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I look desperately toward the driver.

He's standing beside the road, pale and motionless.

“Help me!” I shout.

The man holding me jerks me backward.

“Shut her up,” the other orders.

His voice is low.

Calm. Almost bored.

Something about it makes my skin crawl.

I try to get a look at his face, but he's wearing a cap pulled low, and dark glasses hide his eyes.

He catches my chin, forcing me to look at him.

For a second, he studies me.

Then he releases me.

“Get her in the van.”

I wrench against the hands holding me.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Neither answers.

Of course not.

Apparently, polite introductions are no longer part of the kidnapping process.

I plant my feet and refuse to move.

The man behind me swears and lifts me off the ground.

I kick hard.

My heel connects with his shin.

He nearly drops me.

For one glorious second, I think I might actually get away.

Then the other man catches my arm.

Together, they drag me toward the van.

I scream until my throat hurts.

The side door slides open.

Darkness waits inside.

No.