate worse than death.
Suddenly, the vehicle came to a screeching halt. Margie clenched her fists – this was the moment she had been dreading. She eyed her handbag wedged between the two front seats. If only I could get my mobile phone. She felt helpless and overwhelmed.
‘Git out.’ Crooked-nose ordered. Big eyes opened the door and jumped out of the car, continuing to point the gun at Margie. She crawled out from the foot well and straightened up when her feet were on the ground outside the vehicle. Big eyes waved the weapon. She turned her back and hugged herself, quivering in anticipation of a bullet shattering her skull at any moment.
CHAPTER 2
When the phone rang, Philip was about to leave his office to attend a meeting.
‘Hi, Phil, sorry to disturb you at work, but Margie organised a Tupperware party for this morning, and twelve of us are waiting for her outside your house. Do you think she’s forgotten?
Philip paused to collect his thoughts. ‘She’s expecting you, Jenny. She had to hide the cupcakes from the twins. She was going to ice them when she returned from the school run.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps she’s popped out quickly to buy something?’
‘The Tupperware manager’s been here for an hour, and she said the dogs were pretty upset when she arrived. I think you should call the police, Phil.’ Jenny had a bad feeling.
‘Yeah, your right this is not like her. I’ll phone the police station and come home right away. Can you ask everyone to please go home?’
Jenny was waiting in her car, parked a short distance down the panhandle drive. Philip drove past and stopped at the gate.
‘Look at this,’ he pointed to the snapped branches where Margie’s hijackers had reversed into the shrubs. He opened the gate to let the dogs out, and watched as they rushed into the bushes sniffing and wagging their tails frantically.
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THE END
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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