Weren’t many people like that?
Suddenly, Zane flung the door open and informed O’Connor that he and Pete were leaving the office to help with an accident down on our street.
“And Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson,” O’Connor said, patting his jacket.
It was comforting to be surrounded by big men carrying bigger guns.
After Zane slammed the door closed behind him, the detective went back to his notes. “Let’s see.”
“How much longer?” I asked.
He rubbed his chin. “Not too long. Why don’t we take that bathroom break now?”
My bladder rejoiced when he rose and held the door open for me.
O’Connor waited at the entrance to the men’s room and watched as I pushed into the ladies’ restroom.
I took care of business and washed my hands. When I was done, I pulled open the door and was met with the vision I’d hoped never to see again—one brown eye and one blue.
Before I could move or yell, he clamped his hand over my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the detective motionless on the floor.
The brute pushed me back into the restroom. “You’re coming with me.”
I couldn’t scream and tried to kick, but missed. He was too strong, and I didn’t have any leverage to use to break free, but I did have my teeth. I bit the hand over my mouth.
He threw me to the ground.
My head hit hard and I saw black dots in my vision.
Before I could do anything, he straddled me and placed his hand over my mouth again.
Looking up into the evil of those bi-colored eyes, I felt the needle he pulled out prick my neck.
A few seconds later, I went limp, and the room faded to blackness.
CHAPTER 34
Zane
After warningO’Connor that we were going outside to help with the accident, I raced out of SpaceMasters, and found the elevator door closed. So, I sprinted down the stairwell two at a time.
Reaching the street, I saw the accident at the intersection, two cars crunched together. At least two bloody victims were on the ground from what I could see. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Pete waved me off as he walked back toward me.
I didn’t slow. “Why aren’t you helping?” I yelled.
“College kids playacting,” he said when I reached him. “Fake blood. The bent metal is real, but the blood isn’t.”
“What the fuck?”
Pete grabbed my shoulder and turned me back toward the building. “Fucking social experiment they’re calling it.”
I walked with Pete back to our building. “Why?”
“Because they’re fucking college kids with nothing better to do.”
The first fire truck arrived, loud horn and sirens.
