The Rules of Survival (Mercer #1)

RoS Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty One

My knee hurt.

It was my first coherent thought when I came to.

When the fog in my head cleared some more, that first coherent thought evolved. And went something like this: My knee burned and itched and ached and stung simultaneously, and God help me the more conscious I became, the more the pain intensified.

Going by the way the gash was still leaking merrily and the blood on my ripped jeans had yet to dry, I surmised I'd only blacked out for a couple of minutes. Which was nothing short of a miracle.

Desks weren't made for breaking falls, and the one that had crashed through the hole in the second floor before I'd followed it through and landed on top of it hadn't exactly done a bang up job of cushioning me. More like It'd snapped into several pieces on impact.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or astounded that I was still capable of any kind of brain function after an experience like that. A bit of both, I decided. And since I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and start with all the how's and why's, I simply sent out a mental thanks to whoever might have been listening, and tried to sit up.

Wow, okay, yeah, totally not a smart idea. Everything spoke up at once. My neck, my back, one of my elbows, that damned knee. I was almost convinced my eyelashes were in extreme agony as well.

"Still thankful you're not dead?" I muttered to myself, and ignored the aches and jolts in favour of pushing a piece of plywood off my stomach. It landed with a hollow thwack on the ground beside me and a cloud of dust rose in its wake.

Coughing, I glanced up to where I'd been hanging a short while ago. It wasn't so dark that I couldn't tell there was a hole in the floor above me, but it was hard to distinguish any of the smaller details, like say, if there were any human beings hanging their heads in the gap to see where I was and if I was still breathing.

"Justice," I called, and my voice came out as a hoarse croak.

Nothing.

I tried again, this time louder. Still nothing.

My stomach tightened with dread. Where was he? If he'd been able to, he would have replied. Hell, he probably would have jumped through the hole after me instead of taking the stairs. So if he wasn't answering and he wasn't already by my side, what did that mean?

Okay, don't panic, I told myself when my breathing started to increase rapidly and my palms broke out into a cold sweat.

"He's fine. He's okay. He's fine," I whispered, forcing myself to roll over onto my stomach. Yeah, right. He was just fine, was he? Then why were my eyes leaking? And why did my heart feel like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it?

My hands stung as they took the brunt of my weight; they were riddled with splinters and cuts, and I had a bad feeling I'd re-broken my fingers. I pushed myself up with a groan and staggered across the debris of the desk until I was standing on flat ground.

Not that I could make out the hard surface beneath me. I might as well have been walking around with my eyes shut for all the lighting there was to go by.

I shuffled to my left and my good knee came up against something solid, nearly toppling me right over. Moving backwards didn't help either. All I did was trample something made of glass; the crunch was unmistakeable.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, and retrieved the knife I had tucked in my boot.

I had no idea where the gun had gone to. When the floor caved in, I'd kind of lost everything that wasn't already anchored to my body. Still, the knife would be fine for what I intended. Turning on the spot, I faced what I hoped were a bank of windows; if I'd still been one floor up I would have been facing them , so it stood to reason the layout would be the same down here.