Rescue

Trigger Warning: This story contains depictions of a kidnapping, head trauma, implied death, tight spaces in detail, sharp items, and cliffhanger.

Verity:

The trunk felt cramped, its confines pressing uncomfortably against my body. My wrists and ankles were bound tightly with a coarse rope. If I even moved an inch, the ropes would cut into me. A filthy rag was shoved into my mouth, silencing any cries for help and adding to the growing panic within me. I only had one chance to escape.

I twisted my fingers together, trying to feel for the ring I always wore. It had a small, flexible saw on the inside. Yes! I thought, slipping the ring off my finger. I flipped the tiny saw out of the ring and started cutting the rope. I was lucky it was a slightly thinner rope.

The ropes around my wrists finally snapped off, almost quietly, as if they sensed my relief. I gently rubbed my sore wrists, feeling the lingering ache as I took a moment to gather myself. The nasty gag came next; I removed it slowly, each tug freeing more of my breath until I could finally inhale deeply again. It was such a precious feeling. I turned my attention to my ankles, cutting away the rough bindings.

I ran my hand over the trunk door, feeling for a button or handle that would help me escape. I found a small button on the left-hand side of the car. I pushed it, and the trunk door lifted, allowing the dank, gray sky to settle in. It’d been two weeks since I’d seen the sky. And even though it was gray, it was still beautiful.

I gathered what little courage I had, jumped out of the car, landed on my forearms, and rolled into a grassy ditch. Everything faded to black in an instant.

Ace:

Every time I was sent to the scene of an accident, I couldn’t help but hope that it was the men who’d kidnapped my best friend two years ago. She was 22, coming home from college for the day. Her car had been in the shop, so she decided to walk to the library to study until I could pick her up. I, being stupid, agreed. I was stuck at work for another two hours. When I finally got to the library, she was nowhere in sight. Instead, police cars lined the street into the small parking lot.

It was then I learned she’d been kidnapped.

If I’d been there, if I’d picked her up right away instead of continuing training to be a paramedic, would she be safe? Would she have gone to college like she promised? Would she have completed her dream of becoming a world-famous author? I’d never know. And if I ever did see her again, would she even recognize me? Or would I be a stranger to her?

The call the station received that afternoon was different. There was an accident on 178th Street. The caller had reported a girl in a grassy ditch. They guessed she was no older than 25. She’d be 24, I thought. They assumed she'd been there for a couple of hours.

“Give her some air!” I shouted as I shoved through the crowd that had formed by the ditch. The sky was gray, which probably meant a storm was on its way. We had to work fast if we wanted to avoid it.

The road was not heavily trafficked, as the state had planned to shut it down soon; this didn’t explain why there was a crowd present. I thought it might be some kind of festival, but no one seemed in a hurry to leave. The sound of police sirens echoed in the distance, indicating that the local sheriff’s office had finally received the call.

I set the med bag down beside the girl’s unmoving figure. ABCs, I reminded myself. Airway, breathing, and circulation. The first things we had to check on a patient. I gently tipped her head up to check her airway, which was thankfully clear. Her breathing was slightly labored, which, again, made sense with the accident.

After I checked her airway, I lifted her wrist to feel for a pulse. Angry red rope burns bit into her skin. Possible kidnapping, I noted as I took her pulse. Slightly elevated, my guess would be about 95 BPM. After locating her pulse, I ensured that blood was circulating well to all of her limbs, which required checking for any additional restraints like those that had bound her wrists. Thankfully, there were none.

She couldn't have been kidnapped. That's not possible, right? It's never happened here before. She looks like her. My best friend. But it's not possible. It can't be…

The girl shifted slightly beside me, which meant she was alive and it wasn't a figure of my imagination. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “Don't hurt me, please,” She pleaded, “I just want to go home. Please don't let them take me. I'm begging you, please.”

I lifted my hands in surrender. “Let me introduce myself. I'm Ace, and I'm a paramedic. I won't hurt you. Now, do you mind telling your name?”

The panicked look on her face didn't fade. “Verity. Verity Breckson.”

This must be a dream. “And do you know today's date?”

She took in a few, shaky breaths. “It has to be only a couple of weeks after they took me, so my guess is December 20, 2025?”

I sighed. It wasn't 2025. “Alright. It's not actually 2025 anymore. It's actually May 7, 2027.”

Verity's expression changed. “How in the world am I still alive? I have to talk to my family. Speaking of which, I had a friend who was a paramedic, just like you. Same name and- wait. What's your last name?”

She remembers me! “O'Calahann.”

“It is you! I thought you would've forgotten about me!”

I laughed gently. “How could I forget about you, Verity? We grew up together for many, many years. I'm just thankful you're safe.”

She smiled. “Me too, me too. You know, I remember when we were younger and we'd ride our bikes together.”

“Those were the good old days,” I reminisced.

~~~~~~

Two Weeks Later

~~~~~~

Verity had returned home, safe and sound. Her kidnappers were found in an accident a few roads up, not a few hours later. They were imprisoned. Verity had started to realize how much her family had missed her. And everything was how it should have been.

That was, until I awoke.

It wasn’t real. It was only a dream.

Epilogue

Verity Breckson was declared dead by one of Ace O’Calahann’s colleagues on December 17. Her body was found in a ditch. While the cause of her death is unknown, the doctors assume it was due to an overdose of a sedative.

Ace hated himself for being unable to save her. He knew Verity’s family didn’t blame him, but he never could shake the feeling that her death was his fault. The dream Ace had was what he'd hoped would happen. He never had the chance to save his best friend.

Or, did he?