Caught

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TW: References to sexual assault (not described)          

        At some point someone had covered my naked body and lifted me from the floor, carrying me to my cot in the office. It was hours before I stopped shaking and even longer before I felt warm again. When I finally felt my toes, I opened my eyes. My cot had been pulled next to the fireplace that had been reduced to embers. Lifting my head jump started the worst headache I had ever had, but I rubbed my eyes trying to push through the pain.

The sight of the room around me made no sense, I had to be dreaming still. I contemplated putting my head back on the pillow and going back to whatever inception I had been cursed with but then I heard the voices from the conference room of the office. I wasn't dreaming.

Upon moving my body, I realized, to my horror that I was no longer naked. A hoodie the size of a football field had been draped over my body; it was long enough to be a dress. The state of the room would have made a frat house look clean, towels were scattered around the office, clothing was hanging from every available hook or beam that I could see, on the backs of chair, from the office cabinet handles, hell there was a t-shirt hanging over the telemetry probe that I used to track tagged bobcats. Lovely.

I stood and felt like my legs were going to give out, but not from the pain I felt in them. It was because I was wearing someone else's socks on my feet. I nearly threw up right there, ripping the socks from my feet I shivered in disgust. I didn't like other people's feet on me, never. My feet were still purple in color, swollen from the lack of blood flow overnight. But I could move my toes that were painted black, that was a good sign.

I silently walked around the office, looking out the window. It must have snowed again because I could no longer see the path of the four of us had made in attempting to get into the building. The sound of more voices coming from the conference room had me following without thought. I was so thirsty, my stomach was pulling a fist and punching itself. God, I just wanted to go home.

Approaching the conference room door that was closed but not latched, I pushed it open silently. The four men who I had found at the helo site were sitting in chairs looking at a map of the surrounding area on a projector, David stood in the back, leaning on the map making machine.

"There is no way they would cross at a manned gate, they would use a part of the river," Soap said, others nodded in agreement.

Gaz pointed at an open part of the screen, "that flat part there, is it accessible?"

"There is the fire tower four miles to the East, they have a snowmobile there they use to get to the ridgeline, from there you have to repel down," David said.

"How far down?" Soap asked.

"Two hundred feet, but the wind blows directly into that cliffside. It's dangerous even when it's not the middle of winter," David said.

I stood in the doorway for some time, watching them study the map down to the fine, topographical, details. It wasn't until David finally looked to his left that he noticed that I was standing there, "My god, Jamie!"

His arms were instantly around me, warming me once again. I felt awkward, I was wearing nothing but a giant sweatshirt, but I welcomed the embrace. The other men in the room spun in their chairs to look at me, and I instantly felt like the world was staring. I couldn't imagine what I looked like, slept on semi-wet hair, pale as a ghost, walking around in someone else's clothes. Suddenly becoming very self-conscious, wanting to cover my bare legs and feet, wanting to feel some kind of security of my body. I looked at the masked man, who was now just wearing a balaclava and black long sleeve t-shirt. His eyes were still like dark black coals in a fire, evil.

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