David smiled said hello. He was pretty sure that everyone who worked in the restaurant was related. He paid, took the two boxes, and then walked back out to the parking lot. The bell on the door jingled as he left. The cool fall rain was coming down heavier now.

As he got to his car, a black SUV sped past in the parking lot, splashing puddles in the pavement. The man in the passenger seat gave him a funny look, like he was waiting on him. David ignored it and placed the pizza boxes in the car. Some people were just impatient.

Driving home, the scent of garlic and oregano wafted through the air. Those delicious smells tempted him, but David remained disciplined in his most solemn of marital pacts. It was a well-documented fact that opening up the pizza box before arriving home would reduce the temperature of the pizza and raise the temperature of his Italian wife—and not in a good way.

A few minutes later, he parked his Toyota sedan on the curb outside of his house. It was usually a busy Vienna neighborhood, filled with upper-middle class families walking their dogs and cooking out in their back yards. Today, the rain had sent everyone inside. David was starving. He couldn’t wait to crack open a cold beer and take that first bite of steaming pizza. But he never got to the front door.

He stepped out of the car, pizza boxes in hand, and felt tiny droplets of rain coming down on the back of his neck.

“David?”

The voice behind him sounded friendly. Relaxed. It had the casual tone of someone that could have been an old buddy from the past, or maybe a neighbor. There was no reason to brace himself for what was to come.

He twisted around to see who was calling his name. He never got a good look at the men. It all happened too fast.

The already dark street went pitch black as a bag was yanked over his head. The sound of his shoes skidding off the pavement was briefly audible as his feet went out from under him. He heard a clap as the cardboard pizza boxes fall to the street. He felt himself falling but never hit the ground. Hands moved with the precision of years of training, grabbing him, holding him up, and wrapping whatever was over his head tight around his mouth so he couldn’t talk. He was being mugged! Panic filled him. He writhed and wrestled with every ounce of energy he could muster, but there were just too many strong hands.

They were carrying him now. Disoriented and afraid, he no longer knew which way was up. He tried to move as much as he could but the gripping hands had him in some sort of wrestling hold. He tried to scream, but with the gag over his mouth, all that came out were pathetic, muffled attempts.

David fought to get out of the grip of those hands—how many he wasn’t sure. He felt like they were all over his body. A mix of feelings rushed through him: fear, anger, and the urge to urinate. He felt violated. He had no control now. He kept trying to yell for help.