Page 55 of Only Human in Strangeville

Something rustled, and I turned around just in time to hear a quiet pop and feel a sting. I knew what had happened, even as I tried to protest. Tranq guns were all well and good in movies, but in real life they were a terrible idea to use on people.

My vision blurred and my limbs went numb, and I fell to my knees before I could drop Nimbus. Shouts and the sounds of fighting chased me into darkness, my last thought on how badly I’d failed my cloud puppy and desperately hoping he’d wake up and run before he could be captured.

The raging headache let me know I was awake instead of in some sort of nightmare. My mouth felt like cotton, and the rest of me felt gripped in some sort of sleep paralysis.

The last time I’d dealt with the traffickers, they’d not known I was on to them, and that I was working with the feds to get them taken down. I hadn’t had to deal with this side of things, other than learning a thing or two about what I could do to stay alive until I was rescued.

I stifled a groan and tried to look around. Was I tied? Or still affected by the tranquilizer. I couldn’t make out shapes, but I also couldn’t move my hands to touch my face and see if I was blindfolded.

Trying for patience, I lay there and listened.

It was hard not to struggle against the lethargy that weighed my limbs, but I managed. My breathing was loud in my ears, overshadowing my heartbeat. Once I calmed, I could hear it, too. That, and not much else.

Slowly, feeling returned, and I almost wished for the oblivion from before. Along with the headache and the dry mouth, my nerves were now screaming at me, running hot fire through my limbs, and yet, I still couldn’t move.

I didn’t think I was blindfolded. It really was that dark. The lack of sounds and sight might have had me panicking, but honestly, at this point, that was the least of my worries. At least if there was no sound or sensation, there was nothing around attacking me. And if the light returned and showed me in a vat of snakes or something else terrible? Oh well. On the other hand, if they were already shipping me off to get trafficked, well, I had a vague hope of some supernatural rescue.

I wondered what had happened to Katsuro.

I was trying really hard not to think about Nimbus. He was my biggest concern, but also, panicking about him wasn’t going to help me escape.

A soft, feather-light brush against my thoughts pulled my attention inward. My mind’s eye resolved an image of an ancient apple tree, limbs spreading, and laden with young green fruits, not yet large or ripened. Beneath the tree sat Twister, expression solemn. Though he dropped his jaw in a doggy grin when he saw me.

“The storm is intense this day,” he acknowledged me.

“Very.” I came over and sat next to him. He tilted his head the same way Nimbus did when he wanted pets. I was happy to oblige. Sinking my fingers into his soft fluff and leaning against Twister. “What do I do?”

“Your powers must move to their full fruit.” He looked up at the apple tree. “Make the fruit mature, and you will have the power you need to escape.”

Before I could ask him how I was going to do that, the ground trembled, and I was thrown to my side.

I blinked, and the tremor came again. It wasn’t the ground; it was someone shaking me awake.

When I finally got my eyes open, my vision was blurry, and it took a while for the blur to resolve into a face. Not one I recognized, and my last, distant hope that I’d been rescued while I slept dissolved. The person shaking me was a guy. Younger. He had dark eyes, dark hair, light skin, and a short growth of stubble. At least, I thought that’s what he looked like. I tried to clear my vision.

“Get up!”

It took a minute to comprehend what the man was saying. My brain was as fuzzy as my vision. At least there was light now, though I was having trouble making out the rest of my surroundings.

“Get up!” he shouted.

The noise sent daggers through my brain.

When I didn’t reply, he grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet.

I didn’t even try to stand. It wouldn’t hurt them to think I was more helpless than I was. Also… I actually couldn’t make my legs work yet, anyway.

“Dumb bitch,” he snarled, as I failed to keep my feet.

The pain of hitting the ground was a distant thing. So was the kick to the ribs. I desperately tried to regain the peace of the apple tree and Twister’s presence, but it was like trying to hang on to grains of sand. Everything slipped through my fingers and blackness took me.

The next time I struggled awake, I was alone. I lay sprawled on hard ground, as if the guy who had tried to get me to move had just left me where I’d crashed to the floor. In fact, that’s probably what had happened.

My mouth was just as dry, and my bladder raged at me.

I struggled to my hands and knees and looked around. I was in a small room with two doors, ugly beige walls, a wooden floor, and a pile of blankets where I’d probably been tossed before dickhead had dragged me off them, then left me in the middle of the room. The window had been boarded over, and a little light seeped in around the edges.

One of the doorknobs had a lock. One did not.

---