The Transfixed

chapter ten

When Bridget came to she was met with total darkness. She could hear the sound of a car door slamming, and then a jet engine roaring. Blinking repeatedly, she realized that someone had blindfolded her, and cuffed her wrists behind her back. The tone of Sam's voice made Bridget fully alert.

"Not so easy to escape reality now, is it?" He said, gripping her right arm and pulling her from the van.

She stumbled forward, feeling completely restricted; both physically and mentally. Not only could she not transfix on an object to somehow escape Sam's clutches, but now she was faced with the concept of Sam knowing about her abilities. At that point, Bridget didn't know what was worse. How could he know?

"How do you know?" Bridget gasped hoarsely, finding that she was extraordinarily in the mood for a glass of water. She felt the rough texture of rope gnaw at her frozen skin, and instantly became aware of the snowflakes slapping her in the face.

Sam ushered her along to where Bridget presumed was a private aircraft. "The how isn't really the important part." He muttered, then after a pause, "At least, it probably isn't. But either way, I wouldn't know how to answer."

Bridget basked in a confused silence before saying with a tense expression, "If you don't know anything, what do you want with me?" Her inability to see anything but sweaty, black fabric was beginning to cause a splintering headache.

"Harriet, would you get my captive some water and..." Sam's eerily charming voice faded out, "Miss Briggs, do you like bagels?"

She didn't answer.

"Yeah, Harriet, just get her a bagel. I'll have one, too." Then he sat sat down and dragged Bridget into the seat across from him. "Alright." He dropped his bony elbows onto the table, locked his fingers together, and stared straight at Bridget. But not for too long. "I would get straight to the point, but I think it would be better to get a little more acquainted, wouldn't you?"

"We already met. The pleasure's not mine." Bridget snapped after a moment, thinking back to the first impression she had of Sam, back when all she knew about him was that he was a pilot. Then again, now she knew that he wasn't even a pilot.

"Actually, I am. Among other things, clearly." Sam smirked.

Startled, she realized that she'd been thinking aloud. The frown on her face deepened as much as her fear of being kidnapped by a terrorist. Although she wanted to ask a billion questions, she remained silent, too sickened by Sam to acknowledge his existence.

In contrast, Sam had no problem attempting civilized conversation. "You know, I don't have many friends. Maybe it's the whole evil villain look. Or maybe they're just afraid of my dad. I mean, hey, I would be too." He laughed, "Afraid of my dad, that is. What's your father like?"

Bridget stopped breathing for a split second.

"Oh wait, that's right. Your dad's dead."

"How do you know that?" She bit out, not able to contain her intense fury any longer.

Sam leaned back, smiling almost manically. "Just a lucky guess, I guess."

"Was it also just a lucky guess that you figured out my powers?" 

He took a moment to contemplate an answer with enough wit to confuse her even further. "It wasn't so much figuring as it was knowing a Transfixed when I see one. It's a lot easier to spot a golfer when you're carrying a club."

"That doesn't even make any sen-" Bridget began, cocking her head slightly. "Wait, what's a Transfixed?"

Sam pushed himself limply forward, glaring again. "Okay, here's the deal. I'll tell you what I know if you tell me what you know."