eyes.
He checked his motor skills, and everything seemed to work. He could wiggle his toes, clench his fists, and turn his head. But he couldn’t sit up. Lifting his head, he saw that a blanket was covering his body, some kind of make-shift restraint wrapping him to the table. He tilted his head to the side and saw that he was about four feet in the air.
“What do we do with him?”
It was one of the voices coming from… where? He looked over to his right and saw a doorway covered in shadow.
“We find out who he is,” came the response.
It took Scott a few seconds to realize that the people talking were not speaking English, but Hebrew. It was a language he knew well enough to make sense of the conversation, the time he’d spent in the Middle East, specifically Jerusalem, having made the ancient language all too familiar. But he was a little suspicious as to why it seemed the language of choice here. Wherever here was.
Before committing himself to a plan of action, he let his mind catch up with his current predicament, remembering running after Edward and the shots coming from the hillside. He didn’t know who could have been shooting at him, but they couldn’t have been UN or NAU troops. Whoever they were, they were either positioned to cover the ATV’s getaway or to take it out. And the explosion that rocked the hillside…
His head was pounding, and he had to push the loss of Edward into the peripheral edges of his conscious, along with everything else that didn’t make sense, in order to concentrate on the here and now.
Whoever had secured him to the table did a good job to keep him from rolling off in his sleep, but that was about it. Either the person responsible was polite or incompetent. Scott wasn’t going to assume the prior and wouldn’t count on the latter. There was enough slack in the restraints to allow him wiggle room, and he began inching his way toward the end of the table.
“Why did you bring him back here?” The discussion was still going on somewhere beyond the darkness.
“Don’t you think it would be wise to find out what he knows?”
In Scott’s experience, things took an interesting route once talk like that started. A pair of pliers came to mind. Using his head as an anchor, he pulled his body along the table with his neck while helping himself along with his fingers. Soon his head was off the back of the table, and he was able to sit up. He squirmed out of the bonds, leaving the blanket behind, and hopped off the table. It was only then that he realized he was naked. He swore under his breath and looked around the small room, but he found no trace of his wet fatigues. Having no other choice, he snatched the blanket from the table and flung it around his waist.
His bare feet pitter-pattered across the cold floor as he frantically searched the four walls, looking for another exit. There was nothing in the room that could explain where he was, who captured him, or what this room was used for. Other than the table, the room was empty. And there was no other exit. Only the door with voices behind it.
Scott approached the door and put an ear against it, trying to better hear the sacred language of the Chosen.
“I will not let you do that!” They were still arguing. But it didn’t seem to be about him anymore. That was good.
“He’s the only one that knows where it is,” another voice interjected.
“Yes, if you believe the stories.”
Another voice spoke, this person’s Hebrew tainted with a European accent. “Friends, we do not have time for this. Any second now the camp may be stormed, and our mission will have ended in failure.”
Scott didn’t think it possible to be any more confused, half of him believing this was still part of a dream. He tried to control his breathing, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air.
“Wake him up,” someone commanded.
Footsteps approached the door.
Scott jumped back, quickly eyeing the hinges on the door and
He checked his motor skills, and everything seemed to work. He could wiggle his toes, clench his fists, and turn his head. But he couldn’t sit up. Lifting his head, he saw that a blanket was covering his body, some kind of make-shift restraint wrapping him to the table. He tilted his head to the side and saw that he was about four feet in the air.
“What do we do with him?”
It was one of the voices coming from… where? He looked over to his right and saw a doorway covered in shadow.
“We find out who he is,” came the response.
It took Scott a few seconds to realize that the people talking were not speaking English, but Hebrew. It was a language he knew well enough to make sense of the conversation, the time he’d spent in the Middle East, specifically Jerusalem, having made the ancient language all too familiar. But he was a little suspicious as to why it seemed the language of choice here. Wherever here was.
Before committing himself to a plan of action, he let his mind catch up with his current predicament, remembering running after Edward and the shots coming from the hillside. He didn’t know who could have been shooting at him, but they couldn’t have been UN or NAU troops. Whoever they were, they were either positioned to cover the ATV’s getaway or to take it out. And the explosion that rocked the hillside…
His head was pounding, and he had to push the loss of Edward into the peripheral edges of his conscious, along with everything else that didn’t make sense, in order to concentrate on the here and now.
Whoever had secured him to the table did a good job to keep him from rolling off in his sleep, but that was about it. Either the person responsible was polite or incompetent. Scott wasn’t going to assume the prior and wouldn’t count on the latter. There was enough slack in the restraints to allow him wiggle room, and he began inching his way toward the end of the table.
“Why did you bring him back here?” The discussion was still going on somewhere beyond the darkness.
“Don’t you think it would be wise to find out what he knows?”
In Scott’s experience, things took an interesting route once talk like that started. A pair of pliers came to mind. Using his head as an anchor, he pulled his body along the table with his neck while helping himself along with his fingers. Soon his head was off the back of the table, and he was able to sit up. He squirmed out of the bonds, leaving the blanket behind, and hopped off the table. It was only then that he realized he was naked. He swore under his breath and looked around the small room, but he found no trace of his wet fatigues. Having no other choice, he snatched the blanket from the table and flung it around his waist.
His bare feet pitter-pattered across the cold floor as he frantically searched the four walls, looking for another exit. There was nothing in the room that could explain where he was, who captured him, or what this room was used for. Other than the table, the room was empty. And there was no other exit. Only the door with voices behind it.
Scott approached the door and put an ear against it, trying to better hear the sacred language of the Chosen.
“I will not let you do that!” They were still arguing. But it didn’t seem to be about him anymore. That was good.
“He’s the only one that knows where it is,” another voice interjected.
“Yes, if you believe the stories.”
Another voice spoke, this person’s Hebrew tainted with a European accent. “Friends, we do not have time for this. Any second now the camp may be stormed, and our mission will have ended in failure.”
Scott didn’t think it possible to be any more confused, half of him believing this was still part of a dream. He tried to control his breathing, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air.
“Wake him up,” someone commanded.
Footsteps approached the door.
Scott jumped back, quickly eyeing the hinges on the door and
Similar Books
