odors, she took in three or four cleansing breaths and then,
concentrating hard, she managed to roll to her side and look around.
She was in a room empty of any furniture except for a small cylinder next to her,
the kind used for oxygen. What she saw wasn’t encouraging. Bare floor and walls and one small window. And no idea what kind of building this was. Totally disoriented, she tried to figure out how long she’d been unconscious but it was either a couple of hours or a full day, because daylight was still streaming in through the window.
Then she spotted the other occupant in the room.
81
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Shit!
Adam lay about four feet away still completely unconscious and not giving any
indication he was about to come around. He, too, had a plastic mask over his face, attached to a cylinder that was a duplicate of the one near her. Even through her hazy vision she could tell his color was very bad. Clenching her jaw, she rolled to her side, then to her knees. Finally, she managed to slip the mask off over her head, toss it to the side and crawl over to where Adam was. Another couple of minutes and she had his
mask disposed of, too.
Exhausted, she lay down next to him, gathering her strength to assess his condition.
Her acute hearing was tuned into sounds beyond the room, listening for any
approaching footsteps. All she heard, however, was the distant slapping of water
against rock and the far away clanging of a bell.
They were obviously on or near the water. Depending on how much time had
elapsed since they’d been taken, the indicators meant they could be anywhere along the coast of Virginia or Maryland or even farther south. Calling on every one of her learned skills, she forced her brain to recall that last thing she remembered. Sliding down the rocks to where Hank had his crabbing boat. Doing their best to evade the tail. But Ray Bans and Neon Tennis Shoes had beaten them to the punch. She remembered Adam
bending down to reach for his knife, heard again her scream as Ray Bans clocked him with the butt of his gun, then the lights went out for her, too.
Gingerly she touched the back of her head where an intense throbbing pulsed
through her body. A fair-sized lump lay beneath her hair and when she took her fingers away they carried traces of her blood. But that wasn’t her biggest problem Adam still lay cold and unresponsive beside her, his breathing so shallow it was almost
nonexistent.
The drug. That’s what the masks were for. They’d been knocked out, transported
here—wherever here was—and apparently given the drug in a strength far beyond that sold in the packets. She didn’t think they weren’t given antihistamines with it, but if a 82
Until Midnight
strong enough dose had been administered she didn’t think it would matter. The results would be the same. Choking. Lowered respirations. Heart failure. She wasn’t sure if they were guinea pigs or if Calderon—and Henderson—were simply trying to get rid of them using what they thought would be an undetectable method.
And in truth, if they died and their bodies were dumped into Chesapeake Bay, by
the time they washed ashore, there’d be no trace of how they’d been killed. She had to get them out of there. Somehow. But before she could do that she had to resolve a more immediate problem. Making sure Adam was still alive.
As she continued to breathe the aroma-free air the heaviness in her limbs slowly
dissipated and her brain started to function again. Pulling up his shirt, she pressed her ear to his chest while pressing two fingers into the hollow of his neck. Okay, good. A pulse and a heartbeat. But it was obvious he’d been given a lot more of the drug than she had. How did you get it out of someone’s system? Did you use the same procedure as CPR?
Not knowing what else to do, she pinched his nose and blew into his mouth, then
began chest compressions.
We really need two people for this. Come on, Adam,
concentrating hard, she managed to roll to her side and look around.
She was in a room empty of any furniture except for a small cylinder next to her,
the kind used for oxygen. What she saw wasn’t encouraging. Bare floor and walls and one small window. And no idea what kind of building this was. Totally disoriented, she tried to figure out how long she’d been unconscious but it was either a couple of hours or a full day, because daylight was still streaming in through the window.
Then she spotted the other occupant in the room.
81
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Shit!
Adam lay about four feet away still completely unconscious and not giving any
indication he was about to come around. He, too, had a plastic mask over his face, attached to a cylinder that was a duplicate of the one near her. Even through her hazy vision she could tell his color was very bad. Clenching her jaw, she rolled to her side, then to her knees. Finally, she managed to slip the mask off over her head, toss it to the side and crawl over to where Adam was. Another couple of minutes and she had his
mask disposed of, too.
Exhausted, she lay down next to him, gathering her strength to assess his condition.
Her acute hearing was tuned into sounds beyond the room, listening for any
approaching footsteps. All she heard, however, was the distant slapping of water
against rock and the far away clanging of a bell.
They were obviously on or near the water. Depending on how much time had
elapsed since they’d been taken, the indicators meant they could be anywhere along the coast of Virginia or Maryland or even farther south. Calling on every one of her learned skills, she forced her brain to recall that last thing she remembered. Sliding down the rocks to where Hank had his crabbing boat. Doing their best to evade the tail. But Ray Bans and Neon Tennis Shoes had beaten them to the punch. She remembered Adam
bending down to reach for his knife, heard again her scream as Ray Bans clocked him with the butt of his gun, then the lights went out for her, too.
Gingerly she touched the back of her head where an intense throbbing pulsed
through her body. A fair-sized lump lay beneath her hair and when she took her fingers away they carried traces of her blood. But that wasn’t her biggest problem Adam still lay cold and unresponsive beside her, his breathing so shallow it was almost
nonexistent.
The drug. That’s what the masks were for. They’d been knocked out, transported
here—wherever here was—and apparently given the drug in a strength far beyond that sold in the packets. She didn’t think they weren’t given antihistamines with it, but if a 82
Until Midnight
strong enough dose had been administered she didn’t think it would matter. The results would be the same. Choking. Lowered respirations. Heart failure. She wasn’t sure if they were guinea pigs or if Calderon—and Henderson—were simply trying to get rid of them using what they thought would be an undetectable method.
And in truth, if they died and their bodies were dumped into Chesapeake Bay, by
the time they washed ashore, there’d be no trace of how they’d been killed. She had to get them out of there. Somehow. But before she could do that she had to resolve a more immediate problem. Making sure Adam was still alive.
As she continued to breathe the aroma-free air the heaviness in her limbs slowly
dissipated and her brain started to function again. Pulling up his shirt, she pressed her ear to his chest while pressing two fingers into the hollow of his neck. Okay, good. A pulse and a heartbeat. But it was obvious he’d been given a lot more of the drug than she had. How did you get it out of someone’s system? Did you use the same procedure as CPR?
Not knowing what else to do, she pinched his nose and blew into his mouth, then
began chest compressions.
We really need two people for this. Come on, Adam,
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