Gritting my teeth, I opened my eyes. I was going to make something positive happen no matter what I needed to do. Happily, I was blessed with mostly normal sight. Wasting no time I put my sight to its limited use. It seemed that the thugs assigned to keep watch over me were more interested in their conversation than they were in me. And I was hoping to keep it that way. So, I kept my head down and, with as little movement as possible, began to scan everything within sight. The task was more aggravating than rewarding. Though I was able to confirm how I was bound and that I was in a freezer.
Stymied again, I closed my eyes and focused on the conversation that was hovering just on the edge of my hearing. Though, I was quickly distracted by my desire to escape. I truly hoped I would be able to attain my freedom. But the fact that I was freezing, both from the IVs and the freezer, hazy from the drugs, and not to mention, immobilized, painted quite the picture. Dempsey’s familiarity with people like me was really getting annoying. So far, he and his thugs were doing a first rate job of keeping me contained.
Focusing upon how bleak my prospects were growing, I picked up a single word from the middle of a sentence. “…fool…” And for the first time I noticed why I was having so much difficulty making out the words, they were being muffled, as if the door leading into his improvised cell might be only slightly ajar. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out who they were talking about. After all, had I been in their place I would be calling me a fool too.
It was getting easier to hear the conversation so I gave it my full attention. I needed to hear something that would give me some hope and this conversation was all I had. But as I tried to listen I only grew more convinced that the door was mostly sealed. After all, I should’ve been able to make out more of their words; as it was, I could only pick out a few here and there. “…don’t know why…boss…with him…” Perhaps wanted was one of those missing words. That couldn’t be right, Dempsey wouldn’t want anything from me, would he? If I kept having this kind of trouble following them I would probably go insane long before they got around to killing me.
A moment later I heard the second voice scream. “Shut up…” The terse command was swiftly obeyed by the other goon, indicating who the superior of the two was.
A brief period of silence ensued before the first guard cautiously spoke a few more words, “…guy…palmed…” Did they really not know what I had done? If Dempsey knew enough to imprison me like this why would he leave his men in the dark?
Either way it sounded like goon number one thought I just somehow managed to palm the ace into my last hand. And with goon number one’s little slip I now had some information. First, I knew I was being guarded by at least one if not two of thugs who hadn’t been at the tournament—if they had been there they would have known about the fresh deck. The second piece of information was merely an assumption based upon the first, I didn’t think that I was still in the warehouse.
That meant they probably didn’t understand why I was being secured in this fashion. I now had a slight hope of being able to talk my way into a source of heat, especially if they were supposed to be in the freezer with me. That was good, well, not the whole being secured and freezing thing, but the fact that I might have a way out was good. But despite the rising sense of hope, a small part of my mind kept nagging me that it was not going to help and that I was going to end up a dead man. But every time that nasty little thought crept into my mind I expunged it very quickly by reminding myself that someone wanted to meet with me. And if someone wanted to meet with me why they go to all of this trouble just to kill me? And every time I refocused myself to search for my escape, slight as it was.
As I returned my focus to the conversation I caught a few more words. “…you need to…you…watch…” If I couldn’t start catching more of what they were saying I was going to kill someone. About the only thing the piecemeal words told me was that I had been correct with my assessment of goon number two. He was definitely the more traditional, “do as you are told without question,” type of henchman. He would be more difficult to sway. This left goon number one as my best chance of escape, he was a “curious” henchman.
Speaking of the devil, the curious goon spoke again. “…know why… we… toss… end… to the other.” This was getting ridiculous. Did he want to toss me around? Could he toss me around the room? He would have to be built from solid muscle to do that. My mind conjured a large and muscular man beating me to a bloody pulp. With a deep breath I forced the rising lump back down my throat, chastised myself, and added “learning how to fight” to the list of things I had to do after I managed to escape. After all, what good would it do for me to learn how to shield myself from projectiles, but not be able to defend myself in a fist fight? None, it would do me no good whatsoever.
I pulled my attention away from the conversation and focused on a more immediate problem. Now, while I had never studied to become a doctor, I had learned a few things about the human body and the cold, specifically my body. Using my gift I knew a thing or two about freezing to death, or rather cooling to death. I’ve had to make enough trips to various emergency rooms to know when I was in dire need of something warm. And in that moment, I knew I was teetering on the point of no return. I needed something warm and I needed it soon. Maybe the part of my mind that was so sure that I was going to die had been right. I was going to die right here. Maybe I had heard the one goon wrong, and no one wanted to meet with me. Should I risk calling out to them? What will they do to me? Well there was only one way to find out and that just wasn’t going to happen with me remaining silent.