“She was in the field today, but she’s not back yet.”
This could easily be the explanation. Using every ounce of daylight when doing field work is the norm. “She’s not in the office?”
“No, sir. I got a text from her this afternoon, but it doesn’t make any sense. It said, ‘have you ever seen something like this?’ but I don’t know what she’s referencing. I replied, but she hasn’t read it. I figured she was out of cell range, but it’s getting dark. She’d be back to the truck by now.”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Even as I say it, the pit of my stomach flutters with unease.
“I’m going up there.” In the background, an engine purrs to life.
I toss my clipboard aside and start my engine. “I’ll meet you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The trunk opens,the dusky light making me squint and the cold rain on my hot face turning my panic into pure fear. I try to scream but the tape over my mouth just makes my already raw throat burn.
Because of my training and experience, I am capable of handling a wide range of challenges. Bee stings, bear encounters, long days, heavy loads, avalanches, wildfire, tracking elusive animals through varied terrain, storms and swollen rivers.
Encounters with humans are rare and certainly never something I’ve feared.
But one look at the two men in camo gear, both of them armed, and I knew something was very wrong.
I didn’t question those instincts. I ran. But I only made it a few steps before they had me tackled to the ground with a knife to my neck.
You think you can steal our children and get away with it?
Confusion and fear jammed my thinking. But instead of trying to reason with them, I screamed.
I woke up in this trunk with my head throbbing, tape stuck tomy mouth, and my hands bound behind my back. They must have removed my boots too because my feet are bare and cold.
The bigger man with beady eyes grabs my ankles and swings me sideways then lifts me underneath my armpits and pulls me out. I twist and try to kick with both feet but the second I’m upright, the other man steps in to punch me hard in the side. Hot pain erupts from my ribs, and I crumple, landing on my knees in the muddy dirt, my cheek resting against the bumper. Before I can get my bearings, the man kicks me so hard I’m airborne before landing on my other side in the cold mud. Panic and pain flood my body as I curl into a ball and shield my face, bracing for more but it doesn’t come. Each of my whimpering breaths brings a searing pain to my side.
“Get up,” one of the men says, his voice devoid of emotion.
I’m too scared to fight, but moving is agony, and working with bound wrists makes me unsteady and slow. Despite the hot pain lighting up my side, I manage to get one foot up, my toes squishing into the icy muck, when the guy who kicked me yanks at my hair, forcing me upright with a yelp and so much pain my vision flashes with light. Nausea rolls through me, but I fight it by taking shallow breaths. Vomiting into my sealed mouth might actually kill me.
Where am I? What did he mean about the children? What do they want with me?
I steal a glance of the area, but it’s too dark to see very much. A fleeting outline of some houses and a big barn. A cow lows from somewhere beyond, but I don’t see any animals.
The first man closes the trunk, plunging us into darkness.
I take off running before I’ve even had the conscious thought to do so, but the rocky, icy ground cuts my feet. If I trip, I’m going to land on my face. But if I can get into the woods?—
“Hey!” The second man snatches my braid and yanks so hard I lose my footing and fall on my back and bound arms, knocking the wind out of me while a spear of scorching pain lights up my entirerib cage. Tears flood my vision and my breaths come in choppy half-sobs.
How is this happening to me?
But the man doesn’t let go of my hair, dragging me on my back through the mud. I scrabble with my heels to stay upright but he’s moving too fast and I can’t keep up. Wrestling him while trying to get enough air as I gasp and sob and scream takes all of my attention. I don’t see where we’re going until we round the corner of a building, to where a cellar door is being opened by the first man, the hinges squeaking. There’s no light coming from inside, but I don’t need it to understand that it’s a bad place. That bad things are going to happen to me if I go in there.
I scream into the tape but I’m airborne again as the second man heaves me through the hatch door. I land on rough wood stairs, cracking my cheek and slamming my hip and ankle before my momentum carries me crashing down several more steps to a bare, hard floor. Everything hurts but I’m desperate to move away from the men, so I try to roll to my knees but the pain steals my breath.
The men step down and yank me up from my armpits, then drag me through a doorway made of bars and shove me. I try to regain my balance, but I crash to the hard floor, landing on my shoulder and injured side and cracking the side of my head. The pain is everywhere, but the terror at what’s about to happen to me is worse. So I curl up in a ball and brace myself. But a heavy, hinged door creaks shut, followed by a lock snapping closed.
And then the men climb back up the stairs and shut the cellar door, plunging me into inky darkness. Relief that they’ve left is short lived. I’m breathing so hard but each gasp of air brings more pain. My hair is muddy and something warm is trickling down my face—blood? My tears turn to silent sobs because I know nobody can hear me. And deep down I know it’s just a matter of time before the men come back.
I rest in place, trying to get control of my breathing, the mustyodor of the cellar mixing with the scent of earth from my muddy clothes and hair and the pungent scent of my fear.
Before the men left, I got a glimpse of the space outside my prison: there’s a bed, several chairs, a wall painted white, and a tripod.