My head was wet and sticky—it had to be blood—but I was conscious. My restraints were gone, and that was a good thing. I lay as still as possible while I evaluated my situation. I felt movement near me along with the vibration of being in a vehicle. They were transporting me somewhere else, likely to a spot where they planned to kill me and hope I would never be found. I had one chance at survival, and I had to make my move.
From beneath the blanket, I couldn’t see who was near me—or the actual position they were in—but the back of a van had only so much space. If I took them by surprise, tossed off the blanket, and began kicking and punching, I was bound to connect with someone.
My guess was that Lynn, or whatever her real name was, was behind the wheel. That left the woman whose voice I didn’t recognize sitting within a foot or two of me and likely holding a weapon, ready to strike. I prayed that it wasn’t a gun, but I had to do something—and fast.
With the slightest movement possible, I grasped the blanket’s end so I could toss it off and not become tangled in it. I sucked in a deep but quiet breath and lunged at the unknown.
I connected with the other woman and slammed her against the side of the van. Her head bounced off the interior wall, then she scrambled for what I soon learned was a tire iron, but I was able to beat her to it and swung. I heard the sickening crack as it connected with her skull. She slumped over and wasn’t an issue anymore. The van swerved wildly as Lynn tried to see what was happening in the back. I clawed my way to the driver’s seat and grabbed a handful of her hair. I ripped her head back as the van bounced across three lanes of traffic. Cars honked and hit curbs while trying to avoid colliding with us.
Lynn fought me tooth and nail as she gunned the gas pedal. The van jerked this way and that and nearly flipped as we hit cars on our right and left. I had to stop the moving missile before somebody got killed. Wrapping my forearm around her neck, I tried to choke her into unconsciousness while grasping for the steering wheel. Using her fingernails and flailing wildly, she tried to gouge my eyes. I had to end her rampage—the van had become a speeding weapon and was hitting everything in its path. I nailed her with a hard punch to the head, and it bounced off the driver’s-side window. She went limp. I wedged my body over the console as I tried to steer out of traffic. At the last second, I realized we had jumped the median, and I was in the oncoming lane. I wedged my foot alongside hers and found the brake pedal just as a school bus swerved out of our way. The hard tap to the rear driver’s-side quarter panel told me I was being pitted. The flashing blue lights behind me caught my attention for a second, then I felt the van spin and a hard crash that knocked me senseless.