The Long Way Home

Chapter One Hundred: Haven

The first thing that hit Cassandra Sheppard when she woke up was the sensation of agony ripping right the way through her abdomen as she lay flat on her back staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The sound of her heavy breathing was echoing around the room as she tried to get up and failed miserably.

Something was digging into her wrists, soft leather straps were binding her hands palm down onto the cool metal table beneath her. Her boots were missing but she was still wearing her socks, it was as if the boots had been taken as an after thought. Her ankles were also restrained, she could feel the same bindings that held her wrists pinning her feet in place.

The cold metal surface beneath her body reminded her of an operating table. It felt cold upon her exposed flesh leading Cass to realise that something was hideously wrong in the clothing department. She tipped her head upwards trying to look down her body and she was surprised to find the white linen blouse she had been wearing was missing. She was clad only in her sleek black sports bra with matching black boy boxers. There was a large white bandage stretching across her abdomen covering God knows what.

Hot salty tears were leaking out of the corners of her sapphire eyes unwillingly as she jerked her limbs against the bounds wrestling and bucking as the panic set in. Her breathing was coming in ragged pants as the rush of memories flooded her system like poignant narcotic.

The whistle of the darts were piercing in her ears, she could hear the screams of the refugees as an explosion rocked the building so violently she thought it would crumble around her head. Her side arm was already in her hand from the top drawer of her desk, her thumb flicking the safety off the Glock. Hope appeared in the doorway clutching it for support as the building quivered, her hair was a state of disarray, there was a gash across her forehead that was seeping blood from her hairline straight into her eyes.

"You alright?" Hope had asked, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.

"It's a Wraith attack." Cass responded, yanking out her bottom drawer. "We need to take down as many as possible."

She was already yanking out a small paper bag and tipping the contents out onto the desk. There were several components Hope recognized but had no idea what to do with, she was surprised that Cass did.

"Should I be asking where the C4 came from?" Hope inquired as Cass shoved the Glock into Hope's hand.

Hope adjusted her grip on the weapon, it fit into her hand like it was second nature. Once upon another lifetime it had been. Being a cop was still in her blood, all the training and experiences were coming back into play and Hope felt that wave of calm flood through her system just the way it always did when it came to a tense situation. That's why she had joined the Peace Corp, she was good at thinking on her feet.

"John is not the only one that's paranoid." Cass muttered as she drew out a piece of fine wire.

Being paranoid wasn't the only thing that John had taught her.

Cass strained against the restraints, yanking and tugging her arms, trying to twist her wrists at the same time to force some leeway. There was no give, the material didn't even buckle. It simply held her in place, unrelenting and immobile. She wrenched again in frustration, arching her body causing the table to quake as she writhed and screamed out in anguish.

She collapsed back onto the metal table, her muscles shaking with exertion as she cried out in pain. Her abdomen was on fire, it was like being stabbed all over again. She didn't understand, there were fractures in her memory, a disembodied voice floating in through her mind. She was disorientated and confused, lonely and scared. She clenched her small hand into a fist as she tried to slow her frightened breathing.