The following is a work of fiction. In Three Parts serves as an opportunity to flex my creative writing muscle.  

From a deep sleep, I open my eyes to light fading to black as a cloth bag slides over my face. As darkness swallows the light, comfort gives way to chaos. Reaching for my face, fight or flight takes over as I am jerked to my feet. My struggle is of little use.

With adrenaline and panic pumping through my veins, I feel someone tie my arms behind my back. With practiced precision and no audible words spoken, I can feel another person tying my feet together. Panicking and fighting with all my might, I attempt to use my weight as a weapon, but my attempt falls flat. Leaning heavily into the man who tied my arms, I can feel the hair on his arms. The smell of his cologne is something I will never forget.  

With one person holding my feet and another holding my arms, two more people help lift me off the ground. “Okay, there are four of them!” “Do your best to remember every single detail of what happens next,” I thought.  

Despite my resistance, they easily lift me into the back of a van or SUV. The door slams closed. My muffled screams go nowhere, but I make another mental note. The air outside felt cool, as if the day had just broken.  

The doors close, the engine turns over, and Rage Against the Machine blasts from the speakers. “At least they have good taste in music,” I chuckle to myself. “But no one will hear my screams now.” They obviously thought this through.  

As the vehicle leaves the street, I make myself focus. With every shift in my body weight, I count the turns to the left and right. I also note time spent traveling in one direction. I do not know what awaits me at the end of this journey, but maybe this exercise will give me some sense of our destination once we arrive.  

For about 20 minutes, we drove. We turn left four times. We turn right four times. We spend much of our trip heading straight with a few lane changes. Near the end of the journey, the vehicle seems to climb and then quickly descends to our final destination.  

Quickly, someone exits the passenger side of the vehicle. The vehicle then lurches forward a few feet. From the back, I feel the gears change and then rest in park. With the same military precision, they remove me from the back. In less than 20 seconds, I am carried to my next destination. With more aggression than they had shown all morning, they sat me on a metal folding chair.  

They then remove the tape from my arms and legs. In a flash, one of the four tapes to the legs of the chair and my arms to each side of the folding chair. Angry with myself for not taking advantage of the opening, I hear the shuffling of feet. One set of feet stands behind me. In a flash, the person standing behind me removes the cloth sack from my head. Before I can turn around and glimpse my captors, the door closes. Once again, I find myself surrounded by darkness.  

Alone with my thoughts for the first time, I try to make sense of what just occurred to me. Who had I crossed? Who would do such a thing to me? I am not rich. Money could not be the reason I am here. If not money, what else could it be? As I lingered on this thought, my mind began wandering to some dark places. Feeling fear take over, I turn my attention elsewhere.  

“I must do everything I can to get out of here alive.” Then I yell with all my might, hoping to attract the attention of neighbors or someone walking by outside. Then, I thought better of it. “Don’t give whoever took you a reason to come back in here.” 

I turn my attention to my legs and arms. “This is nothing more than duct tape,” I think. “With enough force, I can break out of here.” Convinced, freeing myself became my sole purpose. All the while, a mental clock ticks in my brain. At any minute, they could return and undo my progress. I need to work quickly and quietly. With a simple goal before me, I went to work.  

 Be good to each other,  

Nathan