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“What did you want me to do, dumb ass, take the main roads when we have a fucking woman in the back?” Tony shouts back at him, startling me.
The sudden intrusion of his anger is like a whip, and no matter how hard I try not to burst into tears, I can’t help it. The water pools in my eyes and I silently sob as the gravity of my situation sinks in. I watch true crime documentaries, not participate in them. I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive this.
They continue driving for what feels like an hour, but my perception of time could be way off. My head is still throbbing. It bounces off the floor of the van with every bump in the road. My attempt to stay silent and unnoticed has worked. They haven’t so much as glanced in my direction. I could be dead for all they probably care.
I know I should try to break the zip tie at my wrists, but I am too afraid to move. All of my muscles are tense like every fiber of my being is terrified. My self-preservation is begging me to escape, but I’m frozen. I know I can’t fight two grown men off, so my only hope is to run and hide if I get the chance.
If I hide long enough that they give up looking for me, then I can find help. I have no idea where or how I’ll get help, but that’s not my main focus right now, I just need to escape from these lunatics.
Suddenly, the van stops, lurching my body forward so hard I almost roll completely over. “Now what are we supposed to do?” Bub asks the leader of their duo, seeming to always look to Tony for guidance. A younger brother seeking reassurance from his older brother, maybe?
“Get in the back, grab a hand saw, and start sawing.” Tony grumbles, “Fucking, idiot,” as Bub gets out of the van and walks towards the back. Their relationship seems hostile, not surprisingly since they were willing to attack and kidnap a stranger off the side of the road like maniacs.
The handles on the back door creak as the door is opened, so I close my eyes and lay as motionless as possible. I do my best to slow my breathing, but I feel like I am going to hyperventilate at any moment. I hear him tinkering around, moving tools, looking for their saw presumably. I swear I feel his eyes linger on me for a few seconds and I don’t even breathe, praying my acting skills are up to par.
The door slams closed and I have to stop myself from exhaling all the air in my lungs in relief. He didn’t notice I was awake, but I was afraid that I might pass out again from holding my breath steady and my body taut for so long. My head is swimming from the exertion. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears.
Tony starts shouting out his window from the front, “Don’t start there, start down at the bottom! What the fuck are you doing? URG!”
He kills the ignition, gets out of the car, and slams his door. I wait ten seconds… Then, slowly lift my head to look towards the front. Both of them are out of the van. I can’t hear them anymore but I can hear the faint sound of sawing. I use my bound hands to raise myself up, even though I’m shaking and I’d rather stay curled up in a fetal position on the floor, I have to see where they are.
I barely raise my head up between the front seats to peek out the windshield, and I see both men standing just ahead. There is a tree blocking the roadway, the road being an abandoned-looking gravel lane, which explains the bumpy drive.
Bub is sawing at the tree with a flimsy hand saw, while Tony is standing next to him shaking his head like a disappointed supervisor. Both of them have their backs facing me. This is my chance, but what’s my fucking plan? I could lock the doors, turn the van around, and speed back the way we came. That is if the way we came was a straight shot. I don’t remember any turns, but I was blacked out for some of the drive and I don’t know for how long.
I steal a glance at the ignition, then the console, then the dashboard. Of course, the keys aren’t in here. Dammit, that would have been too easy. I would’ve taken my chances and tried to make it back out to civilization.
Glancing behind me, the back of the van is filled with tools, paint cans, and a couple of small ladders. I check again to make sure my kidnappers are distracted, then I grab the sharpest tool I see without having to dig around and make any noise. A Phillips head screwdriver. Not great, but better than nothing.
As I slowly move closer to the back doors, wedged between two paint cans is a box cutter. Yes, that’s better. I pick it up, not wanting to waste time with the zip tie now, in case they decide to return to check on me. I’ll try to create some distance between us first. I tuck the screwdriver in the flat, side pocket of my leggings, grip the knife in my left hand, and grab the handle of the back door with my right. It’s a little awkward, but I manage to slowly pop the handle without making any noise. I let out a breath. Okay, here goes nothing.
I push the back door open, trying to ease it open so it doesn’t alert them, but it’s no use, the hinges squeak– loudly. I freeze for just a second and chance a glance back. Both Tony and Bub are looking right at me through the front windshield. Oh no.
Before I can second-guess myself, I jump out of the van and take off. I am so thankful I decided to wear tennis shoes today, but I am still a little wobbly on my feet after being knocked out and lying on the floor of the van for so long.
“Get back here, you dumb bitch!” Tony yells. I can hear them gaining on me, so I veer to the left, straight into the trees. I start zig-zagging through the overgrowth, hoping they will lose sight of me and not be able to catch up. The branches snag at my clothes and pull at my hair, but I keep running, ignoring the lashes of pain.
“Shoot her, Tony, shoot her!” Bub yells, making me panic even more when I realize how close his voice sounds.
Oh God, and I didn’t even know they had a gun. The fear pushes me forward even faster, cutting left and right through the thicket, I keep my head ducked, waiting for a bullet that never comes.
Finally, after running for a couple minutes I realize I can’t hear any footsteps behind me and I might have lost them. The crunchy autumn leaves that litter the ground are my only hope to not be snuck up on, so I stop running and hide behind a tree that’s twice as wide as my body. I don’t dare sit down. I know my legs will give out if I let them rest for too long.
I try listening to the forest around me for any signs of the two men, but my heart is beating too fast and too loud. My throat and lungs are burning from running for so long, it hurts to breathe.
I’m not overly athletic. I work out every day but nothing that would prepare me for this. My adrenaline is the only thing keeping me from collapsing, but my legs are shaking and my hands are going numb. I have to try to cut the zip tie.
There isn’t a great way to hold the box cutter with both of my hands bound together. I clench the handle of the knife between my knees and slowly try to slice the plastic of the zip tie. But it’s not enough leverage and the blade isn’t sharp enough, it would take me an hour to get through it this way. My wrists are already raw from the incessant rubbing.
I try a technique I saw in a movie once, swiftly pulling my hands apart as hard as I can, hoping the thick plastic will just give out. Unfortunately, all I accomplish is immense pain. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but a soft whimper still escapes.
I maneuver the knife around in my hands, tucking the blade just inside the zip tie at my wrists. I try to slice at the plastic this way, from the inside out, my fingers only providing the smallest bit of leverage, but it starts to work. Relief pours through me at the thought of actually getting my hands free, of getting through this. I sniffle back the tears I feel burning in my eyes, needing to focus on the task at hand.
I get about a quarter of the way through the plastic before I hear, “Ay Tony, she’s over here!” Making my blood run cold.
So focused on my wrists, I didn’t hear the sound of anyone approaching me. I look up to see Bub standing about 10 feet from me. He gives me a creepy smile before lunging in my direction, but I bolt on instinct despite my fatigue, barely escaping his arms grasping me.
I make it just through another patch of brush when I get tackled from behind. I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs as I’m crushed from above by this smelly brute. My jaw hits the ground so hard, I swear my teeth crack.
