Page 93 of Bad Men

I glanced at Claudette, expecting her to take the initiative since she wanted me to finish the sales table and move the mulch display. But she smiled broadly at the man and snatched the begonias from my arms.

“Mia here will help you,” she volunteered.

The man turned soft, blue eyes to me with a grateful, toothy smile. “Thank you, Mia. I really appreciate it.”

Assuring him that it wasn’t a problem, I followed him to where his trolley of soil waited next to the register. There were five ten-pound bags heaped on top of each other.

“I like stocking up for next year,” he told me as I padded after him into the parking lot. “Give myself something to look forward to.” He chuckled as if he’d made a joke.

I just gave him a smile. “Is there someone at home to help you get them unloaded?”

He nodded. “My son’s at the house. He’s helping my wife with a few things. That’s me there.” He motioned to an older model red Chevy squished between a white van and 4x4. “Could you put them in the backseat? The trunk is full of junk my wife’s been on my case for months to take to the recycling depot.”

It was a tight squeeze. The 4x4 was parked half over the line into the Chevy’s lane, but I wasn’t sure I could open the back door completely without hitting the van. However, between the two, the van side had more room.

I wheeled the trolley as close as I could, blocking myself in when I opened the backdoor. One by one, I dragged the bags of soil onto the floor of the backseat.

“There!” I huffed, triumphant as I closed the door and nudged the trolley back.

The man beamed. “Oh, thank you so much! You’ve been so kind.”

I opened my mouth to assure him it wasn’t a problem when the van gave the distinct rattle of wheels scrapping across rusted tracks. I had just enough time to catch movement from the corner of my eye when hands shot out of the dark interior of the vehicle and closed over my face. My scream was stifled by a thick, itchy glove and five biting fingers. The old man’s blank expression was the last thing I saw before I was yanked into the backseat.

A cloth sack was shoved over my head before I could get my bearings. The door slamming closed behind me, the squeal of tires pulling out, the voices and smells raged in a flurry of commotion. My own pounding heart lodged up in my throat drummed the loudest.

“Please…” I breathed, sucking in bits of lint from the bag and Cheetos scented heat. “Please, let me go.”

“Don’t fight!” came a snarling growl — male. Close. Too close.

I didn’t think I was fighting. Every inch of me had gone numb. I couldn’t feel anything, except the fist closed around both of my wrists, yanking me forward. Something cold pressed into my skin and plastic teeth hissed as the zip tie was yanked tight, snapping my hands together. It bit into flesh, but I didn’t protest.

“What do you want?” I choked, willing my brain to remain calm, to remember everything we’d been taught as women in that situation. “I don’t have money, but I—”

The hand gave me a hard shake. “Shut your mouth,” he warned.

I nodded obediently and wisely kept my mouth closed. Instead, I opened my other senses. I listened to the flow and rush of traffic around us. I listened for anything that might hint to the direction we were taking. I vaguely remembered us turning right out of the parking lot. There was a set of lights at that corner. We didn’t turn. If we kept going straight, we would reach … God, what? What was the street after?

Trying not to panic, I took a slow breath that trembled in my chest with the sob I was struggling to contain.

Don’t cry! The voice warned. Do not fall apart. You will get through this.

Not if they kill you, or worse, came the other voice. You know what happens to women who get snatched off the street. You know what happens when they take you to another location.

Shut up! The first voice hissed. Shut up. Shut up! It’ll be fine. You’re strong.

Shaking hard enough to nip a chunk of tongue with my chattering teeth, I fought to return my focus to the road. But my inner battle had made me lose track. How many streets had we passed? Where had we turned?

Shit!

There were clearly two people in the car. One sat next to me. I could feel his weight on the bench and his heat burning through my clothes. There was another driving. He or she hadn’t spoken, so I had no idea what gender they were. If there was anyone else, they were very still, very quiet. So, two men. I could handle two men. It didn’t make the situation better, but if they were going to rape me…

Don’t think about that! The first voice ordered. But it was all I could think about. My brain worked over everything I’d ever been told, every action I needed to take to prepare myself. I tried to build a safe, black hole to lose myself in. I wondered if I should soil myself. Hadn’t I read that deterred most men? Did that work? I mentally warned myself not to look at them. There was a higher chance they might kill me afterwards if they thought I could identify them, but I needed to remember everything about them. I had to catalogue every foul smell, every sensation and voice.

How far were we now? Were we still in the city?

Despite my attempts to be aware, my breath caught when we came to an abrupt halt. My bowels churned, a wrenching promise that I knew I was going to break.

Doors rumbled open. Metal frames rattled as the weights inside shifted and threw themselves out of the van. Hands grabbed my arms and dragged me from the seat. My sneakers hit gravel. Against my will, I gave a weak sob that was ignored as I was forced forward. The cool air thickened as I was dragged into a building. Everything went quiet, except the sound of our combined feet and my shredded breaths.

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