War For The World

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The first thing Joan noticed when she awoke was that her arms were tied and things were dark.

Pins and needles surged through them as she sat and she attempted to wriggle free, finding they were bound rather tight by some rather uncomfortable rope. She was in some sort of room. She didn't know this for sure of course, courtesy of the sack still present over her head. No, she knew they were in some sort of room thanks to the lack of an icy chill and from the sound of echoed voices discussing her imminent demise.

"We should roast them both"
"No, the lady looks juicier. Her first"

"I can't believe Lucas thought we'd let her in"

Lots of information to process. Firstly, some unlucky soul shared her same fate? She wondered if they too were blinded or whether they could see her struggling in her binds right at this moment.

The second point of interest was that Lucas had tried to get her in. She'd never entertain such a gruesome thought, though the knowledge that he'd told the truth and had indeed tried his best did something to comfort her slightly.

Despite the rope she continued to struggle, budging and clawing at the rope in a vain attempt to make any sort of progress. Duct tape was firmly placed across her lips. She couldn't scream, no matter how hard she tried.

She must have been tied to some sort of pole she thought, or at the very least a heavy object. Shimmying brought her no relief and anytime she pulled herself forwards she was met with a resistance that she couldn't match. Laughter began to trickle out from inside the room.

"Look at her, squirming and squealing like a little piggy"

This brought on more laughter, which turned into an animalistic oinking. A chorus of aggressive pig noises floating through the dark void that was her life began to overwhelm her and she felt tears trickle down her cheek. Everything was terrifying. What had she gotten herself into.

The voices suddenly hushed down. The silence was maddening and for a moment Joan decided she'd preferred the laughter to this.

The sound of a door opening echoed, and the clacking of heels on wood followed shortly after. It was menacing, and Joan felt herself go cold.

"Come on you lot. Are we really going to treat our guests like this"

It was that woman. Roma Getzky. Joan ran the name through her head a couple more times, trying to return to the place and time in which she'd heard it uttered.

She was suddenly back in the mansion. Arguing with Alex over something that seemed oh so trivial by this point. The word. There it was again. Her eyes snapped open from within the confinements of the rough sack as she understood now where she knew the name from.

She was Alex's rebel contact.

Joan's immediate response was to cry out his name, beg for a parlay between the two of them. She bit her tongue however. She'd learnt by now not to play all her cards immediately, she might need the upper hand.

Suddenly light came flooding back into her vision. She squinted at the harsh light, recoiling as her eyes began to adjust to their strange new surroundings.

When things came back from being anything less than a white blur she was met once again by those striking blue eyes.

"Why hello there my little spring chicken"

Her accent was foreign, at least that was what Joan noticed first. Russian? Czech perhaps? She had the type of cheekbones that could cut clean through butter. Her eyes were sunken in, combined with the bulky exterior she looked like some sort of comical skeleton in a muscle suit.