Going Bush

Slightly more bruised and battered, Taylor had been returned to the trunk. This time he could hear them talking, and as far he could make out their plans hadn’t changed.
According to Taylor’s logic, that meant his hadn’t either. And getting away from them was his top priority.
It was well beyond dark, he knew. He also knew there was no way he could open the trunk from the inside. But he also knew that the car wasn’t traveling at its full speed, as many other cars had passed it already. And considering the slight increase in traffic, they had to be heading somewhere more populated.
Looking down toward his feet, he eyed off the lights. They didn’t seem to be very secure… but he had to be sure of his timing.
Turning his head slightly, he waited until he could hear the next car approaching. This didn’t happen until at least ten minutes later, and by then his neck was definitely stiff. However it was nothing compared to the aches his arms were suffering from being held behind for so long.
When he heard the car get close enough that it wouldn’t overtake for another minute or so, he kicked at the lights as hard as he could. It didn’t take much effort for them to become unattached and fall to the road. Hearing the crash and hoping the driver and passengers hadn’t, he pushed himself further to the side in the trunk and managed to stick his foot and part of his leg through the hole it made.
Holding his breath, he heard the car behind slowing a little, before accelerating. He gulped slightly as he heard it overtaking before pulling his foot back in and beginning to wonder exactly what would happen when the men realized what he’d done to the car lights.
Deciding not to dwell on it, he closed his eyes and waited.

*

Isaac arrived at the farmhouse after dark. He found it odd that he couldn’t see any lights on, but perhaps they were in a bedroom or something.
He knocked on the door and waited. When there was no response, he knocked again.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson?! Hello?!”
Still not garnering a response, he tried the door handle. It was locked.
Grinding his teeth and suddenly getting a bad feeling, he began to make his way around the back. He became even more worried when he saw the back door wide open and one of the chairs near the door on its side.
Treading carefully now, he made his way in and carefully felt for the nearest light switch. The backlight came on, and when he hit the next one the kitchen light finally came on. Isaac took in the scene in silence.
“Hello?” he tried again, before noticing that all the keys were gone.
Frowning to himself, he stepped back out onto the back porch. Now that the light was on, he suddenly spotted something he’d missed earlier…
“Mr. Thompson?!” he exclaimed, rushing down onto the grass and falling to his knees by his side.
He debated with himself what to do for a moment. The man wasn’t breathing.
Finally, he pulled himself together enough to check his pulse.
“Oh no,” he murmured, quickly pulling out his cell phone.
He dialed the ranger’s office.
“Hello? This is Isaac Hanson over at the Thompson’s… Mr. Thompson is dead.”