I look over at my bleeding shoulder that’s causing pain to ooze down into my arm. Using my knife, I cut up my shirt so I can wrap it tightly around my shoulder. Since I can’t get my left hand up that high without making the bleeding worsen, I put one end of the makeshift bandage between my teeth and start pulling it tight, but the second I do, I feel lightheaded from the pressure on the wound.
It leaves me sitting on the floor for a full minute before I can get up. Well, this isn’t good.
No… definitely not good.
With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, finding that I have absolutely no idea where I am, but getting away while I still have ammo and the pain in my arm is tolerable might be best. I step out into the hallway before rushing over to the next door. Pushing it open, I slip inside and quietly close it behind me before hurrying over to the window. Weirdly, the window doesn’t appear to have any visible locks, and when I press up on it, it won’t slide, even though it’s obviously meant to.
Don’t tell me he has a way of locking the windows down…
No, no, no… it’s fine. I just have to break it… silently… without drawing any attention to myself.
My arm screams when I pick up a chair and swing it hard at the window. It bounces off and careens out of my hand where it clatters onto the ground.
I’ve literally never heard such a loud noise in my life. It’s like I rang a bell, screaming, “Come and get me, I’m cornered in this room with absolutely no way out.”
What the hell have I gotten caught up in?
Quickly, I scoop up the chair so the first guy through the door can see what it feels like when a chair connects with his face. He reels back as I grab the second guy in a headlock, hoping to choke him out before anyone gets a shot off that might alert others to our current location. I throw all of my weight into the choke, driving him down and off balance so he can’t fight against me until the first guy flings the chair back at me. I dodge it and watch as it slams into his buddy’s face, but the buddy doesn’t seem to notice as I drop him, unconscious, onto the floor.
The first man steps into the room and lifts his gun, giving me no choice but to shoot him. He hits the ground on his back as I rush over and start searching his pockets in the hope that he has some kind of device that I can call Leland on. His front pockets prove to be empty, and as I reach for his shirt pockets, I hear someone coming. I do a quick pat down, but I’m moving too quickly to get a full feel, leaving me to grab his gun and run.
SIX
ELLIS
I’m left on the floor of some dark, windowless room. I’m positive that if I ever see that Scottish man again, I’m going to punch him right in the nuts. Like could he not have double-checked that I was a murderer before deeming me one and sending me off here?
I’m not a violent man. I’ve never once thought about punching someone, but right now… right now I kind of want to.
My body aches as I wallow on the floor for a bit, working at the cut Tavish had made in the binds around my ankles. When the tape finally splits, relief washes through me before I realize that… I’m not quite sure what I’m relieved about. My wrists are still bound, I’m still on some bad guy’s island, and I’m clearly not meant for this shit. They’re going to murder me, and I’m going to die here and?—
My breath is coming hard, anxiety compressing my lungs and creating a ball of misery in the pit of my stomach.
I stop and just sit down for a moment so I can take a deep breath and hopefully calm myself enough that I can trick myself into thinking that I can do this.
I mean… if I already plan on dying, then I’ve already submitted to it. But I’m not just going to sit down and die.
Why would I? Why should I? Why does this guy deserve any say in what happens to me?
So think…
I’m going to get out of this room, punch Tavish in the dick, steal a boat or something, and get the fuck home.
Simple.
So simple.
It’s like a video game.
Yeah, that’s all this is. A video game where you can’t restart after you die and where you don’t automatically heal after being shot fifteen times by throwing some unexplainable liquid all over your wounds.
But still.
I’m going to die, aren’t I?
No… no… calm down.
I hook my hands down, trying to use my ass to snap the thick tape around my wrists, but it holds tight. I roll around, flipping this way and that before I realize there’s a weak spot in the tape that finally starts to give. It hurts as it digs into my wrists that are already red from all the flailing and struggling I’ve done, but I think I can feel it giving a little bit.
