off. But then the van came up fast from behind her, its headlights casting her wavering shadow onto the blacktop ahead.
She’d never seen the driver, hadn’t bothered to look around until the van slowed, alerting her too late. Practically in the same instant a pair of rough hands had grabbed her, slapping tape onto her mouth and heaving her into the van’s cargo area.
She’d never had time to scream, and the van had taken off fast, lurching forward abruptly while she was still scrabbling for an inside door handle. But there wasn’t one, and that’s when she had realized: She might not know who’d grabbed her, but she knew what this was, all right.
She ought to; she’d been warned often enough. She’d been kidnapped by a maniac, a rapist or worse
.
That’s what her mother always said would happen if she hitchhiked, and now it had.
The van sped down the road while she screamed as loud as she could through the tape, hammering with her fists on the heavy metal grating between the passenger and cargo areas. Dark cloth draped over the grate kept the driver hidden, but whoever it was could hear her.
She’d made sure of that, even after the van jolted off the paved road, the lurch throwing her to the metal floor. Kicking, pounding, howling through the sodden tape over her mouth…
But then through her fright she’d recalled her cell phone and found it in her bag, which her attacker hadn’t noticed. She’d kept it turned off to save battery but now, fumbling the phone out with shaking hands, she managed to poke the gadget’s tiny, glowing keys.
Her fingers trembled, clumsy and numb feeling. Twice, she accidentally turned the thing back off and had to restart it. But she would get out of this, dammit, she
would,
so she kept at it.
Remembering what her mother always said about sticking up for herself—
You can’t be a doormat unless you lie down, Tara
—she held back her sobs long enough to type her mom’s number and a message— HELP ME .
There.
Gasping with fright, she’d just pressed the SEND button when the van lurched to a halt, slamming her to the floor and knocking the phone from her hands.
The side door slid open. She wanted to start bawling, but she didn’t
.
Instead she grabbed the phone up, stuffing it hastily into her pant pocket. She scrambled to her feet and charged the door opening, ducking and aiming her head at her attacker’s midsection.
Because this is it, this is my last chance—
“Oof.” The surprised grunt of pain she heard on impact was as satisfying as any stunt in her cheerleading workout. Swerving, she ducked again, rolling to one side and onto her feet on the rough ground, filled with the sharp exhilaration of sudden freedom.
Run,
a small, clear voice in her head advised her coldly. But the voice cut off abruptly when an unseen fist slammed the side of her head and she went down hard, stunned silent.
A harsh, unidentifiable whisper came from above her. It was the same voice as before. “Do nothing, say nothing.” Helplessly she obeyed, waiting for what would come next.
Please, I’m only fourteen…
“Look at me and I’ll kill you.”
Hands hauled her up, shoved her forward. She fell again to the dry, stony earth in the darkness, then struggled up once more. She stood there terrified, dizzy and tottering, until a hard kick sent her sprawling for a third time.
“Had enough? Or do I have to hurt you some more?”
A hand thrust down at her, gripping a shovel. “Take this.” Shakily, she obeyed, still flat on her stomach.
“Get up. Put both your hands on the shovel. Don’t be stupid and try anything with it.”
She hauled herself up by leaning on the tool. It was the only way she could do it. Then she cautiously lifted the thing, ready to fall onto it again if her legs gave out.
They didn’t. “Good. Now…”
There was joy in the voice, and that scared her the most.
You just wait, though,
she thought.
Wait until I get my breath back
.
Because even though