A beat-up laundry truck was parked down the block, its shape barely visible in the snow. I jogged that way.
A guy in a snowsuit, wearing a hat and ski mask—which I’d learned was called a balaclava—against the snow and wind, rolled a grubby handcart full of sacks of restaurant linens up a ramp and into the back of the truck. Snowflakes blinded me for a second, but through the wind, I thought I heard a word. Help.
I pried my eyes open. The laundry guy gave it away. In a hurry now, he leapt out, jammed the ramp into a slot on the underside of the truck, and leaped back in to slam the door down.
I hurtled toward the truck and shoved my stick into the gap before the door shut. The blow to the baton reverberated through my shoulder. I yelped and accidentally dropped it.
The door flew halfway back up, and the guy’s foot connected with my face. I staggered back, pain sending a wave of nausea through me, but I didn’t fall. Instead, I shifted my weight forward, rocketed into his shins, and scrambled inside before he could shut the door again.
The truck moved forward and gained speed with the guy, the laundry cart, and me in back. I guessed that the driver had no idea what was happening back here.
I got to my feet. The cart’s brake must not have been on because it rolled toward the partly open back door. In it, the top sack wriggled like a fish in a net.
“Veena!” I yelled.
“Nic!” Her panicked voice was muffled.
I ran to lower the truck door—I didn’t need Veena flying into the street at high speed—but as I pulled down on the handle, the guy’s foot connected with my lower back. I bounced off the door and landed awkwardly, banging my head. Pain bloomed, but I fought through it.
I expected the man to dive on me, and I was ready when he did, rolling him like a burrito. As soon as I was on top, I pummeled him, but he pushed me off.
Use every weapon at your disposal, I heard Xene say. Which now included my principal.
I bolted to the handcart, the village speeding by through the half-open door, and yelled at Veena to get down and brace herself. Loads of laundry surrounded her, so I hoped this wouldn’t hurt. As soon as the guy lifted himself off the floor, I ran the cart into him, launching him toward the front of the truck. He howled in pain.
I pulled back to ram him again, only he grabbed the opposite end and spun us. I used all my weight to drag it the other way, trying to pull him off balance. Veena screamed.
Panting, the man and I sized each other up from either side of the cart. I couldn’t see much of him past his heavy snow gear. Average height, trim, medium build. The brand of his jacket wasn’t familiar. No fear showed in the guy’s black eyes.
He pushed the cart aside and came at me. I lunged away, and he caught my foot, yanking up to pull me off balance, which pulled my boot off. I jumped up and pulled his head down to meet my knee, but he grabbed my leg in the process and dragged me to the floor.
He rolled on top of me again. Instead of panicking, I kept us moving until I was back on top. At some point, our bodies hit the cart, pushing it. Veena screamed with the movement, her voice echoing above the roar of the engine. The cart stopped inches from the back of the truck, two wheels stuck in a crevice.
While we wrestled, the kidnapper’s hat fell off. Black hair. The balaclava still covered his face. I tried to yank the mask off so I could identify him later if Veena and I made it out of this alive, but the truck made a sudden, sharp turn.
I scrambled to pull the cart closer to safety, only my opponent pounced on me before I could get there. Instead of trying to escape, I rocketed the back of my head into his face. My brain throbbed painfully, and my vision blurred for a second. But I cleared quicker than he did.
I threw him off, jumped up, and unleashed a series of blows and kicks to his head, neck, and groin. When he finally moaned and curled in the fetal position, I grabbed an empty laundry sack from the floor and bound his hands and feet behind him with it. I hoped it held him long enough for me to get Veena the hell out of there.
Fighting the truck movement and my own dizziness, I staggered to the cart. As I leaned over it, blood from the back of my head dripped onto the white sacks on top, creating crimson inkblots. Veena fought inside her sack. Non-vegetable curse words spilled out.
“Veena, it’s me!” I yelled.
“Get me out of here!” She sounded terrified.
I dialed my own voice way down. “I will, but you have to calm down so I can untie the top of the sack. I’m here with you. It’s okay.” She stopped moving.
Glancing back at the guy, I fumbled with the ties on the laundry bag. He struggled to free himself. I kicked him in the kidneys to buy me another minute. When I got the knot undone, Veena exploded from the top, her hair and eyes wild.
I helped her out of the cart. As soon as her feet hit the floor, the truck sped up suddenly, sending us both flying toward the back door again. I pulled her down and we rolled perilously close to the edge. The snowy road whizzed by a few feet below.
Gasping for air, one eye on the squirming man, I had Veena hang on to the door’s handle with me. We were going too fast to jump. The snow flew thick and white around
