Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sarah ❯ "I know all about danger. I am used to walking the tight rope." ( Chapter 15 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 15
"I know all about danger. I am used to walking the tight rope." -Trowa Barton/Triton Bloom
"Are we there yet?"
I sighed. Yeah, I liked Trente, but...almost nothing could keep me from strangling him as he sat next to me, twirling his braid around his fingers and hanging his feet out the window as I drove down the road, trying to pay attention to the houses we were passing as I looked for a sign. "For the fourth time, Trente, NO, we are not. Now, if you would maybe help, seeing as how you've been to his house before, it wouldn't take so--"
But I never got to end that sentence. Looking forward, as I should have been, I caught a glimpse of the truck hurtling towards me, and crashing into my front bumper. Luckily I had made Trente put his seatbelt on, otherwise he would have definitely gone through the windshield at the rate we hit. I, also lucky, had my seatbelt on, and that thankfully absorbed the shock as I lunged forward, hands covering my head. Both air bags deployed, and I'm sure that's what saved Trente, seeing as how he had his feet out the window. If that airbag hadn't gone...
I shudder to think of the thought. The brand new car my uncle had given me seemed to be swallowed by the humongous shipping truck resting on top of its hood, cracking and crunching in several places. I hit my head on the ceiling of the car in the impact, and just before I passed out I remember asking Trente if he was okay, and receiving the most ridiculous answer I could have gotten in that situation.
"I'm Peachy Keen, Sar, how about you?"
"I'm...not so hot, but I'll make it."
"Okey-dokey!"
~*~
I woke to Trente standing over the hospital gurney I was currently lying on, joking with the nurses about how white really wasn't my color. "Perhaps a pale green or blue, but definitely not white. And keep her away from pink, whatever you do, or she'll be out to get you. You know, now that I think of it, do you have any black? Let's just eliminate any further problems and get her into a-- Why, Sar, you're up!"
I tried to reach up to my head, which had started throbbing the second I opened my eyes, but found it was restrained by a nylon strap wrapping all the way around me, securing me to the bed. "Why am I strapped down?"
Trente leaned in close to me, dismissing the nurses, and got an odd look on his face. "You know, I'm really not sure. It's the damnedest thing...when they people showed up in the ambulance...it didn't look like an ambulance at all. It was really just a white van, no markings. They put us in the back with one guy who wasn't wearing scrubs or anything like that, but he had what looked like doctor items and accessories...then they brought us here. I haven't seen any other patients since we've been here, Sar. I'm very suspicious..."
My mind raced, going back over everything Trente had told me. Unmarked van, no indication of being medical, no other patients...obviously, we weren't in a real hospital. I looked around the room nonchalantly for cameras, making small talk with Trente as I did so. Three cameras, and, surprisingly, in a very strategic setup. One above the door, one in the corner of the wall the door was on, to the left, and one almost completely across from the door, but to the left, facing the area behind where the door opened. I guessed, seeing how these cameras were placed, they were not only visual, but audio, infrared, and wire frame, when turned to the right settings.
Whoever was keeping us "safe" was definitely doing a good job of it. They obviously weren't some billionaire broker who bought all the gadgets and expected to do a good job. This person has experience in spying or keeping surveillance on people...
The only question was this: Why did this person want Trente and myself? I couldn't see anyone not liking Trente, and I hadn't been out of my own home for more than seven days, which is really not enough time to either become known or make enemies. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and decided that first I needed to focus on getting out of my restraints without letting the person behind the camera lens know, or be able to respond quickly enough to catch Trente and I as we exited the building rather hastily and contacted first his parents, then my uncle, as I would want to at least get his car back to him, despite it's crunched hood.
Continuing to talk calmly, and keeping my brain waves and heart beat down, I tugged on my wrists, testing the strength of the restraints. Someone must have obviously anticipated my physical strength, as the straps seemed not able to move.
At all. Keeping my voice low, I went to my next plan of action.
"Trente? Were you able to see the way we came in?" Watching him shake his head, my hopes momentarily fell. "You didn't? But weren't you conscious?" Again, he shook his head. "How long have we been here?"
He got the strange look from before, which caused my heart beat to raise slightly, but I managed to control it, and answered. "Well, remember how the sun was setting on the way to Trowa's house?"
My mind traveled back to the few minutes before the crash. I nodded, frowning and wondering where he was going with this.
"My watch says it's noon-ish...three days later."
"Three days?!"
"Yeah. I woke up today at about ten, and demanded to see you. So they brought me here, after giving me some pills `for pain' they said, and I've been waiting for you to wake up since. My question is this: Why haven't they contacted mine and your parents? Why aren't they here? I was carrying identification, weren't you?"
As I started to nod, my thoughts traveled through the list of items I was carrying at the time of the crash. Money, Driver's License, Social Security card, and my gun. "My gun!" I exclaimed a bit loud for my tastes of keeping everything on the down low. Glancing quickly towards the cameras, I listened for footsteps down the hall, but heard none. Smiling ever-so-slightly, I looked towards Trente again, and keeping my voice low, asked him, "Are my things in here?" His gaze swept throughout the room, and he shook his head no. Time for my second question. "Am I wearing my original..." I paused, blushing at the reminder of who I was asking this. "My original bra?" His high cheekbones flushed as my lips formed this last word, and he looked away, facing the door. "Now, Trente, this...this is no time to be embarrassed. Am I?"
He bit his lip, turned back to me, and shrugged. "I don't know, Sarah."
Now comes the hard part. "We have to find out. I need you to...uh...lift up my shirt and tell me what color the one I'm wearing is. If it's my original bra, we're in luck, because it means that they didn't feel comfortable with stripping me fully, or checking for weapons."
The boy's eyebrows shot up so high I thought they'd hit the ceiling fan. "Weapons? In your..." Again he blushed deeply, at which I laughed. "In there?" He nodded towards my chest area, pointing with his chin, and smiling sheepishly.
"Well, where else would you keep `em? In a holster where everyone can find them? Sorry, I've been trained all too well to make that mistake again..."
My image based mind flashed to the first and only time I had made this mistake, causing me to smile. That was such a long time ago...
I came walking up to the back door with my father, silent as usual. Feeling very confident as I had just passed the marksmanship test he had prepared with flying colors, I grinned broadly, looking up him.
My father.
I believed he could do anything he had ever wanted to...
Against all odds...
My hero.
No pun intended.
We walked up to the door, passing the basket I usually ignored that had a sign over it saying, "No weapons past this point. Drop all guns, knives, ammo, mace, and explosives into this basket to be picked up later. Thanks-Mom." and kept heading forward, me thinking nothing of it.
My mother greeted us at the door with a smile, and hug for me, as she started searching us. It was a known rule that there would be no weapons inside the house whatsoever. Now, both me and my father, and perhaps even my mother, knew there were weapons hidden all over in that house, but hidden so well that if the FBI decided to do a search, they wouldn't find a single one. That was a policy Father taught me about weapons: If you have one, you better hide it well. Something I neglected to do that day at lunch...
I looked up at my father lovingly, only to find his face in a frown. Frowning as well was my mother, who stood before me with a gun resting in her open hand. My eyes flew wide as I stared at the small firearm resting there, trigger covered in blue electrical tape. That was my gun.
Stuttering, I reached for it as I tried to explain why I had it with me to my mother, but using my eyes to explain why I had it easy to find in the first place to my father, who pursed his lips and glanced away as the scolding began.
"Sarah Peacecraft Yuy! I can't believe you! I thought our rule about guns in the house was made clear, but obviously, it wasn't! Do you know who is at fault here?"
I opened and closed my mouth a number of times, trying to think of the answer. "Me?" I asked sheepishly, pointing to my chest.
Surprisingly, my mother shook her head. "No, Sarah. It's your FATHER'S fault. He should have known you had a gun with you before letting you get near to the house!" Turning to him, she sighed. "Really, Heero...I'm disappointed in you..."
Father's eyes dance in shock at this accusation, and then anger as he listened to this, staring at Mother while the corners of her lips upturned slightly, watching him go through these emotion changes.
I stood between them, looking first from Father to Mother, then Mother to Father, as I watched the sparks fly. Stepping back, I reached up and took my gun, placing it in the basket, and went inside while they stood on the porch, staring at each other.
Afterwards, while with my father, I asked him a question that I have always remembered the answer to. "Father? Where should I keep my gun so no one finds it?"
His eyebrows quirked slightly, then he smiled slightly, cocking his head. "Where no one will ever find it?" I nodded, eager to learn more from him. "In a place where no one would think of looking, Sarah. The most unobvious place you can think of. That's where I keep mine. And that is where you should keep yours."
Trente stared at me, eyebrows raised still, as he watched my face go blank during this flashback. "Uh, Sar? Are you awake?"
I shook my head, blinking furiously, and nodded. "Yes, Trente. Now, anyway, I need you to look, because if my bra is there..." I grinned. "We can get out of this place."
The boy sitting before me shook his head, lifting his eyes to the ceiling, and muttered under his breath, "I don't see how this will help us get out, but..." while reaching up to lift my shirt end up. Luckily for us, it wasn't strapped down as my arms and body was, but rather, over the straps, which helped this situation immensely. Closing his eyes, he got down closer to my body and sighed, his breath tickling my stomach. I giggled quietly, at which he glared at me, and I stated my defense.
"I'm sorry, but your breath is tickling my stomach!" He rolled his eyes and prepared to look again, breathing deeply. Taking a quick peek, he frowned, dropped the edge of my shirt, and looked at me curiously.
"Great, it is still there!" I announced, smiling at him. Still, I received the same odd look from him. "Nani, Trente?" I asked him, voice filled with laughter at his expression.
"Where did you find such...such an interesting bra, Sarah? I've never seen one with that sort of...design..."
I chuckled softly to myself, watching his face fill even more with confusion. "Well, I should hope you haven't seen a bra ever before, except in stores...you're too young! And, what...you haven't seen one with wilting, black daisies on it before?"
He shook his head, frowning slightly, and then sighed. "I don't know, you're just full of surprises to me..." Trente smiled. "So, how are we going to get out since you are wearing your special black daisy bra?"
My mood stiffened, along with my face, as I thought up our escape route...
"Well, I can tell you this much...it's not going to be easy."