Mud and Rose Petals

I opened the door to find two bedraggled children outside. Their clothes were torn they were covered in mud and they had twigs and leaves in their hair. The girl's hand was raised -- it must've been she who tapped the door to get my attention. I was recovering from the shock of seeing them there when she whispered, "May we come in? Quickly?"

I moved aside and they darted past me in to the kitchen and dived under the little red table. I recognized them as Janani, who lived two streets away, and her cousin Mridul. Both being avid readers, their visits to the local library often coincided with mine. I had eavesdropped on some of their conversations about books and smiled to myself ... they were so in earnest about characters and plots.

"You may go into that bathroom and get cleaned up," I said, peering under the table. "And I'll get you some ..." I paused to think. What did I have in the larder to tempt a pair of nine-year-olds?

But Janani didn't let me finish my sentence "No, no, we must not be seen. He was a hostage. I rescued him. If they find us here, we'll be in trouble. So will you."

I chuckled. "I'll find you some of my nephew's sweaters to put over your torn clothes. Now get your hair and face and hands washed. Use lots of soap. You'll have to make do with rice and curry, I haven't cooked anything special."

"You don't understand," Janani retorted. "We can't come out from under this table. They took Mridul hostage and I managed to get him out. Please close the curtains, in case they peep in, and lock all the doors and windows. Please."

"Now, Janani, Mridul," I stated, "I won't have this. A good imagination is nice, and living up to stories is creative, but there's such a thing as going too far. Get cleaned up and I'll bring the sweaters and heat the rice."

I went to the spare room and returned with a couple of sweaters my nephew had forgotten there on his last visit. I was annoyed to find the kids still under the table.

"Now," I began, sternly.

"Shhhhhh ..." Mridul said, and gestured to my phone, which was beeping. "Are you getting a whatsapp message?"

"So what if I am?"

"Check it. Please."

"You two really are the limit. Don't tell me what to do ..."

"Please," Janani begged. "Check the whatsapp message."

Exasperated, I snatched up my phone from the red table and checked the message. Janani watched my face as I read it and understood what it said. "Didn't I tell you?" she whispered.

The whatsapp message was from the resident-association of the area. It announced that the police were searching for Mridul, who had been kidnapped by the new chauffeur that morning, held hostage for ransom. The message said that Janani was also missing, and anyone having any information about these two kids was to contact the phone number given.

I'm not very tech savvy, and my nerves made things worse. I pressed some icons on the screen, trying to get to a point where I could make a call. Finally, I got there.

I had just finished dialing the number when the two children screamed, and my phone was knocked out of my hands. I felt someone behind me hold my elbows in a vice-like grip.

"Found you," a voice growled. "And thank you, Miss, for leaving the front window open."

"How ..." I gasped, before a hand was clapped over my mouth.

"How did we find the kids? Well, after she pulled him out of the boot of the car, they jumped into a mud puddle and then into a rose bush to hide. We simply followed the trail of mud and rose petals. Not to mention the footprints and crushed plants. Quite a trail."

"I knew we should have covered our tracks," Mridul groaned.

"There wasn't time," Janani snapped back.

"Cut the chatter," our captors ordered.

The chauffeur and his wife tied us up and gagged us. "Thank goodness Mridul's Dad owns a big car. Lots of space to hide three hostages."

They had a whispered conversation, then the guy went out, presumably to bring the car to the kitchen door. Apparently, we were going to be carried into the boot and the back seat.

I wondered what the kids were thinking about. Maybe they were planning something. My brain had frozen. We heard the car as it came to a halt outside the door. The woman picked Janani up and flung her over a shoulder, carrying her like a sack. Helplessly, I watched as the girl, kicking furiously, was taken out the door. Then, the guy came and carried Mridul out the same way.

Finally, both came back for me.

The guy seized me by the shoulders while the woman held my knees, and they hoisted me up. I struggled as best I could, but both were much stronger than me. Getting to the car, I found that both kids had been placed in the back seat, the boot was reserved for me.

"Scrunch up," the man ordered, roughly.

I grunted in response and held myself as stiff and firm as I could, so that I wouldn't fit.

"Want me to hit you?" the woman asked.

"I'm sure she doesn't," came a pleasant male voice, and a gun materialized at the chauffeur's head, and another at his wife's.

"Now place her down gently," came a woman's voice.

*********

I couldn't accept the accolades. "It was a mistake, I'm not tech savvy," I kept insisting.

But I was the heroine of the day, for having video called the given number and left the phone on so we could be tracked by the police.

"Let's write a story about it," Janani said. And we did.