Page 3 of Taken

I moved away from the bed, my hands instinctively reaching out toward the photos, their snapshots of the world so perfect I wondered if I’d be able to touch them with my fingertips, my dream world allowing me a chance at something I never could’ve done if I was actually awake.

But then, the footsteps started.

They were heavy in the hall, or at least what I thought was the hall, and they were headed straight toward me. A chill of terror went down my spine, knowing that usually when I had nightmares this was the part when I woke up, the horrible thing never having the chance to reach me, to touch me, to hurt me.

Fuck.

Was this real?

Another chill of terror moved right through me as I scanned my new surroundings for a weapon. I hastily reached for a large, dark umbrella, closing my hand tightly and holding onto its handle like it was the only thing standing between me and certain death. I then stood right beside the door, flattening myself against the wall as I waited for someone to appear around the corner, someone who might’ve had the worst intentions for me, someone that I needed to get the jump on.

When he finally appeared around the corner, I didn’t waste a second. I brought the umbrella down hard against his chest, hoping to take him by surprise. But despite the collision between umbrella and chest, the stranger didn’t move a muscle. He stared down at me and the umbrella with confusion, as if I’d decided to attack him with a limp ramen noodle and he couldn’t figure out if I was crazy or if I really thought it was going to work.

“I think the smoke inhalation may still be affecting you,” the stranger muttered as he calmly took the umbrella out of my grip. “But I’m glad to see you’re up. That means I won’t have to call the hospital.”

“Who are you?” I demanded as I took a step away from him. “And where are we? I swear to God, if you try to harvest my organs, I’ll?—”

“Attack me with another umbrella?” The stranger smirked. “Pro tip: if an umbrella is your only weapon, your best bet is opening it in front of someone’s face to catch them off guard. That might have actually bought you some time to run.”

“Is that something I need to do? Run?”

“No.” The stranger shook his head. “Not from me. Although, it might be funny if you tried.”

“Who are you?” I pressed again, crossing my arms over my chest.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he answered. “Nicholas Cooper. I’m a fireman with the local unit out here.”

“Fireman?” I couldn’t hide the confusion in my tone.

Nicholas nodded before he spoke. “There was a dry, dead tree a little too close to your cabin. A stray lightning strike hit it and the rest is history. Your cabin was already in flames by the time I, and one of the guys from the station, got to you. You’re lucky. We just happened to be near the area.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God…” My words trailed off, as my body filled with a familiar heaviness. “I could’ve died in a fire… Oh, my God…”

“Yeah, it can be a bit of a shock.” Nicholas shrugged. “But the good news is that you made it out just fine. The other good news is that we won’t have to bother any of the EMTs this late at night, since it’s already after midnight?—”

“It’s after midnight?” My eyes went wide. “Shit. I don’t even—How is any of this happening right now? I swear, I just made dinner and went to sleep?—”

“Like I said, it can be a bit of a shock,” he repeated. “Just give yourself some time to process everything and you’ll be fine?—”

“I need to get back.”

“What?”

“All of my stuff!” I shouted, even though it wasn’t intentional. There was just too much emotion coursing through my veins, so much that I could barely think properly. “I need to get my stuff before everything’s all burned up?—”

“You don’t need to worry about that part,” he insisted. “Anything that survives the fire, my guys can have dropped off here. Besides, it’s too dangerous for you to?—”

“I’m going back,” I said, interrupting him. “I need to go back. Get out of my way.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I made myself clear,” he replied, closing the distance between us. “You won’t be going anywhere tonight, Mr…?”

“Evans. Parker Evans.”

“Mr. Evans. Right. You won’t be going anywhere tonight, Mr. Evans.”

“Why? Because I’m some kind of captive?” I scoffed. “You can’t just keep me here against my will. That’s illegal.”

“I also can’t let you run right back into danger,” he said, matter-of-factly. “That goes against my code of ethics. It goes against good common sense, too.”

---