Page 132 of Evil Bones
Blood?
I reoriented the same hand to explore my surroundings and encountered shallow water atop concrete.
The movement triggered pressure on my ankles.
I tried lifting a foot.
Felt a pull at my wrists.
Dear God!
I was trussed like a pig, my limbs bound and tied to each other!
Twisting and hyper-flexing one wrist downward, I tested again with my fingertips.
Ropes! Triple-wrapped and knotted!
Panicky, I tugged with both arms and both legs as much as the bindings allowed.
Water sloshed.
The putrid stink intensified.
Nausea threatened anew.
I settled back, panting and struggling for recall.
My brain was incapable of forming a meaningful synapse.
Lying motionless to thwart the vomit, I shifted my focus to sensory input.
My nose took in funk, mud, and damp cement.
My ears registered an echoey hollowness suggesting an enclosed space.
Was I in a basement? A cave? A vault?
A crypt?
My heartbeat ratcheted up at the thought.
My thoughts skittered like free radicals in my battered skull.
Tears threatened. I fought them down.
Think!
Slowly, memory bytes began to assemble.
The missing cat. The oppressive heat. The hedge. Danielle Hall.
How much time had passed since that conversation?
Was I still at the Annex?
If I was elsewhere, how had I gotten here?
Where washere?
