From the back of the van, under the dark hood pulled over my face, I hear them yelling to each other. The tires kick up gravel and sand. A falling building in the distance. I don’t understand what they’re saying. My camera is missing. I must have dropped it while I was running.
Ed is missing. He wasn’t put in the van with me.
We come to a violent stop and I slide forward, rolling around until I hit the back of the front seat, knocking against what I imagine is the metal mesh separating the driver and passenger from the rear. There is a lot of yelling as they get out. They leave their doors open; more people are running towards the van. Someone opens the back door, the handle clicks.
Someone yanks on my shoulders and pulls me out. I can’t believe this is happening. I try kicking as my feet are lifted, screaming, anything. No one seems to speak my language. Two men wrestle me into a building.