Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez
Chapter Twelve
Maisie bolted awake at the sensation of being jostled. Panicked, she swatted out at the hands lifting her from the exam table. Her blurry and confused gaze settled on the reassuring face of the doctor who had treated her. He shook his head and urged her to be quiet. She stared at his mouth as he repeated the words, “I’m helping you escape.”
Escape? Was it really possible?
She noticed the large bin in the corner of the room. It was bright red and had yellow biohazard symbols all over it. Did he intend to stick her in there?
Before she could ask if that was his intention, a set of bigger, more muscular arms took her from the doctor. She was even more shocked when she realized it was the general now carrying her. Her last interactions with him had been less than friendly. Why is he helping me escape?
The two men spoke hurriedly, and she struggled to decipher all the words they exchanged. Something about the general’s wife and a surgery?
The doctor must have seen the confusion on her face. He touched her arm to get her attention. “I had them bring you to the operating room for a gynecological procedure. The general’s wife was already on this floor for a pregnancy scan. She’s now in the operating room having a nice nap while we sneak you off the ship.”
The general carefully placed her in the biohazard bin. There were stacks of medication boxes, IV bags and MREs at one end. A blanket had been arranged in the bottom, and the general stunned her by gently tucking it around her. It occurred to her that his treatment toward her had been nothing but a ruse. He had wanted everyone on their rescue trip to believe that he disliked her, probably as a smokescreen for this exact moment.
The general tipped her chin with his rough fingers. He held her gaze as he spoke. “Terror will meet you on the ship. He’s going to take you somewhere safe.” The general hesitated. “If something happens and he doesn’t make it, you’ll be on your own.” He handed her a tablet. “This has been wiped. There’s no tracking device on it. You can use it to communicate with others.” He unsnapped the pocket on the front of his shirt and retrieved a thin green metallic card. “This has money on it. It’s enough to get you to one of the mining colonies or the agricultural belt.”
She accepted the items and wordlessly thanked him. He nodded at her and then reached into the neck of his shirt. He grabbed hold of a chain and tugged hard, breaking the fine metal links. “Hold out your hand.”
She held up her palm, and he dropped the chain onto it. She eyed the circle of metal dangling from it and inhaled sharply. “Your emergency beacon?” she signed and mouthed the words.
“Yes. My beacon,” he confirmed. “If something happens to Terror, if he needs help,” the general paused and swallowed hard, “use it. I don’t care where you are. I don’t care how far I have to travel. I don’t care who I have to kill. I will rescue him.”
She understood the depth of friendship between the two men. They were brothers who had survived horrific battles she couldn’t even begin to fathom. The general had nearly lost his friend when Terror had been taken captive. She would do everything in her power to get Terror back home. Signing and mouthing the words, she said, “I promise.”
He studied her face for a moment, as if trying to read the truth in her eyes. He must have seen what he needed to because he finally nodded and rose from his crouched position. The doctor quickly took his place and produced a capped syringe from his pocket. She shook her head at the sight of it, but he insistently said, “You’re going to be jostled around and dropped while you’re in this box. I can’t risk that you’ll make any sounds. Please,” he implored, “take the sedative.”
She didn’t want to take it. She didn’t like feeling woozy and sleepy. She didn’t want to be vulnerable if something happened while the sedative was still active. Yet, she understood the doctor’s concerns, and she reluctantly consented to the injection. He swabbed the port of the IV attached to her hand and injected the sedative. The cold sting of it raced up her arm, and she sank back into the nest of blankets at the bottom of the bin.
As she fought to stay awake, the doctor placed a mask over her face and fiddled with a bottle on her right. A blast of air shot into her nose, and he adjusted the flow until it no longer made her nose twitch. The general appeared next to the doctor, and they began to pile bags of biohazardous waste on top of her. The bags weren’t heavy, thankfully, but they made her feel claustrophobic. The sedative now taking effect eased the fear from her mind, and she let her eyelids drift together as the general sealed the box with her inside.
It seemed as if she had only just closed her eyes when someone gently shook her awake. Groggy and confused, she blinked and tried to make sense of her dimly lit surroundings. It came back to her in waves—the run through the forest, the trip to the Valiant, the interrogation, the biohazard box. The hands that had shaken her awake moved from her shoulders to her neck and then to her face.
She glanced up and found Terror gazing down at her with an expression so soft it made her heart ache. He tugged the mask from her face and reached down to shut off the oxygen tank that had been providing life-sustaining air. He placed the almost empty IV bag onto her lap and then lifted her out of the crate.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gripped the fabric of his shirt. A thin layer of dust covered his skin and hair. He smelled of sweat and something slightly musty. Had he crawled through an air duct to reach her? Considering she had stowed away on this ship in a box of hospital waste, she figured his trip to join her hadn’t been any easier.
Feeling woozy, she relaxed in his arms and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He held her a little tighter, silently telling her that she was safe now. He traversed a maze of corridors until he reached an elevator that carried them upstairs. When he stepped off the elevator, he turned right and walked the length of the hall. He reached a door and used a keycard to open it.
She lifted her head to peer around the room. It looked like a crew bunk. It wasn’t the worst room she had ever seen, but it wasn’t the nicest either. There were two bunk beds attached to the left wall, a small eating area and tiny kitchenette on the right, and an entertainment console and built-in couch next to the door. There didn’t appear to be a bathroom which meant there was probably a communal locker room somewhere on the deck.
“Stay here,” Terror ordered after placing her on the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t open the door for anyone. Understood?”
She nodded dutifully and watched him leave. After the ordeal she has suffered, she was too tired to move anyway. An ache in her hand garnered her attention, and she opened her clenched fist to find the emergency beacon. She must have fallen asleep holding it because it had left a mark in her skin. She wondered if she should show Terror what the general had given her. The realization that the general would have given it directly to Terror if he had wanted him to know about it sealed her decision. She tucked it inside her back pocket and waited for Terror to return.
When Terror came back, he had a crate filled with the medical supplies and food from the box. He locked the door behind him and placed the crate on the small dining table. He sorted through the supplies and held up a package of ready-to-eat food. She shook her head and made a gesture asking for water. He brought her a bottle from the crate along with an armload of medication and a fresh IV bag.
She greedily drank the water while he arranged the medication vials and prepared the IV. After he drew up the medication according to the instructions the doctor had written on the labels, he ripped open a swab and cleaned the port on her IV before injecting the medication. She hissed as the medicine burned her vein, and he made an apologetic face. She sat back grumpily as he administered two more medications via the IV.
When he loaded up a fourth syringe, this one clearly for an intramuscular injection, she shook her head and signaled “no” with her hand. “Yes,” he replied firmly. “You’re at risk of a raging infection.”
“No.” She pushed the syringe away and crossed her arms. “No more needles.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
She rolled her eyes and made a gesture for paper and a pen or a tablet. He brought her the tablet from the crate and waited for her to power it up and type out her reply. “No more needles.”
A flash of irritation crossed his face. He crouched down in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. “Maisie, I know you don’t want to deal with any more pain, but I didn’t go this far to save you to watch you die from an infection. So—you have two choices. You can roll up your sleeve and let me give you this injection.”
“Or?” she mouthed petulantly.
“Or I throw you over my lap, yank down your pants, spank you like a naughty child and then jab that needle in your ass.”
Her mouth dropped at his rude threat. She angrily tapped out her response. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
She decided that would be a surefire way to end up with a sore bottom. Instead, she grudgingly set aside her bottle of water and held out her arm. Terror cleaned her skin with a new swab and then injected the antibiotic without warning. She glared at him, but he studiously avoided her gaze.
With the antibiotic given, he switched out her IV bag and hung it from the shelf over the couch. After disposing of the trash, he removed his tactical belt and weapons and bent down to unlace his boots. He yanked them off and then dropped onto the cushion next to her. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long and heavy breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. He looked so tired. Considering all he had done to save her, he had to be exhausted.
The urge to touch him overwhelmed her. Bravely, she took his hand and lifted his arm to make space for her to slide in closer to him. He stiffened at her brazen move, and she held his gaze, questioning whether she had overstepped. His surprised expression softened, and he tugged her closer, guiding her right into his embrace. She smiled as she snuggled into him, pressing her cheek to his chest and relishing his heat and strong arms.
For the first time in weeks, she felt truly safe and secure. She didn’t know what the future held, probably more danger and drama, but as long as Terror was with her, she could face anything.
