Rough Road Ahead (In Progress)

Chapter 15

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            My throat was sore, dry, like I had swallowed cotton balls as I tried to scream again, but something had me by the arm, something was pulling me into that wall. "Iris?" I heard a voice say suddenly, but it seemed demonic to my impressionable, overactive ears. "Iris, calm down." I heard the voice say again, but this time it seemed much more familiar.

            "Max?" I asked breathlessly. My head spinning and coming to rest on his innocent face.

            "It's me." He said, his hand still grasped around my arm. My eyes darted around the area, the darkness was still black as ever, but it seemed less ominous suddenly. Taking a deep breath Max helped me to my feet.

            "I'm sorry." I said, feeling my heart thumping in my chest. I was over reacting. This was common with me, but I had never had it happen on such a large scale. Maybe it was due to the situation we were in. "I'm so sorry." I repeated, taking his hand in mine and walking forward. Good was standing in front of us.

            "Come on, guys, hurry it up." He scolded, giving me the evil eye and taking a small flashlight out of his pocket and handing it to me without another word. I took it in my free hand and pushed the small blue button, turning on the small, dim light, but somehow it made me feel better, more safe. I wanted to thank him, but then I remembered that he had kidnapped us, taken us hostage against our will and at gun point and I let the thought slid across my brain without taking action. Good walked forward into the house, looking back at us periodically to be sure that we weren't escaping.

            I shone the small blue tinted light across the floor, making sure I didn't trip over anything, but the floor seemed oddly barren as if no one had ever lived there. Moving the light up again I saw the walls weren't painted, they had a coating of gold wallpaper over them that looked brand new compared with the rotten floor and exterior of the farmhouse.

            There was a small coffee table and some old, warn, sofa cushions laying scattered across the floor, stuffing pouring from holes that age had created within them. A discarded stuffed bear lay abandoned on the floor, one eye missing and the other hanging by a stitch. I cringed, thinking back to the baby-doll in the small town.

            "Luck?" Good called again, his gun still forward, his arms outstretched.

            "Over here." I heard Luck's rough voice sound from behind the living room wall. Good turned the corner, lowering his gun and motioning for us to follow. There was much better lighting in this room, the window that was boarded up was broken off and light from the outside was streaming in. I turned off the small blue light, putting it into my sweater pocket.

            "What happened?" He asked, his gun falling to his side as I saw Sam sitting on one of the love-seat's his back hunched over, his hands between his knees. He looked alive and healthy, Brad standing over him as Luck and Good talked.

            "Lover-boy over here cut his hand." Brad answered, rolling his eyes with his foot resting on the holy-sofa beside Sam.

            "Shut up." Sam murmured, looking up at me.

            I ignored Brad, shaking my head, "are you alright?" I asked, running to Sam's side and sitting down on the moist sofa, my hands moving onto his leg.

            Sam looked at me with a smirk and pulled his hand out from between his legs. "It really isn't as bad as I made it sound." He said, looking at Brad with his eyes as slits, "but I got my hand caught under one of the tables and I when it dropped I thought it took my hand clean off." He opened his palm. It was bleeding and battered, a few slits about an inch deep over the mid section.