The Legends Live On

Bound

[June's point of view]

My captor drives to an abandoned warehouse. August may have blindfolded me, but that doesn't prohibit me from feeling every turn. I know exactly how we got here.

Which means I know exactly how to get back.

When the van at last lurches to a stop, I hear Thomas' brother exit the vehicle. His foot falls, carelessly heavy, approach my door. He opens my door and grabs my bound hands. August's hands are like sandpaper; dry, rough, lukewarm, and unfeeling. He yanks me from the car and I almost fall over my own feet. When the soles of my boots at last find traction, I tug against my restraints instinctively. August yanks back and a cold fury rises in the back of my throat. I want to fight him, and I could, if it weren't for the baby.

When we're safely over the threshold, August removes my blindfold. His face is twisted into a leering, pompous snarl. I snarl back as I take in my surroundings. The warehouse is bare except for an enormous cage in the middle of the room, and a rolling desk chair a few feet away from it. August continues to roughly shove me ahead of him. We reach the cage and August pulls the door open, though it protests with a loud squeal from the hinges. August quickly clips a chain onto the zip-tie around my wrists and then shoves me in. I fall onto the cold cement flooring, a grunt escaping my lips. I sit up, and my hand instinctively goes to my stomach, protecting the life inside. August walks away from the cage, holding the chain connected to my hands. I'm forced to scoot closer to the edge of the cage. August clips the chain to a ring on the wall. It's anchored so that I cannot stand up. Absently, I wonder why August procured such a large cage if I'm not going to be allowed to walk around in it. After August has fully secured the chain, he plops down in the chair, not even paying attention to me. Mentally, I measure the width and length of the cage, then determine the alloys and materials in the metal bars. The cage is about eleven feet wide, nine feet in length, and twelve feet tall. It's made of a mixture of steel, titanium, and iron. The bars are each about six inches apart and extend vertically. My eyes flit towards August. He's in the chair, reading a newspaper he must have had shoved in his back pocket. He doesn't notice when I visually inspect the lock on the cage. It's simple, rudimentary even. A simple code lock. August was smart though. He had the cage unlocked before I got here. That way, there was no possible way I could have heard or seen him punch in the code. He smarter than to make it a number I could guess, like Thomas' birthday for example. It's likely that the code is a random number. As far as I can tell, I have no way out.

[Day's point of view]

Pascao and I sprint back to our apartment. I activate the tracking program in June's ring. Making her wedding ring trackable seemed ridiculous at the time. Not so ridiculous now.

It looks like June is in an abandoned warehouse in the Lake sector. Whoever took her obviously doesn't know who he's dealing with. Goddy trot.

Pascao and I hop down the stairs to the apartment building, taking them two at a time. We emerge into the slanted, blinding sunlight of the fading day. Our feet pound against the asphalt towards the red dot- June -on my sensor.

[June's point of view]

After I've been sitting in the cage for approximately fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds, August approaches the door. His black leather jacket creaks as he reaches toward the lock. August types in a code. The lock, as I excepted, makes no sound. August is careful not to move his arm when he types the code, only his fingers. He has yet to reveal the code to me.

Stepping into the cage, August smirks at me. He approaches until he's towering over me, looking down. After staring into my eyes for a minute- I suppose he's trying to intimidate me -August crouches down next to me, balanced on the balls of his feet. He says softly, "Before I kill you, there's a few things I want to do." August reaches towards his back pocket slowly and pulls out a gleaming scalpel. He inspects it, moving the scalpel so the light flashes off it. August lowers himself so that he's sitting next to me. From a pocket in his jacket, he retrieves a small stone. August begins to scrape the scalpel against the stone, sharpening it. ShrreeEEEeem The sound of metal against stone is deafening.