Don't Let Them Find You

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Don't Let Them Find You Page 27

by Brandy Isaacs

The door slammed shut behind her and she jumped when it banged in the frame. The click of the lock told her she wouldn’t be able to reopen it. She found a switch on the wall and turned the overhead light on finding a plain, but functional room. It had a bed with a pillow and blanket, a small dresser and a chair. There were two doors and when she opened the first she found a closet, empty except for a familiar looking duffle bag on the floor in the corner. The second door opened to a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and tub. She opened the cabinet over the sink and found basic necessities, a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap and small bottles of shampoo and a small travel size first aid kit. She shut the door to the bathroom and opened the top drawer of the dresser.

  Inside was a pile of undergarments that seemed to be in her size when she held them up. They weren’t new and she wrinkled her nose. She hoped they were her clothes that Doc had alluded to previously. In another drawer she found two pairs of jeans that also looked like they would fit her, and two shirts. On the far side of the dresser she noticed a pair of worn sneakers. She assumed these were all her clothes. In her hallucination she had seen one of the shirts falling out of her bag—the one now laying in the corner of the closet.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to clear her mind. Neither the room, nor the cabin, looked familiar to her—but shouldn’t the clothes? That is, if Doc wasn’t lying and they really were her clothes. The sound of the cabin door opening caught her attention and she moved back to her bedroom door, pressing her ear against it. She couldn’t hear anything else and she looked back at the room. There was only one window and it faced the side of the cabin—not the back. What was worse, she noticed, there were bars screwed into the frame. She hadn’t noticed them before because they were in between two sets of dark green curtains. Fuck, she kicked the door in frustration.

  A few minutes later, Sydney heard the door to the cabin open again. What the hell is he doing? Was he bringing in supplies? Or was he bringing in whatever, or whoever, had been in the back of the van? If Doc was worried about the contents of the cargo area of the van did that mean it was an ally of hers? The floor of the cabin creaked and considering it hadn’t made a sound when they came in, whatever Doc was bringing in was heavy.

  “Downstairs,” she heard him say. His voice didn’t sound calm or impatient as when he spoke to her. It sounded worried and scared.

  Who the hell else does he have? Sydney heard a whooshing sound and her brow furrowed. Was it a breeze from outside? It didn’t sound like it, but she didn’t know what else could be blowing air. “Go,” Doc said again and she could tell he was trying to sound authoritative and in charge but still respectful at the same time. It was how she would expect a prison guard to sound while directing a particularly dangerous criminal.

  A door, she assumed the main cabin door, shut and moments later another one opened. Downstairs? she wondered. A basement? Do cabins normally have basements? The cabin was silent long enough that she grew tired of listening at the door. Giving up, she went into the bathroom and found a wash cloth to clean her feet. It took a while to get the blood, pine needles and dirt that had caked her feet clean and she remembered doing the same thing in the barn after waking up at the lake.

  Sydney felt herself giving into the fear and despair that coursed through her but she fought the urge. She wanted to sit down and cry, but doing so would acknowledge she was in way over her head. And that would be admitting defeat, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Leaving the bathroom with her feet practically encased in plastic bandages, she limped to the bed. Laying on top of the covers she stared at the ceiling and tried to think of a plan. The door was too solid for her to break through. The bars on the window were iron and she knew she wouldn’t be able to bend them. She didn’t even have to test them to know that.

  If she was in a movie she would find something to pry the screws from the wood or something to wedge into the hinges of the door so that she could remove the pin and take the door out of the frame. But this wasn’t a movie. She was stuck.

  Sydney sighed. If she couldn’t escape from the room on her own, she needed a weapon. She could break the mirror. But that would be noisy. Plus she would end up cutting herself in the process, even if she wrapped the glass in a towel. Eventually, the cloth would be as shredded as her hand would be. Besides, she figured it would be hard to do much damage with a fragile piece of glass unless she got lucky and could get to an eye or his throat. She put broken glass low on her list of weapon possibilities.

  Her best bet, she figured, would come from other areas of the cabin. The kitchen could have knives or heavy pans. And who knew what was below, wherever Doc had taken the other prisoner. Hell, he could have an entire arsenal down there. She had to assume it was his lab. He had mentioned taking her there for data. Did that mean he spent a lot of time here? He could be referring to a room and a suitcase of equipment as a lab for all I know. She sighed again. She forced herself to stop trying to plan for what she couldn’t even imagine. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible to fall asleep, but before long she drifted off. Her body must have been exhausted because it shut down like someone had hit her off switch.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Only a few hours later Sydney was jerked awake by a loud knocking on the door. It took her a moment to figure out where she was. Sleep hung over her, resisting her efforts wake up. Her head throbbed and the light coming through the slits in the curtains, minute though it was, still sliced into her brain. Another persistent knock at the door pounded through her skull.

  “What?” she snapped, groggily.

  “I would like to begin some tests soon. I wanted to give you some time to get dressed and clean up. I figured it would make you more comfortable.”

  She wished Doc wouldn’t try to be so polite, it was confusing and disconcerting. Assuming arguing or fighting it would be pointless, she rolled out of bed and limped towards the bathroom groaning in pain. Her feet hurt worse now than they did last night. She stripped off her tee shirt and underwear and sat on the edge of the tub to remove the old bandages while the water heated.

  In the shower she was relieved that the water was able to get hot enough to sting. It helped wake her up as her skin grew more and more sensitive. She wondered how badly freaked out Xander, Shay and Zak were right now. They were probably panicked and Xander was definitely angry. She imaged his dark blue eyes narrowed and glowing with fury. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  She dressed in jeans a tee-shirt and sneakers and the clothes fit well enough she figured they must have been hers, even the shoes. She wondered whose clothes she had stolen when she escaped before and why she had needed someone else’s clothes. When she left the bathroom the bedroom door was open and she peered around it warily. Doc was sitting at the breakfast counter sipping from a large cup of coffee. The smell of the dark roast caused her stomach to growl loudly. Apparently, Doc was able to hear it from ten feet away. “I would offer you some but I need to draw some blood before you eat or drink anything.” Sydney didn’t answer, she just stood in the doorway staring at the tranq gun lying next to his breakfast bowl. “Don’t worry. It’s just a precaution. I won’t use it unless you force me to.”

  His assurance didn’t make her feel any better but she shrugged. She needed him to let his guard down and wanted him to think she wouldn’t try anything. “Let’s get this over with then. I’m not a very pleasant morning person until I get coffee.”

  “Completely understandable,” Doc smiled at her. “I’m the same way.” He stood, picking up the gun, and held a hand out towards the door that Sydney assumed lead downstairs. It was the door opposite her room. “After you.”

  Sydney swallowed her fear and crossed the cabin. There was another deadbolt that locked from the outside, but it wasn’t engaged and the door opened easily. The stairs beyond were narrow and turned sharply, making it impossible to see what was on the lower level without descending at least halfway. A lone, bare light bulb shone enough light that she wasn’t worried
about falling but she still hesitated. This was one of her greatest fears coming true. Going down the stairs would walk her into a lab of horrors and her self-preservation instinct was making it hard to take the first step.

  “Go,” Doc told her and she knew that if she didn’t move soon he would poke her in the back with the gun. If she was going to stay on his good side she needed to move.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled and took the first step.

  “It’s ok.”

  At the bend in the stairs she held her breath, not sure what she would see. The room was bright with a table directly in front of the stairs. There were several pieces of equipment that she knew were common to laboratories—according to TV—but she couldn’t have named them if asked. Other than the microscope, nothing was all that recognizable to her. When she stepped into the basement the rest of the room opened under the cabin. It was the nearly the size of the whole upper level and it was well lit. Two examination tables took up the majority of the space but on the far side of the basement there was an odd room that had clearly been added into the corner. It was made of rough, unfinished wood reinforced with metal beams and the metal door was bolted with two large deadbolts that could be engaged from the outside of the door.

  Until reaching the basement, Sydney had assumed that this cabin was just somewhere Doc had procured quickly to hold his captives. But she realized that if he had time to bring this equipment and build the room he had been here for a while. She wondered who was helping him and where they were. One person couldn’t move all of this equipment easily. And she had to assume he was doing it quietly considering people would wonder why this man needed such medical equipment in the middle of nowhere.

  “Please have a seat on the table.”

  Sydney jumped at the sound of his voice but moved towards the padded table. A thump drew her attention towards the makeshift room. “Who’s in there?”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.”

  She gritted her teeth, but complied. She climbed onto the table and studied the equipment around her. The tools were obviously old and not well cared for since they were chipped and scratched in places. The vinyl that covered the table was cracked and torn. The large machine next to them had several labels posted and she assumed they were precautionary but couldn’t know for sure because they seemed to be in Spanish. When Doc stepped in front of her, she tore her attention away from the machines.

  “Now then,” Doc said, sticking the gun in the front of his pants. “First I’m going to draw some blood. Are you squeamish about needles?”

  “I have no idea,” she answered, trying not to sound bitter.

  “Right,” he sounded fascinated. “You really don’t remember anything about your previous life?”

  “No.”

  Doc nodded mysteriously and retrieved a needle and some vials from a standing tray nearby. Looking at her he held up a long thin piece of rubber. “I’m going to wrap this around your arm and I’ll have to be close to draw a sample. I would like to think, in the interest of science, you won’t do anything that would make me need to hurt you. With either the needle, or the tranquilizers,” he nodded at the gun in the front of his pants.

  Of course Sydney nodded, but at the same time she considered her options and trying to attack a man who had a needle in her arm didn’t sound like a good one. Doc wrapped the tourniquet around her arm tight enough to hurt and she looked away when he came at her with the needle. She didn’t know if it would make her pass out, but she decided to not risk it. The piercing of the needle was enough to cause her to grimace, but it was over in a moment. As Doc filled several vials she continued to look around the room. Her damp hair and the chilly basement threatened to send her into shivers but she fought against them.

  “All done,” he said withdrawing the needle. “Hold this and elevate your arm.” He covered the puncture site with cotton and directed her hand into place then stepped away from her quickly. She held her arm high and could no longer stop herself from shaking with cold. When Doc noticed he apologized. “It is terribly cold down here. We’ll go upstairs soon. Next, I’m going to take your vitals.”

  Sydney stiffened, realizing he would need to get close enough to touch her. Doc noticed her reaction and hesitated. “I would like to mention that we are miles from another cabin and it is nearly freezing outside. Even if you incapacitated me, you wouldn’t be able to get to the keys of the van. They are locked in a safe. The keys to the locks on the cabin are also in the safe. And there are bars on all the windows.”

  Sydney swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a dry smile. “That’s not really up to fire code I guess?”

  Doc relaxed at her attempt at joking. “Probably not,” he smiled. “But we are in agreement?”

  “Sure.”

  “And you want answers anyway, right?”

  “Right.”

  Doc stepped close while sticking a stethoscope into his ears. He held up the end and breathed on it politely before reaching under the back of her shirt. She stiffened again and struggled to not bolt from the feel of his icy fingers against her bare back. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed. She must not have done a very good job because he had to ask her to do it several more times. Finally satisfied, he made some notes on a clipboard and stepped closer again.

  “This time I’m going to listen to your heart. That means I’m going to have to reach down the front of your shirt.”

  His easy going and friendly nature was irritating Sydney and it was taking a lot of effort to not snap at him. He had followed her. Brutally murdered someone in Xander’s garage. He had kidnapped her. Threatened her and her friend’s lives. Then, to listen to him be nice and considerate left her confused and unsure of herself. It was the worst kind of subterfuge because she had no idea how to act. “Fine,” she said barely above a whisper.

  While Doc had his hand in her shirt she tried to go to a happy place and forget what was happening. She thought about getting stoned with Shay. She remembered the stories that Don used to tell her. Obviously made up, but hilarious nonetheless. She thought about the first time she hung out with Xander, Zak and Shay and how it was the first time she felt like she belonged anywhere. She relived lying in bed for hours with Xander. It had been the happiest she felt since waking up next to the lake. She worked hard to concentrate on anything except Doc and his touching her.

  Finally, Doc extricated his hand from her shirt and moved away from her. She could be mistaken, but she could swear he looked embarrassed. He didn’t meet her eyes when he thanked her for cooperating. “OK. Now,” he let out a relieved breath. “I’d like to look at your eyes.”

  Sydney got the feeling this is what he had been waiting for. It was the way his breath quickened and he licked his lips nervously. “Sure,” she told him.

  “It...may hurt a little. I’m guessing you’ve had light sensitivity recently?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I’ll try to be quick. But if it does hurt, please try your best to hold still.”

  Sydney sighed. “OK.”

  Doc finally met her eyes, but in a cool and detached kind of way. Slowly, he raised a penlight and she could almost feel the tiny beam caress her cheek as he directed it towards her eye. When the light met her eye she yelped and jerked but managed to only move a little before meeting the burn of the pen again. Water leaked from her eye and she couldn’t see anything other a supernova of yellow light from her right eye. She hadn’t expected to have such a reaction and her feet wiggled and bounced as she fought to hold still. It was true that when her eyes were not dilating properly she was extra sensitive to light, but a light this close and bright was downright brutal.

  “One more to go,” Doc assured her and switched to her left eye.

  By the time she was done she had watery tears leaking down her face and she was effectively blind for several minutes. She could hear him moving around, but she couldn’t see anything other than blue and white stars against her eyelids. Slowly, images began
cutting through the blindness and she wiped her face clean.

  “Sorry about that. But it was necessary. I will try to not have to do it again.” When her vision cleared he was standing in front of her again. “OK. Now I have some questions. As do you. But we can go over those upstairs, where it’s warmer.”

  Xander

  By the time the sun had risen Xander, Shay and Zak still had not been able to come to a consensus on how to handle the situation. “The cops are a bad idea,” Xander said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Your girlfriend has been kidnapped and you don’t want to go to the police? What the hell is wrong with you?” Zak threw up his hands in exasperation. Shay sat quietly unwilling or unable to choose a side.

  “The police aren’t going to be able to help us,” Xander insisted.

  “Of course you would think that,” Zak muttered, sounding tired and frustrated.

  “What the hell does that mean?” he snapped.

  “You’re a fucking drug dealer!”

  “Hey!” Shay finally found her voice in defense of her brother.

  “I don’t recall you having a problem with that all the times you bought from me,” Xander growled.

  “Both of you just shut up,” Shay so rarely got angry that her rough voice stunned both of the men into silence. “This isn’t helping anyone. What would we tell the police if we called them?” she asked Zak.

  “That our friend has been kidnapped.”

  “And what evidence would we give them that she didn’t just leave of her own accord?” Xander asked.

  “She didn’t take any of her clothes for one!”

  “And how can we prove that?” Shay asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “And let’s say they do believe us that all her clothes are here. There is no sign of forced entry. No tire tracks near the cabin. Why would they believe she just left willingly—half naked?”

  “I don’t know,” Zak was sounding less convinced now.

 

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