Nine Hours

Chapter 4

Cool—no cold—air brushes over the exposed parts of my body. The parts which aren't snug against the unfamiliar hard, warm being carrying me. Whose strong arms am I wrapped in? My eyes refuse to open, and I slip once again into a blissfully unconscious dream state.

When my eyes do pop open I'm disoriented and confused, but wide awake. And belted into the passenger seat of a white BMW, the afternoon Norwegian countryside—assuming that's what it is—sailing past at an alarming rate. Instinctively I check to see I'm belted in and firmly grip the handle on the door. Like that's gonna prevent me from being ejected if we wipe out and hit a tree. The car slows to a "normal" speed and I can actually make out the trees along the side of the highway. The driver glances over at me without a speck of concern for his insane speed. Does everyone in this country drive like they're doing the Indy 500? A confident and charming grin is aimed in my direction.

"Ah! Glad to see your beautiful eyes again, Cassie. We have little less than nine hours left, so we must make them count. We'll be there shortly. I'm sure you are very hungry."

Gunnar—wasn't that his name?—acts as though everything is completely normal, when it sure as hell isn't. Unless this is a weird dream playing on loop in my sub-conscience, it's becoming apparent the guy meant it when he said this was all real. Not sure what to make of that.

"Where are we going?" My thoughts are muddled by the drowsy remains of sleep. Reality and fantasy blur in my brain. The scenery flashes past, hypnotizing me, and a few things click into place. None make sense. I should be on a plane to Munich, not in a strange car going a hundred miles per hour. Slowly, the pieces come together.

"You've kidnapped me!" Frantic, I tug at the door handle, desperate to get out of this car immediately. Who cares if I'm killed by the fall? It's better than being at the mercy of a stranger's sick hands. One of those hands comes to rest on my thigh. It might as well burn a hole in my yoga pants for all the heat searing my leg at the contact.

"Sweetness, you are perfectly safe. I promise. No harm will come to you. When we arrive, things will begin to make sense. There's a lot to learn. It will be overwhelming. But you will soon understand."

"You promise me I'm safe? You're a crazy person. Let me out." Fear gives way to pure panic. Tears pool in my eyes and I'm strangled by a choking sensation.

Think, Cassie. Think. How are you going to get out of this? Oh, God. I don't know where I am or who I'm with. How did this happen? All I did was get on a plane. Just like normal people do every single day. What bizarre lottery did I win?

A sob escapes.

Concern mars his previously pleased expression. "Perhaps it's best if you close your eyes until we get there."

"No. I don't want to sleep anymore. I want to know where I am, why I'm here and where here is." Despite my argument, my damned eyelids grow immeasurably heavy at his suggestion, and the bravery in my voice wavers. "Please, Gunnar. Why are you doing this?"

"Sweetness, this will be difficult for you to understand. It is something beyond your control and comprehension at this time. Honestly, in some ways, it is beyond mine as well. My only choice is how it happens." His voice is calm and reassuring, which only adds to my anger. But the weight of sleep pressing down prevents further argument.

Oh, God. Help me out here, please.

****

"Cassie. We're here. Wake up."

Again, my eyes snap open. We're parked in a wide gravel driveway in front of a large, wood-shingled house. Although still daylight, the sun sits low in the sky, casting shadows from surrounding forest over the open space. The trees are tall and green, waving in a bit of a breeze. It is a peaceful scene.