The first bead of sweat dripped down her forehead, landing with a splash amidst the drool already coating the hard plastic tray. The sun was only just starting to rise and already the heat was becoming stifling in the back of the SUV. Megan leaned harder against the side of the cage and once more set to work rubbing the black electrical tape binding her wrist to her upper arm against the thin metal bars.
The last thing Megan remembered before waking up tied up in a cage, in the back of an unfamiliar SUV, was drinking with friends at the bar. She had no clue what had happened to her, whose car she was in, or who had done this to her. She only knew the sun was coming up, and it was starting to get hot. Biting down into the rubbery bar strapped tightly between her teeth, she gave a muffled cry of frustration and rubbed faster.
Her need to find a reason for why this was happening to her came second for her need to escape. “A car is like an oven in the sun,” people always said, and you never left people, or pets, in the car, even for just a few minutes. In Arizona, if you saw a dog in the car in the parking lot, you were well within your rights to smash the windows to save the animal. Megan really wished someone would smash the window and save her. But whoever had driven her here hadn’t left her in some parking lot while they ran errands. From her limited view from the cage she was locked in, she was in the desert. Nothing in sight save for the distant vistas she could barely see out the back window if she pressed her head up against the top of the cage. She could be a hundred miles from anywhere. It wasn’t her car, and whoever had taken her had stripped her naked before tying her up and throwing her in a cage. Her clothes, and more importantly, her purse with her phone, at least weren’t in the back with her, and she had a strong feeling they weren’t up front either. Even if they weren’t, if she could just get out of the damn cage she get out and look. A phone, a radio, keys, anything that might be able to help her could be there, she just had to get the stupid tape off!
“Fuugggg!!!!” she screamed, throwing herself at the side of the cage. It slid a couple of inches and rocked to the side before she came crashing back down on her sore elbows and knees. Her legs had been similarly bound, her ankles strapped strictly to her thighs with what looked like an entire roll of electric tape each, leaving her trapped on all fours. Like a dog.
She didn’t even own a dog. This felt like a karmic punishment for a crime she hadn’t committed, an injustice she couldn’t possibly have committed. But as the rays of late summer sun spilled through the tinted windows, Megan silently vowed that she wasn’t going to cook in back of a car like a neglected pet. The heat had its advantages. Well, just the one. She was starting to sweat profusely now, her naked body close to the point of dripping. While it made things increasingly uncomfortable, the sweat coating her body would hopefully weaken the adhesive on the tape. The sound of sweat dripping off her naked body got more persistent, the wet patch turning into a small puddle beneath her as the car continued to heat up. Periodically Megan would attempt to stretch her arms and legs, but each time the tape continued to hold her limbs in their far less effectual positions.
The desert could reach temperatures upwards of 115 degrees Fahrenheit this time of year. It was a dry heat, but the inside of the car was anything but. It had to be nearly a hundred already inside, the air was thickly humid, and it was still early in the morning, the sun far from reaching its brutal midday peak. Megan rolled onto her side, and began slamming her knees against the side of the cage. She’d tried this earlier when she first woke up to no avail, before her wet body had started sliding on the rough plastic tray with each stunted kick, but she had lacked the desperation then that she felt now. The possibility that she would bake to death in the back of the car was becoming all too real for her, and she wasn’t ready for that. Megan fought back tears of pain and frustration as she slammed her knees against the sturdy wire frame again and again. She couldn’t spare the moisture if she cried. The cage was meant for a large dog, an animal bigger and stronger than her, one not bound up and handicapped like she was. Brute strength would not be her saving grace.
Just because whoever had abducted her was treating her like a dog didn’t mean she was one. She was still a person, one with human level intelligence and opposable thumbs, even if those thumbs were inconveniently trapped by her shoulders. Megan scrambled to her elbows and knees again and tried once more to reach the latch to the cage through the bars. Whoever had put her in it hadn’t even locked it, so confident that the simple latches would be enough to hold her. Even her friend Sophie’s dog Baxter needed a lock on his kennel, or the clever animal would get loose on his own. Surely she could manage the same thing. Megan pressed herself against the door, the bars of the cage digging into her sweaty shoulder as she reached her fingers about for the latch. She couldn’t even look at what she doing, her face turned awkwardly to the side to contort her shoulder as close as she could get it. Her fingers touched the latch, jiggling it, but her sweat soaked digits couldn’t get purchase on the smooth metal. Screaming in frustration, her knees sliding on the wet tray for purchase she tried to push herself closer, the metal squeaking as it bent and jostled. She got her middle finger under the curved metal latch and lifted it. Now all she had to do was ease it back. Over and over she attempted, each time the latch sliding out of her wet fingers and falling back into place before she’d pulled it free of the locking mechanism. With each failure it got hotter and hotter in the car. She was panting around her gag like a dog, her eyes blinded by sweat running down her face.
Finally, the latch slid undone, and with a desperate cry she rammed her body against the door, the top corner popping open. There was still the lower latch, but it was a huge victory nonetheless, and Megan allowed herself to flop onto her stomach, taking a well-deserved rest. The sun was directly overhead now, beating through the windshield. Megan’s mouth was starting to go dry from her excessive panting, drool no longer spilling freely down her chin. She was becoming dehydrated. Soon she’d stop sweating, which would be a small blessing before her inevitable end, left like a dog in the back of a car, helpless to save herself.
No. She wasn’t going to go out like that. Megan dragged herself up once more onto her elbows and knees, her balance shakier than ever but she stayed up. The other latch was in an even more award place than the first one, and after several exhausting attempts to cram her shoulder into the bottom corner of the cage so she could reach, she redirected her efforts, pushing her head against the top of the door. The hinges screeched as the door tried to open, the top opening up one painful inch at a time. Megan kept pushing, screaming hoarsely through the pain as her skull was squeezed through the small opening. She had enough foresight to realize that once she got her ears through the narrow opening, she’d be stuck. It was unlikely she was getting her shoulders through, but she’d come this far already, and she was out of other options. With one last pained yell she forced her head through the gap.
The door immediately tightened around her neck. Megan started gasping and choking. Her knees slipped on the wet tray and she fell, the sharp metal edge of the door pressing hard into her soft throat. Her elbows scrabbled against the door, granting her brief glimpses of relief before the door tightened around her windpipe again. Fresh wetness was running down her neck, warmer and thicker than the heavy layer of sweat coating her. She was bleeding, the sharp edge cutting her throat.
The sharp edge!
Redoubling her efforts, Megan worked one elbow up through the gap. Finally she could breath freely, gasping in the hot, stifling air as she alleviated the pressure on her throat. She caught her breath, and then worked her arm over to the corner of the door, and began to work. At first she thought it would be like before, where rubbing the tape against the smooth bars on the inside of the cage would accomplish nothing, but then, there it was. The first little nick in the cocoon of tape trapping her limb. Fighting the urge to just speed up and wear herself out, Megan focused, working with precision as she aimed the small tear for the sharp corner of the metal door, digging the edge into the hole and slowly widening it. She could feel air in her elbow, not fresh by any means, but even the inferno that was the inside of the SUV was a relief on the entrapped limb.
Little by little, the hole widened, until she could get a good few inches of the door under the tape. With one savage yank, she pulled her arm back, not caring that the metal scratched deep into her flesh. The tape was torn, and for the first time since she’d woken up like this, Megan straightened her arm. Her elbow felt like it was on fire, but she could do, and she wasted no time in reaching down and opening the bottom latch of the kennel. The door burst open and she fell out into the back of the SUV, the scratchy upholstery a welcome change from the soaked, hard plastic tray and hot metal bars that had held her prisoner for so long.
Even the now relatively simple task of unwinding the tape from her other three limbs was arduous in her current state. She’d stopped sweating, and the tape stuck to her flesh like glue as it dried. Her teeth dug into the gag as she bit back screams; it felt like she was going to tear the flesh clean off her bones, but she kept going, finally freeing all of her limbs. All that remained was the gag, a pink rubber dog bone on a black leather strap she discovered as she ripped the hateful thing off.
She didn’t see a handle or a latch to open the back door from the inside, so she crawled over the back seats. Her tape residue covered flesh stuck to the hot leather, but she kept going, trying the back doors. Neither would open, even as she tried unlocking them. The windows wouldn’t come down either. That left the front. The front two seats that were directly in the sun, the light coming in through the windshield. The dehydrated woman could see the heat rising up off the scorching leather, the air shimmering in deadly warning.
Her flesh hissed as she reached between the seats. She grit her teeth through the pain and reached for the driver’s side door handle. The metal handle felt like molten lava to the touch, but she wrapped her fingers around it and yanked.
The click as the door opened was the most satisfying noise her ears had ever heard. The first whisper of dry, desert air hit her face, and it felt like an angel was blowing on her. With a primal cry of pure elation, Megan pushed the door open, leaning into the blast of fresh air that rushed in. She scrambled over the front seat and out of the car, falling to her hands and knees on the scorched desert ground.
Megan froze. Dug into the ground in front of her was a message. Two words, carved into the earth with a blunt instrument in thick, blocky letters.
GOOD JOB
She had survived, and whoever had put her through that harrowing experience was congratulating her. Off in the distance, Megan saw a column of dust, slowly approaching. Another vehicle. Was it a rescuer? Or was whoever had done this to her coming back?
The instinct to hide started screaming through her heat-addled mind. Megan tried to stand up, but she’d used the last of her strength escaping the car. She scalded the palm of her hand in the body of the car as tried to catch herself, her knees buckling under her when she tried to stand. Megan crashed back onto the ground. She didn’t have the energy to move. Between increasingly long blinks she watched the car getting closer and closer. As it came to a stop in front of her, her eyes closed, and she couldn’t open them again. Her last conscious thoughts were a prayer that it was a rescuer.