Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Guard’s coming. Better get moving.”
The nameless prisoner prompts me into action. I move at his suggestion, slipping down the hall to stand behind the hinged side of the door. The prisoner’s intel was accurate. I can already hear the heavy boots of a jail guard moving toward the door. I wonder if there was a camera on my cell. I wonder if Avel is keeping an eye on me from afar. They’ve got to have some kind of monitoring, right?
“Hey! Prisoner guy!” I hiss-whisper down the hall.
“Yes?”
“Do they have cameras here?”
“No.”
The second the answer returns to me, the door swings open, damn near catching me in the face. I am so much shorter and smaller than all the creatures this facility was designed for, and that means that I can be taken out by a carelessly opened door if I am not paying attention.
There’s a moment of opportunity in which the guard steps through the door, and the door is not quite closed yet. I slip around the door and out into the other hall, which leads to the guard area and the reception and then the door that leads to the outside.
I do not fuck around with sneaking. I bolt like the wind, slamming into the exit door as quickly as I can. I need the momentum to overcome the inertia of the large portal. I feel the weight of it against me, pressing back before giving way and swinging open. Bursting out onto the night street, I make a dash for the red box across the road, pushing the paper inside it, and fulfilling my end of the deal.
I know I can’t stay here out in the open. I’ll be recaptured in minutes, if not seconds. I can guarantee the guard already knows I’ve escaped. He’ll be raising the alarm. I need to get under cover quickly.
I look around for some kind of option. Running won’t cut it. Though maybe I’ll zip through the streets and lose them through the buildings.
I start running.
As I do, I hear the squeal of vehicle tires and shouts behind me. There’s no time to stop and decide if it is about me or not. I just run harder. Faster. But there’s footsteps coming up behind me in the silent sprint of a predator. True hunters do not yell warnings or snarl in anticipation. They chase and they catch.
This is what happens to me.
Once I was spotted, there was never any chance of getting away. The footsteps behind me cover more than twice the ground mine do. This escape attempt has been for nothing. I can only imagine what Avel will do when…
“FUCK!”
I scream the word as someone grabs me roughly. My first instinct is to assume that it’s Avel, but the hands that hold me aren’t as careful as his. When Avel grabs me, there is a thoughtfulness which ensures he doesn’t hold me in a terribly awkward way that will damage me. Whatever has me now has no such qualms.
I catch sight of a reddish orange tail swishing just as I am shoved into a big sack. Thick hessian-type fabric wraps around me. Adrenaline makes me gasp for breath, and the thick cloth up against my face makes breathing feel almost impossible.
I am handled roughly, dragged through dark saurian streets as if I mean nothing to the creature who has captured me. The bag is thrown into the back of something that moves. Because I can’t see where I am, I end up hitting the ground of the vehicle at an awkward angle, my knee and elbow hitting the floor painfully. I curse inside the bag and hear a laugh in return.
Goddamn it. Out of the pan and into the fucking fire.
Being captured this way is a whole fucking different deal from being caught by Avel. He’s careful, methodical, and most of all, honorable. Whoever has me right now is none of those things. The transport sets off at high speed. I am thrown around the back of what has to be a van, judging by the amount of space I roll back and forth around every time there’s a corner.
“You fucking animals, let me go!” I snarl from the interior of the bag, fighting to try to get the neck open. It’s no good. If I had a knife or if I was wearing my usual suit, I’d have a dozen ways to get out of this thing, but without tools, I’m basically helpless.
They’re not listening. I don’t think there’s anyone in the back with me at all. If there was, they might be able to steady me with a boot or something. Instead, I am an unsecured load, left to brace myself against the unexpected turns and try to keep from getting my head hit.
We must be in the middle of the city, judging by how frequent the turns are, and how relatively smooth the road is. I try to map the route mentally, but it’s bloody distracting to be beaten up by the interior of vehicle.