I pulled her close again, and this time I really smelled the musk on her. I felt a wave of lust. It wasn’t overpowering, but I didn’t want to test myself. “I’m thirsty,” I said. Just having a bit of distance between us made it easier. I walked to the sink. It was as ancient as the rug by the bed, cracked and rusted. But the water was cool enough and clear. I washed my face. Laura’s scent was gone. The heavy feeling in my brain was easing. I could think more than one thought at a time now, glean more than one impression. But my only thought was that I wanted to kill them. I couldn’t seem to get beyond that and I knew I had to. We had to get out of here.
Laura stood up. “Did you walk away because the drug hit you again?”
“Yeah, but it’s better now. Don’t worry about me.” Then I shook my head and said, “No, forget that. If I start looking at you funny, or talking funny, anything that isn’t right, you get away from me, fast. If you can’t, knock me silly. Protect yourself. All right?”
She studied my face for a long time, then nodded. When she walked toward me, I took an outside route back to the bed. I said while she was cupping water in her hands, “We’ve got to figure out how to get out of this bloody room.”
We both looked at the one door, no windows.
“Do you think they’ll feed us?” I was starving, my stomach nearly beyond the growling stage, but that wasn’t the point. “If they bring us food, we’ll have a chance to get out of here.”
They fed us, not ten minutes later. The door simply unlocked, very quickly, and a young boy carrying two big plates in his skinny arms walked in. Behind him stood another man holding an AK-47 at the ready. He didn’t come into the room, just stood there in the doorway, aiming his weapon at my belly, watchful and ready.
I don’t even think I heard them close and lock the door. My eyes were on the food. There were stacks of soft tortillas and beans, strips of beef, and thick pepper-and-onion-filled potatoes. I was so hungry it tasted as good as anything I’d ever eaten.
They left a large pitcher of cold water. We drank the whole thing since the peppers were hotter than pitch. There wasn’t a bit of food left. Laura looked down at the empty plates and said, “I hope we don’t get sick from stuffing ourselves.”
“Not a pretty thought,” I said, remembering the Mon-tezuma’s revenge that had me dehydrated and ten pounds lighter a couple of years before when I’d been fishing off Cozumel. “One guy with an AK-47. I think we should move over by the door so that if he comes alone again, we’ll have a chance at the guy with the gun.”
Laura nodded. “There’s only this one skinny pillow and the blanket. I’ll mold them under the sheet. Maybe for an instant they’ll think we’re on the bed, asleep.”
We did that and stood back to look at our handiwork. “Not very good,” I said, “but hopefully it’ll work. Which side of the door would you like?”
I ended up on the side of the lock, Laura behind the door. She’d taken off the heavy porcelain toilet lid and held it against her chest.
“They must know that we won’t be sitting here idle,” she said. “They’ll expect us to try something. It’s even possible that they’re watching us even now.”
I’d thought the same thing. I got up and went over that small room, inch by inch. I didn’t see anything that remotely resembled a camera lens or a peephole. I sat back down. “I sure to God hope that Sherlock and Savich are all right.”
“Maybe Sherlock’s sitting by the door as we speak, a toilet lid hugged to her chest.”
We waited. For a very long time. We slept. We awoke early the next morning. My watch read about 6:30 A.M.
We took turns using the toilet and washing up. At exactly seven o’clock, we heard them coming.