Searching for Stolen Love Read online

  ***

  Branko awakened in the trunk, confused while his mind tried to assemble today’s events. He remembered talking to Damir about his student account. He was reaching for something, and then everything went black.

  Branko pushed against the trunk lid, but it wouldn’t bulge. He turned on his side and jingled the trunk’s lock, but nothing moved.

  Bang! The car hit a bump and Branko’s head hit the truck lid, almost knocking him out.

  Then the car’s suspension kept vibrating up and down as someone drove the car over a dirt road.

  Branko kept sticking his fingers into the lock, but the car would hit another bump, causing his fingers to lose his grip.

  After a long time, the car came to a stop. He jumbled the lock again.

  Click! Then Branko slowly opened the truck and peeked out as he shivered from the coldness.

  Jasmin stood above him and grabbed him lifting him out of the trunk. Then Jasmin pushed him between the soldiers and Damir. Branko stumbled and crashed onto the snow, landing face down. Then he looked up at Damir and pleaded, “Pleeeaasee Daaamiiir. I thought you understoooood.”

  Damir kicked Branko in the face right under his chin.

  Branko flew back onto the snow and landed on his back. One of his teeth bit into his lower lip, causing blood to trickle down his chin and onto his jacket.

  Branko rolled over, remaining on his hands and knees, looking up at the soldiers and Damir. Branko’s body trembled and convulsed as fear gripped his body. He saw the soldiers had Zastava M80s, a cloned version of the Russian AK-47, slung over their shoulders.

  Branko began to cry as tears streamed down his face, because he knew death was following him. Death must have been sitting in the car’s passenger seat waiting for Branko to get out of the trunk. As he shivered from fear, urine streamed down his crotch area.

  Soldiers laughed and mocked Branko after seeing the expanding wetness around his crotch area.

  Damir screamed at Branko with hatred exuding in his voice, “You have exactly ten minutes to run. Once those ten minutes are up, we’re coming to hunt you. GO NOW!” Then he pressed the timer button on his watch.

  Scanning the faces of the troops, Branko then gazed at Damir.

  Damir glared down at Branko as if Damir had stepped in dog shit. Branko was a small helpless elk that stumbled across the path of savage hunters.

  Branko continued pleading, “I’m sorry sir. I’ll get the money for you. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you. My family will find the money for you. You don’t need to kill me.”

  Damir continued to glare at Branko, and then he tapped his watch, “Tick-tock. Tick-tock.”

  Branko leaped onto his feet like a scared rabbit and sprinted towards the nearest woods. He sprinted as fast as he could. After he had reached the first line of trees, he glanced back at the soldiers.

  Soldiers stood still in formation. Damir stood like a statue, watching the timer on his watch.

  Branko trembled with fear because he saw his path clearly marked in the snow. His boots at least sank a foot into the snow, making his path known. Even a blind man could follow his path through the snow. Here and there, droplets of blood from his busted lip speckled the snow.

  Branko looked around and saw no houses, orchards, or fields. He was in a remote, deserted value, and he had no way of escaping. Wherever he walked, he made fresh tracks on the snow, and the snow would need an hour to erase his path. It appears nature sided with Damir and wanted Branko.

  Branko continued running.

  After fifteen minutes, he stopped running. His lungs ignited on fire while he hunched over in a coughing spasm, spitting blood onto the snow. He didn’t know if the blood dripped from his lip, or if he coughed up pieces of his lung. He wished he would have quit smoking years ago. Then a weird thought popped into his head as he remembered the well-known warning on the side of a cigarette pack, Smoking may be harmful to your health.

  “No shit,” he mumbled to himself.

  Branko rose to his feet and walked briskly. He didn’t quite have the energy to run again. His lungs begged for mercy, and he wheezed every time he stepped forward. He turned to look behind him to spot the advancing soldiers.

  The approaching dusk turned dark forest into a graveyard of silent skeletons. Twilight came quickly, and the forest would become black as the skeletons went into hiding.

  Hope sprang from Branko's heart as he realized the darkness could shield him.

  Then series of deafening bangs filled the forest air. Several angry bullets whizzed by Branko's head, barely missing him.

  Branko started to run again, weaving in and out behind large trees. He kept running, dashing, moving around from tree to tree.

  Branko thought the imminent darkness would hide him because he wore dark-blue jeans and a black winter coat today. Fate would come and rescue Branko, but another succession of explosions filled the cold, still air. Three bullets whizzed by Branko's body, and splinters flew into the air as the bullets buried themselves into the thick tree trunks nearby.

  Branko continued to run as he gasped for air. His lungs would implode from the strenuous physical activity. He became dizzy and started to lose consciousness. He wheezed and coughed, and tasted copper in the back of his throat.

  Another series of bullets exploded through the forest. One of the bullets bit Branko in his left leg as intense and excruciating pain shot up his body.

  Branko fell to the ground, but quickly hopped up and started limping towards a large oak tree. He knew his life would end soon.

  Once Branko tucked himself safely behind a tree, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and fished a cigarette out. Branko, a proud Serb, only smoked National, a Serbian cigarette.

  Branko inhaled and let the Serbian tobacco soothe his aching lungs. Strong Serbian tobacco alleviated some of the pain radiating up and down his injured leg. Branko felt at peace with himself as he tilted his head back against the tree and inhaled another drag from his cigarette. Holding the smoke in, he let peace and serenity soothe him.

  He relaxed against the tree and closed his eyes. A black leather belt snaked around his throat and pulled tightly. Then someone pulled Branko away from the tree, pulling the belt tightly like a boa constrictor wrapped around his neck.

  Branko's body began trembling and shaking as the belt cut the access to oxygen. Branko's complexion turned a bluish hue. Then he died.