Rebecca walked down the concrete corridor without suspicion. The sudden bulk of pressure that surrounded her and the hand over her mouth were as much of a jolt to her system as the drug fumes she inhaled. Her panicked thoughts raced like three marathon runners at the finish line: this was a joke; this was real; this felt nice. Then she dropped.
How much time had passed, she didn’t know. She felt someone’s strong arms cradling her, but she couldn’t pull her eyelids up to look. Her cheek was snug against a buttoned pocket and she could hear a rapid beat through the course fabric. Rebecca’s foggy thoughts fixed on the heartbeat, imagining a brave hero rescuing her. She relaxed into the safety of her supposed champion’s arms just as one thought pushed through – that she needed rescuing. A tiny drop of adrenalin discharged and she managed to force a groan through her lips.
Movement stopped. Her ears did not sense the enclosed tunnel-like hallway where she had just been, the echo was gone. Sounds fled in the open expanse. She felt her body being shifted. A car door opened. A sensation of falling filled her, as if she were a ragdoll tossed onto a child’s crib. Then that strange wet smell again. Then nothing.
Extra scene from Edge of Escape
Copyright 2011 by Debra Chapoton