No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

The engine turned over smoothly and Darby exhaled with
relief. He hunched forward in his seat and angled the air vents.
Clicked the heater dial to full blast. Set his Deadpool beanie
on the dashboard beside his model airplane, crinkling a fast
food wrapper.
Darby heard movement beside her. It was Jay, quietly rewrapping
the electrical tape around her mouth. Smart girl, she
thought.
The next twenty minutes felt like hours, as the van slowly
filled with heat and moisture. Lars idled the engine and
scanned radio stations. He found only different flavors of
garbled static, the repeating robo-voice of that CDOT
transmission, and once again, Bing Crosby’s goddamn White
Christmas.
I can’t escape that song, Darby thought. It’ll probably play
at my funeral. She’d always imagined that they would have
invented flying cars by then. Now, slumped in a kidnapper’s
humid van, breathing through her nose, she wasn’t so sure.
Naturally, Lars listened to the entire song, which meant
Darby had to, as well. Listening to the lyrics made her
appreciate it a bit more. She’d always just assumed it was
about snow, but there was a homesickness and longing to it.
As Bing Crosby crooned, she imagined some poor farm boy
just out of high school, hunkered in frozen foreign dirt,
fighting someone else’s war, dreaming of loved ones back
home. She could relate to that part.
Lars probably wasn’t thinking quite as deeply about it. He
munched a Baby Ruth bar, chewing loudly. He picked his nose
and studied his findings in the glow of the dash. Farted twice.
The second one made him giggle, and then he suddenly turned
around and grinned at the back of the van with a mouthful of
small, pointy teeth, and Darby’s chest tightened, her heart a
clenched fist.
“Warmed it up for you,” he said.