Cast the Cards

A few inches and she found her movement restricted. Of course I’m bound. Swinging her feet, she came up short. Bound there too, damn! Her vision refused to clear, doubling and blurring. The dull ache in the back of her head made it unclear if she’d been drugged or simply had her bell rung. The sticky wet heat forming at her back worried her. Cool fingers touched her face, and she jerked away.

“Shh. It’s Clark, Vannah. I need you to stay very still. You’re bleeding pretty badly. We need to get you help.”

“W-Where am I?” The floor beneath her was cool and smelled of musk. Basement?

“An abandoned warehouse they’ve set up shop in about twenty minutes out of the city.”

“Did they drug me?” Woozy, she closed her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” His voice shook.

“You’re frightening me, Clark.”

“That shot you took to the back wasn’t just a bullet. It was a shotgun shell.”

No wonder I’m in so much pain. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“They’re coming. Lay limp and pretend to be unconscious.” Allowing her arms and legs to go lax, she closed her eyes and breathed evenly. A door creaked open. A sliver of light shone into the dark space.

“She’s still out,” A heavily accented voice said.

“We need to hurry. She’s bleeding like a stuck pig. If she dies before we complete our ritual all of dis will be fo nothing.”

“Patience, we gonna get to it soon enough.”

Their Cajun accent was too obvious. It would’ve attention everywhere they went. They must mask it the way they did their violent, perverted, nature. These were the worst kinds of predators, wolves in sheep’s clothing.

“Let’s get the tools out of the truck and we’ll begin.”

Please hurry, Clark. Tears ran down her face. A wave of dizziness hit. Reality receded as she battled her way from the river to oblivion.

“Vannah.” Clark spoke again the moment the door closed.

“Mmm here.” Her words slurred.

“They’re coming back. You can’t be here when they arrive.” The ropes were removed. Cool fingers massaged her wrists and ankles.

“I know you’re hurting, but I need you to move.”

“Trying.” Like a car with a faulty starter she couldn’t generate enough energy to move.

“Don’t try, do. Now!”

Face pressed against the cool wall, she pushed off from the floor. Her body slid upward. “W-where am I going?” Breathless, only her will kept her upright.

“Stay put.”

The silence that followed her indicated Clark had popped out.

“Here.” The unmistakable slick of a safety sounded. A ridged pistol grip was shoved into her hand, and the safety clicked off. “It’s your gun. Send these bastards back to hell where they belong.”

“I will.” If it’s the last thing I do. Injured arm dangling at her side, s

he aimed at the square outlined in light. Her body swayed and her eyelids slowly dropped. The arm that held the .45 shook. The door creaked open.

Adrenaline flowed through her veins. She squeezed the trigger, emptying the rounds into the chest. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils and she keeled over.