Soon Rex was adding to the noise of the horn, barking so fiercely it sounded like one continuous sound. A few seconds later, his nails scrabbled on the metal steps. I pressed my eye to the crack where the tarp had shifted. It was dark outside and had been for a while. I’d been in this RV for about forty-eight hours, but it already felt like an eternity.

I couldn’t yet see Sir, but finally, in between beeps, I heard his shouts.

“He’s coming!” Holding the mic and the boom box, Jenny scrambled into position next to me. With my splint, I was holding the improvised nunchuck against my body. After pushing open the door as far as it would go, I grabbed the end of the tights in my fist.

As the door started to move, Rex’s barking reached a crescendo. He thrust his muzzle into the gap between the door and the frame. Behind me, Jenny shrieked, but I didn’t budge. Rex futilely snapped his jaws just a couple of inches from my thigh. Despite the cold night air, sweat broke out under my arms and traced my spine.

Sir was coming closer, shouting, “Hier! Fuss! Platz!” I prayed that the recorder was catching every word.

At the sound of his master’s voice, Rex didn’t stop barking, but he did pull his head back.

When I spotted Sir through the gap in the door, I whispered, “Now,” to Jenny. We didn’t need him guessing what we were trying to do. The recorder landed behind the couch with a muffled thump.

Suddenly Sir was the one with his face in the gap, only much higher than Rex’s had been. His breath stank of alcohol.

“You know the rule about making noise!”

“Sorry,” Jenny said, without adding Sir. Her voice shook as she broke two rules at once, because she was also looking directly at him. “But we need to talk.”

“Not right now, we don’t. You girls need to be quiet and go to bed. It’s late, and I’m tired. We can talk in the morning.”

“We’re not going to be quiet,” I countered. “Not when you’re leaving us here to die.”

“Listen, girl, don’t you ever tell me what to do!” Sir’s hand, holding the Taser, shot through the gap. He pressed the end against the hand towel tied around my neck. The air filled with a quick snapping sound. The towel, it turned out, was no protection at all. The pain was indescribable. When I tried to pull away, Jenny was so close that I just stumbled against her.

Desperately, I swung the can over my head as hard I could and down through the gap. A grunt exploded from Sir when it thumped against his back, but he kept pressing the Taser to my neck. I felt the end of the tights slide through my fingers, the weight of it yanking it out of my grasp. But I could only think about the pain, not my lost weapon.

Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw a blur as Jenny smashed the heel of her hand through the gap and into the center of Sir’s face. She caught him just under the nose, driving him back.

Sir let out a shriek. The Taser came away from my throat, and he fell backward off the top step. He landed with a curse, but in less than a second, he had scrambled back to his feet. It didn’t seem like we had done any damage. And the nunchuck was gone.

“Go ahead,” he yelled. “Make all the noise you want. This time of night, there’s no one to hear. And if you haven’t figured out how to be quiet by morning, I’ll make you be quiet.”

And then he left.

And we were still behind the chained and padlocked door.

JENNY DOWD

After Sir stormed off, Savannah closed the door and turned on the light. Both of us squinted against the sudden brightness. She sagged on the couch, her fingers massaging her neck.

Even though our plans hadn’t worked, I felt oddly powerful. I had talked back to Sir. Not only that, I had hit him! When I felt his nose shift under my palm, it had unleashed a feeling of savage glee.

Savannah’s eyes looked wet. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Should we wait until morning and then honk the horn again?”

Starting to shake from adrenaline, I remembered his threats. “But what if he comes back with a gun?” I moved into the hall. “We got so close with the vent. Maybe there’s still a way to get it loose.” I jumped up and grabbed the metal crossbar. Above me, the vent let out a groan.

Was it possible to simply yank the screws loose? Fueled by a surge of excitement, I braced my feet on one wall and pulled down so hard my arms trembled, but the vent didn’t shift or make any more noise.

Savannah joined me, jumping up and grabbing the bar with her one good hand. But even our combined weight did nothing. Finally we both let go, landing on the floor with a hollow thud.

Her eyes got big. “What’s under here?” she asked, bouncing on her toes.

“What do you mean? That’s the floor.”

“I know that, but what’s under the floor? It sounds like there’s some kind of open space underneath.” Her face lit up. “I’ll bet there is! Like where Greyhound buses store the luggage. If we could get down inside it, we might be able to get out.”

Hope flared and just as quickly died. “Even if there is a space, we don’t have a saw or anything to cut through the floor to get to it.”

“But the floor feels spongy. Like it’s rotten.” She kept bouncing.

I followed her example. She was right. That section of the floor felt squishy. I had noticed it before and then each time promptly forgotten, ignoring it the way I ignored the rest of my circumstances. “Every time it rains hard, water leaks through the vent.”

Savannah dropped to her knees. “Let’s check it out.”

Together, we plucked and pulled at the flat brown carpet, trying to get it loose. I broke a nail past the quick in the process, but I didn’t care. We finally managed to yank it back with a ripping sound, releasing the fusty smell of mold.

Savannah was right. Under the vent, the particle-board floor was black and rotting. I grabbed one of the spoons and the spork, and together Savannah and I attacked the rotten wood, side by side on our knees.

It was like digging through a quarter inch of wet, slimy, splintery dirt. The smell of mildew clogged my nose. We started using the handles of our utensils like pry bars, lifting up crumbling chunks of wood. Underneath the layer of rotten particle board was something white. As we uncovered more of it, I realized it was a layer of Styrofoam a couple of feet wide, with metal braces on the edges. After we had exposed about a two-foot length, we gouged at it, wincing at the squeaking sounds the Styrofoam made.

There had to be a faster way. I got to my feet, took a deep breath, and stomped down with my right foot, punching a hole straight through the Styrofoam. I tumbled forward as my foot dropped two feet before finally landing on something solid.

Savannah backed up, took a running leap, and landed with both feet right beside me. With a high-pitched squeal, the entire panel of Styrofoam gave way. We fell in a tangled heap.

And then we were laughing. Laughing and trying to be quiet. I hadn’t laughed about anything in ten months.

DANIEL DIAZ

I left the dentist’s office before my dad did. He had to document everything we had found. Before I left, Macy surprised me with an awkward hug. As I was biking home, the memories of what I’d seen on the surveillance video repeated themselves over and over. Savannah being tasered, hitting her head, and then being dragged away. The van rushing past and disappearing.