Page 35 of Her Magic Light

I opened my eyes to darkness and a tongue that had been coated in sandpaper in the night. When I swallowed, it didn’t help. My body ached. Had I been run over by a semi, too? I shifted in my narrow bed and rolled off, landing on a hard floor. Sleeping on the g’awful cot-joke-for-bed-thing had turned me into a walking crick in the neck. At least I wasn’t wearing handcuffs anymore. I’d managed to keep myself unshackled for now.

“Ow. Shit.” I rubbed my sore hip as the rest of my memories of the previous day rushed back.

Suited men in sunglasses, a huge building, and dark.

So much dark. Now trapped in a cell.

A scuffling noise came from beyond the partition and I instinctively made myself smaller and less of a target. When the noise stopped, I lifted my head and waited before peering around the partition.

Low level lights shone in the corridor outside, enough to illuminate something new in my room. Not room. Jesus Christ.It’s a jail cell!NowIwas thinking it was like a hotel. Damn Coop and hisaccommodation.

I crept forward. The tray beckoned, the aroma of some sort of food drifting toward me. Well, possibly food. I couldn’t be sure. Maybe something that a group of people considered passed asfood, anyway. Whatever opening someone had pushed it through into the cell wasn’t visible. Probably hidden the same way they hid the doors all over ‘The Facility.’

As I approached the window, the light in the corridor flickered out, plunging me back into gloom. It was like the lights had sensed my presence. I missed the Sweetwater sunshine, the sound of the beach, the warmth, and the happiness stemming from it all. The obsession with keeping me in the dark, figuratively andliterally, perplexed me. Why? What did it matter?

I reached for the food tray, hooking the edge more by luck than judgment and dragged it across the floor toward myself. What fresh hell had been served up on the institution tray?

I patted my hand across the contents. Something greasy and bread-like, something greasy and meat like, and something greasy and rubber-like. I had some sort of version of eggs, sausage patty, and toast, perhaps. I pushed the tray away. I didn’t want it.

But my stomach gurgled. Part of me wanted it. How long had it been since I’d eaten? Since before the kidnapping… I scowled. No, since before work. Had I even had breakfast the day before? Painting… remembering I needed to go to work… coffee… I wasn’t sure.

With a sigh, I hooked the tray and drew it back. There was a drink on here I hadn’t noticed. A swallow or two would help sort out my scratchy throat and sweaty-sock tongue. I used it to help get some of the cardboard food down, too.

The latch on my door clanged, and I pushed my tray away. I jumped to my feet and held my hands out like I might karate chop someone. I’d suck at it, but the chance to vent some frustration would have been a fine thing. Though, the closest I’d ever come to learning karate was watching old movies where the underdog usually triumphed.

“Good night?” Coop’s hushed tone filled my cell. He really was a different man in here.

I shook my head then remembered he couldn’t see so I scoffed instead. “In here? You must be kidding me.” Only… was I lying? I’d slept great after being put to sleep by the blue light guy, actually. Woken up confused and achy but not tired.

I had bundles of energy now. So, maybe not bundles but enough to get on with whatever I’d been dragged here for.

“Come on. We need to get upstairs.” Coop exited the cell as he spoke, and I followed him.

I eased out and crept over the threshold, surprised he wasn’t cuffing me or handing me a pair of blinder sunglasses. We walked along gloomy corridors lined with cell after cell, and many of them had a face pressed up against the glass. I tried not to meet anyone’s eyes. I didn’t know where the whispers had come from the previous night.

The lights flickered out for me the same way as they had the precious night, drenching me in darkness as I passed beneath each bulb and only lighting up again once I was too far to see anything in the glow.

I suspected the light fixtures had to have someone controlling them, maybe someone observing through a live video feed. The idea that the lights sensedmeand shut themselves off didn’t make any sense. They didn’t go dark for any other people I’d met. But I also suspected the darkness wasn’t as simple as mental warfare shit. Somehow, they felt like the darkness made them safer when I was around. This reasoning still left me in the middle of a case of mistaken identity.

I glanced to the side. Coop walked closer to me than he had the previous day, turning his head to every cell we passed as if he could see the occupants within. When we finally stopped, we faced an empty wall, but he didn’t place his hand on it anywhere. Instead, there was a rustle of fabric, and he found my hand then pressed something into my palm.

“Put these on,” he commanded.

I closed my hand briefly around the sunglasses before settling them into place on my face. My shoulders drooped.Damn. So much for the freedom of no shades. But I’d do anything to avoid a repeat of yesterday—anything to reach whoever was running this place. At least this pair didn’t seem as dim as yesterday’s pair.

The elevator door swooshed open, and, suddenly, I could almost see clearly. There was light in here, although it was muted by my shades. I stood quietly by Coop. I had nothing to say, but he kept glancing at me like he had something on his mind.

Just as he opened his mouth, the elevator doors parted. I imagined the corridor beyond was stark white, but the sunglasses dimmed my actual impression of the space. As with everywhere else I’d seen, there was no furniture, and this area smelled almost… medical.

“Am I in the hospital wing?” My nose twitched at the familiar antiseptic odor.

He didn’t answer. He remained half a step ahead of me as he walked briskly down the hallway. His shoes struck the smooth, hard floor in rapid staccato rhythm, and I hurried to keep up.

“Where are we going?”

But he was back to his non-talkative self. He stopped in front of a door then knocked and waited. At least this one wasn’t hidden in a wall. At some signal from inside, he lowered the door handle and pushed it open, ushering me inside first.

The room contained a desk with a computer, an examination table, and various pieces of medical equipment. A tiny niggle of concern stirred my stomach, and the sausage patty puck of worry turned into a boulder in my middle.

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