Kidnapped

3

I had dealt with gangs before.

Of course, those were small wannabe drug gangs who thought chasing people with knives was quality entertainment.

Never had I dealt with the real deal kidnap-poor-kids-and-kill-them gangs. I had prepared myself for these situations in the past, but never actually thought that I would need to escape from an actual gang. My plan was basic, even I knew that. Take careful note of my surroundings, gather supplies, escape, then never stop running. I had done it before, and I can do it again.

Only now, I could hardly do much assessing of soundings with my head in a bag, and I couldn't gather any materials, much less escape. So in reality, all I can do is wait. And wait. And wait.

The other girls wails echoed around the van and I was tempted to yell at them to be quiet, but I had to remind myself that they weren't used to being in life threatening situations, unlike me who ran into gun blazing lunatics around every corner in the streets.

They've had their whole lives handed to them on a silver platter. Warm fluffy beds. Three meals a day. For goodness sakes, most of them dieted. They never have had to run for their lives or have felt so hungry that tearing our your stomach seems like a decent idea. So I settled for rolling my eyes, even though they couldn't see it.

A sharp turn threw me to the corner and I let out a grunt as a piece of metal jabbed my side. Wait, the corner... If I'm near the back, that's got to be where the rear lights are. I ducked my head to my tied hands and after several minutes of struggling, I pulled the sack off.

My eyes adjusted to the dim light setting and I saw most of the girls were sleeping. Whimpering and crying sounds came from a few girl's figures, but most seemed to accept their fate. 

I turned back to the corner and saw the slight shape difference in the bumper. I wound up my legs and kicked as hard as I could. The light went forwards slightly, but didn't break out like I wanted it too.

After a few more desperate kicks, I gave up. This is it. This is how I die. I always wanted to die a heroic death, but here am, in the back of a vehicle, about to be murdered.

The very thought makes me so angry I scream into the gag and kick the car as hard as I can. With a pop, the back light falls out, holding on by a few chords. I squeal in excitement and turn my body, hoping to see some cars to signal someone for help.

After lots of wiggling and accidentally kicking the ribs of the angry girl next to me, my head is by the hole flooding light inside the dark pit of the van we are all captive in. I look out to see an empty stretch of road speeding under me. I groan, no land marks or anything to recognize. Not even a car to signal.

I sigh and breathe in the fresh air. Closing my eyes, I think that possibly I may be able to sleep when I'm startled by the sight of a small, gray car slowly appearing over the hill.

I stick my tied up hands out the hole, screaming through the cloth in my mouth. I shake my hands back and forth. The car speeds up, I can see the driver's face, and he looks concerned. Suddenly the car is thrown around a corner and I am smashed into the side. My wrist burns and looks to be turning purple. It had hit the edge of the hole at an alarming rate. I closed my eyes as they started watering and prayed my wrist wasn't broken.

The driver turns the corner pursuing us, but we soon loose him in the back roads. I groan, my only chance of rescue gone.

We soon stop and deep voices are rumbling as they turn around the corner.

"How did that man know we were hiding something? He was following us like he was diseased and we had the cure."

"I don't know. If one of the girl's pulled something I hate to think what Miguel would do to h- oh no."