Elliott recalled a camping trip he’d gone on once with his parents. He slept on an inflatable mattress that wouldn’t stay inflated, under an old army blanket that was about as cozy as snuggling a porcupine, and in a tent so far outside its warranty that it seemed like it had just given up. It rained the whole time and a girl from a neighboring camp caught him peeing on a poison ivy.
He was reminded of this because the combined discomfort of that trip was as nothing compared to the discomfort in the van, with his grouchy gun-stealing pal, his oblivious phone destroying friend, and the girl of his dreams… whom he’d drugged and kidnapped.
Silence reigned.
Elliott turned to Shavian. “Wanna play slug bug?” he asked hopefully. In the front seat, Junie and Roger exchanged looks.
Shavian nodded and Elliott reached over and delicately removed the gag; he’d almost lost a couple digits to those little white canines already, trying to put the gag on.
“How am I supposed to slug you if my hands are tied?” Shavian asked. Something about her phrasing made Elliott a little edgy but she had a point.
“That doesn’t seem like a good idea, my boy,” Roger said.
“She’s not going to leap out of the car at seventy miles an hour, Rog. I think we’re safe,” Elliott said, untying her bonds.
The silence continued for several more minutes. Finally, Shavian made a pleased noise and declared, “Red one!” With that she turned and slugged Elliott in the face .
His eyes immediately began watering and his vision blasted into stars. Not only did it hurt like hell, but it felt like something was now very wrong with his upper respiratory system, like someone had just violently shoved a handful of cotton balls into his nasal passages up to and beyond capacity… with a hammer. At least it felt that way until it started going a little numb. He put his hand up to his nose and saw a few drops of blood. She hadn’t held back at all and that girl could throw a punch.
“Ow! What was that for?” he asked.
She blinked at him, her eyes wide. “Isn’t that how you play slug bug?” she asked innocently. She glanced back out the window. “Green one!” She wound up and threw a right hook into his belly before he could cover up. The wind blew out of him with a huff, and he felt a little sick.
Junie craned her head around. “I don’t think that green car was a Bug,” she said vaguely.
“Oh, la! Who can tell at these speeds?” Shavian chirped, enjoying herself, bouncing in her seat. “Blue one!” She delivered a left hook this time, and Elliott groaned and doubled over, fighting nausea. It felt like she was wearing brass knuckles, but no, she was just freakishly strong apparently.
“Pretty sure that was a semi,” Roger mumbled.
Junie glanced in the rear view mirror. “Red one, blue one, red one, blue one, red one, blue one!” she chimed.
Roger frowned and Elliott sat up, grimacing in pain. “If we’re pacing the bugs you only get to call them once,” he grunted.
Junie giggled. “I was talking about the lights.”
Roger’s eyes went wide, and looked in his rearview. “Oh, crap. I think they found us.”
Elliott turned and looked out the back of the van. There were at least three cop cars behind them, weaving in and out of traffic, flashing their blue and red lights and gaining on them fast. One of them was a S.W.A.T. vehicle.
“How many guns did you steal?” Elliott asked Roger.
“I don’t know that I’d call it stealing. I’d say it was the procurement of tools needed to enforce certain rights and liberties while under the tyranny of a minimum wage job,” Roger said .
“Do you have a number to go with that fascinating justification?” Elliott asked testily.
“Enough,” Roger replied. He put his foot down on the gas, and something in the van’s engine seemed to growl in protest.
“Enough for what?”
Elliott looked up at the rearview mirror, and made eye contact with Roger. The big man’s eyes gleamed with mischief, and maybe a little bit of that thrill-seeking glint that Elliott had only ever seen on the Nature channel when someone was wrestling genetically engineered super-gators or something. He didn’t like it much in this context.
“Enough for anything!” Roger crowed, and jerked the wheel over. “Evasive maneuvers!”