Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter thirteen

Chapter thirteen

My fingers worked underneath the blanket. I could hear my heart in my ears.

We have your friends.

We.

Who was we?

The pink haired woman was alone, as for what I could see. I was tapping my phone under the blanket. I didn't know if I was pressing the right buttons, and when my gaze flickered down, it was met with a blank, black screen. Dead. 

“Who are you? How'd you get in here?” I  sounded more brave than I felt. I was furious with myself for not charging my phone last night. My eyes danced around the room, landed on my bag. It was on the floor, by the foot of the bed.

A malicious smile was still on the stranger's lips. “I'm your worst nightmare, and like nightmares, I slipped inside effortlessly.” She withdrew something sleek and black from her pocket. “Looking for this?”

I froze. My breathing caught in my throat. She held my gun in gloved hands. She came forward, her stride reminding me of a cat's, slow and sultry, and I realized she wore stilettos of the darkest ebony. “You ever been held at gun point, love?” Her voice was sickly sweet. The barrel of the gun kissed my forehead. I forced myself still. “Bang,” she whispered. “You're dead.”

“What—what do you want?” 

“You. Your friends.” She bent close to me. “Here's some new information for you. There are three types of people out there in the Unplotted. The researchers, the hunters, and the prey.”

“You're a hunter.”

Her mouth curved. “I wonder what that leaves you to be?”

I swallowed hard. “We're not in”—What had she called it?—“the Unplotted right now. This place is mapped. This motel.”

She laughed. “You and your friends do not camouflage well.”

What did she mean? I tried not to think about the circle of pure iciness on my forehead and suppressed a shiver. “How do I know if you have my friends?”

She didn't like that. The barrel bumped my forehead and I jumped so hard she laughed again. “I don't bluff, love. Let's see here. There's a curly haired one, one with a braid, one with no hair at all, and one with fur.”

My stomach sank. “What about a black haired?” I whispered.

“Oh.” She sounded delighted. “The extremely handsome one? Don't you worry, I'm taking special care of him. Pretty men like him make me glad I play on both sides of the fence. Now, I've wasted enough time. Stand. Get your bag. And most importantly, don't say a word. See this?” She showed me a small device attached to her coat. “One word, and my people will kill your people.”

A shaking mess, I did what I was told. Outside, she looped her arm through mine, humming happily as if we were the best of friends. The sun rays seeped over the land and the air was heavy with the smell of morning dew. My teary eyes roamed over everything, searching, searching, but finding no one, no witnesses. She took me to the side of the building's parking lot, where a lone, familiar-looking, white van stood. She opened the back doors. 

I flooded with relief. Though it only lasted two seconds as I noticed one missing from our number.

“Joseph,” I whispered.