“Enough of this,” Krysty said, willing her voice to sound as menacing as she could make it. She balled up one fist tightly and began to pound on the door.
Time for some answers.
ACROSS THE HALL from Krysty in Unit 2, Jak had been awake for the past two hours, glaring at the locked door that held him prisoner. There were no hinges to lift, no inside locks to pick. The ob glass in the door was unbreakable and thick, offering nothing but a cloudy view of a door labeled Unit 1.
A realist, Jak had determined he wasn’t going to be escaping through the door anytime soon. He’d turned his bed over in hopes of finding a bit of metal bedding he could use as a weapon, but the beds were of a single piece, cast in curved metal, with a soft mattress stuffed with foam pellets. The pillow was also self-contained, with no zippers or fasteners. Jak had used his teeth to tear it open, only to find more of the same foam pellets.
The end table was also a single piece of lightweight metal. The tabletop and drawer were empty and useless.
He climbed on the bed and managed to reach the Spartan light bulb gleaming overhead. He took off his pajama top and used it to protect his fingers from the heat, intending to unscrew the bulb…until he realized doing so would plunge him into near darkness. Jak decided that would be a pointless endeavor, and he stepped back down to the floor and shrugged back into his nightclothes.
The pajamas were another reason he was in such a foul mood. Jak hadn’t been pleased to find his clothing and weapons taken from him. No Colt Python. No throwing knives. No boots. He was dressed in a pair of deep burgundy pajamas.
Jak was miserable. He despised being closed in.
So he lay on his bed, a few of the stray foam pellets spilling out from where he had torn open the pillow, and sulked.
Until he heard Krysty’s pounding.
That caught his interest. He hadn’t thought of knocking to announce himself.
Jak got to his feet and pounded on the wall of his room.
AS KRYSTY HAD INTENDED, others also heard the strident thumping from Unit 1, which was soon joined by identical sounds from Unit 2. At the end of the hallway, hidden from the line of vision the secluded units allowed their inhabitants, sat a man behind a desk.
The man at the end of the walkway thumbed a comm button and spoke into a walkie-talkie he wore on a belt around his waist.
“Both of the visitors are now awake,” he said into the device. “The sedatives kept them under for the forty-eight hours, as you requested.”
“I had research to do,” a resonant bass voice responded. “I’ll be right there.”
WITHIN FIVE MINUTES, Krysty’s ploy had succeeded in getting her door opened. Two men entered.
One was the same who had first heard her and used the comm unit. The man was now wearing a vest adorned with an array of small gadgets and ammunition. He was carrying an AK-47 in one beefy hand, and Krysty had no doubt the man knew how to use it.
The second person to enter the room was the one the sec man summoned, obviously a leader from the dress and demeanor. The man was well built, large and handsome in a self-assured way.
“Ah, our mermaid has come back to us. How do you feel, my dear?” the lead man asked in a professional tone.
“Thirsty,” Krysty rasped.
“I imagine so. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days.”
“Two days?” Krysty cried.
“You were given a sedative when you arrived. It was decided complete bed rest was the best cure for your ordeal.”
A third man came into the room carrying a metal tray. On the tray was a plastic pitcher of water and a matching cup.
“This isn’t the finest in wine, but I think water is what you need to get into your system now,” the leader said.
For a fleeting second, Krysty wondered if any drugs might have been added to the water, but then discarded the thought. If that was true, so be it. So far, no one had harmed her. In fact, it looked as though they only wanted to help.