Mary came to in a room full of darkness. It was damp, somewhere in the inky blackness of her prison, water dripped to the floor. Silent tears wet her cheeks. The air smelled of mildew, her breath caught in her throat.
“Where am I? What do they want?”
She wanted to scream, but she fought the urge to do so. Defiantly, she decided she would not give her captors the pleasure of hearing her beg.
“I may be kidnapped and held in a damp prison, but I am not going to give up hope. Someone will find me .”
In the damp dark room, Mary kept hope alive. What else could she do? As a psychology major, she knew that defeat began in the mind.
“Everything will work out. I have to stay strong until it does.”
Jacob Walter Wanton, 28, sat in the café and waited for his company to arrive. His coffee was cold. He’d ordered it ten minutes ago, and when the waitress brought it out it was lukewarm. Jacob didn’t complain. He wasn’t that kind of person. Still, it stirred his inner demons to know that his cold coffee was probably done intentionally.
It was the downside to being a bully in high school. People couldn’t remember what they did five minutes ago, but twenty years later they could tell you what you did to them in high school.
Movement at the door caught his attention. His company had arrived.
“Hello, Jacob. I trust everything has gone according to schedule?”
“Yes sir. Everything is on point.”
The man sat down across from Jacob. He wore a black fedora, a black shirt, khakis, boots and mirrored sunglasses. His round face was unshaven. The man never smiled, or at least, Jacob had never seen him smile. One time he had grinned. His company’s teeth were immaculate.
“I trust that you took all the necessary precautions?”
“Yes sir. I followed your instructions to the letter.”
“Good. You know what’s at stake. Do not disappoint me.”
Jacob nodded. He knew the consequences of failure. “There can’t be any disruption to the plan. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.”
The man waved for the waitress to come over. He ordered coffee. Moments later, the waitress brought back his coffee. He took a sip. A dark look crossed his face. The man spit the coffee back into the cup and waved the waitress back over.
“Yes, sir. Do you need something.”
“Yes. I ordered coffee; this is not coffee.”
“I beg your pardon. It is coffee. I poured it myself.”
“Coffee is hot. This is not hot, ergo it’s not coffee.”
“I’ll bring you some more…”
“Don’t bother. We are leaving.”
“You must pay, sir.”
“For what? I didn’t enjoy my beverage; my company has been here the entire time and hasn’t touched his. I assume because it is cold. Thus, we owe you nothing. Good day.”
The man stood and walked out. Jacob and the waitress watched as he left. Jacob stood and walked out a few moments later in wonder of what had transpired.
“The nerve of some people.”