Hope for Laila

I looked at the guy sitting next to me, his skin was dark and his hand was extended, I looked at his empty hand expecting to see, well I don’t know, a gun I guess, “Omar” he said coolly and smoothly as if he was a new student in my class. He seemed to mean no harm. I extended my shaking hand, “Lai…” I started but before I finished or my hand met his he interrupted, stopping me dead in my tracks, “Ah! Actually I think you’ll find that’s who you used to be. Now, I think you’ll find you are someone completely different.” Withdrawing his hand he leant down, rummaging in a bag at his foot, he pulled out a brown A4 envelope and handed it to me. The outside was completely blank, no name and no indication to its content. I opened it carefully, sliding out a wad of paper. Looking at the top of the sheet placed on top of the pile and all became clear, well clearer, my new identity. Written in black and white, Hope Price. Looking through the rest of the pile, a passport, driving licence, credit cards all with Hope Price printed on. Finishing the pile of papers was a cream sheet of typed writing, “Look!” he snatched the pile form my hands, “you’ll have time to read and get up to speed with that later, but now we’ve got to make a move, we’re going to have unwelcome company in a minute if not. Start her up.”  He motioned his head towards me, looking at the steering wheel. I started rummaging around in my bag for my keys, where were they? Hearing a quiet cough behind me I turned round feeling irritated by the pressure that had been put on me and the urgency created by the situation I had been launched into in such a short space of time. Dangling from the man’s finger were my car keys, clinking together with key rings and house keys. He extended his arm forwards to me, “Thanks” taking them from Mark I put them in the ignition, flipped them round. With my left hand resting on the gear stick and my right at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel. I looked over to Omar, he gave me an encouraging nod, “Well, lets go then.” with a slight hint of inpatients brewing. Guess I had no choice in the matter. Putting the car into reverse it roared into life, like the screaming voice in my head asking me exactly what I was doing, I tried to ignore it as frankly I didn’t have an answer.  My foot fell heavily on the accelerator. We were on the move.

“Turn left off the end of the road.” Omar ordered. With no idea where I was expected to drive to but followed the slim back roads which traced the outline of fields.  Negotiating the winding back roads which were only too familiar to me, I pulled left, my front wheels slid with a crunch on to the gravel drive of the place I had lived for most of my life, and where I called home. I looked up at the huge cottage which stood in the shadows of old trees. I must have driven on auto pilot to the place I felt safest. I looked at Omar questioningly, “Well Hope, you came to the right place.” I sat waiting for my next set of orders whilst still wondering and slightly confused about how exactly I had know to come here with no directions and on-one telling me where I should be going, “Get out.” Omar stated. I slowly got out of the car, looking around for someone, anything that could help. The street was quite, not humming with life like normal, “Follow me.” Omar was now starting up the drive, looking around as he walked; I followed behind, not wanting to fall behind in fear of what he would do if I did. We reached the front door and he started fishing around in his pocket. Whilst he searched around in his pocket I a caught a glimpse of something tucked into his belt, I peered in closer, trying not to make it obvious that I was looking. Before I could get a proper look at what it was he started pulling his hand out of his pocket he held out a key, extended it to me, “Hope, you’ve got precisely, mmm,” he looked at his watch, “eight and a half minutes. You need to grab a load of cloths and whatever you’re gonna need and be back here, or, lets just say there will be trouble. Oh and give me your phone please, we don’t want you ringing anyone now do we?” sliding my phone out of my trouser pocket, I literally threw in his direction. I didn’t even hang around to argue. I was of my mark in a shot, I knew he was not playing some practical joke (and if they were, let’s just say they were doing a dam good job!). I put the key into the lock and pushed open the heavy front door to the abandoned house, my parents were away for the weekend so there was no-one in to help me. I headed straight to the phone, lifting the handset and pressing it to my ear, nothing. Then a slight crackle of hope came fuzzing down the line, abruptly interrupted by a male voice, “Nice try, but don’t think we didn’t think about that one missy.” With a sigh I replaced it to the base. Turing my back to the phone, I headed to pack some stuff, the phone rang. Surely not? Then again, I pounced on it, like it was the last drop of water in a drought. Holding it to my ear, with my fingers physically crossed, “Hello?” I felt sick, praying that this phone call could help me, “Hope, you’ve got six minutes and forty seconds, happy packing.” This time I slammed the phone down to the receiver with some force, sighing again and feeling agitated by the clear fun these people were having messing with my life, did they think this was some kind of game, or just have a really really sick sense of humour?