by Lara LaRue
“Could I have a glass of water? And maybe something for this headache? I think they tossed me around a bit and bumped my head against something. It sure hurts.” This was the only one of the men whose sympathies I might gain. I needed to work him.
Without glancing over, he nodded briskly. “I’ll be bringing you food shortly. I’ll have it then.”
He escorted me back to the storage room where I’d started out, and then left me. I was pleased to note I hadn’t needed to lean on him to get back to the room. I surveyed the hallway as we progressed. Other than it looking remarkably like the corridors of the Children’s Ward, I couldn’t see any maps, windows, or exit signs. Maybe it was underground.
Cold and Crazy Man each gave a flourish over a straight-backed chair, “Your throne, Queen of the Aliens.”
I didn’t trust his intentions, but I sat anyway. It was better than the floor. Cleve tied my legs back to the chair, and my waist as well, but let me keep my bound hands in front of me to eat. As he did so, I noticed he left a lot more wiggle room than whoever had tied me up before.
Once he was done, the only sane one of the three turned and left, presumably to get my food and water. Being alone with the other two men made me so uneasy that I barely kept myself from shouting after him. Left alone with Crazy and Cold, I watched their every move.
They went and stood by a tower of boxes and exchanged words. I didn’t catch much, although I strained to hear what I could. To cover my spying on them, I slumped down in the chair and picked at the folds of my skirt.
Cold was only worried about identification and getting out of here. Crazy had some kind of agenda. He wanted the aliens to leave without any human women and never return. He’d repeated that several times.
I kept playing with the fabric of my dress and looked around the space. Stacks of boxes, bins, and tubs filled the room. There were haphazard pathways through the mounds, but I couldn’t determine any sort of organization. Great, it’s a damn maze, and I bet they know their way around.
Cleve chose that moment to return with a tray in his hands. The tray looked just like a hospital meal tray I got at the Medical Ward. He pushed up a crate in front of my chair and set the tray on top of it.
True to his word, there was a full glass of water and a bottle for refilling. A covered plate sat in the middle of the tray. Next to the water, a very small plastic bowl held two white capsules. I looked at them, and then looked at him curiously.
He jerked his head toward the pills. “For your head. I’ll take the tray back in fifteen minutes. Eat up.” Cleve moved over to join the other two men.
Immediately, he was assailed with comments about “futility” and “wasted time” from Cold and more propaganda from Crazy. They were both pathetically broken, irrational people, so much so that I wondered how they had conned Cleve into putting up with them. It was so messed up that I would have found it hilarious if I weren’t at the mercy of these wackos.
With a roll of my eyes, I lifted the cover from the plate. Plain, typical clinic fare greeted me. Green beans, mashed potatoes with watery, bright-yellow margarine, baked chicken—all quite tasteless and needing seasoning.
This really did remind me of Center institution food—the stuff I had gotten used to, growing up in the Children’s Ward, and later, staying in the Medical Ward. A notion struck me, and I ate slowly, taking in every detail I could from my environment. How far did they actually take me?
I finished my meal and took the pain relievers. Hopefully, between the food and the capsules, my headache would go away. Well, my physical headache. The psychological headaches of Crazy and Cold were staring at me again, and a couple of pills wouldn’t make them go away.
In a belligerent tone, I snapped at them, “What?” I wasn’t going to be polite to men who wouldn’t untie me to pee or to eat.
“We have to contact your keepers to let them know our terms,” Crazy said. “I’m just not real sure what to do with you until then.” He stalked over to where I sat.
“Give her to me,” Cold said, in such a disgustingly gleeful voice that I would have shot him in a second to keep his creepy ass away from me. “We can make an example of her.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarled defiantly at the sociopathic little shit. “Do have a problem with all women or just me?”
“Only those with tainted blood!” Cold spat with all the blind vehemence of a racist.
“Do you think my sister had tainted blood?” Cleve’s voice was very calm, and for a moment, even colder than his associate’s.
Cold hesitated, some of the color leaving his face as he switched from bully to coward for a split second. “No, of course not. I-I won’t speak badly of the dead.”
“A real prince among men,” I scoffed, and he shot me a hateful look that should have terrified me, but I refused to cower.
Cleve stepped over and took up the tray. He pushed my makeshift table back to its place amongst the other crates. “I say just let her sit quietly in the background while you live-stream. It’ll show that she’s alive and unharmed, Dashon.” His jaw was set, as if he was resisting the urge to yell at them more, then he left the room.
Crazy’s real name must be Dashon. I filed that away for future reference.
Crazy meanwhile started ranting at me again. “Really, you should be grateful. We rescued you from being taken away from Earth by aliens to be part of a breeding program. You have no idea what they’re like in private. Those aliens probably killed all their own women. What do you think they will do to you?”
“They didn’t force me. It was voluntary, and, actually, I got paid to be part of this experiment and the Peace Program.” I found myself using my most patronizing tone, but I figured they deserved it. “You kidnapped me. You are my captors. And you need to let me go!”
Cold bustled up to me, shoving his face level with mine. “Shut your damn mouth, bitch! Answer only if we ask you a question, and we haven’t. Disgusting. Getting paid to be with aliens. You’re their filthy whore, that’s what you are.”
“How dare you?” I acted without thinking, lunging at him in a rage, throwing my whole weight against the ropes. They creaked and started slipping a little, letting me stand partway. I slammed my tied hands across his face, catching his cheek with my nails at the same time. He howled with pain.
I hit him again as I yelled at him, “You watch your mouth! What’s your problem with me…with women? You can’t get a date, so you want to blame aliens for stealing us all? There were only five of us, and none of us would have fucked you even if you were the last man on earth!” As I readied my arms to swing back for a third blow, I was caught around the waist from behind. The one I called Crazy grabbed the back of my chair and hauled me backward. I kicked and used my elbows to try to hit his ribs, but I smacked my upper arm into the chairback instead. He tried to get his hand around my throat, I bit down hard on the webbing, and he yelled and stumbled back from me in shock.
“You fucking tramp!” Cold came at me purple-faced, with fire in his eyes. I must have hit a nerve or several.
Just as Cold got within arm’s reach of me, he swung his arm back to hit me. I kicked free of the loosened ropes on one side and slammed the toe of my shoe right into his groin. He stopped, bent over, and clutched his balls. Not bothering to kick free of the ropes around my other leg, I threw my roped-together arms around his neck and lifted myself out of my chair slightly to slam him in the balls again. He let out a high whine of pain and went limp. I used my free leg to keep kicking him as he fell at my feet, until his eyes showed nothing but whites.
Crazy recovered and grabbed my shoulders, slamming me down into the chair hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I sat dazed just long enough for him to get extra bits of cord and tie my ankles tightly to the chair legs. I caught my breath as he was looping cord through my elbows and around the chairback. I wasn’t going to be able to move.
“Son of a bitch!” I yelled. “Untie me. Let me go.” I renewed my
struggles. “Bastard. I hope you fry. I’m going to the authorities as soon as I’m out of here, and they’ll waive the trial and shoot you. I know you’ll fry in hell.”
“Enough!” Crazy shoved a gag into my mouth and tied it around my head. “I don’t want to hear any more of your shit, lady.”
Cleve walked in on the chaos and blinked, taking in all the details. He must have been able to piece it together to his satisfaction because he didn’t ask questions. “C’mon, Al,” he said to the collapsed asshole, who was slowly recovering on the floor. “Let’s get you some ice for your nuts before you have to go put on your uniform and clock in at the station.” He looked at Crazy seriously. “Dashon, don’t hurt her. That’s not what we agreed on when we planned this. Let’s just get this done, and let her go.” He once again helped a limping person from the room, but this time, I watched in satisfaction at the slow progress they made. I hoped Cold spent the rest of the day puking his guts out.
“Ugh, what a Boy Scout.” Crazy rolled his eyes and addressed me, that smirk still frozen on his face, “Okay, Miss Foul-Mouth, we’re going to go ahead and let those government fucks and their alien buddies know what we want. Then we’ll decide what to do about you.”
I stared at him coldly, unable to speak intelligibly with the damned gag shoved between my teeth.
“After that stunt, Al’s going to be even more determined to kill you than he was before, just so you know. Maybe you should be nicer to him.” Crazy walked over to a stack of crates just across from where I was sitting and placed a portable monitor on top of it. He tapped a few controls on its screen and then stood waiting. After pulling his black mask back over his head, he put his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels, humming some tuneless melody.
Nicer to him? Sure, I won’t. I watched him closely, but I kept pulling at my bonds, hoping to find a weak spot. I couldn’t see what was on the screen, but I could hear Geoffrey’s voice loud and clear through the unit. “Transmission commencing.”
Before Crazy could even start talking, I heard a voice that made a part of me melt, even while it gave me strength. I couldn’t even begin to figure out why Raevu’s voice affected me so much. I shook the feeling away and focused only on escaping my bonds.
“The mask does you no good,” Raevu’s commanding voice barked.
Crazy snatched off his mask and sneered at the communicator. What followed was less a hostage negotiation as a furious butting of heads between Crazy and Raevu. Crazy was outmatched by a lot. Literally, the only advantage he had was the gun to my head. I seriously doubted it would be enough to force Raevu and his people to leave the planet. Raevu’s disgusted response reassured me he would find me, and when he did, these fuckers’ heads would roll, and I would be free.
Meanwhile, I was tied up so tight, I was immobilized and mute. As far as I was concerned, Raevu couldn’t get here fast enough.
Crazy, eyes watering still and nostrils rimmed with blood, punched a control on his wristband to shut down the communication and snapped, “Just stay there for now. Maybe Cleve will help you in a minute.
“Fucking cunt. Al’s right. We may just ‘release’ you the way he wants us to. That’ll show everyone we mean business.” He stared at me, and then smirked and pulled out a knife. I froze for a moment, but all he did was slide the blade between the gag strap and my cheek, cutting the band with a swift jerk of his wrist.
I spat out the gag and stared at him, sick of wasting words on someone this bullheaded and crazy. But right now, words were about my only weapon. “If you let me go and run, you might be able to get away before he finds you and cuts your hands and dick off for groping me.” I caught a flicker of fear burning through the crazy in his eyes, and then his face collapsed into a petulant scowl.
“We should kill you just to spite him.” He stomped out of the room and left me tied to the chair.
I took deep calming breaths to rid myself of the anger and try to clear my head. I was alone. This was my best opportunity to escape, but first, I had to get myself untied.
Chapter 8
Eva
Crazy might have tied me to the chair extra tightly, but he hadn’t stopped to fix Cleve’s work before stomping out. The rope around my hands and forearms was definitely loose—so loose that I wondered if he wasn’t intentionally giving me the chance to escape. I twisted and finally snaked one hand free of the mass of ropes around my wrist.
My shoulder popped painfully as I twisted it and my arm until I could pull it free of the loop around my elbow. Shaking the loose ropes off my other arm, I rubbed the burns my efforts had made on my wrists. Having my hands free made it easy enough to shimmy out of the straps tying my arms to the chair, and from there, it was short work to free my feet. I slipped off my heels so I could move as silently as possible.
I wouldn’t be able to skirt any cameras in the corridors, but if I was where I thought I was, the lunatic men didn’t have access to those camera feeds anyway. I just needed to be quiet enough to get away from them. I had wondered why they had access to the Center’s systems, let alone their secure inner corridors. Now I had a strong suspicion about it. If I was right, I wouldn’t have to run far to be free.
I took the bottle of water Cleve had left for me, figuring it’d be a good resource both for thirst and as a weight if I needed extra power behind a punch. I crept to the door, cracked it open, and peeked both ways down the hall. All clear. That’s weird. But it only strengthened my suspicions that Cleve might be trying to help me without risking a confrontation with his unstable companions. Who was he? He seemed so normal compared to his partners. What drama had driven him to join up with terrorists?
Whatever. If he was deliberately looking the other way on his guard shift while I took off, I had to take advantage. I could wonder about his motives when I was safe.
Moving as quickly as I could, I chose to go away from the bathroom. The corridor ended in blind corners either way I went, so I had to get around a bend as soon as possible. I knew there was a possibility I’d walk straight into one of the three men during my escape, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try.
It felt like an eternity passed before I made it past the four doors that led down to the corner. Once around the corner, I looked for an exit sign or another turn or juncture. I figured the more corners between my captors and me, the better.
Four random twists later, I finally spotted an exit sign. It looked like a beacon of hope to me. I knew that right now I was running on an adrenaline high and would soon be crashing, so I had to get to somewhere safe, fast.
I had begun passing people about two corridors back. I had hidden from them at first, but soon I realized they barely paid any attention to me. I still didn’t know where I was, so I didn’t call out to any of them for help.
When I spotted an odd look or two thrown my way, I realized I was still carrying my shoes, and my face and hair were torn up. I stopped briefly to slip on my shoes and smooth my hair. Nothing I could do about the split lip but keep my head down when I passed people. So I did, praying none of them was in league with the men who had kidnapped me.
The exit door truly felt like liberation as I walked through it—and caught sight of a familiar plaza. I was right! I’d never left the Center. Those men had hidden me in a storeroom in the Center basement. I knew exactly where I was.
I walked straight into a crowd and attempted to blend in. Now no one would give my roughed-up face a second glance. I needed to decide where to go and how to hide. I couldn’t go to Ivy’s flat. The radicals probably knew I lived there, and it would be watched and searched.
I was a bit concerned about Cleve’s comment to Cold Al about putting on “his uniform” and clocking in “at the station.” Could Cold Al be a police officer or Center security? If he was, this would be very difficult. I couldn’t turn myself over to the authorities. I might just be handing myself back to my kidnappers. And the remarks about “being determined to kill you” and “releasing you t
he way he wants to” scared the shit out of me.
No, I couldn’t go to the authorities. I’d have to be strategic. For now, though, I needed to get somewhere safe, but where was safe?
Two places immediately came to mind, Gino’s and Laura’s. Gino’s was a restaurant. A little hole-in-the-wall family place that only stayed in business because the neighborhood locals loved it so much. I helped out waiting tables for Gino if his daughter, Val, needed extra hands or had waitstaff call in sick. I’d never officially worked there, so my name wasn’t on any of the payrolls. That was good. I was not officially associated with it, so no one would look for me there.
I took stock of my surroundings and changed directions to head to Gino’s. On foot, I’d be getting there right before closing. Perfect timing. Calling Laura would be my next step.
Laura was just my age. She would have volunteered for the experiment if it hadn’t been for Amber, her daughter by a teenage crush. Said teenage crush didn’t want anything to do with fathering a child, so Laura was on her own. Amber was the most sweet-natured child I’d ever met, always smiling and happy. Her “dad” was missing out, but Laura was blessed.
I was too. Laura was wonderful, the best friend I could ever hope for. We joked periodically that if either of us decided to be interested in women, we’d turn to one another. I loved them both dearly. Next to Ivy and the kids, they were the closest I had to family.
Just in case cameras were tracing me, I slipped into the alley behind Gino’s place. I skulked down the alley, keeping to the shadows. At the rear delivery door, I paused and listened to make out if anything unusual was going on. All I could hear was the normal bustle and hubbub of a restaurant near closing time. I stepped in and appraised the activities throughout the large room.
Tall, big-eared Franco was desperately trying to make sure all of his desserts looked perfect before the waitstaff grabbed them and toted them out to tables. Black-haired twins Dmitri and Alfonse were cleaning their knives and other utensils, taking advantage of a lull up front. Waitstaff and busboys were frantically scuttling in and out through the constantly moving service doors. Normality. I sighed with relief and leaned back against the door.