Driving Dalton

Dalton Quin was a true heartless bastard. The previous week he shot a bartender in the face to avoid paying his tab. If it weren't for the fact that he was working for the most feared man in the city he would have been in the back of a cop car within minutes.

In hindsight he realized that he may have been a tad irrational when he did that.

The driver rode over a bump causing Dalton to hit his head on the lid of the trunk. Stars burst behind in his eyes from the pain.

Whoever was driving was blaring music causing the bass to thrum throughout the whole car. The vibrations were nearly in tune with the throbbing of his head. He groaned loudly but it couldn't be heard over the music and duct tape covering his mouth.

How had this happened?

Dalton remembered that it was late at night and he was stuck outside his apartment because he couldn't find his keys. It was all so quiet until he heard footsteps creeping up behind him. His hands had fumbled for his gun, cursing his stupid drunken self, he had turned and caught a flash of a masked face before something hit his head and he was down.

Back in the trunk he screamed again and again until his face was red but the music kept playing. Angrily he kicked at the lid. It was a bit difficult when his ankles and knees were zip tied together. He kicked three more times before the car came to a sudden stop.

His body rolled causing him to hit his head once again.

"Mmph!"

The music turned off and a car door slammed. Panic started to rise, his heart was racing. There was an angry gangster on his way to finally off him. Or maybe torture him for a while and then off him. No matter what it wasn't going to end well for him.

This wasn't the way he was supposed to die, he told himself. He was still young and handsome with only two STDs under his belt. There was still so much to live for!

The trunk opened. The first thing Dalton noticed was that it was dark outside.

The second thing he noticed was a terrified old woman clutching a tire iron in her hands.

The third thing he noticed was how shrill the scream of said woman was.

The sky was dark with only the break lights illuminating the woman's scared, wrinkled face. In her hands she was tightly grasping a tire iron but she made no move to start whacking him with it. It occurred to Dalton that this woman may not have been the one to put him in the trunk in the first place.

So who did?

"Wh-Who are you? And what the hell are you doing in there?"

"Hmph mm hmm!"

Her thin hand shook as she reached for him. He scooted back, away from her and bumped his head again.

"Quit wriggling so I can take this thing off you!" She scolded.

The woman grabbed the corner of the tape and ripped it off in one smooth swipe.

"Fuck!"

Dalton scrunched his mouth up then relaxed it. His lips were tacky and sore from the tape. Well, he thought to himself, there goes that pathetic excuse for a mustache I had grown.

He took advantage of what little light there was to try and figure out where he was. From what he could tell it must have been at least eleven o'clock at night. It was pitch black except for the brake lights and the moon. He could see stars, more so than usual, the road was lined with tall, thick trees. That meant they couldn't have been anywhere near the city. Finally his gaze settled upon the driver.

She was old. Really, really old. There was no way she was any younger than seventy. Her bony hands were still grasping onto the tire iron like her life depended on it. In this situation it kind of did. On her chest was a hideous sweater with a cat face and the words, 'I'm feline good' scrawled underneath.

Did he get kidnapped by a Golden Girl?

His eyes strayed from the kitten on her sweater up to her wrinkled face. Her face was red and she refused to look down at him.

"Mind telling me why you're in my trunk?" She glanced at him, her face turning a deeper shade of red, "And why you're naked?"

Dalton's temper was slowly starting to bubble. He'd been knocked unconscious, tied up, and left in a trunk for God knows how long. To make what was already a shitty situation into an even shittier one, the only person that could help him would probably break a hip in the process. He really didn't need her throwing all these questions at him when he didn't have the answers.

"Oh, you know," he drawled, "I had a day off and thought, wow! You know what would be really fun? Tying myself up like a Christmas present for Sophia fucking Petrillo!"

The lid of the trunk slammed shut.

Dalton cursed under his breath. A moment later the trunk opened back up. The woman was stood before him with her arms crossed and an unimpressed stare on her face.

"Apologize and I'll let you out."

"Sorry."

Her eyes narrowed down at him. "Like you mean it."

If his arms were free he'd wrap his fingers around her bony neck and squeeze until it snapped. Unfortunately he was in no place to do so. All he could do was swallow his pride and hope that she'd let her guard down long enough that he could overpower her and steal the car.

"I'm sorry," he said, more sincerely this time.

She smiled at him and nodded in approval. "I forgive you. Now let's get you out."

She set the tire iron on the ground before coming up and hooking her arms around his legs, "Work with me on this!"

The trunk was fairly close to the ground which made it easy for her to swing his legs around and sit him up so his feet were touching the road. He surged forward and was finally standing on his own two feet. His whole body was sore from being hunched for so long. He stretched as best as he could and felt several of his bones crack.

The woman smiled at him, "Better?"

He nodded, looking down at her and murmured a small, "Yeah, thanks."

He hadn't realized just how small she really was. Dalton wasn't the tallest guy around, he reached 5'11" on a good day, but she was an entire foot shorter than him. Her blue eyes were kind and friendly as she gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Let's get you in the car, it's cold out here," she glanced at his crotch pointedly, "You probably noticed."

Dalton's cheeks flushed and he refused to look at her.

"Well, hop along!" She cheered encouragingly.

He wished that whoever had kidnapped him hadn't used so many zip ties. His wrists were bound together, along with his ankles, knees, and above his elbows.

"Couldn't you just cut me loose?" He whined.

She shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing, "I don't think that's a great idea. I mean, look at you compared to me." Her hand motioned between their bodies. "I'm willing to help you out, dear, but I don't want to get hurt in the process. But don't you worry! Once we get to the city we can call for help."

Dalton frowned down at her, "You can't call them now?"

"Oh, well," she laughed nervously and reached in her pocket to grab the saddest thing he'd seen in years.

A flip phone.

"The battery died and I forgot the car charger. You know what's funny?" She snickered to herself, "I even left myself a note about it too! Right on my suitcase! At my age I'm lucky enough if I remember to turn off the stove." She laughed again and elbowed him in the side.

Dalton looked up to the dark sky and mentally cursed God. Just his luck. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a woman old enough to have seen the great depression with no way of getting any outside help.

"How close is the nearest town?" He asked, trying to contain the desperation in his voice.

"Only a few hours," she chirped.

He cursed God again.

She pocketed her phone and gave him a nudge. He hopped forward and felt his dignity sinking. He hopped again and felt his pride go as well. He hopped again and again until he had reached the passenger door.

"Well done, dear! Stay put for a moment and I'll see if I've got anything to cover you up."

Dalton rolled his eyes when she turned away from him. He wanted to snap at her and remind her that he could not in fact go anywhere. He kept his mouth shut instead. He figured that he could keep his cool for a few more hours until they reached the city then he would call one of Scavo's men to pick him up and find out who the Hell did this to him and exact his revenge. A couple hours was more than enough time to come up with a cruel, sadistic, torture plan.

"Aha!"

She came back into his line of sight with a tiny, aged blanket slung over her shoulder. "I'm afraid it's all I've got for now. Better than nothing, right?"

He grunted in agreement.

The woman opened the car door and grabbed at Dalton's biceps, "Just duck your head and crouch, there you go, tuck your legs in!"

Dalton's cheeks flushed in humiliation. He was being talked to like a child and all he could do was grin and bear it. When he was finally sat in the seat she draped the blanket over his lap then leaned over to buckle his seat belt.

"Safety first," she reminded him.

Yeah. Definitely felt like a child.

She shut the door then came around the car and slid into her own seat. Before buckling her own seat belt she turned and sent him a friendly smile, "What's your name, dear?"

He didn't answer straight away. He thought about lying and giving her one of his aliases, but what was the point? What harm could she honestly do?

"Dalton."

Her eyes sparkled. Or maybe that was Cataracts.

"Gertie," her grin grew, "Nice to meet you, Dalton."

He nodded, not really reciprocating the sentiment.

Gertie pulled onto the road and glanced at Dalton excitedly, "Two hours until we reach the city, bumper buddy!"

Dalton's eyes closed as he sent out a silent prayer. Smite me.