“Amicia? Hello? Hello! Amicia! What happened? Are you alright!”

The word garbled through the crushed speakers. Amicia groaned into an airbag. It deployed when she had crashed into the trunk of a large fern tree. Jeff was still trying to reach her as she fluttered her eyes open. The windshield had completely shattered and pieces of glass laid throughout the interior of the car.

Amicia rubbed at her pounding head. Her hand came away without any blood, but she was sure she had a concussion at least. She turned right. There was a tree trunk uncomfortably close to her. The right side of the vehicle had completely caved in. Slowly, she patted herself down to check for any other injuries. Her right knee surged in a sharp pain at her touch. Her neck felt tender.

“Amicia! Are you there! Are you alright? I heard you scream! Please, answer me! Tell me where you are!” Jeff said. He was still on the phone.

“Jeff? Someone ran me off the road. I need help. I was on the highway, near-”

Amicia’s words were cut off as some yanked her hair back.

“AAAHH” she screamed.

“Amicia! Amicia! What’s wrong? I’m calling the police right now! Where are-”

Whoever was grabbing Amicia’s hair let go when they heard Jeff’s voice. She jerked back to the right. The quick motion made her neck feet like someone had jabbed her in the spine. She wanted to tell Jeff where she was but a man opened her door. He leaned in and jammed his arm against Amicia’s neck, cutting off her words. She sputtered as he pressed on her throat. She could see him now.

He was an African American man in his late 40s. He was wearing a trench coat over a well made suit. He wore glasses and had graying hair, cut close to the scalp. He was clean shaven as well. A handkerchief peaked out from his suit. The tie he wore around his neck looked elegant.

Leaning in, the man pressed the button on the dashboard to end the call with Jeff. Amicia heard Jeff still shouting at her before the call was cut off. He promised that help was on the way and she just had to hang on. She didn’t feel very optimistic the police would make it in time.

The man calmly clicked open her seatbelt. He let his forearm drop. Amicia coughed as his arm fell away. As she coughed, The man snatched her by the arm, yanking her out of the ruined car. She couldn’t find any balance. Her legs draped on the ground as the man pulled her away. He put one hand under her armpit and with his other he pulled her hair painfully , discouraging her from resisting.

Amicia could make out a van in the distance. The front of it was scratched, but not dented. That must’ve been the car that pushed her off the road. The man dragged her towards the vehicle. She had to do something. If he got her in the van, her chances of being murdered tonight rose sharply.

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Weakly, she reached down towards her belt. She grabbed the knife she had holstered to her waistband. Amicia gripped the weapon for a moment, trying to will the strength back to her hand. She blinked away the lights dancing in her vision. As they got closer, The van’s headlights shone brightly, fully covering the man in front of her. She was starting to see double now, most likely the result of bumping her head in the crash. The man had taken both of them up a hill. She could see the treadmarks her car had made as it slid off the road.

Wait for it. Wait for it. As they got to the top of the hill and back on the road, Amicia made her move. She reached up with the knife and sliced down on his arm. She could see blood start to flow out from the long cut as he jerked away back in surprise. She fell to the ground on all fours. Before the man could respond, she sprung forwards to shoulder tackle him in the back of the knee.

The man didn’t fall, but he was off balance now. He swung his arms trying to center himself. Before he recovered, she grabbed the back of his coat with both arms. She pulled as hard as she could and threw the man down the hill. He screamed as he tumbled down the long incline. Amicia didn’t look backwards as she wobbled towards the van as fast as she could. She prayed the stranger had left the keys in the car.

Amicia stumbled to the driver’s side door of the van. She pulled on the handle and it opened freely. She crawled in the cabin. She reached around the ignition, feeling for a key. Nothing. “Shit!” She thought. She turned on the cabin lights and searched around for any hint of a key. Nothing she could see.

Amicia looked up and through the glass. The man had returned to the top of the hill, surprisingly quick. She clicked the button to lock the doors. She surveyed the interior, desperate to find anything that could help. The glovebox! She reached over, pulling it open. She dragged the entire contents of the glovebox out. C’mon, c’mon. She sifted through everything on the floor. Still no key, but underneath the mess there was a flathead screwdriver. She’d have to make do.

Amicia sat up with the screwdriver in hand. The man was less than 10 feet away. He came towards her with a slight limp he didn’t have before. He must’ve hurt something as he tripped down the hill. Amicia ignored him. With as much force as she could muster, she jammed the screwdriver into the ignition with both hands. She cranked the handle of the screwdriver as hard as she could. She heard the car sputter to life and almost cried in joy.

As she was about to shift gears and gun it, the door to the van clicked. The man had unlocked it with his key while Amicia was hot wiring the car. He flung the door open and drew back his arm. Amicia looked at him in surprise before he punched her in the jaw. She crumpled in the seat, unconscious from the blow. It was all too much for her. The crash concussed her. It had taken a monumental effort to make it to the car as dizzy as she was. This last attack had snuffed out any chance she had of getting away.

The man pulled her to him, grabbing her face. He checked to see if she was down for the count this time. He opened her eyelids. She was completely unresponsive. Satisfied with his work, the kidnapper scooped her up in both his arms and walked to the back of the van. He deposited Amicia in the back. After slamming the doors shut, he adjusted his tie and patted down his coat, brushing the dirt away. He glanced down at his arm, still dripping blood from where Amicia had cut him open. He sighed.

“They never make it easy,” he muttered. The man returned to the driver’s seat. The van drove off down the highway, leaving the wreckage of Amicia’s car behind.