This is part 7 of a weekly interactive story, links to earlier parts can be found below:
Part 1: A beginning is a very (very) delicate time
Part 2: Up for the craic at dawn.
Part 3: You can’t make an omelette without a violent uprising against the eggs.
Part 4: This revolution will definitely be televised
Part 5: Lactose, meet intolerance
Part 6: Bottle Episode
The most popular choice for continuing the story was:
Create a mad spectacle so that everyone is filming you and it will be impossible for the goons to kidnap you without the world knowing about it. To this end: Pour the coffee syrup over your head while screaming “They’re coming to take me away!” over and over again.
Episode 7: You Really Got Carried Away
The Range Rover must have gone over a speed bump far too fast. You bounce up from the plushly carpeted boot floor with a mild tearing noise as a chunk of your sticky, syrup sodden eyebrow decides to stay where it is rather than join the rest of you on your brief vertical journey.
You’d like to think that the phone footage, now no doubt bursting all across social media, shows you as some kind of heroic revolutionary/performance artist being kidnapped by evil pawns of the state. You suspect that it may well look like a deeply disturbed individual, mid-way through some sort of dirty protest, being carted off for their own safety.
By some stroke of good fortune, as they bundled you into their sinister SUV, the goons took your new burner phone off you, but not your old phone. You retrieve it from a jacket pocket, still plenty of battery left fortunately. Diving into settings, you turn all the telephony and comms stuff back on, according to google maps you are probably on the main road out of town, about halfway to the motorway.
Having written a tweet that says “I’ve been kidnapped – In boot of Black Range Rover heading out of town on the Gladstree Road. HELP HELP HELP”, you snap a selfie to accompany it. The image staring back at you from the phone, a brown syrup streaked vision of panic with blood oozing from a half removed eyebrow, is probably a bit much – so you decide to do without.
You send the tweet and then check the torrent of activity that has already sprung up from the footage of you being dragged out of Starbucks a couple of minutes ago. You do indeed look like a complete and utter tool – but the whole sorry affair has been recorded – including the weird registration number of the Range Rover: ‘XX232XX’ – which is already one of the top trending hashtags.
Photos and footage of the speeding Range Rover begin to appear, on Instagram, people are broadcasting their dash cams as they chase after XX232XX. You feel a surge of momentum as your speeding prison accelerates – you can hear car horns blaring all around you – then you are thrown back and forth as whoever is driving performs all sorts of high speed manoeuvres. There’s a dull impact and a smash, from the shaky footage on instagram, it looks like the Range Rover has just rammed one of the pursuers off the road. This is getting seriously out of hand – but you can’t deny that it is all quite exciting. You’d feel like you were in a Bourne film or something, if the new, most widely shared images of you didn’t look like an escapee from Arkham Asylum carrying out some kind of noisey hate crime.
You hear the blare of police sirens join the chaos outside – is that a good thing or a bad thing? Surely the Police will be on the same side as your kidnappers? But there’s no way that they could appear to be assisting an actual political kidnapping could they? You remember who the Home Secretary is and panic a little bit more.
The reception on your phone begins to break up, you must be headed into the tunnel underneath the ring road. You are weighing up options for what you could possibly do next when you are suddenly smashed into the front wall of the boot by a screeching jolt of deceleration. There is a load of muffled shouting from the car cabin in front of you, it feels like the car has come to a complete stop. Without warning (although realistically what sort of warning could you expect whilst being locked in a dark car boot?), the Range Rover begins to rock, there are sounds like the windows being smashed in and the doors being opened and slammed – there is more shouting – it sounds like there is quite a crowd out there.
Someone unlocks the boot and it swings open to reveal a crowd of angry, concerned and angrily concerned faces. Loads of cameras and phones are shining at you. A hand reaches in to help you out, you stumble to an upright position and take in the scene in the tunnel.
Ahead of you, a blockade of cars and vans has sealed off the road as far as you can see before the tunnel curves away. Behind the Range Rover, a lengthy tailback has formed. Hundreds of people are gathered around you, a small core of them are still smashing away at the Range Rover for reasons best known to themselves. There is no sign of your kidnappers, it looks like they made a break for it through the emergency exit tunnel.
Everyone is very excited to try and talk to you and take photos, you feel like you should probably say something.
“Hey everyone…” You half shout, waving your arms around to try and settle things down. The crowd quickly calms down and you feel very self conscious as they wait for you to say something, it all feels a bit Life of Brian to be honest. You try to think of the best announcement to make while trying not to be distracted by the two shifty geezers trying to take the alloys off the crumpled-looking Range Rover.
(So far you have brought down 0.2% of the government – at this very moment a significant number of security officials are being summoned to a very scary building for a very unpleasant meeting.)
What will you say to the eager crowd and watching social media hordes?