Looking for Walter Newhouse Chapter Three

I awoke to darkness and the rumble of an engine. I lifted my head and bumped it before I got very far. Didn’t take me long to realise I’d been bundled into the boot of a car and we were on the move. At least the smell of oil and rubber from the spare tyre made a change from vomit. Gingerly, I touched the back of my head with the tips of my fingers. I had a lump the size of an egg and it was throbbing like hell, but there was no sign of any blood, which was something at least.

The car took a sharp corner. Disoriented as I was, I couldn’t be sure if we were turning left or right. Not that it made any difference, as I didn’t have a clue where we were, anyway. And how long had I been out for?

We finally rumbled to a halt, and I heard car doors slamming. Whatever happened next, I hoped it involved opening up the boot. I was growing claustrophobic in there, all curled up like a baby waiting to be born.

The boot popped open, and I was immediately blinded by a couple of torches being shone right at me.

I flung my hands over my eyes.

‘Come on lads, you’re dazzling the poor bastard.’

The torches moved enough that I could see again. I lowered my hands a little. The sky was full on dark now and the fresh air was cold. Hands reached into the boot and dragged me up and out. I hit the ground on my shoulder and a spasm of pain shot through my back and up into my head. Lying on my back on the cold ground, I could make out four figures standing around me, looking down at me. But I couldn’t make out any features in the dark, behind the dazzling light of the torch in my face.

Somewhere an owl hooted.

‘You want me to give him a good kicking, Boss?’

‘Not yet, no. Let’s see what he has to say for himself.’

They fell silent. I wondered if maybe now was the point at which I should say something. But nobody had asked me anything. What was I going to do, talk about the weather?

‘Would anyone mind if I sat up?’ I said. ‘I’m getting cold down here.’

‘You can kick him now.’