I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and when the pain of my left eye met my hand, I realized where I was—and reality again came flooding back.

I was in a van with three psychotic abductors.

Oh, God. The pain flooded back to me. My right hand was still handcuffed to the side, and my wrist felt very bruised and sore.

The light was so bright in the van, such a contrast from last night, and I couldn't exactly focus on who or what was in the van at first. I so badly wanted to go back to sleep. I was drowsy from the Valium, but once the anxiety slipped in, I couldn't fall back to sleep.

"Good morning."

I focused my eyes at the sound and could see Tyler across the van from me, also lying down. He looked like he just woke up as well. I looked around for the other perps and found Dan driving and James in the passenger seat. It was pretty bold of them to leave only one man in the back with me, but then I remembered the handcuffs. I wasn't going anywhere.

"Guess who's awake, guys?" Tyler hollered to the front.

James twisted around to look at me. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

They spoke as if I was a friend, not as a hostage they just ripped away from her promising life. This was so surreal. I didn't know what the appropriate response was. I slept wonderfully. Thanks for asking. I decided the safest response was no response.

We were still driving, and it felt like we were on some freeway. I felt so woozy from the Valium. James unbuckled his seat belt, climbed into the back, and took out a bagel, an individual-sized package of cream cheese, and a drink.

"You must be famished," James said. "You haven't eaten in over a day."

He handed me the food and orange juice. I only stared at it.

"Come on, sweetheart, sit up and eat."

He nudged me, helping me sit up. I was finally hungry, but I didn't dare eat it.

"You like bagels. Breakfast of champions, you know."

I suddenly felt flushed and unable to breathe. I often said "breakfast of champions." And I did love bagels.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Let's just say I know quite a bit about you, Corrine."

James was giving me that look again. The look of confidence and reassurance, as if he was confiding in me, and I should trust him. He gave me a half-grin that would've been handsome in another lifetime.

"You do? How?" I asked, trying to mask the panic.

James took a deep breath and sat down beside me. He took the bagel and put the cream cheese on it.

"I'll tell you what. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you about it, if you eat your bagel," he said with a smile, handing me back the bagel. He sat very close to me. Old buddies.

My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a bite. Satisfied, James continued.

"I've been getting to know you, and others, for quite some time."

"Others?"

"Take another bite." I did.

He was selecting his words carefully and waiting until I had eaten each bite.

"It's complicated, Corrine. I can only compare this to an interview process. For any open position, there can be numerous applicants, even hundreds. I had a handful of—" He was searching for the perfect word. "—prospective possibilities in mind. I got to know all of you, basically interviewing you, and you were, by far, my favorite."

The Beatles' song, "The Long and Winding Road," was playing in the front. Someone must've been a Beatles fans.

"Is that why you came to the Piano Bar that night, to 'interview' me?" I asked.

"Keep eating."

I took another bite, trying to keep the food down.

"I guess you can say that, yes. And I really liked what I saw. You weren't throwing yourself at me, like Lisa was. You were reserved, almost shy, and seemed kind of out of place at the bar. It wasn't your scene, know what I mean? It was quite endearing, actually."

We were so close to one another. I could feel his eyes burrowing into me, as if he was trying to read my mind. We sat still for an eternity.

"I know it doesn't seem like you've won, but you really have. I'm sure you'll miss your old life at first. But after a while I think you'll grow to love me. We'll be a family. I promise."

It occurred to me then that he kept talking in first person. He wasn't including Tyler and Dan.

"You are seriously tripping if you think that's ever possibile. Whatever I have to do to get out of this, I will. Trust me."

James leaned into my face and looked me up and down.

"Let's get something straight, Corrine, since we're being so honest with each other and all." He spoke slowly and clearly, never looking away from my eyes. "You'll never escape. Sure, you can try. But I know pertinent information about you, such as where your father lives. Mr. Patrick Whitman, fifty-nine years old, newly widowed, software engineer executive. Lives at 6265 Vintage Road. Sound familiar? I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to the only close relative you have, would you?"

His words sucked the breath out of me.

"Are you implying you're going to do something to my dad?"

"No, I don't want to do that . . . Unless, of course, you push me too far."

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"If you don't cooperate and keep pulling stunts like the one you did yesterday—" He touched my cheek gently. "—then I'm afraid I won't have a choice. And, ultimately, if you don't assimilate, then I'll have to start over."

"Start over?"

"Yes. I'll have to select someone else."

"And-And then I can go home?"

"No. No, I'd be forced to kill you." He gave that a second to sync in. "But let me make something perfectly clear. That is the last outcome I want. I chose you because I want you and only you."

He was still staring directly into my eyes, and I couldn't seem to look away. His eyes were so blue and so sincere through my cloud of tears. I couldn't stop shaking.

"Wh-What about Dan and Tyler?"

"They're great friends of mine, just helping you and I get home." He smiled.

I dropped my bagel onto the floor.

"Well, I better go and check on Dan. He was driving most of the night. Eat the rest of the bagel, okay?" He handed it back to me with a big smile on his face, as if he didn't just threaten to kill my dad and me moments ago.

He scooted back up to the passenger seat, and I could hear them mumbling to one another but couldn't make out what they were saying. Tyler had fallen back asleep.

I tried opening my orange juice container with one hand by placing it behind my knee as leverage. The bagel sat in my stomach as heavy as a stone.

I looked out the front window as much as I could and saw the surroundings had completely changed. We were no longer in the Arizona desert. It looked more like prairie land on both sides of the road, with farm-type homes and trees spotted here and there along the road. The land was relatively flat, and it looked as if I could see for miles on end ahead of us. We were definitely in a rural area, completely different than the hustle and bustle of Southern California that I was accustomed to.

"There's a sign for the 35 North. Twenty miles to go," James said.

"Yeah, I can see it on the GPS," Dan said.

I saw a sign that read Oklahoma City, twenty miles.

"Think we should take a break before the last part of the drive?"

"Probably a good idea. I'll pull over at the next exit."

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I asked.

"All right," James said to me.

I could feel Dan get off on the next exit, and then he drove for another mile, just like the day before. But this time I didn't have it in me to pull another stunt. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it right and when I had more of a chance of success. Looking back, I realized trying to outrun three men for a mile while barefoot wasn't exactly the smartest idea.

Dan and James hopped out of the van, and the slam of the doors awoke Tyler. He gave a big stretch and turned over, surveying me.

"Are we taking a break?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"How are you feeling?" He pointed to my cheek. I shrugged.

"I can give you something for it, if you want."

I shook my head no, even though I was still very sore all over.

"Tyler, I'm sorry . . . You know, about earlier." I wasn't. He deserved it. But I needed to get on their good side.

He hesitated. "Just don't let it happen again, all right?"

"Okay." I acted guilty.

"We won't be so nice about it next time."

They were nice about it the first time?

Dan opened the back doors, and Tyler hopped out and gave another full-bodied stretch. I waited for someone to unlock my handcuff, but no one came. I could hear them laughing in the distance.

James finally came back, shuffled through some bags in the front, and then entered the back.

"Here, use this." He passed me a medium-sized bucket, much like a beach bucket a kid would use on the sand, and a roll of toilet paper.

"You want me to go to the bathroom in this?" I held up the bucket in disbelief.

"You want me to let you out of this van after yesterday?" he replied, mocking my tone.

Damn it.

"But I-I don't think I can do this."

"I'll give you some privacy."

James closed the back doors, as if that was that.

"No, I don't think I can go in this!" I hollered. He reopened the door.

"Well, we have about six more hours to go. If you think you can hold it, you're welcome to." He shut the back door again.

"Wait. James!" But he didn't come back.

I felt so humiliated urinating in a bucket, one-handed, squatting down against the side of a van, with a body full of aches and pains. I didn't think I could pull it off, but desperation called. After I finished I sat back down and tried to block out the fact I had a bucket of urine sitting right next to me. Then again, it couldn't possibly be worse than the mess I was in already.

The back door reopened just enough so I could hear James ask, "Done?" as if I was cooking or talking on the phone.

He didn't wait for my response and took the bucket. I was mortified. But he acted like it was an everyday occurrence for him. All three men piled back in with Tyler in the driver's seat, James in the passenger seat, and Dan in the back with me.

"You guys ready to go?" James hollered.

"Let's hit it," Dan yelled back.

There seemed to be exhilaration in the air. Shared by all but me.

I watched the prairie landscape flash by us for an hour or two. We were still in Oklahoma, now heading north on Highway 35 toward Kansas. I saw a sign for a town, Guthrie, and wondered if my missing persons alert would reach any further than California. Maybe it would get on the local news. National news if I was really lucky.

Suddenly Dan asked, "Would you like to play some cards?" He pulled out some cards from one of the bags. "I bet you're a good rummy player."

"How would you know?"

"Just a good guess." He shrugged.

Rummy was one of Lisa's and my favorite games. At least once a week we would play together at the dining room table.

The thought of being watched for the last few weeks came back to me. I wondered how they knew so much about me. Maybe my paranoia of being watched was justified.

"So, are you game?" he said, laughing to himself at his intended pun.

I held up my right hand as much as I was able, thanks to the handcuffs. Dan thought about it.

"Well, we could give you another chance, I guess. I don't exactly see you jumping out."

He found the key in his pocket and unlocked the handcuff.

"Thank you."

What a relief. My hand was cramped, and it felt so freeing. Pretty ironic considering my entire body was not free. I rubbed my wrist and stretched out my fingers, trying to get the tingling to disappear. I wondered how long it would take for the marks to fade.

"Here, why don't you put some pants on, too?" He rifled through a bag and pulled out some sweats I quickly put on.

Dan shuffled the deck of cards a few times, and then dealt. It was funny how much doing a menial task, like playing cards, can soothe a person. It allowed me to concentrate on anything else but my present nightmare.

We played four or five hands before I determined Dan wasn't a very good rummy player. Maybe he was allowing me to win, but it didn't matter either way.

I was waiting for something to happen.

"We can stop playing, if you want," I offered, after beating him once again.

"Nah, I'm having a good time. Really." He gave me a warm smile.

"Let's play something else," he suggested. "How about double solitaire? We have another deck of cards. Do you know how to play."

He became excited. I hadn't played multi-player solitaire in years, but it used to be so much fun. My parents and I were ruthless with one another, even accidentally bending the cards when we would battle to be first on a pile. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be nearly as much fun as it was in my childhood.

"I do, but I don't really feel like it," I said.

"I need to brush up. Let's play," he said. Again, it wasn't a request.

We played a few games, and Dan was a lot better with solitaire than rummy. He was very quick and was able to keep up a lot better than I could. After four games, I had only managed to win one.

It seemed, though, the more we played, the more quiet and tense it became in the van. Maybe it was just my imagination. Dan kept looking in the front of the van. Conversation cut down to a minimum. What was spoken was only whispers.

I could sense my future was going to be revealed very soon. I saw Tyler make eye contact with Dan a couple times, but no words were exchanged. My stomach tensed up again.

"Half hour to go, guys," James announced.

Dan started scooping up the cards, even though we were in the middle of a game.

"Wh-What's going on? Why are we stopping?"

"We're almost home." Dan made no eye contact with me, keeping his head down.

"So, what does that mean? We can't finish the game?"

"Oh, nothing, really. We just need to start cleaning up and stuff."

It was the and stuff that worried me. He still wouldn't look at me. I glanced around. The van was a bit untidy, having been living quarters for two long days. There were a couple of magazines, trash, and a book strewn about. Dan kept busy cleaning and putting things in bags and containers.

"Let me help you," James said to Dan. It didn't seem like there was much left to do, though.

They knelt in front of the cooler and were mumbling to one another. I inched to the back of the van, my woman's intuition in overdrive. James rifled through a couple of bags until he pulled something white out of one of the bags. I had flashbacks of the parking lot.

When they turned around, all I saw was determination in their eyes. They both scurried to the back of the van. James had a white cloth in his hands, just like in the apartment parking lot.

"Just try to relax," Dan said as he grabbed my arm, and I tried to kick him off. He twisted my arm to my back. He held on so tightly, I could hardly move my torso. The more I kicked and tried to get leverage with my legs, the more Dan pushed my arm up my back.

I screamed and howled, begging them to stop.

"Just relax and it won't hurt so much," he cooed.

"I'm sorry," James said, while he put the cloth over my mouth and nose and placed his other hand behind my head as leverage. I tried shaking him off, but his hand was moving as one with my head. I took in a breath. I felt myself becoming dizzy as James kissed my forehead.

Don't let the perpetrator take you to the second location . . .

"Just relax. We're not going to hurt—"



Are you wondering what Corrine's life will be like in Kansas? Please feel free to vote and read on to Chapter 8. Thank you for reading!