HlJACKED!

OcToacn 1
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, 2DD1
3 WccKs ArTcn 9711
David swore, thumping the driver`s wheel with his palm angrily. Smoke driIted up in a
thin tendril Irom the exhaust pipe oI his oIIicially messed up car. More speciIically, something
had messed up his tires. But it was dark outside, and call him a wimp all you wanted, he wasn`t
going to step one Ioot out oI the car Ior Iear oI being attacked by some Iorsaken creature oI the
night. Being stranded on a deserted road in the middle oI the night, the nearest city miles away,
and no cell phone reception was a good set-up Ior a gory slasher Ilick.
His car`s headlights shed twin beams on the long stretch oI road in Iront oI him,
reIlecting oII the dust that rose Irom the pavement. Inside the car was the Iuzzy white noise with
a mix oI two completely diIIerent songs, which he only kept on to drown out the solitude;
outside the car was Ioreboding heavy silence. He Ielt saIe as long as lights lit up his dashboard
and sound crackled through the radio. But he couldn`t wait until morning and he couldn`t leave
his car, even iI he gathered himselI enough to step one Ioot into the darkness.
So David continued to swear and hit the steering wheel, staring at the asphalt beIore him.
But something sent his heart climbing up his throat: stepping out oI the darkness into the light oI
the headlight was tall Iigure with a hooded sweatshirt. Everything the Iigure wore was black,
including the cloth pulled taught under its eyes. It was looking straight at him, a crowbar in his
right hand and Iirearm in his leIt, rounding the side oI the car. Two other Iigures in similar outIits
stepped out oI the darkness on either side oI the car. David`s knuckles went white as he gripped
the steering wheel. It occurred to him that they might`ve been the reason his tires were ruined.
The Iirst one, the tallest and probably the leader oI this posse, leaned over so that his eyes
and David`s were level, and rapped the side oI his handgun against the car door. David kept his
eyes Iorward, reIusing to look him in the eye.
'Hello, in there, it called mockingly. Its voice was very human, but its intention David
knew all too well Irom the news. 'I know you can hear me, kid, the Iigure in black taunted.
One oI his henchmen, a slightly shorter man, shiIted his weight Irom Ioot to Ioot impatiently.
'II it`s money you want, I`ll give you my credit card. Please, please don`t hurt me.
'Not good enough, the thieI said impatiently. 'We both know you can just cancel a
credit card with just one phone call. Step out oI the car, please, I`m short on time.
David made no move to comply with the veiled man. He`d never been made clear on
what to do in this kind oI situation, so he just did what he thought would get him back to his
Iamily tomorrow. David told him to go perIorm a physical impossibility.
'Oh, so it`s the hard way, is it? The man raised something in his hand - the crowbar -
and punched a hole in the window, raining glass on David, who moved his arm to cover his Iace.
The man slammed the window two more times, moving as Iast as possible beIore David could do
anything. He dropped the crowbar, and shoved his gloved hand through the window Ior the
locking mechanism as the metal stick clattered against the pavement. David undid the seat belt
and tried to scramble into the passenger`s seat, but one oI the hijacker`s associates smiled behind
his black bandanna mask, waving his Iirearm to send a message: no going through this door.
David writhed in the seat and tried to get into the back oI the car, but a Iist came Irom behind and
grabbed him by the back oI his jacket and threw him Irom the car.
David landed on his back, the wind knocked out oI him. He`d slammed the back oI his
head against the cold, hard pavement and stars blotted out his vision. Something slammed
against the side oI his head, whether it was the side oI a handgun or a crowbar he couldn`t tell,
and his hand Ilew up to the wound, which radiated burning pain. David groaned as a Ioot
connected with his rib, hard. Soon it had become clear that all three men were beating him, and
the idea that this could go on Iorever had him screaming Ior someone to help, but no such help
came. One Iinal blow to the head sent him Ialling into inIinite unconsciousness.
David awoke at the Iirst rays oI dawn, Ieeling instantly hit with pain that seared like a
thousand hot skewers punching through his body. He liIted his hand to his scalp, and as his
Iingertip touched the warm, wet mat oI hair, he Ielt like he`d been hit by a train. He moaned and
tried to take in his surroundings. His back was pressed against an incline oI dirt, and so were his
legs, as iI he were slumped in a chair that had Iallen over. He tried to prop himselI up on his
elbows, but his bones screamed their condemnation, so he slumped back.
David saw his car in his peripheral vision - Ior he couldn`t turn his head - had been
pushed oII to the shoulder oI the road. All the windows were punched through, and the body had
been banged up really bad. Smoke smoldered Irom under the hood. What was their purpose, iI
not taking the car? They`d leIt him here to die so that he couldn`t cancel his credit card or
something?
Then he saw it: a big green van driving by in the opposite direction his car Iaced. His
heart soared, knowing he`d be rescued. But it drove by without even slowing down to look at
him. He groaned and tried to move again, but it was impossible.
Some time later, as the sun was halIway to midday, he saw another car, small and white.
He gathered enough energy to raise his hand, and knew it worked: the car pulled over and a man
in a business suit stepped out. The man shoved a cell phone in his breast pocket with a scowl and
walked up to the ditch David had been leIt in.
'Are you okay, sir? he asked halIway to the ditch. David tried to move his arm again,
but he was spent.
'I can`t seem to get a signal out here. Don`t worry, I`m going to drive up to the nearest
town and see iI I can Iind anyone to come over and help you. Don`t worry, the man said again,
sizing up David and looking like he was trying to hold down his breakIast. The man went back to
his car and drove away. As he saw the car drive away, David wondered iI the man would hold
true to his promise. It had become very hot out, and the heat exaggerated his pains. AIter a
minute or so, he Iound he could lean Iorward.
Something was horribly wrong in his back and his ribcage, but he managed to crawl out
oI the ditch. Another car drove by, but again, iI the driver noticed, they didn`t show as much.
David`s newIound energy didn`t last long, and soon he was laying on his back at the side oI the
road again.
It was noonish and blazing hot when the IiIth car drove by. But, unlike any oI the
previous, the driver slammed on their brakes right in Iront oI David, and the driver stepped out.
The man wore white, and.
David was in no condition to do so much moving around, and unconsciousness enveloped
him in blackness again.
He woke up Ior the second time that day, this time Iinding himselI under a blanket in the
backseat oI a car. He groaned and shiIted against the beige seats. The driver looked around and
smiled at David over his shoulder. 'You are awake, I see. Feeling better? he asked in a middle
eastern accent.
David nodded and shiIted again. He was Ieeling a lot better, so he sat up.
'Where are we? He asked, disoriented.
'Pulling into a hotel so you can rest, was all he got beIore the man parked and stepped
out oI the car.
When the man - a Muslim, he`d admitted - returned Irom paying Ior a room, he helped
David all the way to the room and had him rest on the bed. David mumbled his thanks.
'I regret I cannot stay with you, the man admitted, 'but I will be back tomorrow to
check up. Until then, please get rest. II you need anything, the manager has my credit card
inIormation. I do not know iI they Iit, but I had a spare change oI clothes in my car. You`re
welcome to change, or, when you are Ieeling up to it, you can go out and buy more. Good day,
he added, then leIt with a nod.
AIter a Iew good hours oI rest, David woke up. He ordered a large pizza Ior dinner,
changed into the other clothes, and watched TV. He noticed there were a lot oI rips on the shirt,
but very little blood. He looked down at his chest to see wounds, almost completely healed
already. He threw the old clothes in the trash and dug into the pizza sitting on the bed aIter
popping open a soda. He moved his hand to set his can oI Coca-Cola on the nightstand, but his
hand bumped into something resting on the small table. David stopped as he recognized what it
was: an old New International Version leather-bound Bible.
NoTc To THc HcAocn
The Holy Bible is Iull oI parables - about IiIty oI them, in
Iact. Hifacked' is a modern re-telling oI one oI the most Iamous
and reIerenced-to ones: The Good Samaritan.
What most people don`t realize is the signiIicance oI the
Samaritan` part. The original story was set in a time in which
Jews and Samaritans weren`t on the best terms - much like
Americans and Muslim were aIter the horriIic events oI 9/11,
which is why I set the story about three weeks aIter it.
Some people say that re-telling a parable is a disgrace to
God`s book, but I say the opposite: this is exactly the type oI thing
He would want His servant to do: make the parables clear to
today`s culture by writing the symbols in a modern way.
II anything about this story was conIusing or doesn`t line
up with your view oI Christianity, please Iind someone to talk to at
your local church. II you don`t own one, you don`t need to go to
the nearest bookstore to get a copy oI the Bible - you can just get
an iPhone app or Google online bible`. The parable that Hifacked'
was based on can be Iound at http://www.biblegateway.com/, Luke
10:25-37.
AaouT THc AuTHon
The original author oI The Parable of the Good Samaritan
was known on Earth as the homeless, penniless son oI a small-time
carpenter who was known Ior pissing oII the local church leaders,
doing the impossible, being the nicest guy on Earth, and, when the
situation called Ior it, telling a good story. He thinks you`re one
cool dude and wants to get to know you personally.
AaouT THc ScnvANT
Curtis Lyon is a Iollower oI Christ who lives in central
Indiana with his Iamily. He is currently working towards a degree
in creative writing, and possibly another, more practical major.
He`s constantly working on other things like novels, short Iiction,
and not Iailing English class. You can catch up with Curtis on
twitter: therealcurtlyon.
HIJACKED!
October 1
st
, 2001
3 Weeks after 9/11


David swore, thumping the driver`s wheel with his palm angrily. Smoke driIted up in a
thin tendril from the exhaust pipe of his officially messed up car. More specifically, something
had messed up his tires. But it was dark outside, and call him a wimp all you wanted, he wasn`t
going to step one foot out of the car for fear of being attacked by some forsaken creature of the
night. Being stranded on a deserted road in the middle of the night, the nearest city miles away,
and no cell phone reception was a good set-up for a gory slasher flick.
His car`s headlights shed twin beams on the long stretch of road in front of him,
reflecting off the dust that rose from the pavement. Inside the car was the fuzzy white noise with
a mix of two completely different songs, which he only kept on to drown out the solitude;
outside the car was foreboding heavy silence. He felt safe as long as lights lit up his dashboard
and sound crackled through the radio. But he couldn`t wait until morning and he couldn`t leave
his car, even if he gathered himself enough to step one foot into the darkness.
So David continued to swear and hit the steering wheel, staring at the asphalt before him.
But something sent his heart climbing up his throat: stepping out of the darkness into the light of
the headlight was tall figure with a hooded sweatshirt. Everything the figure wore was black,
including the cloth pulled taught under its eyes. It was looking straight at him, a crowbar in his
right hand and firearm in his left, rounding the side of the car. Two other figures in similar outfits
stepped out oI the darkness on either side oI the car. David`s knuckles went white as he gripped
the steering wheel. It occurred to him that they might`ve been the reason his tires were ruined.
The first one, the tallest and probably the leader of this posse, leaned over so that his eyes
and David`s were level, and rapped the side oI his handgun against the car door. David kept his
eyes forward, refusing to look him in the eye.
'Hello, in there, it called mockingly. Its voice was very human, but its intention David
knew all too well from the news. 'I know you can hear me, kid, the Iigure in black taunted.
One of his henchmen, a slightly shorter man, shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently.
'II it`s money you want, I`ll give you my credit card. Please, please don`t hurt me.
'Not good enough, the thieI said impatiently. 'We both know you can just cancel a
credit card with just one phone call. Step out oI the car, please, I`m short on time.
David made no move to comply with the veiled man. He`d never been made clear on
what to do in this kind of situation, so he just did what he thought would get him back to his
family tomorrow. David told him to go perform a physical impossibility.
'Oh, so it`s the hard way, is it? The man raised something in his hand - the crowbar -
and punched a hole in the window, raining glass on David, who moved his arm to cover his face.
The man slammed the window two more times, moving as fast as possible before David could do
anything. He dropped the crowbar, and shoved his gloved hand through the window for the
locking mechanism as the metal stick clattered against the pavement. David undid the seat belt
and tried to scramble into the passenger`s seat, but one oI the hijacker`s associates smiled behind
his black bandanna mask, waving his firearm to send a message: no going through this door.
David writhed in the seat and tried to get into the back of the car, but a fist came from behind and
grabbed him by the back of his jacket and threw him from the car.
David landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He`d slammed the back oI his
head against the cold, hard pavement and stars blotted out his vision. Something slammed
against the side oI his head, whether it was the side oI a handgun or a crowbar he couldn`t tell,
and his hand flew up to the wound, which radiated burning pain. David groaned as a foot
connected with his rib, hard. Soon it had become clear that all three men were beating him, and
the idea that this could go on forever had him screaming for someone to help, but no such help
came. One final blow to the head sent him falling into infinite unconsciousness.

David awoke at the first rays of dawn, feeling instantly hit with pain that seared like a
thousand hot skewers punching through his body. He lifted his hand to his scalp, and as his
fingertip touched the warm, wet mat oI hair, he Ielt like he`d been hit by a train. He moaned and
tried to take in his surroundings. His back was pressed against an incline of dirt, and so were his
legs, as if he were slumped in a chair that had fallen over. He tried to prop himself up on his
elbows, but his bones screamed their condemnation, so he slumped back.
David saw his car in his peripheral vision - Ior he couldn`t turn his head - had been
pushed off to the shoulder of the road. All the windows were punched through, and the body had
been banged up really bad. Smoke smoldered from under the hood. What was their purpose, if
not taking the car? They`d leIt him here to die so that he couldn`t cancel his credit card or
something?
Then he saw it: a big green van driving by in the opposite direction his car faced. His
heart soared, knowing he`d be rescued. But it drove by without even slowing down to look at
him. He groaned and tried to move again, but it was impossible.
Some time later, as the sun was halfway to midday, he saw another car, small and white.
He gathered enough energy to raise his hand, and knew it worked: the car pulled over and a man
in a business suit stepped out. The man shoved a cell phone in his breast pocket with a scowl and
walked up to the ditch David had been left in.
'Are you okay, sir? he asked halIway to the ditch. David tried to move his arm again,
but he was spent.
'I can`t seem to get a signal out here. Don`t worry, I`m going to drive up to the nearest
town and see if I can find anyone to come over and help you. Don`t worry, the man said again,
sizing up David and looking like he was trying to hold down his breakfast. The man went back to
his car and drove away. As he saw the car drive away, David wondered if the man would hold
true to his promise. It had become very hot out, and the heat exaggerated his pains. After a
minute or so, he found he could lean forward.
Something was horribly wrong in his back and his ribcage, but he managed to crawl out
of the ditch. Another car drove by, but again, iI the driver noticed, they didn`t show as much.
David`s newIound energy didn`t last long, and soon he was laying on his back at the side oI the
road again.
It was noonish and blazing hot when the fifth car drove by. But, unlike any of the
previous, the driver slammed on their brakes right in front of David, and the driver stepped out.
The man wore white, and.
David was in no condition to do so much moving around, and unconsciousness enveloped
him in blackness again.

He woke up for the second time that day, this time finding himself under a blanket in the
backseat of a car. He groaned and shifted against the beige seats. The driver looked around and
smiled at David over his shoulder. 'You are awake, I see. Feeling better? he asked in a middle
eastern accent.
David nodded and shifted again. He was feeling a lot better, so he sat up.
'Where are we? He asked, disoriented.
'Pulling into a hotel so you can rest, was all he got beIore the man parked and stepped
out of the car.
When the man - a Muslim, he`d admitted - returned from paying for a room, he helped
David all the way to the room and had him rest on the bed. David mumbled his thanks.
'I regret I cannot stay with you, the man admitted, 'but I will be back tomorrow to
check up. Until then, please get rest. If you need anything, the manager has my credit card
inIormation. I do not know iI they Iit, but I had a spare change oI clothes in my car. You`re
welcome to change, or, when you are feeling up to it, you can go out and buy more. Good day,
he added, then left with a nod.
After a few good hours of rest, David woke up. He ordered a large pizza for dinner,
changed into the other clothes, and watched TV. He noticed there were a lot of rips on the shirt,
but very little blood. He looked down at his chest to see wounds, almost completely healed
already. He threw the old clothes in the trash and dug into the pizza sitting on the bed after
popping open a soda. He moved his hand to set his can of Coca-Cola on the nightstand, but his
hand bumped into something resting on the small table. David stopped as he recognized what it
was: an old New International Version leather-bound Bible.



Note to the Reader
The Holy Bible is full of parables - about fifty of them, in
fact. Hijacked! is a modern re-telling of one of the most famous
and referenced-to ones: The Good Samaritan.
What most people don`t realize is the signiIicance oI the
Samaritan` part. The original story was set in a time in which
Jews and Samaritans weren`t on the best terms - much like
Americans and Muslim were after the horrific events of 9/11,
which is why I set the story about three weeks after it.
Some people say that re-telling a parable is a disgrace to
God`s book, but I say the opposite: this is exactly the type of thing
He would want His servant to do: make the parables clear to
today`s culture by writing the symbols in a modern way.
II anything about this story was conIusing or doesn`t line
up with your view of Christianity, please find someone to talk to at
your local church. If you don`t own one, you don`t need to go to
the nearest bookstore to get a copy of the Bible - you can just get
an iPhone app or Google online bible`. The parable that Hijacked!
was based on can be found at http://www.biblegateway.com/, Luke
10:25-37.

About the Author
The original author of The Parable of the Good Samaritan
was known on Earth as the homeless, penniless son of a small-time
carpenter who was known for pissing off the local church leaders,
doing the impossible, being the nicest guy on Earth, and, when the
situation called Ior it, telling a good story. He thinks you`re one
cool dude and wants to get to know you personally.

About the Servant
Curtis Lyon is a follower of Christ who lives in central
Indiana with his family. He is currently working towards a degree
in creative writing, and possibly another, more practical major.
He`s constantly working on other things like novels, short fiction,
and not failing English class. You can catch up with Curtis on
twitter: @therealcurtlyon.