Chapter 2 - The Moving Coffin
Daniel zipped the heavy canvas tarp closed around us.
The darkness inside the bag was absolute and suffocating.
I reached out blindly and found Noah’s trembling hand in the dark.
I squeezed his fingers twice to let him know I was still here.
He squeezed back, his small hand incredibly cold.
Daniel and the woman lifted the tarp by the heavy nylon handles.
My shoulder slammed against the wooden doorframe as they carried us into the garage.
They tossed us brutally into the back of Daniel’s large utility van.
The metal floor of the van was freezing against my cheek.
The heavy back doors slammed shut, plunging us into total silence.
The engine roared to life a few seconds later.
The van lurched forward, throwing me against the side panel.
I waited until I was absolutely sure the van was moving down the highway.
I slowly reached up and found the zipper on the inside of the tarp.
I pulled it down just enough to let some fresh air into our moving coffin.
The back of the van was pitch black, but a tiny sliver of moonlight bled through the front partition.
I whispered Noah’s name into the darkness.
He did not squeeze my hand this time.
Panic surged through my chest as I scrambled to sit up.
I ran my hands over his face and felt a thick, wet substance covering his chin.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned the screen brightness down to the lowest setting.
I shined the faint light onto my son’s pale face.
Noah’s eyes were rolled completely back into his head.
Thick white foam was pouring rapidly from the corners of his mouth.
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He was convulsing silently, his body rigid and shaking uncontrollably.
The poison was real, and the fatal symptoms were finally beginning to take hold.
