Chapter 11
Callie
“Say nothing. Do nothing.” Ms. Mousy-bitch points the driver to the visitor’s parking in the almost half-mile lot of the treatment plant.
My neck cranes as I climb out of the van. Two thirty-story cement cylinders tower over my head. In front, metal rocket ships with pipes for arms, stand at full attention.
“If you delay us in any way, you’re dead. Understand?” She glares at me, then does the same to the two men with her who haven’t said boo since last night.
As our footsteps echo on the empty lot, I wonder if their reticence can be used to my advantage. By the main entrance, adrenaline pumps when a man in a well-worn hardhat follows us into the building.
Do I dare shout, catch his eye?
Mousy shoots me a deadly glare and digs into her purse. “Just a moment, I need my ID card. I know it’s in here.”
She smiles sweetly at the worker, “Go ahead.”
The guy’s got ghastly bruises and I almost don’t recognize him. With his chin tucked into his blue work shirt, he turns his head so only I can see him wink.
Suds?He’s alive?
My first impulse is to hug him but a small shake of his head brings me quickly to my senses. Shifting my gaze down, I force my mind to calm.
“Here it is.” My kidnapper pushes me forward, grinning like we’re best of friends “Thanks for waiting. You first.”
I may puke.
When the first swipe of my card fails, I shoot her a worried glance. Maybe, this ends here. At the second swipe, the light turns green and we pass by a security guard who pays us no mind.
Mousy leads, I’m in the middle, and the two Sopranos pull up the rear. We traverse down a long hall, turn left, and descend many steep flights of escalators.
At the bottom, Mousy-Bitch passes her badge across another sensor, a door opens, and inside is a roomful of controls I’ve only seen once or twice.
Where the hell are the guys?
She hands a guard some official looking paperwork and he studies it for so long, I figure this is it.
My heart drops into my stomach when he nods and says, “How long you need?”
“About an hour.” Her smile reminds me of the dentist when he says this won’t hurt at all.
I’m about to despair until he catches my eye and raises a brow before disappearing, leaving me with the three desperados.
“Log in.” Mousy has her knife out again.
Shaking, I press my thumb onto a small square. With no alarms and no cavalry to the rescue, type in my password and nothing happens.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes flick from me, to the door, to the two henchmen.
If the three were any closer, they’d be sharing my uniform. “Could you back that knife up a little, give me some breathing room?”
“Sure.” The woman puts away her knife and pulls a gun from under her jacket.
“Please, give me a second.” I type in my password, waiting for the error message.
When the main menu miraculously appears, I let go my breath, then the panel goes blank.
What the fuck?
