Page 1 of Intangible
Prologue
Thayer wokewith a gasp to an almost stifling smell. Through the fog in her head, she knew she was no longer in her bed nestled among the flannel sheets infused with lavender fabric softener she had just put on in preparation for the chilly fall nights.
No, this was definitely not her bedroom. Wherever she was smelled of spoiled food, motor oil, wet dogs, and male sweat. With a moan, she tried to sit up. It was no use, between whatever held her hands secured firmly behind her back and the nausea, she had to admit defeat after a few minutes.
Settling back on her side, she took slow, steady breaths to keep the nausea at bay. There was a piece of cloth shoved in her mouth that she couldn’t push out with her tongue, no matter how hard she tried. It was obviously held in place with something, and the last thing she wanted to do was to be drowned in her own vomit.
She fought to tamp down the growing panic racing through her. How had she wound up here? Even more importantly, where was here?
When the nausea had settled, she slowly took an assessment of what she knew. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in her empty dorm room. Her roommate had left for the weekend, allowing for some much-needed privacy. Vaguely, she remembered something waking her before she quickly fell back asleep.
No, she hadn’t fallen asleep, something had knocked her out. The same thing that now had her head pounding in pain.
Trying one more time to push the foul-tasting cloth out of her mouth, she admitted defeat when it didn’t budge. Trying to open her eyes, she realized that not only was her mouth gagged, but she was also blindfolded.
She felt a small glimmer of hope. Hadn’t she read somewhere that if they didn’t want you to see them, you had a better chance of being let go? Or was that just some Hollywood hype to sell tickets to the latest blockbuster? No, she would choose to hold on to even the smallest hint of hope.
Thayer lay still, listening to the noises around her for a few minutes. There were no voices that she could hear, nor was there anything that sounded like people shifting around. If there were, surely they would have noticed she was awake by now.
She did hear the sound of tires on a highway slipping away underneath her. Whatever she was lying on did not do much to deaden the vibrations traveling through her body either. It was also hard enough that her shoulder ached from lying on her side. She could confidently rule out an upholstered seat of any kind.
Rolling onto her stomach, she tested the binds that held her hands securely at her back. If she could just wiggle out of them, maybe she could escape or at least try to wave down a passing motorist.
Tugging as hard as she could, she let out a small yelp when she felt the skin break at her wrist. Even with what had to be her blood making them slick, she couldn’t fight out of her restraints. Upon further examination with the tips of her fingers, she decided her hands must be held together with cable ties. That meant, if she could just find something sharp, she could cut through them.
Stretching her legs out, she began to feel around, searching for anything that could help her. Slowly working herself around in a circle, she used her feet to scope out her surroundings.
It was exhausting to push her body around and her head still felt like it was splitting in half from whatever they had given her.
Finally, her right foot hit something that made a rattling sound like metal inside metal. With a prayer it was a tool chest, she began squirming over until her back lay against the object.
Feeling with her bound hands as best as she could, she felt her heart almost give out when she found a lock. Wrapping her fingers around it, she rattled it, praying it would be unlocked. It was no use, the lock was firmly closed.
Thayer thought for a second of curling up and crying. Could you die of crying with your eyes covered? She doubted it, but it wouldn’t do her any good anyway. Maybe the corners of the chest were sharp enough to use like a reverse saw.
Using her toes, she shoved herself forward until she found the edge. It wasn’t sharp, but it was worth a try. The only other items she had found would be of no use at all. Unless she could figure out how to use the remaining special sauce from what felt like a Big Mac container.
She pushed herself into a modified sitting position, banging her head on the roof of whatever she was in. Closing her eyes, she remained still, hoping she wouldn’t vomit from the pain in her head. The chocolate popcorn she had eaten while watching a movie in her room earlier threatened to reappear several times before she managed to convince her stomach it needed to remain where it was.
Reasonably recovered, she began the tedious task of rubbing her wrist up and down against the chest. It was an exhausting system of working the ties against the edge until her muscles screamed, then taking a short break before giving herself a pep talk to keep going.
Her shoulders felt like they were on fire. Thayer shook her head, thinking at twenty, she was entirely too young to be this winded from simply moving her arms up and down. She should probably get to the gym more as soon as she returned to school. Since heading to college, working out every day hadn’t been a top priority.
She felt like she had been working at it forever when she was suddenly thrown against the other side of her prison. Lying still, she decided she was no longer on a paved road.
With every bump, she bounced around the floor. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite get back into position to work on her restraints more.
About the time she had decided she couldn’t take banging around inside her box anymore, they came to a stop.
Lying very still, she listened intently, wondering what happened next. It was hard to not let every horror from every mystery she had ever read circulate through her brain. Taking a couple deep breaths, she calmed her mind. She would need all of her wits to fight.
Hearing footsteps coming closer, she could just make out voices when there was a loud bang and cold air bathed her body. At least she was still wearing her pajamas. Relief flooded her at the thought of the alternative.
Someone grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the opening. When they released them, she brought her knees to her chest, kicking out like she had been taught by her self-defense instructor. She heard a satisfying grunt when they connected to something solid.
Before she could strike out again, hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her outside. She hit the ground with a jarring thud.
“Fucking bitch,” a man growled out above her. She was jerked off the ground by two strong hands digging into her biceps before she could kick out in the direction the voice came from.
