Free Scared by Sarah Masters

out?
    Russell said the main boss’ name was Frost, but Toby had never heard of him.
    "If he was one of the blokes who did me over, I wouldn't know it because no names were mentioned. None that I can remember anyway.” Toby scrunched his eyes closed to loosen the tight skin on his cheek.
    "Dried blood,” Russell said, nodding. “Thank fuck that gash stopped bleeding. Thought for a minute back there it wouldn't."
    "Is it bad?” Toby asked, wanting to touch it. A burst of irritation sparked inside him at being unable to. He stared at Russell's bound wrists and guessed his sported a gaudy yellow cable tie too. Tasty.
    If he didn't crack an internal joke or two, he'd break under the pressure.
    "It'll leave a scar. Too late for it to be sewn up.” Russell eyed the driver again, who nodded to the beat of a rap song. “He's a right mean son of a bitch. No way we're going to be able to get away from him."
    "But there's two of us now."
    "Like I just said, it depends on how many are at the other end. Who knows where we're going? Who's to say there isn't an army of nutters waiting for us when we arrive?"
    A dark thought hit Toby. “Who's to say we're being taken any place where there are people. Might be some warehouse. Torture equipment set up.” His imagination ran riot. “A river close by. Ready for us to be dumped into. Concrete tied to our ankles. Drowning—"
    "All right, all right!” Russell said, tone testy and harsh. “I get it. We're fucked.” He sighed again, a bloody great big one, and shook his head slowly. “Never thought it would end like this. Never thought I'd be this young when I karked it either. Oh, I fucking knew this lot were coming. Knew they wouldn't just let us go, but shit, I'd hoped we'd have had a few more years on the run, know what I mean?"
    Yeah, Toby did. The same thoughts had been running through his mind as he'd painted the grim picture of their potential destination. The image of concrete blocks around their ankles—man, that was a hard one to get rid of. It sat in his mind like a damn sentinel, refusing to budge no matter how hard he tried to conjure up another vision.
    And God, his eyes stung. He really didn't need to be crying right now, but wouldn't anyone when faced with a very short future and the undeniable possibility that torture, or at least some form of pain, was on the cards?
    He sniffed, blinked, cleared his throat. “Love you, man."
    Russell didn't answer right away. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe, like Toby, a big lump of love had stuck in his throat and he couldn't speak past it.
    "Love you too,” Russell managed, staring ahead at the side of the van, eyes watery, Adam's apple bobbing.
    Toby gritted his teeth. “This fucking stinks! "
    "Yep."
    "I'm not going down without a fight."
    "Me neither."
    They sat in silence for a time, the place they'd driven through giving way to ominous countryside. Trees stood starkly in the beam of the headlights, like moss-covered skeletons, arthritic hands clawing the blackness. The road was narrow. If another driver approached from the other way, the big bastard slowed. He veered to the left each time, and branches from hedges scraped the side of the van, sending Toby's mind reeling with the creepy image of long, dirty fingernails scratching, the dead trying to get in at them. It felt like death waited, the air in the van a tangible thing, smothering them, letting them know it would be their turn to die soon.
    Shaking off those thoughts, Toby wondered what Russell was thinking. Was he silently cursing Toby, wishing he'd never met him, that he'd had a damn day off back then, had never even dug the grave that held Toby for that short time?
    Toby glanced at Russell. “I'm so sorry, man."
    "Don't be.” He gave Toby a sidelong glance, a small smile playing about his lips. “Wouldn't change a fucking thing."
    Toby longed for a kiss, just a brief brush of the lips would be enough, but he didn't want to risk the driver having something else to hate