She tried to claw his arm off her chest but he held on tight. He was knelt over her, with his chin on her shoulder and she squirmed under him with her right cheek pressed against the ground. Her strength was nothing to his. The grains of dirt and small pebbles scratched her face but not enough to draw blood.
She hated his arm so close to her breasts and the feeling of being violated forced the last drops of energy she had, transforming it into fury. With that, she put her palms against the ground either side of her ribcage and thrust away, rolling them both over. His back knocked against the ground stunning him, whilst she fell backwards on top of him, her spine bashing against his torso. She used that short moment to elbow him in the face, as hard as she could. The pointy bone of her elbow crunched against his nose.
He groaned and let go of her. Blood trickled from both nostrils and he pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation, squeezing his eyes shut.
She got up quickly but the whole world started to spin and rather than move forward, she dropped down heavily to the floor. There were stars across her vision and she couldn’t summon the strength to lift herself up again.
Her sense of touch was delayed as Driver gently rolled her onto her back and lifted her up into his arms. She only realized he was carrying her when she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her anymore. Her head flopped back against his arm and when she saw his face she made a feeble attempt to slap it. Her hand swung just short of it, brushing his chin and catching some of the blood that had trickled down his face. Her arm became heavy and slumped down by her side.
All the symptoms she’d experienced in the car came back in a rush.
It was excruciating.
Her feet and ankles were throbbing and the strange pressure made them feel like they were swollen with blood, about ready to explode. Her head was pounding, her stomach was so fragile; the little jolts as her capturer’s shoes hit the ground at each step made her want to throw up again. Her whole body was bruised and sore from the struggle and the exertion she’d put it through. Her chest was feeling the worse of it. She still hadn’t recovered from being winded.
Everything hurt but that wasn’t what worried her.
She felt faint and dizzy and couldn’t think straight. She was exhausted: inches from a deep and long sleep. It made her panic.
Her breathing quickened. She wheezed in pain at the pressure her panicked breaths put on her wounded chest and winded lungs. Soon the tiredness corrected that. She tried to fight it but she could feel her consciousness slipping away with each step Driver took.
As she drifted to sleep, Driver marched farther up the dirt road, carrying her close to his chest. He glanced down at her with a pained expression in his eyes.
As he got nearer to the two men, his expression became furious and very frightening.
He was disgusted with himself and everyone else for letting it come to this.
The plan had been to get her in the building safely and quietly; let her sleep while they got down to business; no panic, no problem. The drug would keep her sedated for several hours. Only now she’d wake up in absolute fear. He’d only agreed to do this if he could be the one to break everything to her gently, and slowly. Now the very sight of him would horrify her. He clenched his jaw tighter, grinding his teeth.
The two men stepped aside warily as he stormed up to them.
He stopped just as he walked past them to growl, “You fucked up. You will be dealt with, make no mistake about that.”
The two men held their heads down and shuffled several paces behind him.
Erica and Bo were staring from their places by the car.
“I hope you’re happy,” Driver addressed Erica and Bo in a low snarl.
Erica opened her mouth to speak but her husband squeezed her arm in warning. The sight of the menacing glare on Driver’s face, and her husband’s firm hand, made her close her mouth.
Driver marched forward, leaving the car behind. They weren’t far from the village now. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled.
~Chapter 8 - Trap~
Monday May 9th, 11:19 a.m.
Locked cell
Jaz woke up shaking with fear and the advanced stages of a vigorous fever. The sweat droplets clung to her skin like blisters. Her lips were pallid and cracked. She licked them with her dry tongue and winced as the saliva stung the broken skin.
The room was strange and primal, carved out of a dusty yellow stone she didn’t recognize. It seemed peculiar in England. It belonged to some middle-eastern country, in the desert maybe. Not here.
Wherever here was. She scanned her surroundings.
A cell.
She didn’t get up to check the arched door was locked. No doubt, it would be a wasted effort. It had no window and was made of heavy, thick wood -possibly oak. It looked solid and impenetrable, like a medieval dungeon door.
She clutched her knees, rocking back and forth on the bed in a sitting foetal position. She bit her sore lip, urging herself not to cry but the tears betrayed her. She would not make a sound, she vowed. And she stayed true to it. The sobs were silent. She let herself cry before kicking her brain back into survival mode.
Was she underground?