Page 295 of Castings & Curses

I don’t know who he gives the order to, since I’m already running the fuck out of this fucking tunnel; just that his voice booms over the orgiastic noises, echoing past me in the darkness, and rushing footsteps immediately follow me.

As I exit the maze of corridors, I hide behind the first door I can open, hoping whoever is chasing me won’t think of looking behind closed doors. Heavy footsteps approach my hiding spot fast. I hold my breath, sweat pearling on my temples. My chest hurts, my heart is about to stop, and my lungs are on fire. Not a peep, though. Please, Roro.

A doorknob rattles close by. And another. I tried them too; none of those doors opened except the closet I’m in now. A third doorknob gets handled. I’m next. Shit. My heart skips a beat as I close my eyes and prepare to meet my fate.

“Paddy!” One of my pursuers is just in front of me. I see the shadow of his feet under the door. I’m fucking done for. “Stop wasting time! I’ll go upstairs, you go right.”

“Did you even see what she looks like?” The Paddy guy is approaching.

“No fucking idea. But she can’t be far, and she’ll be dodgy as fuck, so look for any bitch that’s sweating like a pig.”

They run away; one upstairs, the other to the right.

I gulp in the stale air by the liter, my chest heaving like crazy. I sit on the floor of this fateful closet and recuperate. My brain wants to make sense of what’s just happened, what I’ve seen—or think I saw? Was any of this even real? I’m in this fucking closet, aren’t I? Yup. Real enough. I don’t have time to think. I need to get out of here and quick.

The coast seems clear, so I take my chances and slide out of my hiding place. The stupid stairs face me, the same ones that led me to that nightmare of a dungeon. Well, I’m not going back up there, nor the other way, that’s for sure. So, right it is.

I make my way back to an area I recognize and to the fucking kitchen. I go straight for the staff quarter to get my stuff then head for the exit, but the maître d’ stops me before I can reach it.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out of here! I didn’t sign up for whatever the fuck is happening in this hell of a place.”

I try to leave again, but the man presses a single hand on my shoulder, and the sheer urgency of the gesture compels me.

“You can’t leave now. They’ll stop you. They have guns, and they value their privacy above everything else.” It’s not a threat, but a warning. “Besides, where would you go? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

I heed his words for a second, appreciative of his concern, though he has no idea what I’m up against. An inebriated guest chooses this moment to barge in and grope every waitress in his vicinity. Behind him, a bouncer pops his head through the open door, obviously searching for something. Most probably me.

The maître d’s tall build only just hides me; I sure as heck can’t stay here any longer. “I don’t care. I need to get some fresh air anyway. A run would do me real good, too.”

I step towards the staff entrance, careful to remain out of the bouncer’s sight, only to be greeted by two heavily armed guards barring the way. They pierce me with suspicious glares.

“Sorry, wrong door,” I mutter with haste.

Plan B it is, then. I back away and head for the toilets.

Bingo. The window above the sink opens and looks big enough for me to slither out. At least, I hope. But first, let’s be practical. I take off my heels and slip on the sneakers hiding in my bag. I knew they’d come in handy. Always be prepared, right?

I test the sink’s sturdiness before climbing on it. The task is arduous. Heights of any kind are not my friends, and the sink does not appreciate my weight at all. It creaks and wilts under my feet. I reach the window as fast as I can to ease the burden and hoist myself onto the sill, wiggling over it like the most ungracious caterpillar. I make it through in one piece, though I scrape my thighs and land rather heavily on my ankle. But adrenaline’s rushing through my veins by now, and the approaching footsteps of loaded guards press me to set the pain aside and search for shelter.

The grounds are devoid of hiding spot. But thankfully, the night is as dark as a pot of freshly brewed coffee. Well, this may just have been the oddest thought I’ve ever had sober and fleeing, but I roll with it. I can’t roll on the ground though, as I’ve seen so many action movie heroes do to save their skin. All I can do is hurdle myself across the grounds as stealthily as is possible for a five-foot seven curvy woman with purple hair and a slight limp.

“Freeze!”

Shit, the guards. My blood freezes alright, but I don’t turn around. I skedaddle as fast as my hurting ankle allows. A wheezing sound passes me by, followed by another. Flying objects lodge themselves ahead of me in the grass, and only when one of them hisses so close to my ear that I stumbled next to one do I realize they’re fucking bullets. Those guys aren’t playing.

CHAPTER4

Stunned at first,my survival instincts push me to crawl further. Keep on moving, they say, until my fear turns into more adrenaline. I jump back on my feet and zigzag through the pain towards the edge of the forest. My nerves tell me I should be safe there. And it’s my only shot at escaping, anyway.

I make it in the nick of time. The guards are fast approaching, their aim getting dangerously close to scoring. One last surge of adrenaline helps me sink into the undergrowth and deeper into the forest, leaving any remnants of light and direction behind.

Footsteps scurry after me; the guard screams for me to stop; bullets zoom past my head, ricocheting off the trunks, until one scrapes my arm and I fall headfirst in the brushes. Disoriented and scared as fuck, I stay on the ground, muffling my panicked breathing as best as I can while trying hard not to scream from the pain invading my whole body.

“Shit, we’ve lost her,” one man says.

“I told you to take your flashlight,” berates the other.

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