Rachel
She’d expected to be knocked out, or even worse, killed.
The sudden looming presence combined with the horrific smell and sense of doom she felt all conspired to tell her that’s what she should expect. So when her captor did nothing of the like, she wasn’t entirely sure how to react. It wasn’t like he invited her in for tea and biscuits, but nor did he suddenly start ripping her limb from limb.
It most definitely was a he as well. The figure had only spoken twice, but unless they were an excellent voice actor, her captor was male. The first thing he’d said as she struggled to get away was to tell her that she shouldn’t have come back. Oddly enough, it was something that the two of them agreed upon completely. Rachel shouldn’t have come back. Not outside alone, at least. She definitely shouldn’t have gone and investigated the storage shed by herself.
She was kind of irked by her own stupidity there. How did she not see it coming? In the movies that was always how it started. Stupid person goes into the dark room without realizing that danger awaits. Then bad things happen. That was quite literally how it had played out for her. Rachel was playing the part of the stereotypical dumb blonde, and if anything that angered her even more. She was smarter than that.
But I didn’t expect any trouble.
Which probably explained the movies as well. Who expects there to be a seven-foot-tall crazy dude with an old-school hockey mask and chainsaw in their barn? Like come on, that only happens in the movies!
Stop it. You’re rambling. You’re freaking out and going off on any tangent you can think of. Stop doing that, and start paying attention. Got it?
Rachel shook her head, forcing her mind back on track. She recalled the second thing her captor had said as he wrapped a smelly hand around her neck and lifted her casually from the ground.
“Try to escape, or scream, and I will simply snap your neck. Nod if you understand.”
Obviously she’d nodded, at which point her captor had set her down, turned her around to face the exit, and clamped his hand on the back of her neck. With sharp, impertinent gestures he’d communicated that he wished for her to start walking. Which is what they were doing now, twenty minutes later. Walking through the streets of Cloud Lake with his hand on her neck, gripping so tightly she knew there would be bruises at a minimum.
What do I do now?
Escape was out of the picture, she knew that much. His grip around her neck was far too tight, and Rachel had other concerns to worry about. Like the unborn child in her stomach.
Panic flooded through her as she suddenly remembered that fact. It was tough to forget that she was pregnant, what with the bulging belly and all. Until then, it hadn’t truly hit home with her that if her captor killed her, not only would she die, but so would her child.
The fingers around her neck must have sensed her sudden change, for the fingers tightened, preventing her from choosing the “flight” option. Fighting was out of the question as well. He was obviously a shifter, and she’d seen before just how strong they could be. So what could she do then, to keep things from escalating?
Stall.
Okay. She could do that. What would be the best way to stall? Not resisting, that would simply earn her more trouble, and possibly a swift grave. Then again, she wasn’t positive what exactly it was she was resisting against, besides his grip on her neck. Her feet stumbled slightly, eyes going wide as she realized exactly what she could do to stall.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, digging for more information, for answers. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“No, you haven’t,” her captor agreed, hissing his words to make them harder for her to understand.
The nagging feeling that she knew the voice persisted, but try as she might, her brain was too consumed with fear for her child and for herself to identify who it was. That could be important, maybe not to her, but to whoever came to rescue her. The only way she was going to find out who it was though, was to keep him talking.
Rachel carefully did not dwell on the idea of being rescued, lest she realize how unlikely that was to be the outcome.
“Why me then?” she pressed.
“Because.”
She couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes, tossing her head back slightly as she sighed in exasperation. “Seriously? That’s your answer? Don’t I at least get an explanation before you kill me?”
The grip on her neck shifted slightly, putting pressure on her skull until she lowered her head again, at which point it lessened just slightly.
“Who said this was about you?”
“Hector…” she said in sudden understanding. “You’re doing this to get at Hector.”
There was no reply, but she didn’t need one to know she was right. Whoever he was, he had a grudge against Hector, and was using her to get at him.
“So, what’s the plan now? Use me as bait to get him to show up, and then kill us both?”
There was no reply besides some pressure on her neck that made Rachel turn to the right. Until then they had been heading on a steady westerly course, toward the far side of town, where the little bit of industrial works lay. Now they headed south. The buildings grew more ramshackle and the lack of upkeep was obvious. Windows were boarded over or covered in a thick metal mesh, disdaining bars for the more thorough coverage.
Underfoot the sidewalk was more chipped and uneven, and the road looked to be in desperate need of repair. Big warehouses loomed up on either side, some of them showing signs of occupancy, others not. Rachel knew where they were now. Every town had areas like this, places where the town’s occupants had abandoned it, leaving what little life there was to its own.
She shivered as they walked farther into the rundown buildings. Whoever he was, he obviously had a destination in mind, but she wasn’t sure where. All she could do was follow his directions.
“Why do you hate Hector so much?” she asked, trying a different tactic.
“Hate?” came the hissed reply. “No. Not hate.”
Then he fell silent once again, forcing her to turn right. They were heading up to a large rolling door on one of the warehouses. It was one of those loading docks where the ground was sunken in, so that the big tractor trailers could back up and be level with the building. They bypassed the rolling door and headed to a little person-sized door.
Her captor gave her neck a shake as she came to a halt in front of it. From that Rachel surmised he wanted her to open it. The door opened smoothly and they entered. Behind her the grate in the floor clanged as the shifter stepped on it, something rattling from his weight.
Ahead of them was a room devoid of light. Once the door closed behind them, even the little bit of ambient light from outside faded, leaving her in complete darkness.
“Um, I can’t see,” she said, coming to a halt.
The hand on her neck forced her forward and to her knees. She felt the cool dampness of concrete under her, pushing out her hands to hold herself still. To her surprise the hand vanished from her neck. Rachel sat on her rear, breathing in deeply in relief.
Something rattled in the darkness and abruptly the shifter returned, wrapping a chain tightly around her neck. Then he took the loose end and did something with it. Rachel tugged on both ends, but neither end moved. She could feel a weight pulling at it, keeping it secure.
Get up, you idiot. Just stand up and it’ll give you enough slack to undo it.
The chain was uncomfortably tight, but not so much that she couldn’t breathe. Rachel got her feet under her carefully, and then rose up onto her knees, trying to undo the chain. Something clanked once, then twice, and the chain went taut again. She yelped and pulled, trying to gain back the slack she’d had, but it didn’t budge.
“I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you,” her captor hissed. “It’s weighted and wrapped on some non-reversing gears. You keep standing, you’ll lose all the slack and it’ll choke you.” There was barely constrained glee in his voice, which made her wonder about his earlier word about not hating Hector or her.
Rachel froze as she realized what he was talking about. The weight on her neck was never going to cease, and it was only going to get worse. But if she stood up, she’d never be able to sit back down. And once her legs gave out, the chain would choke her to death. It was devious.
The night chill began to seep in then as she remained motionless. The concrete started to suck all the warmth from her, and in very short order Rachel began to shiver. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms didn’t seem to help much. Hope began to fade as she realized that Hector wasn’t even likely to find her before she perished. At this rate she wasn’t likely to make it through the night. She tugged on the chain, trying to loosen its slow choke around her neck.
“Why are you doing this?” she called out, hearing the quaver in her voice. “Please. I have a child…” Her hand went unbidden to her stomach as she tried to force herself to stay calm, to not panic. That wouldn’t help her current situation.
No voice answered her question, or any other question she asked of it. Rachel was alone in the warehouse, without anyone to help her. The situation seemed grim.
Outside the door she heard a familiar-sounding clang.
“Hector?” she called instinctively.
Had he come? Was he here to save her?