The trailer lurched around a bend, and I went down on my knees. The truck slowed to a stop. I held my breath and listened. No doors opened. No one came to see if I was awake, and in a moment, the truck pulled off, swept into a wide turn, and picked up speed. I exhaled slowly as the vibrations in the floorboards increased, and the metal shell of the trailer rattled so loudly, it was hard to think. We had left the highway.

I spread my wrists and got to work on the twine.

Ten minutes into it, one of the fibers gave way and then another, so that when they finally separated, I overbalanced and crashed against the horse tied in the aisle. I patted his shoulder, then ducked under his neck and squeezed around to the other side. Most older trailers have emergency exits, and this one was no exception. I gripped the lever that latched the door into place and pushed upwards. It was jammed, frozen with rust and disuse. I crouched down, put all my weight behind it, and tried again.

Without warning, the lever snapped off.

I dropped it on the floor, leaned against the cold metal wall, and felt the vibrations go right through me. If I didn't get out, I was dead. I pushed myself upright and studied the door. It had been damaged in the past and no longer hung flush with the opening. Through a crack, I saw that the hinges were simply bolts slid into grooves on the trailer's frame. With a tool of some sort, I could push the bolts up and out. But what tool? I looked at the lever lying at my feet.

I wedged it into the gap and pushed upward. The bolt moved a quarter of an inch. Half an inch. I pushed harder. The lever slipped and the door slid back into its original position. I repositioned the lever and tried again with the same result. After a third unsuccessful try, I looked for another way out. All the exits were locked on the outside, and metal bars had been welded across the windows.

As I passed the side door used for loading the horses, the toe of my boot knocked against something. It rolled across the rubber mat and wedged in the angle where the wall meets the floor. I slid my fingers into the narrow groove and felt the rounded metal. Picking it up, I held it to the light and thought I had a chance after all.