The combination of the engine’s white noise, the darkness, and the rocking motion of being in the trunk lulled me into a trance-like stupor. I couldn’t see anything, not even my own hand in front of my face. I imagined this was what being in one of those sensory deprivation tanks was like. Seeing nothing. Hearing nothing.

I still had my senses of touch and smell though, and I almost wished that I didn’t. The trunk reeked of gasoline, enough to make my eyes water and my stomach turn. The upholstery was rough against my cheek and arms, and all I could do was shift my cramped position as best I could to try to keep from being rubbed raw.

I’d tried to memorize the route at first, listening for clues and keeping track of turns, but then I’d realized there was no point. This wasn’t my time, where I could hope to call Glenn or even that the kidnappers would put me on the phone when they called in a ransom. Because in the 1960’s, I imagined it was more likely a ransom demand would be made by letter, either through the mail or dropped off, something of that sort.

I supposed knowing where I was could do some good if I escaped, but as time dragged on, I had to admit that not only had we been moving so long that I’d never be able to remember everything, but by now we were far enough away from Los Angeles that I wouldn’t know anything about where I was, no matter what direction we’d gone.

For a while after I’d realized that, I just let myself drift. When I’d decided to try to come back here, I’d made my peace with never seeing my parents again, with the pain I knew my disappearance would cause when they realized I was gone. It hadn’t been easy, but when I’d weighed never seeing them against never seeing Glenn, there’d been only one choice I could make. Now, I was faced with the realization that my return could quite possibly leave everyone I loved grieving.

I’d watched a documentary once about whether or not keeping prisoners in solitary confinement was the sort of cruel and unusual punishment that violated a person’s civil rights, and there’d been this psychologist who’d talked about how locking a person in a confined space, with no way out, no communication, and no way to mark the passage of time could severely affect their ability to interact and think.

Logically, I knew I’d probably only been in the trunk for a couple hours, but it felt like years. A part of me even wanted to promise that I wouldn’t try to escape if only someone would talk to me, tell me what day it was. Even as I acknowledged that part, I thought of the life growing inside me. A baby I’d never planned for, never even considered having until the moment I’d realized I was pregnant. But a baby I’d protect with everything I had.

And protection meant doing what needed to be done to survive.

I was outnumbered and outsized. My hands and ankles were tied up. I was smart enough to know my limitations. I wasn’t going to be able to fight my way free. I needed to think. To plan. One advantage I did know I had over my kidnappers was that most people in this time still underestimated women. Unless these men were ahead of their time, they’d never believe that I’d be able to outsmart them.

I clung to that hope for the remainder of the miserable ride. It was nearly impossible to stay focused, but I kept telling myself that I had to be ready. Finally, after a series of bumps and jolts that I knew would leave me bruised, we came to a stop. I waited to see if we’d continue on, but the engine stopped, the sudden silence disconcerting. I heard doors open, the murmurs of men’s voices, and then, with a burst of light that temporarily blinded me, the truck opened.

“Take her inside,” the man I’d scratched ordered the other one. “I ain’t touching that hellcat again.”

As my vision began to return, I saw him leaning over me, a surprisingly youthful face with dark eyes that were far too old for him. He didn’t say a word to me, just picked me up and draped me over his shoulder. I didn’t fight him, not knowing if any movement would harm the baby. I wanted to yell at him that he shouldn’t carry a pregnant woman like this, but I didn’t yet know what exactly they’d taken me for. The general public didn’t know I was pregnant, so chances were my kidnappers didn’t either. I wasn’t about to offer that information until I knew why I was here.

I did, however, use the short time I was outside to get an idea of my surroundings. Not that they made me feel any better. We were in the mountains, and since we hadn’t driven far enough to get to the Rockies, I felt safe assuming these were the San Bernardino Mountains. That meant running away was going to have to be kept to a last resort. I could just as easily die from exposure out here as being killed by my kidnappers.

I was taken inside a cabin, catching only a glimpse of a rugged kitchen slash living space before I was taken into a small room and dumped onto a tiny bed, if it could even be called that. It was little more than a cot, but was at least clean.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said before the man could leave me.

He turned, glowering at me as if I’d asked for something more than common courtesy for a biological need. I waited, but didn’t hold out any hope. Finally, he muttered a curse and came over to me.

“I’m gonna untie you, but you try anything stupid, I’ll tie you to the bed and let you lay in your piss. Got it?”

I nodded. When my hands were free, I rubbed my chafed wrists, but made no move to attack or escape. Freedom would be good, but only if I could survive it. Right now, being in this room wasn’t causing me any harm, so I’d stay until I figured out the best course of action.

After he finished untying my feet, he left for a moment, then came back with a bucket. Without a word, he set it in a corner and left again.

Right.

By the time I’d taken care of my needs, begged a bit of soap and water from my captors, and paced the entirety of the room so many times that I’d lost count, I was half-convinced that this was worse than the trunk. The sun was starting to go down, which I knew meant it was getting late…and that any rescue attempt wouldn’t be coming any time soon. If at all.

And that was what terrified me. That Glenn would simply think that I’d disappeared on him again. That he wouldn’t even want to try to look for me. That everyone I loved would assume I’d returned to my own time and any searching would be futile.

The room was starting to get dark by the time I crawled onto the bed. I was exhausted in every way. Wrung out emotionally and mentally as I refused to let myself dissolve into the tears that wanted to come when I thought about Harrison, about my friends, about Glenn. Physically, I was drained. Thirsty and hungry, I knew I was reaching the end of my current reserves. If I had to, I could force myself to keep going, but I knew there wasn’t a point. It made more sense to at least attempt to rest so that when the time did come to act, I’d be ready.

I was certain I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes, I felt sleep dragging me down into that dreamless place where I’d stay while my mind and body recovered.

* * *

I was down so deep that I registered the noises before I was actually awake enough to put names to them.

Voices.

Door slamming.

Yelling.

Movement.

Cursing.

Gunshot.

Gunshots.

The word echoed in my head and sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I bolted upright, sucking in a breath. Everything was loud and bright and disorienting. I was light-headed, both from moving too quickly and from not having eaten anything in several hours, but then one of the voices, one of the shouts, registered.

My name.

Glenn’s voice.

Glenn.

I scrambled off the bed and nearly fell on the door. My legs were a bit weak, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I turned the doorknob, half-expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. I didn’t bother trying to figure out why. Maybe they thought a girl wouldn’t cause them any problems, or maybe they assumed that I’d see we were in the middle of nowhere and not try to run. Either way, I pushed the door open without any resistance.

Blood was everywhere.

Men wearing police uniforms and carrying guns streamed inside.

Four bodies were on the floor. Two were the men who’d brought me up here. One was the man with the broken nose. The other–

I must’ve made some sort of sound, because eyes and weapons turned in my direction, but all I saw was the man I loved, surrounded by blood.

The world grayed out and my knees buckled. I grabbed onto the doorframe and pushed the weakness back. I had to get to Glenn. Had to see if he was okay. He had to be okay. I couldn’t have come back here, left everything and everyone I knew just to lose him like this.

A team of paramedics rushed in, two going to Glenn and two coming to me. I kept trying to ask them if he was okay, but they just kept asking me if I’d hit my head and reassuring me that there was no need to get hysterical.

If I hadn’t been so worried about Glenn, I would’ve been tempted to show them all just how hysterical a twenty-first-century woman could be.

“Maya?! Maya!”

My name snapped me out of my head and I pushed back the man blocking my line of sight. “Glenn?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sir, you need to lay still and let us look at you.”

“Miss, please stay still.”

Everyone seemed to be talking all at once, but all I saw and heard was Glenn. He was alive. His voice was strained, his face pale, but he was alive.

The rush of relief I felt made me dizzy, and the paramedics took advantage of that to bundle me into the back of one of the police cars while the others put Glenn into the ambulance. Or what passed for an ambulance in this time anyway. As long as it kept Glenn alive, it could’ve been a clown car for all I cared.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Miss, but as I explained before, I can’t give you Mr. Jackson’s information.”

I pushed myself up out of my wheelchair until I was standing. “I’m his fiancée, and pretty much the only family he has.”

She sighed and looked at the cop who’d been following me around, but I knew by her scowl that he’d just shrugged. He’d been doing that pretty much non-stop for the past ten minutes.

“He’s in surgery,” she finally admitted. “You should go to the waiting room and we’ll come see you when he’s out.”

“Come on, Miss,” the cop leaned over, and I knew he was about to try to convince me to leave.

“Maya!”

Florence rushed in and threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me back into my seat. Astor was right behind her, his face pinched with worry.

“Are you okay?” She ran her hands over me, as if checking for any injuries.

“I’m okay. Harrison?”

Florence looked up at the cop and the nurse, her expression firm. “I’ll take care of her from here.” She looked down at me, her face softening. “He’s unconscious but alive.”

“He tried to fight them,” I started to say, my eyes burning with tears. “Tried to stop them.”

“Of course he did.” Florence brushed my hair back from my face. “He loves you just as much as we do. Just as much as Glenn does.”

“He got shot.” I felt a sob trying to work its way out. “Because of me.”

“No.” This time, it was Astor who spoke. He crouched down next to me. “None of this was your fault. It was all that foul woman who got her hooks into Glenn.”

“That foul–” My jaw dropped. “Kimberly?”

“Yes. The nice security guard who held her here until the police arrived filled us in. Glenn apparently found your locket in her purse and–”

“Florence.” Astor put his hand on her arm. “How about we get Maya someplace more comfortable and you can fill her in on the whole story.” He looked at the cop. “And if the police wish to further explain things, they can do so there.”

Less than ten minutes later, I found myself in a small private room right next door to Harrison’s room. It paid to have someone like Florence Woods at your side when you needed things done. No one wanted to say no to her.

I refused the bed, not wanting to waste the time to get back into the chair when Glenn was out of surgery. Even Florence wouldn’t be able to get the two of us into the same room. Fiancée wasn’t the same as spouse.

She told me everything as we waited. How Kimberly had hired three thugs to kidnap me, thinking that once I was out of the way, she and Glenn would get back together again. How one of them had brought my locket to her as proof they had me.

Florence had barely finished her tale when a police officer came in and began asking questions. After I’d answered them, he told us that the security guard here at the hospital had called the police and relayed everything Kimberly had confessed, including the location of the cabin where I was being held. Glenn had gotten there first and charged in even though he was outnumbered three to one. The cops were crediting surprise as the only reason he’d managed to tackle one and steal one of their guns. Glenn had gotten shot in the shoulder just as the cops had burst in and shot the kidnappers. I’d seen the rest.

I was still processing everything when a nurse came in and said the words I’d been waiting to hear.

“Your fiancé is out of surgery, Miss Cruz. I’ll be happy to take you in to see him.”