Page 76 of Coach
It pressed behind my eyes, filled my throat, and wrapped cold fingers around my chest until I felt like I might stop breathing altogether.
The car hit a bump, making me slam against the metal.
Stars burst behind my eyelids, but even they winked out too quickly, leaving me once again in the suffocating dark.
I tried to twist my wrists; the cuffs bit deeper, metal slicing at my skin. No give.
I threw myself onto my back, looking for the glow-in the-dark lever that would pop the trunk.
But it wasn’t there.
Not that I had anything to grab it with anyway.
No way out. No way out. No way out.
My heartbeat hammered as I inched around, aiming my heel toward where the taillight was situated. I couldn’t stick my hand out like you saw on TV or in movies. But maybe I could get my foot out there. Or get the car pulled over for the busted taillight.
But as I kicked out, pain shot up my heel and calf, all the way up to my butt.
There was something in the way, something protecting the taillight from tampering.
How often were people thrown in this trunk?
Worse yet, what happened to them afterward?
The car slowed.
Then stopped.
The engine cut.
A sob wrenched through my chest, muffled and strangled by the gag.
I cursed myself for hoping for an end to my dark prison as the car shifted, first to the left, then to the right, as two people climbed out.
The doors slammed, the sound reverberating through my chest.
It was okay.
I was going to get out.
Out was good.
Out meant that my legs wouldn’t be so cramped and useless.
I could kick.
I could run.
The ugly voice whispered that I would never outrun two pursuers. I wasn’t as fit as I once was when I could run up and down the field in high school and college.
Over the whooshing in my ears, I could hear the shuffles of footsteps.
Moving back.
Closer.
Closer.
