This was a terrible idea. The framework of the suitcase was pressing painfully against his chest, and the gritty texture of the fabric was covering his arms in a rash. Why did I think this was a good idea?
He forced himself to take deep breaths. Panicking wouldn’t help him get out of the suitcase any faster. Once his heart stopped beating so loudly in his ears, he listened as hard as he could, trying to discern what was going on around him. Elevator doors opened and closed, chiming cheerily. Footsteps squeaked, padded, and tapped, their rhythms overlapping with the rumble of luggage rolling past.
Click. Click. Click.
He tensed. No no no no–
The suitcase levered upright slowly. He heard the man outside grunt at his weight. And then they were moving. With every bump the frame dug deeper into his back, and he struggled not to hiss in pain. His breaths were coming faster and faster, and he hoped fervently that the man couldn’t hear. He could just imagine their conversation:
“Who are you?”
“Well, my name is Charles, better known as the person you and your buddies have been chasing since last Tuesday for unknown reasons. Also, I didn’t appreciate it when you tried to shoot me the first time, so–”
BANG!
Charles flinched, curling up tighter. The bang of the closing door had evoked a gunshot in his head. From the buzz of traffic he guessed they were now outside the terminal. This was confirmed when he heard the door of a car slam. He felt the suitcase lift, turning horizontal, before slamming down in what was probably a trunk. Charles suppressed a whimper. He didn’t like the dark at all, and being shut in not one but two tight spaces–and heading to who-knew-where–was more than he could take. And he started to cry, sniffling quietly in the dark.
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