Escaping Elysia

Chapter 3 - Like The Wind Turbines (cont.)

"What are you doing?" Framed in the doorway, the Secretary's eyes flick from me to the tablet, to the broken glass.

I carefully press the power button, holding the tablet so she can't see the screen. "I was just getting one of those waters you offered me when the bottle slipped. I was about to dry your tablet off and make sure it still works." I keep my voice even. It's hard to do while my mind races, repeating the same question over and over. Test subject for what?

Secretary Sheer nods slowly. "I see." She strides forward and takes the tablet from me. Her eyes flick to the gash on my palm but her expression doesn't change. She slips the tablet into a drawer, not bothering to check it for damage. "That's a nasty gash on your palm. You should take the rest of the day off." She takes a tissue from her desk and passes it to me. I press it to my hand to staunch the blood. "I fact, I think it would be best if you take a little more time to recover before coming back to work."

"Right," I say, the words slipping out of my mouth like oil. "You're right. I'm sure I'll be back to normal on Monday. I'm just not thinking straight because I've never shot anyone before."

A dry, raspy laugh escapes from her throat. "Of course not. You've always been a model citizen, haven't you?" She smiles at me, and it stretches her lips into thin, pink lines. "I'll have my driver, Malcolm, take you home."

I nod. As Sheer walks me to the door and says goodbye, I can't help but notice her glance at the desk drawer again. Does she know what I saw?

I'm walking down the hallway when the Secretary calls my name. I glance back, and she smiles. "Be careful out there," she says.

Chills run down my back.

When I leave the EIA, a black car waits on the curb. The man who exits the driver's side is wearing an olive green, button down shirt, and has a nose so wide it takes up almost a third of his face. He's middle-aged, with close cropped, dirty brown hair. Although his belt barely fastens around his large gut, his biceps strain against his sleeves.

"I'm Malcolm Brandt," he says, voice booming. "Let me see your hand."

I hold it out cautiously, but when he unzips a medical kit I understand. He sprays the cut with disinfectant and wraps a bandage around it. His skin is a russet, reddish pink against my own paleness and his grip is firm and rough.

"Thank you," I say.

He looks up, grinning, his face inches from mine. "No problem." We stand like that for a moment, him in my space, and my pulse picks up speed. I take a step back.

He smirks and opens the back door, gesturing for me to get inside. Then he gets back into the driver's seat and programs in our destination. Out the window a gust of wind blows by, and the radish tops in one of the garden beds sway back and forth.

The car starts moving, and Brandt sits back, relaxing. His stomach presses against the steering wheel. I hope he doesn't have to turn on the manual driving mode, as I don't see how he'd be able to turn the wheel.

He twists in the seat, grunting, and holds out a bottle of water. "Here."

"Oh, no thank you," I say, remembering the bottle that smashed in Secretary Sheer's office.

He holds it out a little further. "I insist."

I stare at him. He continues to hold the water out, so I take it. "Thanks."

He turns back around. The city buildings flash by, getting smaller and smaller as we near the edge of downtown. "So, you're the big news around here," he says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. His face is clean shaven, except for a small square of facial hair below his lower lip. It looks ridiculous. "Taking out that maniac. Is that why Evelyn wanted to talk to you? To thank you again?"

I raise my eyebrows at his use of Secretary Sheer's first name and take a gulp of the water to prolong answering. "No, that's not it. I've been thanked enough already."

"Sure you have," he says, rolling his eyes. We make eye contact in the mirror again. His gaze radiates superiority. "You know, you should feel grateful for all this attention. Enjoy it. I know I would."

"Sure," I say, taking another drink of water. I don't feel like arguing with him, so I look out the window instead. Instead of the residential sector, I see the trees at the edge of Sanzha growing closer. A chill runs up my spine. "You're taking me home, right?"

He smiles, and the hair on the back of my neck lifts. "Of course." But we speed toward the forest, away from my apartment. My pulse races and I grab the door handle. We're going too fast to jump out, but I don't have time to think about that now. I have to get out of this car. The door doesn't budge.

"Hey now," Brandt says, "calm down. We'll be there soon enough. Try to relax."

Be where? I yank on the door again, but to my horror my muscles are too weak. My head spins, and black dots appear at the edge of my vision. The water. He drugged the water. I fight the door, my hands shaking, breath rasping but it's no use. My eyes droop and my chin falls to my chest, no matter how hard I try to stay awake.

I'm vaguely aware of the car stopping and Brandt getting out. He opens my door and lifts me from the car. My skin crawls, but I can't do anything to stop him. I'm powerless.

Light dances on my eyelids, brighter then soft again, and I know we're under the trees, far away from Sanzha. Brandt carries me haphazardly, so that my head lolls over the edge of his arm. For a moment, I open my eyes just enough to see a staircase leading down beneath the forest floor, but it takes all the strength I have and then my eyes close again.

My body bounces in Brandt's arms as he carries me down the stairs. The sound of people talking reaches my ears, but I can't understand a word. The last thing I remember is being placed in a bed, and the sound of a door closing.

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Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter :).