Mark scowled as he made his way through the forest, ducking and weaving through the tree branches. This far off the beaten path, the trees grew close together, seeming to form an impenetrable wall of vegetation, blocking his way. Though he’d come this way before, that had been during the day, enough light filtering through the branches to keep the underbrush well lit. Now it was night and he was struggling to follow the winding trail he’d blazed with the waving beam of his flashlight.

Behind him, Wendy was having an even harder time keeping up. At least Mark didn’t have his hands lashed tightly behind his back, or his ankles hobbled, the foot or so of rope between her feet allowing her only short, awkward steps. He also had a sturdy pair of hiking boots on, and a jacket to protect him from both the cold night’s chill and the branches of the trees. Wendy’s slender, pale body shone in the gloom of the forest, naked as the day she was born.

Several times now, her shoulder length, light blonde hair had gotten caught in the branches as she tried to duck, following after her captor. She had no choice but to follow. Another, long, length of rope was tied securely around the captive girl’s neck. The free end dropped down in front of her, rising at the other end where it was held tight in Mark’s other hand. Whenever she started to fall behind, he would jerk on it sharply, yanking her forward. She had no choice but to hurry up after him, whimpering quietly. Her sobs were muffled by the wadded up cloth stuffed in her mouth. Another cloth, rolled into a band and knotted, was tied between her lips, keeping the gag in place.

At long last, they broke into a small clearing. Free of the dense overhead branches, moon- and starlight filtered into the clearing, lighting it enough the two could see without Mark’s flashlight. He slowed, stepped out of the trees, Wendy following along at the end of her tether. It seemed they had reached their destination.

Wendy was relieved the awful march was over, at least until she saw how the clearing had been prepared for their arrival. A steel drum stood in the middle of the clearing, the lid off and set against one side. Beside it, a hole had been dug into the ground, the spoils left heaped in a pile not far away. It was just big enough, it seemed, to accommodate the metal drum. If the captive girl had had any doubts about what would be going inside the drum, they were confirmed as another tug on her rope lead set her shuffling forward again, towards the drum and the hole.

“Nnnn!! Nnn!!” Wendy sobbed, struggling against the lead, even as it choked her, shaking her head frantically, face pale with fright. She fought as hard as she could to avoid going into the drum, but her captor was stronger. Even were she not bound and gagged, he wouldn’t have had much difficulty overpowering her and forcing her towards it anyway.

With a wail of fear, the young woman was scooped up off the ground and lowered, feet first, into the drum. She ended up in a sitting position, on the bottom of the drum, her legs pulled up close in front of her. The hard metal walls of her new prison pressed in close over her. Nearby, Mark picked up the lid and slid it up into place. Wendy looked up, an expression of piteous fear on her face. She mumbled pleas into her gag, watching as the thin band of light overhead narrowed and narrowed until with a thud, the lid slotting into place, plunging her into total darkness…

On the other side of the drum, Mark listened to Wendy’s screams, fright and desperation offsetting the addition of the metal walls to her gag. He checked to make sure the lid was on tight, and that the hose for air was on solid and clear. With a grunt, he rolled the container around, tilting it back so it could slid easily into the hole. The drum settled on the bottom with another thud and more muffled wailing from its occupant.

With a weary sigh, Mark walked over to the pile of dirt and the shovel he had left there from the day before. Picking it up, he began to scoop up the dirt, dropping it into the hole, taking care not to drop any on the air hose. Wendy’s screams became more frantic as she realized she was quickly being buried, but the dirt quickly muffled that until nothing could be heard but Mark’s own grunts of exertion and the crunch of the shovel into the dwindling pile of dirt. Pretty soon, the hole disappeared, and the drum with it, save the tip of the hose, sticking up through the loose dirt above.

Mark dropped the shovel beside it, and stretched. From his belt, he grabbed a heavy duty satellite phone, equipped with a scrambler, on the off chance the call was intercepted. “Yeah…” he said, when the person on the other end picked up. “It’s all taken care of. Soon as I get back and can confirm your payment, I’ll send you the GPS coordinates and you can come dig her up.” He walked over to the nearest tree, a thick, stout oak and drew his knife. Using the tip, he carved a mark into the bark. Between it and the freshly tilled dirt, there should be no question where the captive girl was buried. “Just remember…” he added with a chuckle, eyeing the trunk. “X marks the spot.”