Movement. The familiar bump and sway of being a passenger in his parents' car. His brain swirled in his skull like the die inside a Magic 8 Ball. Case jerked awake – or into some semblance of consciousness – as the car went off-road, bouncing over the terrain and slowing to a stop.

His insides churned. Case groaned involuntarily, the swirl of hangover and motion-sickness creating the worst wave of nausea.

A large hand pressed against the back of his neck. The contact made Case dry-retch. He hadn't mustered the strength to open his eyes but he reached out to grab some kind of support. His hand found something plastic. He gripped hard, bracing. His breathing came out hard and deep, as it always did when he was about to vomit.

"Head down."

The deep-toned voice cut through Case's mental fog. The man, he was here. His hand on Case's neck, a nudge guiding him to face down.

A small whimper escaped Case's lips.

An electric whir happened either side of him, followed by a cool breeze caressing the side of his cheek. He could smell fresh air, feel sunshine – his skin too hot and sticky with sweat. With those small realizations, more details came to him.

He was sitting up. Seatbelt strapped across his chest, digging into the exposed skin on his neck. The thing he was holding for support must have been an armrest. It was a car door.

Why wasn't he tied up in the trunk? Wasn't that where kidnappers put their victims?

"Afternoon, Officer."

"Just a standard drug and alcohol test."

Case's heart leaped. A person – their voice faraway and slightly dim through his confusion, but a person nonetheless. A fucking policeman.

"Have you had anything to drink today?"

"No, sir."

"Taken any illicit substances in the last 72 hours?"

The man chuckled, affable. "No, Officer. Certainly no."

He's lying! Case thought, his mind desperate and shouting. But he couldn't get the words to form in his mouth. Test me! Fucking test me, see what he did to me!

"Blow into this until I say stop."

A monotone beep, counting the beats as the man blew into the breathalyzer.

Snap out of it, Case told himself. Mind clear and firm but trapped in a non-responsive body. You need to say something. Do something! Quick!

He raised his head. Too heavy, it lolled back and hit the headrest. Moaning, panting, he cracked open his eyes. Daylight glared back. He squinted, a reflex.

"Nnng . . ." Breathe, breathe. It came out a long, slow moan but he managed one syllable: "No."

"You alright back there, son?" the policeman asked.

"Hh-hlp." Breathe. Swallow. His mouth was sandpaper dry. He gasped, "Help."

"Here," the man soothed. "Have this."

An open bottle pressed against Case's lips. He tried to jerk away, but the bottle followed him, pushing its way in. Water poured into his mouth, flowing until it spilled down his chin and he was forced to swallow. Suddenly, Case was aware of how badly his dehydrated body craved water. He swallowed more, guzzling it down until his belly swelled like a water balloon.

Too much. It didn't want to stay down.

Convulsion ran up through his body. Choking, sputtering until the man pulled the bottle away.

The man's hand returned to the back of Case's head, angling him forward just in time as he vomited. Case panted, knowing more was going to come up. His head fucking pounded.

"He gets terrible carsickness," the man explained. A hint of Southern pleasantry.

More vomit. Case realized his head was in a bucket. He realized the bucket had been in his lap the entire time.

"He lives in Columbus with his mother, but I'm bringing him down to stay with me for the summer. And every year, I tell you, it's the same thing. Routine, almost."

The man chortled, ruffling Case's hair.

Case sobbed into the bucket.

"I understand," the policeman replied, sympathy veiling his disgust. "I have a daughter who's just the same. We give her a packet of those Gingersnaps, and she's right as rain."

"You don't say?"

"There's a convenience store a few more miles ahead. You can try your luck there," the policeman replied. "Well, you've tested negative and you're free to go. You drive safe, maybe pullover to take a breather every now and then."

No.

"Will do, officer."

No, please, don't go – Case lifted his head, slurring, "Wait," just as the policeman walked away and the man closed his window.

The man turned the ignition, his car rumbling back to life. He eased out onto the road, and they were back in motion.

The energy in the car grew dark, like the addition of some sinister presence. The man continued to drive in silence for half-a-minute before he turned off onto the side of the highway. They rolled to a stop.

Case heard the man shift in his seat. He couldn't move much, but he managed to turn his head enough to face his captor. In the sunlight, the man's eyes were incredibly blue.

"Now," the man started, talking slowly as if to make sure Case could follow. "Because we still have a long way to go –"

"Fffuck you."

The man continued, undeterred, "I'm going to let you have a moment here to breathe. Wait for what's in your system to work its way through. Because I have no intention of overdosing you, just as I don't intend on keeping you awake for our whole journey."

Case could feel himself regaining control of his body. At the very least, he was less incoherent as he slurred, "'mgonna kill you."

"Ha," the man laughed, as if caught by surprise and impressed by it. "Boy, if I had a dime."

Case inhaled deeply through his nose. He sat up straight, angling himself towards the man. "F'you don't wan me seeing wherewe're going . . ." He paused to swallow, smacking his lips together to get them to work. "Then why didn't you just put me in the trunk?"

"Because all it takes is one ounce of probable cause or suspicion for a nosey state-trooper to take a look and catch me with a body in my car." The man grinned. "See, you don't prevent a fire when you already see smoke."

"Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"

"Right now," the man reached into the back of the truck cab then handed Case another bottle of water, "I want you to drink this."

His fingers were stiff but they managed to curl around the bottle.

"Stay hydrated. Flush out your system." The man settled back in his chair, turning on the radio. Depressing country rock played through the static. "Enjoy the sun."

Case watched as the man laid back, closing his eyes as he basked in the rays shining through the windshield. A breeze came through the open window, tickling the hairs at the nape of Case's neck. He turned to check their surroundings – look for a road sign or building of some kind. The highway bordered alongside a forest. Nothing but lush trees and emerald leaves.

His head still pounding, Case opened the water bottle – this time noticing the crack of the seal on the cap as he twisted it – and tentatively took a few sips. At least this was giving him time to think of a plan to escape.

He noticed the lock on the handle wasn't flipped to the orange. The door was unlocked.

This is it, said the brash voice in his head. Do it, open the door and run!

He couldn't move. He sat, frozen, with nerves fluttering in his chest like a disturbed butterfly. What if he got caught? His mind flashed to the image of Miles, dead on the floor with the back of his skull blown open. A failed escape meant death.

He's going to kill you, either way, the voice reminded him. Run. You might have a chance . . .

"Are you going to kill me?" Case asked, his hand inching towards the handle.

"Hmm," the man sighed, enjoying the summer sun. "If you give me a reason to–"

Case pulled the handle – thump. The door didn't open.

The man bolted upright.

Case tried again – thump, thump – child lock. Fucking child lock!

The man lunged.

"No!" Case flipped the bucket, vomit spilling everywhere.

The man recoiled. "Fuck!" He shook his hands, flinging chunks of cold vomit.

Case threw himself against the car door. He reached out the open window, feeling the hot metal for the exterior handle. He grabbed the latch and pulled.

The door swung ajar.

Case made to run, but something yanked him back into his seat with a chokehold. Seatbelt – he forgot the seatbelt.

The man was on him now, legs pinning Case down in his seat.

"No!" Finally, he started screaming. "Help! Help me!"

The man tried to grab his arms, but Case kept fighting. He wildly slapped and scratched and shoved at the man. Everything he could manage without the strength or coordination to punch. The man wrestled against him, trying to trap both of Case's wrists in one hand.

Case kicked at the door, keeping it open with his foot. Cars drove by along the highway. No-one slowed down. "Someone help me!"

The man clamped his spare hand over Case's mouth, muffling his screams. His incredible blue eyes had turned black.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

Case screamed against the man's large hand.

The chair dropped backward. Case saw the interior car light, glowing yellow until the door slammed closed. He had the full weight of the man flat on top of him now. The man forced his head to the side, exposing his neck. Case felt a pinch, recognizing the sensation of a needle sinking into his skin.

Cold slithered through his vein. It spread, branching off through his circulatory system. Case continued to wriggle and scream but the fight in him was dwindling. Within seconds, he'd lost power over his body. Again.

The man removed his hand. Case didn't make a sound.

"I really didn't want to do that," the man huffed, shaking his head in disappointment. "I've just given you a moderate dose of Diazepam. Do you know what that is?"

Case moaned. No, of course he didn't know.

"Benzos? Now, I'm sure you've heard of those, you little hophead," he replied, his voice tender and taunting. His fingers curled around Case's jawline, before angling his head to the side.

So you won't choke, the voice of reason declared from the back of his mind.

"Don't worry. It's just another name for Valium. Like Pepsi Cola. It'll keep you sedated for a few hours. All you can really do now is embrace your situation. Let yourself succumb to sleep."

Maybe it was the drugs in his system, or maybe it was his adrenaline wearing off. But Case was so exhausted, so fucking defeated. He just wanted this to be over. Even if it meant he was closer to dying. At least then, he could meet Miles and Evan on the other side, apologize and beg their forgiveness.

Resigning himself to his ill fate, Case let his eyelids fall shut.

"That's it," the man shushed. He stroked Case's face, pushing back the hair stuck to his forehead. "This will go so much better if you make it easy for yourself . . ."