It was a combination of motor oil, burnt rubber, garlic and dead fish. The odor was overwhelming, causing me to vomit under the rough cotton hood pulled over my head. I had to pee, my head was on fire and the plastic restraints around my wrists were breaking the skin. The sound of the tires humming on the pavement beneath me seemed inches away, when we hit a bump or pothole hole everything was exaggerated.
I remember the explosions, Mom screaming and the shouts of the kidnappers. I remember Dad covering me with his body before he was yanked off and forced to the ground. I remember gunshots and gagging as the rag was forced against my face while a rough hand held the back of my head. The smell of the rag was medicinal like the operating room of the hospital when my tonsil’s were removed, it was the last thing I remembered.