He tried to move his hands but realized he couldn’t. Neither could he move his feet. He was hog-tied and gagged. His feet were bound with twine, and his hands were snug behind his back with bailing wire, a handkerchief in his mouth.

More tapping.

He let his lazy eyes focus on the shape in the window. A face. A familiar face. It was Joseph, smiling at him with big eyes. Joseph tapped on the window and pointed toward the lock on the inside of the door.

Coot could see Joseph’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear him from behind the glass.

Coot squeezed his eyelids together to bring the blood back into his head. He was dizzy. He felt a couple miles above his body, floating in a world of nausea. He couldn’t tell what time it was. It looked like the sun was starting to go down.

Tap, tap, tap.

Joseph pointed to the locking mechanism again. “Hurry,” Coot heard him say in a muffled voice. “Unlock the door.”

His body moved in an uncoordinated way, but he lumbered into action. The lock on the door was a chrome post, poking from the door panel. It had been pushed down, so that only the top of the post showed. Coot adjusted himself and tried to lift the post with his feet, but his boots were too big and bulky. He pinched both soles against the post and tried to lift it upward, but it didn’t work.

Joseph tapped again, then made a chomping gesture, pointing to his teeth.

“Use your teeth, Coot,” he said. “Your teeth.”

So Coot leaned forward and bit down on the handkerchief so his teeth were exposed. He worked his overbite around the small post, then pulled upward with a jerk from his head. It took several tries, but he finally heard the mechanism click.

Joseph tugged the door open. Coot spilled out of the car.

“Sshhh,” said Joseph, unlatching a jackknife. He started slicing through Coot’s ropes.

“I had to wait all dang day for you to wake up,” whispered Joseph. “It’s late afternoon. I thought you was dead.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Long enough for me to think you were playing a harp. Now, we’d better hurry before all those tongue talkers start showing up. That is, unless you want these nuts to show us what hell looks like personally.”

When Coot’s hands were free, he rubbed his wrists. The events from the previous night came back to him.

“Guess there ain’t any love lost between you and that preacherman,” said Joseph. “I don’t know what they was fixing to do with you or where they was fixing to take you, but I don’t think you would’ve liked it.”

“Joseph,” said Coot, but he couldn’t say anything else.

“What is it, son?”

Coot stood to his feet but felt off-balance. “Where’s the truck?” he said.