Olivia had tried to yell, to scream, to flail her arms and legs, hoping to either hit her assailant or to attract the attention of anyone who passed by.

But her brain hadn’t been able to force her body to move, hadn’t been able to issue any commands her muscles would obey. The stun gun’s jolt had knocked her senseless, rendered her useless. She’d thought of the baby inside her…Oh, dear God, had it survived the surge of voltage that had rendered her helpless? I’m sorry, she thought, Oh, I’m so, so sorry.

The cart bumped and jangled, her attacker breathing hard as she was rolled over a rough surface. Listening, she heard a jet rumble overhead and then the blast of a foghorn from a boat.

Trying to think, working to pull together her shattered thoughts, Olivia attempted to figure out her surroundings, but it was so dark, so claustrophobic, so damned hot in the sleeping bag, she was having trouble breathing.

Think, Olivia. Don’t give up. You’ve been in tight spots before and when the shock to your system wears off, you can use your hands; at least they’re cuffed in front of you. Don’t give up. Don’t let fear paralyze you. Think of the baby, of Rick. You can’t stop fighting.

Pull it together. There has to be a way!

The surface under the wheels changed, and the cart rolled more smoothly. Then she was hauled upward and, still in the sleeping bag, dropped to a hard surface before being dragged downstairs. It took all her willpower to curl slightly, protecting her abdomen with her flimsy arms. Protecting her baby…

“You could stand to lose a few pounds, you know,” her captor muttered.

At the bottom of the steps, Olivia was dragged for a short distance, then released onto the floor. Through the thick fibers of the sleeping bag she smelled something acrid and foul…urine?

“Welcome home,” the woman taunted with a smug tone in her voice. She was breathing hard from the exertion.

Olivia heard metal jangling. Keys? She strained to listen, all the while flailing wildly as she worked her way to the top of the sleeping bag. Her wrists were still bound, her mouth taped. Frantically, breathing with difficulty, she was able to reach upward in the bag, her fingers slowly and unwillingly tracing the trail of closed zipper teeth to the top, where she found the inside tab and started tugging downward. Time and time again her fingers slipped, her body still not responding to her brain’s commands, her nerves jangled and jumpy, closing in on a full blown panic.

Don’t stop. Work at it. The taser won’t last much longer.

Finally, she pulled hard, lowering her body, dragging the tab, forcing the clenched teeth of the zipper to part.

The woman laughed as she observed Olivia’s pathetic attempts at escape.

Tough!