Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
What it doesn't do is leave me alive.
There's literally no way to survive this.
"Can I have a little time to think about it?" I ask, praying these idiots are confident enough in the security of their compound that they let me go back to the cabin so I can contact Casper.
Maybe there's still a chance Zeus hasn't been confronted yet, and they can intercept him.
It would really suck if we both had to die over this.
"Sure," Bobby says.
He smiles when I can't hide the shock on my face, but in the next breath, I'm literally snatched from the chair by two of the three goons and dragged from the room, Bobby's laughter following us all the way down the hallway.
Anyone who sees me being dragged through the compound won’t offer to help. Every person I look at turns their head and scurries away as if they might be next if they interfere. Several men don't even spare us a passing glance, as if what's happening to me is so common around here that it's no longer a new sight to them.
Despite knowing there's no reason to keep looking around and committing the layout to memory, my mind keeps doing exactly what I was sent here to do. I file away every turn, every symbol on the buildings we pass. Maybe it's my mind's way of helping me out because hysteria isn't going to save me either.
Things quickly grow unfamiliar. These guys are taking me to a place I haven't had access to. The third goon takes a few steps ahead, getting the door to a building unlocked quickly enough that the guys dragging me don't even have to pause.
I wince in pain when my feet thump against each step as they carry me down a flight of stairs. Of course, these bastards would serve their justice in a fucking basement bunker of some kind. I guess knowing what's going to happen to someone and actually hearing it are two very different things.
I fight against them when they drop me into a chair and attempt to tie me up, but my two fists against their four meaty ones are no use.
I smile, the taste of blood pooling in my mouth.
"Why are you so fucking happy?" one guy asks, getting so low and in my face that I can smell the fucking macaroni salad he had for lunch on his breath.
I spit a mouthful of blood in his face, fully expecting him to rage his anger at the insult out on me.
He stands, using a hand to swipe at the blood. He stares at the redness marking his palm for a long second before giving me a disbelieving look.
I know what he's going to say before the homophobic shit comes out of his mouth.
"Guess you have AIDS now, motherfucker." I spit another mouthful of blood at his feet, chuckling maniacally when he jumps back.
The fucking stereotype that anyone who isn't heterosexual has AIDS chaps my ass.
"Did he spit on you?" one of the other goons asks as he looks down at the man's blood-stained hand with the same horror the guy it's marking is.
When the guy looks at him, the new arrival takes a step back as if he's contagious, and there's nothing fucking worse than the threat of contraction.
"Go fucking wash," the third guy snaps. "Hurry."
I don't give them a fucking science lesson, I simply smile a bloody smile at them, daring any of them to get within range.
"Okay," one says. "We can play that fucking game."
They disappear into another room, and I do the only thing I can. I fight against my restraints and take in every single fucking detail I can on the off chance that I'll ever see the light of day again.
When they come back into the room, looking like characters from a pandemic outbreak movie, I realize they're better prepared than I expected.
"First, we're going to beat every fucking ounce of information out of you," one says as he steps forward, breath fogging up the plastic on his PPE hood.
"Then," the second one continues, holding up a fucking syringe filled with a horrific amount of golden liquid. "We're going to shoot you up."
"That's where the real fun begins," the third one says, only it's not the goon I had spit on speaking.
Scott's voice echoes around the room, and when I look in his direction, my left eye is already swelling from fighting against them. I realize that things can actually get much worse.
"Fuck," I mutter.
So much for dying with dignity.
Chapter 36
Zeus
We're less than ten minutes from the compound, and every fucking mile seems like a hundred.
My knee is bobbing up and down, fingers tapping on my thigh.
There's a sense of fucking urgency inside of me that's fighting the urge to knock the fucking guy behind the wheel out so I can drive, even if it only gets us there a minute or two faster.