Available Darkness Season 1

John could see the traffic building up. If he took notice, perhaps he could come save her — again.
    “Cross your legs at the ankles,” the cop said.
    The officer’s instructions confused Abigail as the traffic, the eyes of the drivers, and the cop’s gun all gathered velocity to meet the real time of the world around her.
    Instead of obeying, Abigail tossed the dice, turned around slowly, and asked the cop to repeat himself.
    There he stood, a tall, lanky cop, swimming in his dark green uniform, most of his face hidden behind large shades and an even larger mustache. He looked young and something about him screamed inexperience, yet his hand — and the gun it held — did not waver in the slightest, taking aim directly at her.
    He paused a moment, as if he were just then realizing she was not a dangerous bad guy, but a child. He turned his mouth and said something which she could not hear into the radio at his shoulder. Then he spoke to her. Gun still drawn.
    “Who else is in the car?” he asked.
    “It’s just me!” Abigail cried.
    The cop said something else inaudible into his radio, then moved toward the driver’s door, gun aimed at the car, and quickly scanned the car for another occupant.
    “Are you okay?” the cop asked. “You can put your hands down.”
    “Yes,” Abigail whispered, turning to the officer for confirmation before standing. He nodded.
    “What’s your name?” The cop holstered his gun and pulled out a pad and pen.
    “I don’t know,” she lied.
    Meanwhile, a line of cars had built up behind the cop car, waiting to merge into the middle lane which was filled with rubberneckers, slowing to a crawl as each car begged for a ticket to the show. Abigail felt naked with so many eyes on her.
    Just get it over with , do what you need to do, and put me in the car.
    “A lot of people are looking for you,” the cop said, finally recognizing her. “Where is he?”
    “Where’s who?” Abigail asked, her eyes breaking away and falling on a lightning bolt crack in the asphalt by the officer’s feet.
    “The man who kidnapped you.”
    “I wasn’t kidnapped,” she said, looking up as a dusty gray van idled behind the cop car, unable to find a break in the traffic to merge into the middle lane to go around them.
    The cop couldn’t care less about the traffic jam, his attention was fixed on Abigail and going nowhere.
    “Do you know where the man is now? Do you know his name?”
    Abigail wasn’t sure what to say, but forced herself to raise her chin, stare into his mirrored lenses, and continue to feign ignorance.
    The van got impatient and swerved violently into the next lane, cutting off a pickup truck the color of old chalk. The man behind the wheel of the pickup laid on the horn causing the cop to turn around just as the van pulled up alongside them. Abigail thought she heard the hum of the passenger window as it was rolled down and…
    The van screeched to a stop.
    The cop barely had time to grab his gun before his head exploded in a crimson river of gore.
    Abigail screamed as the cop’s body fell to the ground in front of her.
    Her mind registered a face in the passenger side of the van a second behind her eyes. It was wearing a black mask of some kind. The side panel door rolled open in a thunderous roar. Inside she saw at least three others, dressed all in black and wearing matching masks.
    One of them leaped out and grabbed Abigail’s hair, yanked her forward, and tossed her into the van in one violently rapid movement. Something closed tight around her mouth as a strong odor choked her nostrils and she slipped into an icy blackness.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 11 — John

    Something was wrong. The ice water that had settled in John’s veins was now coursing towards his spine and speaking of Abigail’s trouble.
    He bolted upright in the bed and glanced at the clock on the cable box – 6:51 p.m. — and then at the curtains. His boots dug into the carpet as he made three long strides toward the shrouded wall. He wanted to part the curtains and take a peek outside, but he feared what might happen. The sun was low in the sky, but still there, and John could feel its deadly light holding him prisoner in the motel room.
    Another 10 minutes at least.
    A current rippled through his body and caused the hair on his arms to stand on end as he paced the floor, repeating his whisper to no one.
    “The girl is safe ― this is all in your mind.”
    A seam in his mind suddenly split open and