Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler.

often turn deadly. Let’s go.”
    â€œWait,” Agnes said. “I need my purse.”
    Donny laughed. “Where you’re going, old lady, you don’t need a purse.”
    Luckily, neither Agnes nor Eddy decided to comment on that. I tried to quell the fear and impotent rage battling for emotional supremacy inside me. All I could do was concentrate on breathing.
    The armed trio guided us down the emergency stairs that let out to the alley where Gabby had dropped us off. Darkness had descended, and the air was now chilly. A black panel extended-van was parked next to the still-aromatic dumpster.
    â€œTie them up,” Tomás said.
    Paleface Donny rolled the side door open. Unlike a regular van with bench seats facing forward, one bench extended back from behind the driver’s seat to the rear. A shorter bench faced it on the other side next to a sliding door. The interior looked like something a SWAT team might use. A long coil of clothesline lay on the floor of the van.
    I scanned the alley for a means of escape but could come up with nothing that wouldn’t endanger everyone else. Thank goodness Eddy was keeping her lip zipped at least. She had a propensity for belligerence. Just like someone else I knew. I was riding the razor edge of desperate, insane action or rational inaction, but somehow I was managing to hold it all together.
    Hunk and Tomás kept their guns trained on us as Donny cut the cord into pieces with a pocketknife. Then he proceeded to tie our arms behind our backs and deposited us in a row on the bench facing the door.
    As Donny slammed me onto the seat, Coop met my eyes. They were broadcasting a mix of panic and determination, searching for a way out as diligently as I was. If someone—anyone—should happen down the alley, I was more than ready to kick up a ruckus.
    Once we were lined up like slaughterhouse rats, Hunk and Donny settled on the bench facing us. They both kept the business ends of their weapons pointed our way.
    Tomás rolled the door shut, climbed into the driver’s seat, and fired up the engine. He slowly drove down the alley and made a turn. The only windows in the van were in the front, making it next to impossible to see where we were going.
    We made a couple lefts, and then a right. I tried to memorize the turns, but lost track after the fifth one. I’d make a sucky Girl Scout.
    For a long while, no one said anything. The sound of the tires humming on the asphalt road echoed through the interior. I periodically attempted to wriggle out of the rope to no avail. Donny knew his knots.
    Baz said, “I think I’m getting carsick.”
    Oh my god, please don’t let Baz barf.
    Hunk said, “I’ll shoot you if you throw up. So don’t throw up.”
    That shut Baz up.
    After what felt like an hour but was probably closer to less than half that time, Tomás slowed the van, made a couple more sharp turns, and rolled to a stop. By leaning slightly forward and concentrating on my peripheral vision, I could see through the front windshield without catching the attention of our captors, who seemed to have relaxed a bit. The headlights lit up a big garage door attached to a brick building. He reached up to the visor above his head and pressed a remote. A moment later, the door rolled slowly up. As it shuddered and creaked its way to the top, the interior was lit up by the van’s headlights. Directly in front of us was row upon row of stacked, rectangular boxes.
    Once the door opened enough for the van to squeeze through, Tomás pulled in and pushed the remote again. The door slowly descended behind us.
    Donny pulled up the lock on the door, slid it open, and he and Hunk scrambled out.
    â€œYour turn,” he ordered, waving the way with his gun.
    One by one, we emerged from the van and huddled together in the dim light cast by two fluorescent light units suspended high in the air.
    Rocky said, “I do not like it