Twenty Questions

I.

The guitar bled patient notes into the dry summertime air, the instrument old and worn beneath the calloused fingers that strummed it. Hands suspended from lithe arms and a grubby singlet danced, strangely graceful over the taut strings.

He leaned against a four-seated convertible that he had the keys to but probably didn't own – dusty Levis sagged against the bright red door and its chrome handles.

"Wow," the girl said, winding blonde hair through fingers with nails painted purple; "That's really good."

"Thanks," the man looked at her briefly smiling shortly before dropping his head to play again, wind-tousled hair falling over dark green eyes.

"Okay, Chloe, you've heard him. Can we go back now?"

A boy stood a little behind her, large hands deep in his pockets and large ears hidden beneath unruly dark hair. As the epitome of teenage gawkiness, he was painfully shadowed beside his female companion.

"Do you not have ears? This guy's great. At least pay attention to what he's doing."

The girl smiled up at the guitarist and the boy checked his watch.

"We need to be back soon…"

"In, like, an hour. There's nothing else to do around this dustbowl town, anyways. We might as well stay here."

Chloe grinned at the man again, this time receiving a slow wink from under chocolate bangs.

"Play some more?"

A suggestive smirk and a jazzy chord.

The boy crouched close to the ground, expecting a relatively long wait while Chloe wasted her morning making ignored passes at a stranger. He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed.

They had started to talk about his car – the vehicle gleamed under a fresh coat of wax; the girl leaned into it to grip the steering wheel and stroke the suede seats.

"Chloe…"

The boy stood, checking the time again and frowning.

"Chloe!"

She pouted at him and stuck out her tongue.

"You wanna go for a ride?"

The frown turned into a laugh and – without a second thought – Chloe hurried around to the passenger side and hopped over the door into the car.

"C'mon, Josh!"

Her cheery invites froze his protests half way. He blinked; shaking off the shock and compulsively checking his watch. The car revved up and he faltered, indecisive between going home and scrambling into the back of the convertible to stay with –

"We have to be back in half an hour, Chlo –"

"We will – are you coming or not?"

"Chloe,"

The car lurched and his stomach tightened.

"Wait!"

He fell unceremoniously into the back of the car, and the three took off down the street.

II.

The monotony of the desert scenery was only broken by the occasional scraggly tree or dry bush. It was now easy to see how the guitarist's hair had acquired that casually windswept appearance – Chloe's hair streamed out behind her, glistening in the sun. Josh had slid over to behind the driver's seat, listening to the conversation that carried on without him while Chloe fiddled with the radio.

"What's your name?" she asked, settling back into the seat once she found a station she liked.

"Ray."

"When d'you learn to play the guitar?"

"When I was little. You play anything?"

"Well… I tried the piano a couple years ago, but I wasn't any good."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone."

"Hm."

The radio station faded out as they drove farther from the city.

Josh leaned forward from the back seat, almost placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder.

"We have twenty minutes."

"Hey –" Ray ignored the boy in the back, turning instead to the pretty girl who rode beside him. "Tell me about yourself."

"My name is Chloe Marie Davis and I like fast cars and good music and long moonlit walks on the beach – or I imagine I would if I had ever been on a beach before."

"You don't get out much?"

"How can you tell?" She spat. "Everyone in our stupid little town insists that we stay put, that we stay close to home and safe… I never have any fun. This is the first time I've been out of the city, did you know that?"

"Well… if you could go anywhere you wanted in the world, would you rather go up north or to a rainforest?"

"Up north, definitely. I've had enough hot and sweaty days to last me forever, y'know? I need a change!"

"Well… what about… ah! Japan or England?"

"It depends – do I have a translator?"

"Ah – smart girl. You're really beautiful, you know that?"

For once, she didn't know what to say.

"Hey, Chlo…"

"Yeah?"

"Would you rather lose your arms or your legs?"

"Oh, legs, definitely. Although, I do have very nice legs. So I expect that whoever took them would feel extremely pleased with themselves," She laughed.

"Would you rather die from a drug overdose or from suffocation?"

"Well…" Her smile faltered. "Am I asleep before they suffocate me, or… what kind of dr – you know, Ray… I don't really like…"

"That's okay."

The chatter faded and the car was silent except for the engine and the static from the radio.

Chloe would have adjusted it, except her wrist was caught in the grip of the older man.

"I'm only –"

"Would you rather be raped or murdered?"

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in blatant fear. She regained her senses soon after that, however, and collected herself enough to frown before rebuking.

"How do you get off saying something like that?"

He gave her a cocky smirk before dropping her hand and adjusting the radio himself.

The bubbly atmosphere was gone now, replaced by tension and spite.

"Look, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled deeply.

"Can I get you a drink? I'll buy you one. You too, Josh."

The boy looked shocked at the fact that the others had not forgotten his existence.

"There's a service station coming up soon, so…"

Chloe sighed, turning her head towards the empty space where the window would have been.

"There's nothing out here…" She groaned, a nearly silent complain. She hesitated for a moment, before reaching out to click the radio off. Ray said nothing.

Chloe was wrong about there being nothing out there – in a bout ten minutes, an older building swam into view, previously invisible against the sand of near equal shade.

The guitarist pulled over; the right side of the desert road was right in front of the run down gas station, and he drifted to a halt in a flurry of dust. He pulled up the handle on the door and pushed it the rest of the way open with his foot.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, 'kay, Chloe?"

He shut the door and left them with a smile and a wave.

"It's not like we can go anywhere…" Josh scanned the horizon from the back of the car. The only building in sight was this so-called service station, and hiking through the desert would most likely not be the smartest thing to do. They were officially trapped here – having never been out of town before, with a man that they had never seen before… there was no way to get back from this place, and –

"We're gonna be in trouble," eyes jumped from tangled blonde hair to a steadily blinking digital watch to the endless expanse of sand that surrounded them…

"Don't worry, Chloe…"

"Who said I was?" She snapped.

"They'd have missed us by now… they would have called the police…"

Chloe turned to glare at her companion.

"Why would they need to call the police?"

"How are we gonna get home?"

"Ray will bring us."

Her unlikely suggestion was met with a woeful gaze.

She sighed, not exactly surprised that her friend didn't believe her, but because she herself did not.

"Well… eventually. I bet he's sorry for being such a jerk-off and that's why he's bought us drinks."

Josh slumped down in the back of the convertible.

"Fine. It's not my problem if you don't believe me."

She tore her eyes from his pitiful expression and turned around with a flip of her yellow hair.

It didn't take long for Ray to return after that. He proffered two glass bottles of Classic Coca-Cola and handed them each an open, frigid drink.

"Sorry," he studied Chloe as she sipped gingerly at her drink. "I didn't ask you guys what you wanted."

"Coke's okay," the girl said before bringing the bottle to her lips again.

Josh held his drink between two sweaty hands; rolling it between his palms and finally settling it to balance on his knee. The wait in the car had stilled the air and made them even hotter than they had been this morning standing on the street and listening to Ray play. The suede seats were sticky against his bare arms and he fidgeted. He pressed the pop against the back of his neck.

The car started to move again and the cold drink slopped against his head, somehow more refreshing than irritating.

He moved the drink to his knee again and sat back, soggy head against the seat and hoping that it was, in fact, real suede. He licked the rim of the bottle and lifted it, letting the sun shine through in order to study the bottom of the glass container.

"You don't drink that and I will. It tastes better than the new kind, after all. Costs more, too," Ray stated, adjusting his rearview mirror. Josh shrugged and pressed his damp back against the seat again.

He took a short swig of the cola, vaguely noting that it did in fact taste better than the kind that he had grown up with. He figured he may as well enjoy it – there was no way of knowing the next time he was going to get a drink in this place.

III.

It hadn't been more than forty minutes when Ray slid the car to a stop along the side of the road. Josh couldn't see what he had parked in front of – a heavy fog had surrounded him as they drove, and no lights rose from any nearby buildings to brighten their way.

He held the soda in his right hand as he steadied it with his left, squinting at his wrist as his watch swam into focus.

"Chloe…" It was strange when he heard himself say it – his voice was muzzy and distant.

"We're gonna be late if we don'…"

He strained to see her – a vague shape slumped silent in the passenger seat, a bottle held slack in her hand. He heard the drivers' side door shut and it echoed hollow in his ears.

The front passenger door opened and a shadow settled itself over her slim body.

"Chloe…"

A mutter and a groan came from the front seat. There was some shifting and the sound of a zipper – may be a sob? Josh squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make sense.

"Please. Please don't…" The pleas from the front seat broke through the fog and chilled him. Chloe – Chloe was…

"You have to stop –" he heard him self speak and was shocked at his own voice's distance. "She told you to… to – so you have to –"

The front seat was silent for a moment and the lack of noise froze him as well. He heard Chloe cry out again and his hand tightened around the neck of the soda bottle.

"Stop it…" he whispered into the fog; "She asked you to –"

He clumsily pulled himself up, sagging against the back of the drivers' seat. He reached for the girl beneath the man; he stretched a hand towards the golden hair splayed over the top of the reclined passenger seat…

The half-full bottle was pulled from his hand. The last thing he could remember was someone crying and the sound of green glass shattering and something icy sliding down his back as the bottle broke against his skull.

IV.

It hurt.

Maybe it was just his head, or maybe it was all of him, but ultimately, the effect from the expertly laced Coke had worn off, leaving him only with pain and the nagging sensation of something warm and sticky making its way over his left eye.

He could feel that he was lying down – a hard surface did nothing to cushion his back and his aching head. His attempt to move brought a whole new bout of pain, and the affirmation that somehow his hands had been tied behind his back. Why would his hands be tied…?

Memory came in a rush. The guitar, the convertible… the bottle half full and his brain half empty… the fog, and – Chloe, oh my god, Chloe – where was she? How could she…?

The sob shook him, sending hurt throbbing across his skull.

"So… you're awake?"

He shuddered.

"Don't you remember me? Aren't you at least going to open your eyes? C'mon, Josh."

He opened his right eye. His left one was crusted closed with blood.

Ray crouched in front of him, holding the top half of a broken bottle. They were inside a warehouse now, the tall ceiling and open, unfinished floor dingy with age.

"Hey…"

"Wh… Where's..."

"Oh! I bet you want to know where your little girlfriend is. Well… that's a secret. Only I know the answer, of course."

The only light came from a single low-powered bulb high above them, casting dreary shadows on things pushed far into the corners. There was a sour smell that stuck in his throat, and it was all he could do to keep from choking.

"You seem like a trustworthy kid, though. You answer a few of my questions and I might be able to tell you a little bit about what your Chloe Marie Davis is up to now."

It was extremely cold… Ray had found a blazer and pulled it over his previously white undershirt.

"First question: would you rather lose your arms or your legs?"

"Arms…"

Because without his legs he could no longer run.

"Drug overdose or suffocation?"

"Drugs…"

Because that way he couldn't feel what was happening to him.

His gasps echoed in the bleak spaciousness of the warehouse – he knew what the next question was. He knew what had happened to Chloe… He knew what would happen to him…

"Please… Please don't…"

So what if she had told him to stop?

"Don't worry about Chloe, Josh." Ray smiled, pressing the jagged part of the broken bottle against his upper arm.

"You'll be seeing her soon."