Chapter Twenty-Nine

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Cradling her arm, Tamara hopped off the bed and pulled the tape from her mouth and rushed over to Darla. “I’m going to take the tape off. Don’t scream, okay?”

Her friend nodded. Her pupils were dilated and different sizes, which told Tamara she had a pretty nasty concussion. Hopefully she’d be able to walk to the medical clinic. That would be their first stop before she hunted down Security. As she fought to loosen Darla’s ropes, she cursed at the uselessness of her right hand. It was her shooting hand, too.

Finally, her friend was free. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Tamara asked her.

“Can you ask another question?” Darla groaned, gripping her head. “The entire room is spinning.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Panic filled Darla's eyes and her hands flew to her mouth to cover a cry. And Tamara could see a million questions passing through the look her friend gave her.

“It’s okay, hun. We’re going to be okay,” Tamara said, patting her friend's leg.

Knowing they didn’t have much time, she banked the questions and they hurried towards the door, her with a droopy wrist and Darla in a drunken state. Leaning against each other, they tried to fit through the door and got stuck.

“Sorry, you first,” Tamara said, waving her friend through.

They made it a few doors down before a man behind them yelled, “Hey stop!”

Spinning around, she saw it was that young kid who had his girlfriend killed. She debated about sticking around and trying to reason with him, but they couldn’t risk getting caught again.

When she saw him pull out a radio, she grabbed Darla’s arm and pulled her down the hall. They raced towards the stairs. Her wrist ached each time her foot hit the ground.

When they reached the stairs, Darla stopped and hunched over. “Oh god.”

Then and there, her friend spewed the food remains in her stomach on the ground. Over and over she heaved, all the while the guy getting closer. But there was no moving until she was done. The man, named Frank, came around the corner and stopped, aiming a gun at her.

“Wow, hold on,” Tamara said, holding her hands up. “Frank, right?”

The young man shrugged his shoulders, not willing to divulge the truth. “Come on. Let’s go back to the room,” he ordered.

Trying to think quick on her feet, Tamara placed an arm around Darla. “This woman needs a doctor or she’s going to die. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

Conflict passed over the man’s features, and the gun lowered slightly. For a second, she thought he was going to let them go, but he pointed the weapon at them again and moved a step closer. “Back to the room. Now!”

“Don’t worry about me. Save yourself.” Darla whispered. “I’ll distract him.”

“I’m not leaving you behind. Jason would kill me.”

A bewildered look filled her eyes. “Who’s Jason?”

Oh, please don’t tell me. “You remember me, don’t you?”

Her friend scrunched up her nose and frowned. “Should I?”

This was not good. She had to get them out of there if it was the last thing she did. She leaned closer to Darla’s ear. “I wanna to pretend we’re going back with him, but when we get close, I’m going to tackle him and I want you to run. Run, and find someone. Let them know what's going on.”

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