Virulent

Chapter 6: Deal

Ezra sat on the edge of the thin mattress, leg bouncing, eyes fixated on the door. She didn't know how long she'd been in there, but it had to be close to morning. She hadn't slept, not a wink, for several reasons. Namely, she was a captive in God knows where under what looked to be a government outfit. But this was also the first night she'd truly been away from home, away from Dad and Shaki; away from that bustling, ever-present noise that rattled their flimsy windows as it zoomed by.

The room was far too silent, and she was far too lonely—and scared. Besides, there was no way she was going to let anyone walk in on her unprepared again. She gripped tight to the pen she had found on the small metal desk bolted to the floor. It could stab somebody in the eye, or go for their carotid... not that she knew exactly where that would be. She hadn't paid attention in Anatomy 101; too busy ogling Luke Arden to care about that. This was the moment she regretted it. And she wasn't exactly gripping a sharp scalpel.

Minutes morphed into hours. Tiredness caught up with her. Just as her head lolled forward, jerking her awake, the sound of keystrokes on an electronic pad outside reached her.

Ezra snapped her head up, her knuckles turning white against the pen. She sat straighter, her core tightening—ready for fight or flight. Most likely the latter. From what she remembered, the men were likely armed.

She half expected Captain Rai to enter, spouting orders in his soft, accented English she couldn't quite place. Where was he from? He was tanned yet, broad shoulders, South Asian perhaps from his eyes. The accent tripped her though, sounding partly British but not, partly Indian but not.

A hulking figure peered at her through the doorway, his hair red as the sunrise. He was not the soft-spoken Rai. His eyes were hard as diamonds, whereas Rai's had been kind. Skipping the pleasantries, he stomped inside, making the room shrinking around him, like the walls were closed in. He grabbed her by her arm then and hoisted her up, practically dragging her out of the room like a prisoner.

"Who are you? And where are we going?" Ezra struggled against his grip, only to have his hand winch tighter around her, a vice.

Behind them, another soldier marched the deserted corridor. His hand rested on the gun in his holster.

Ezra knew then exactly where she stood. She was a prisoner, but to what end?

Neither man talked, marching her down the corridors—left turn, right turn, right turn, left—discombobulating her. Even if she could attempt to flee, she would have no luck finding an exit.

"Where's Captain Rai?" she asked, seeking any form of interaction she may deem positive. If they saw her as a person, they'd be less likely to be cruel. At least, that's what she hoped.

The soldier at the back made a sound to answer her, but the one dragging her still—she had to hurry her steps every few seconds to catch up with his strides and not fall—cleared his throat. Clearly, these men had instructions not to converse with her. Driving home that uncomfortable feeling she had. I'm a prisoner.

"What about the General?" Panic welled in her throat. Are they taking me somewhere to execute? Though she saw no reason for it. Why would they kidnap her, give her a fairly comfortable quarter, only to dispose of her the next day? What could they gain from that?

"We've been walking a while..." she tried, but her protests and questions stopped when they came upon a door with another keypad and biometric scanners on both sides.

Talk about an overkill. Ezra watched her captives step forward to a panel each. The one with his grip on her dragged her after him. They scanned their faces and keyed in a password when prompted, almost synchronously, as if they'd done this many times.