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“Can I have the same thing as I had yesterday?”
“It was the day before yesterday but who’s counting? Fruit and yogurt and pastries?”
“Yes. Please. It was lovely. And pineapple. Do you have a pineapple?”
“Sure. What about the sausage?”
I grip his balls and squeeze. At least until his eyes widen.
I tell him, “Maybe I’ll have some when you get back.”
Trying to remember how long it took the Mastermind last time to get the tray of breakfast together for me, I’m hoping that chopping a pineapple will add to the time the Warrior needs to get it all ready.
That was straight after I came to, though. They could have spent a lot of time talking about it out of the room.
Whatever. I grab some canvas camo pants, an olive tee-shirt and a cotton shirt, and a jacket to match the pants. I pull on thick woolen socks and the heaviest shoes I can find. the pants are sturdy and they’ve got big pockets. They’re also way too big, but I find a belt that will keep them up. Just about.
A matching camo ball cap completes the look.
With no idea what I’m headed into, I wish I could see some gloves and a scarf, but I can’t afford to wait any longer. I don’t even know whether the windows will open yet.
Playing my Warrior for a sucker makes me feel bad but he is keeping me prisoner here. I almost forget to take my little friend from the nightstand drawer. As I slip it into the generous pants pocket, I can’t stop myself wondering how I came to be so familiar with the operation of an automatic handgun.
Stepping quickly to the windows, I noticed earlier that the ground slopes away, so I head to the near corner. Without even switching the windows from dark to clear, I try the catch. There’s a flat, rectangular button. I press it. It goes in and it feels right.
The window doesn’t move.
I feel for something to slide or disengage. Another part of the handle. While I’m squeezing and fumbling around, I realize that I’m pushing the glass the wrong way. I press and push again. The floor to ceiling window pane slides open effortlessly.
There’s a ledge a few inches wide. And I’m treated to a thick pale mist and a light shower of freezing rain.
I thought about pulling some scarves off the closets and knotting them, but I couldn’t think what to tie them to. I considered the bedsheets, too, but with the same problem. I’m just going to crouch down, swing out over the ledge, and drop to the ground.
It can’t be more than a few feet. I’ll be fine.
The ledge is wet and slippery. Looking down as I lower myself over, the drop seems a lot more scary than I expected. As I’m clambering out, keeping as firm a grip as I can on the ledge and letting myself down, I’m afraid my fingers, my hands and my arms are still too weak.
The cold rain is light, but it’s already making rivulets down my face and in past the collar of my shirt.
I was out and unconscious for too long. My body is just not physically up to this. I decide to clamber back up while I still can. I swing my leg up to get my heel on the ledge. My hand slips off. I’m swinging from one hand. Feeling like my arm is going to come out of my shoulder.
The drop looks huge now. The ground is uneven. It was less of a drop farther along. I try to catch the ledge with my free hand. I swing. And miss. I swing again. I’m panicking, looking into the lower part of the house. It’s the kitchen.
My Warrior is at the window.
He’s looking straight out at me.
My fingers slip and I drop.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My heel connects with the uneven ground first, and straight away it slips out and away from under me. My other foot lands, but I can’t balance. I topple into the middle of a stiff shrub. I roll sideways from there, over twigs and rough scrub, half rolling half stumbling into a wet, thorny bush.
I feel like my ankle twisted. Putting my arms out as I fight for balance, I lurch and sway. Then I go over and land on my back in the bush.
The only small mercy is that I’m down below the kitchen window, so the Warrior can’t see me from there. Since he spotted me inelegantly dangling like a broken stick insect or amateur hour on the trapeze, though, I know that I need to get moving and gone.
Or maybe he can see me. Through the mist, the winking lights of a tiny drone flash directly overhead.
